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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 48
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“And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After”

Chapter Forty-Eight
“Truth and Consequences”

WARNING: Minor character death.

Disclaimer: Rowling owns all concepts and characters. No profit is being made from this fanfic.

============

Severus sat amid the ruins of his flat. About him lay debris, a result of the fit of fury he had thrown shortly after Hermione ran away from him. The settee was overturned, pillows ripped, his bed curtains partially torn off their hangers, papers and notes were shredded, and bedclothes rent. His chess table was completely destroyed after he had picked it up and violently swung it at the wall, placing a large hole in his wall. Eventually, he had begun to smash it against the stone fireplace. The magic coursing through his hands, amplified by his rage, exploded the turned oak table leg, sending splinters like projectiles across the room.

When there was nothing left to destroy in the room, he had summoned all the bottles of alcohol in his flat and began drinking himself blind. Minerva and Albus made an appearance shortly after his binge began. Somewhere around three in the morning, his hallucinations of his old friends had devolved into nothing more than an irritating buzzing noise in his ears and indiscriminate hazy blobs.

It was now daybreak. Severus sat on the floor, propped up against the side of his bed, staring at the vivid red cloak in the middle of the floor. Hermione had left it in her haste to flee from him. He was tempted to throw it into the fire, but could not find the strength to touch it, wanting to leave it exactly where it lay; it had become a small memorial to the moment where his hope for freedom (and love) had died.

He was too drunk to muster the energy to drag himself to the toilet to relieve his bladder, so he started filling empty bottles that surrounded him. The despondent wizard was drunk, but not so drunk he'd urinate upon himself.

It was shortly before Draco knocked on his door that he finally passed out.

Draco rapped on the door to Severus' flat, wondering if the Potions master was all right. With the regularity of a clock, Severus always knocked on Draco's door at six-thirty sharp every Friday morning on their way to their parole meeting with Kingsley at the Ministry. At six-forty, the blond wizard ventured up one flight to see what was holding him up.

After knocking on the door, Draco listened to see whether Severus would call out that he would be right there, or bid him to enter. When no reply or sound came, Draco opened the door to Severus' flat.

“What the hell...”

Draco stood there flabbergasted by the damage done to the place. His eyes alighted on the drunken figure of the Potions master slumped over. Gingerly, he stepped around bits and pieces of Severus' rampage and bent down, sitting on one heel to survey the pathetic state of his friend.

“Gah!” Draco exclaimed with revulsion once he realized that was not lager in the bottle of Scotch by Severus' leg.

With a flick and jab of his wand, Draco vanished all the bottles, partially filled, emptied, and refilled.

Shaking his head, Draco muttered, “Poor sodding bastard.”

He had wondered how Severus would handle Hermione spending a romantic evening with her husband, the ruddy tosser. It seemed the older wizard was pretty lovesick, becoming as despondent as he had been upon discovering that Ginny had married Potter years before.

Standing, Draco was about to cast a few spells to fix up the mess that Severus was lying in when a strong hand grasped his wand hand with a vise-like grip.

“Leave it,” Severus slurred. The older wizard hadn't even lifted his head from his chest.

“I see the dead have risen. Better get your arse moving, or we'll be late,” Draco said sternly, hoping his tone would bring about Severus from this pity-induced drunken state. Snape had begun to bear a startling resemblance to an Inferius.

Severus' hand reached under the bed and found an unopened bottle of gin. Lifting it up, he offered, “Gin?”

“It's almost seven in the morning.”

“Scotch?” Severus looked about for a bottle of Scotch, but noticed that all the bottles he had left lying about were missing.

“Dammit, Severus!” Draco huffed.

The blond wizard stormed into the bathroom, rummaged around for a while, and came back with a couple vials in his hand.

Without preamble, Draco knelt down, tipped Severus’ head back, and pried his mouth open. Severus was too drunk to fight or notice what the other wizard was doing. When the first vial, containing a Sobering Potion, was tipped into his slack mouth, the raven-haired wizard began to choke and splutter.

“What the...”

Draco yanked Severus by the hair and forced a vial of Hangover Relief Potion down his throat before the still inebriated wizard could have a chance to protest, or the Sobriety Potion could fully take effect.

Severus fell over sideways, choking and coughing on the dregs of the two potions sliding down his throat, ruining his perfectly good drunken mood. He lifted his head and glared murderously at Draco with contempt.

“Why the hell did you do that?” he hissed at the younger wizard.

“Because you're going to have to deal with the fact that the witch you love is married to another wizard, you twit! I've had to deal with that fact with Ginny for years; you can deal with that fact with Hermione.” Draco stood up and threw a towel at Severus. “For God's sake. Clean yourself up and get ready. We'll be late if you don't get your moping arse up off the floor. And next time you decide to get that piss-drunk, don't do it the night before a parole meeting.”

Draco stormed out of Severus' flat in disgust. He certainly wasn't going to tell Severus about Ginny's letter, and the way her brother had gazed adoringly at Hermione before departing for dinner.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione felt like death warmed over. She had not slept. The memories of Severus' kiss burned brightly in her mind, playing over and over again, which made her cringe upon recalling Severus' pained face as she told him to stop.

'Some enchanted evening I had!' she thought sarcastically.

Beating her fists against the side of her head, she muttered, “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

'I shouldn't have gone over there last night. I should have waited until Monday. Why did I have to ruin this one perfect thing?'

But it wasn't perfect. It was disastrous. Hermione was in love with a man that slept with other witches for money, was married to a wizard she didn't love, and had screwed up her chance at what was the one bright spot in her bleak life.

In her fist, she still clutched the letter that she found waiting attached to an owl's leg for her upon returning home last night. Hermione surmised that he must have written it immediately after she fled from his flat.

Smoothing it out, she read it for the umpteenth time.

-------

Come Friday night at six o'clock.

I will tell you everything, and answer all your questions.

-------

There was no salutation, nor any closing signature. She had cast the Charm to identify the author, and the spell revealed it to be Severus Snape. He had not bothered putting a spell on the letter to conceal his identity.

Hermione shook her head and sighed. 'I have to tell Severus why I was there. I have to be honest with him and let him know how much I care for him. I have to let him know why I left him last night. He'll understand. I should have told him last night, but...'

She knew why she couldn't say then what she needed to say. Hermione was aware that other witches, over the years, had probably visited Severus out of revenge against their husbands, and she did not want Severus to feel cheap and used... like a gigolo. But that was exactly what Severus was, only Hermione felt that what had developed between them had become something deep and meaningful, despite the tawdriness of his occupation. Besides, she really wanted her first time making love with Severus to be something beautiful, not tainted by something as ugly as malice and revenge.

Looking out of the kitchen window, and the bright morning sun that cheerily mocked her shamed and sullen soul, Hermione decided that she could sleep later. Maybe when her mind wasn't preoccupied with how to apologize to Severus, and after she had asked for his forgiveness, she would be able to have some restful sleep.

After showering out all the gel and potions she had used on her hair the night before, she pulled it back into a tight, neat bun. A look in her wardrobe told her that she needed to do laundry again. She dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple top, hoping that Madam Dushka would not take her to task for her casual attire.

'I can always just keep my lab cloak on all day, and she'll never know the difference,' Hermione reasoned away.

Just as she finished dressing, Ron awoke.

She had said nothing much upon his return the night before, except to tell Ron that Viktor walked her out to the carriage, in case the Daily Prophet gossip column reported anything other than the truth. After giving Hermione a quick report on Rufus’ and Pete's recoveries at St. Mungo's, he excused himself and went to bed, ignoring his wife's tear-streaked face and chalking it up to his rejection of her.

“Morning,” he mumbled groggily.

“Morning,” she replied, uncertain what else to say.

Ron looked away, casting his eyes to Hermione's undisturbed pillow, then back up to see her exhausted face. “Listen, I'm sorry...” He trailed off, not explaining what he was sorry about. Starting on a different tangent, he said, “I have a business dinner tonight. Some matters that I need to take care of. I won't be around for dinner tonight. I'll probably be back late. All right?”

Hermione nodded her head. She could have replied that she had her own “business dinner” to attend to tonight, though she doubted that Severus was going to cook for her this time.

“I'm going to go into work early. Make up for leaving early yesterday,” she explained for no reason in particular. Ron nodded in understanding of more than just her words. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Ron said quietly. “Have a good day at work.”

Hermione looked at him in mild surprise, and gave him a weak smile. “Thanks. Have a good day at practice.”

Ron nodded his head and watched Hermione leave the room.

Unwilling to make her usual morning walk through Diagon Alley, Hermione decided to Floo directly from her fireplace to the Ministry.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Hermione's heart stopped momentarily. There, in the middle of the atrium approaching the stairway, was a pair of cloaked figures: one in a gray cloak, the other in black with a familiar stride.

A thousand things went through Hermione's mind simultaneously. 'Go to him and explain everything to him now! No, wait until you have figured out what to say before speaking to him, or you'll make it worse! Go to him now! Hide! Don't let anyone see you with him!'

Frozen by indecision, Hermione did nothing, but listened to Severus’ and Malfoy's voices carry across the marble floor, both seemingly unaware that there was a witch who was privy to their conversation.

“Will you finally reveal yourself now that it's over?" the gray cloaked figure asked. Hermione was stunned by how close Draco's vocal mannerisms matched Lucius'.

“It is done,” the black cloaked figure said somberly.

“What? Great! Has she agreed to help us?”

“That is a matter to be discussed tonight...”

The sound of their voices faded so that she could no longer hear any distinct words, just the low hum of Severus' silken voice and Malfoy's distinct nasal drawl as they climbed the stairs.

Hermione's mind whirred with the multitude of interpretations of their discussion. She knew she was the topic of their discussion, and wondered what sort of help Severus would ask of her.

Her mind weakened by fatigue and emotional distress, the exhausted witch could not make the connection between bits of information and conjecture floating around in her disorganized mind.

Reaching her office, she unlocked the door and sat down.

“Tea. I need a really strong cup to get me through this day.”

When Hermione was exhausted and feeling as if she barely had the strength to go on existing, as long as she had a cup of tea, she found she could do anything. Tea was an emotional cure-all for her when it seemed her heart or her head was at some great crossroads, or carried some burden that was beyond what any mortal, Muggle or witch, could bear.

Once her tea was finished, Hermione still could not manifest any coherent thoughts in her head. She knew that if this had been wartime, she could go a good couple of days, riding high on adrenaline and fear, before she would succumb to exhaustion; however, the war was over, her life was not at risk, and sadly she was not nineteen anymore.

Her head held high, she marched off to the lab and began working on the teetering stack of boxed ingredients that had come in during the night. Thankful that it was mindless work, Hermione gave up trying to think until after she took a lunchtime nap.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco sat there too shocked to do anything other than stare blankly at some hideous, handmade charmed paperweight Kingsley's son made for him at the Wee-Wizards Nursery School's annual craft fair.

“I wish I could say that Miss Parkinson died peacefully or without pain, but I would be lying,” Shacklebolt said, as consolingly as he could considering the news he had just delivered.

Severus, knowing the young wizard would want to ask questions, asked for him while his friend was getting over the shock: “Do you have the wizard who killed her in custody?”

The Auror nodded his head. “Yes; evidently she had a stalker that frequented the place where she worked. He was one of her... customers.” Kingsley had the decency to avert his eyes in disgust and shame, taking on the attitude that he could have done something if he had known of the situation beforehand. “One of our Aurors came upon the scene and cast a Stunning Spell on him. We have the Auror's memories in a Pensieve right now to review the exact curse used. We have a pretty good idea of what curse it was by the effects alone, but we want to make sure before we bring him to trial.”

“Who killed her?” Draco ask, his voice a monotonous rasp, devoid of emotion.

“Considering the fact that you two were classmates, I know you feel some loyalty to Miss Parkinson—” Kingsley said, but was interrupted.

“You know NOTHING of what Pansy meant to me. She was once my fiancée. And though I never wanted to marry her, I still felt some obligation to protect her from this sort of situation, by the hands of some sick fuck who thought he'd screw and kill a former Death Eater for kicks!” Draco raged.

The blond wizard stood and violently kicked at the wall, then turned around, placing his back to the wall and kicking it once more with all his might. This time he broke the plaster and laths, putting a sizable hole in Kingsley's office wall.

“FUCK!” Draco screamed.

Severus said nothing. The panic in his own chest, that erupted right after he sent the owl off to Hermione with a short message, was threatening to crest and crash down over him again. If Draco knew that Hermione had come to his flat last night, only to flee shortly after he unmasked himself and kissed her, he was not sure what young Malfoy would do. Severus was fast with a wand, but after being up all night drinking, he was not sure he could win in a duel with Draco if it came down to it. All he could do was hope that Draco would no longer press him on the issue, and that he could come up with a viable alternative if Hermione would not agree to help them. He would know where his hopes lay by the end of the night... hopefully.

“I'm truly sorry, Draco. The Auror on the scene tried to save Miss Parkinson's life, but it was too late.” Kingsley heaved a heavy sigh. “Listen, if something comes up where I can help you in any way, please, just ask.”

Severus nodded and considered Kingsley's words carefully. If Hermione would not help, then maybe his old friend would.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You want the good news or the bad news first?”

Feeling like his head had been put through a wringer, his eyes made of lead, and the insides of the lids coated with sandpaper, Severus didn't care. It was always better to hear the bad news first, to his way of thinking. He shrugged at Lavender.

“Good news first, then. The Ministry has finally approved for the Floo connection in Macnair's old flat,” Miss Brown announced with feigned enthusiasm.

“About damn time,” the wizard snapped.

“Yes, I know,” she agreed. “It would have been more convenient if we’d had the Floo connection up yesterday, but I think they wanted to make sure you, Draco, and Blaise are being good little wizards. And a surprise inspection was supposed to catch you if you were indeed breaking any part of the decree. Now that the Ministry is satisfied that you are law abiding ex-Death Eaters, they have no reason to deny a Floo connection near your flat.”

“And the bad news?” Severus prompted his employer.

“I have a new third client for you,” Lavender said rather grimly.

“And how is this bad?”

“You won't like who it is,” she replied, hiding her face behind her hands as she began to massage her temples.

“Who?” Severus was in no mood for guessing games, briefly wondering if it was one of his former colleagues from Hogwarts. He didn't even want to contemplate the idea of facing Sprout.

“Molly Weasley.”

There was a deafening silence that stretched on for what like seemed forever before Severus bellowed, “WHAT?!?”

“It's not like I had a choice!” Miss Brown yelled back, equally upset with the situation. “I came across her while I was out, and she cornered me. She said she knew I had a little side business that offered a service that she was interested in.”

“I positively refuse to fuck that woman! Fire me, send me off to Azkaban, but I will not shag her!” Severus roared.

“She doesn't want a fuck, she wants a sympathetic ear!” Lavender yelled back.

“Go send her to Draco.” Severus realized the immediate mistake of that statement. Draco would poison the witch's tea, and laugh with maniacal glee as she died a slow and painful death over weeks or months. “Or to Blaise. Why me?!?”

“Because you're the only one under booked. Besides, she'll feel more comfortable with someone a little... erm... older.” Lavender tried to say it diplomatically, but the fact was that Severus was closer in age to Molly than Draco or Blaise.

“Why didn't you just say that your stable of boys is all booked up?” he asked, wondering why Miss Brown hadn’t thought of some intelligent and believable lie on the spot. She was good at that sort of thing.

“I tried that. She said she knew lots of people at the Ministry who might take an interest in my business. She has no idea that I have ex-Death Eaters in my employ, but can you imagine the sort of noise that woman could make in the right circles? And then all those husbands wondering if their wives have been coming around? It could be disastrous!”

“So what? Lend a sympathetic ear?” Severus asked with a sneer.

“Basically, yes.” Lavender slumped down in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, looking like some petulant child in a grown woman's body. “Trust me, I have no interest in taking her Galleons, but it's a complex situation in which I must play along.”

Severus just wanted to find the deepest, darkest hole on earth, climb into it, and never emerge. Well, anyplace but a cell in Azkaban. Yesterday had been bad enough, but to discover that he would have to entertain in his flat Molly Weasley, someone who had become the surrogate mother to the entire Order during the war, was too much. He just prayed Molly would not ask him to take things beyond a platonic level. Severus did not want to betray Arthur in any way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

No sooner had Hermione closed her eyes than she had discovered it was a half-hour later. The charmed pot of ink rang and danced about her desk like an alarm clock; she had charmed it to wake her at five-thirty. Earlier, she had decided to skip lunch and get in an hour-long nap on the couch she had in her tiny office. Well, the couch was buried under the stacks and stacks of papers, books, journals, inter-departmental memos, and scrolls. The desk was comfortable enough for one's head, if one was tired enough.

After ending the charm, Hermione lifted her head from her desk and rubbed her eyes, feeling more tired than before her nap. The lunch hour nap revived her enough to finish the day, but this nap seemed to make her exhaustion feel more acute in her tired eyes and aching body.

Hermione dreaded seeing Severus, yet could not wait to have the chance to explain her actions last night, and say that she was sorry that she hurt him. In her fatigue-addled mind, she had even temporarily forgotten Severus' conversation with Malfoy in the atrium that morning.

A trip to the toilet confirmed her suspicions that she looked like hell. Hermione's hair, which she had pulled into a tight bun at the base of her skull, had come loose. It was now hanging askew with wild wisps of hair coming out from her head like bits of twisted wire. Add some gray hairs and crow's feet, and she could imagine exactly what she would look like in twenty years. The red mark on the side of her face where her face had pressed against her desk blotter, and the imprint of a quill's rachis and blade along her cheek, didn't help. Tired, she was so tired. She brushed her hair and re-pinned her bun into place, but the damage was done. Nothing short of a shower and a good night's sleep would improve her looks.

Resigned, Hermione left the loo and grabbed her cloak before going over to Severus' flat.

On her walk over, Hermione tried to rehearse what she would say, but could not find the words with any more ease than she did the night before. Somehow, claiming she was drunk and stupid, then begging for Severus to forgive her seemed the best option. Later she could tell him about her reservations last night and why she had left, but for now she had to make him understand that she wanted him. If the moment was right, perhaps even tell him she loved him.

Standing at the door, she felt her stomach twist and knot upon itself. Hermione had not eaten all day, and she felt nauseous from nerves.

Knock-knock. Knock-knock.

The door flew open and there stood Severus, unmasked, with his mouth set in a grim line. There was no smile or warmth radiating from him like all the other times when Hermione had come to his door. His eyes stared at her like cold, black ice.

'Shit, I've really fucked up,' Hermione fretted to herself.

“Enter,” Severus said with the same low and dangerous voice he used when he was about to dress down rambunctious third years.

Severus' schadenfreude festered inside of him, gratified to see that she looked as miserable as he had felt after the way she left him the previous night.

Hermione walked through the door. Severus seemed imposing and intimidating in his posture and attitude. A small sliver of fear shot through her.

He pointed at the settee and ordered her: “Sit.”

'I've hurt him.' She knew this by the glacial look of detachment he was giving her. The night before, there was a burning passion behind his eyes she had never thought any man capable of feeling for her, consuming her with his heat. Now he was as cold as sleet, chilling her to the bone.

Not wanting to sit, she spun around and said, “Severus, let me explain.”

He did not want to listen to her anymore. Listening to her had been what got his heart in this predicament to begin with, and now his freedom was hanging by a thread. Now it was time to appeal to her noble Gryffindor sensibilities and just come to the heart of the matter.

“No, Mrs. Weasley, it is time for me to talk and for you to listen.” He watched her recoil from the use of her formal name. “You are aware of the Death Eater Decree, and how Mr. Malfoy and I have been unjustly placed under its enforcement. I need your help in order to escape England, and this state of perpetual semi-imprisonment,” he began. “You… I need you to acquire some Potions ingredients so that a batch of Polyjuice Potion can be brewed, and Mr. Malfoy and I can assume the identities of others, and leave the country. I should have come right out and asked you the night I became aware of your position at the Department of Standards & Regulations, and now I regret that I did not do that instead of going through the motions of this.... farce,” Severus spat out bitterly, waving his hand about with impatience, looking at her askance.

Hermione's heart sank, and she felt as if she had just been hit in the stomach. “Farce? You mean to tell me...” She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, not wanting to contemplate that Severus had been acting the whole time in order to ask her for some ingredients. “You just wanted me for that?” she asked incredulously. She could feel the tears beginning to form behind her eyes, and did not care that Severus would see them.

He could see her pain, and he felt satisfaction that he had struck at her heart. He hoped it hurt as much as when she had torn out his heart the night before. “I never wanted to have you come into my flat in the first place. Miss Brown had to bribe me with rather significant sums of money in order to let you through my door, and now I'm beginning to regret ever letting you in.”

'He's the same cruel bastard after all these years. It was all just an act.' She could feel the world falling out from under her feet. The man she once thought of as handsome was disintegrating before her eyes, morphing into the same cruel, hooked-nosed fiend who had made her cry the night before her wedding.

Hermione fled to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall, seeking some sort of support to keep her from stumbling over from the shock.

Severus advanced on her, caging her in, his palms pressed to the wall on either side of her head.

“You lied,” Hermione sobbed, unwilling to believe this was happening, shaking her head back and forth. “You said you cared for me. How could you use me? Toy with my heart like that?”

“I should be the one asking you how you could toy with mine, Mrs. Weasley. You claimed to have felt some great affection for me. And I never lied,” he hissed menacingly in her face. “However, last night you said, even after all your claims and gestures, that you could not be with me in the end – not ever. Is that what you wanted to do? Break me? To haunt my thoughts day and night, to make my world revolve around when I would see you next? To insinuate yourself into my life, only to reject me when you found you could not want me or this face?” Severus began snarling, lashing out at her. “But in the end, it seems that for all your platitudes about friendship and caring, when it comes down to it, you could never care for me. So spare me your hypocritical tears, and tell me now if you can help me escape.”

Hermione stood there listening to all that he said, understanding dawning on her that Severus was lashing out for what he interpreted as complete rejection last night, just as she had been lashing out at Ron by going to Severus' flat the night before.

“I do care for you, Severus,” she whispered, her throat constricted. “I need you.” Her eyes shone bright with tears, her cheeks were wet and ruddy. “I came to you last night after Ron rejected me and I wanted to hurt him so much. I left here last night because the first time we make love, I didn't want it to be out of revenge or spite,” she began wailing, trying to get the words out before Severus threw her out of his flat, and she would never see him again. “I wanted our first time together to be because I care so very deeply for you. If I don't have you, I feel that my heart will atrophy and die without you.” She began to sob aloud now that she had confessed everything.

Severus stood there unable to say a word. He finally understood. Last night she did not say “not ever;” she had said, “not tonight.” His face fell, as he realized that he had possibly ruined Hermione's trust in him and his freedom from his own anger, because his wounded heart had gotten the best of him. He looked at her, his eyes seeking clemency for his premature condemnation of her.

“I... I...” How could he say he was sorry? ‘Sorry’ could not even begin to redress how he had sought to destroy her for her actions the night before.

Hermione watched as the seething rancor drained from his face and was replaced by pure, unadulterated remorse, the sort of contrition that makes one's heart go out to another in compassion and understanding.

Hermione wanted to make him understand that she could forgive him, just as she wanted Severus to forgive her. They were both guilty, both seeking absolution from hasty words and misunderstanding.

The time for words had passed. Hermione leaned forward and kissed Severus.

His arms pulled back in surrender, shocked that Hermione was pressing her lips to his. Severus had been heartless, and now she was kissing him eagerly, winding her hands up his shoulders and around his neck. He melted against her urgent lips. Wrapping one arm about her waist, he pulled her closer and kissed her back.

Tongue met tongue, neither one quite sure who parted their lips first. Hands grabbed and mouths devoured. And through their kisses Hermione sobbed in relief, their kisses salty from her tears, contrasting with the sweetness of their mouths.

“Oh God, Severus,” Hermione panted when their mouths broke apart to begin kissing each other's faces in haste, pressing lips to cheek, eyelid, nose, chin, jaw, forehead, and temple. “I've wanted you so much.” She gave a great sob and clasped her hands on either side of his face to see him. “I don't know why I've waited so long.”

His face, tired and haggard from fatigue, brightened briefly with a crooked smile before he kissed her greedily once more.

Severus felt like a fool, but he didn't care. What mattered most at the moment was that Hermione did not reject him, and had not run away from him because she could not stand to see him without his mask; she only saw the man she once knew during the war. Hermione wanted him, and his heart sang from the simple joy of being wanted. Enfolding Hermione within his arms, he curled his arms about her and held her possessively.

As her tears subsided, Hermione's passion returned five-fold. She could not have enough of what she had denied herself for so long, what she had dreamt about and fantasized for hours on end, over the past weeks. Her breath came in short pants as she thrust her tongue deeply into Severus' mouth, wanting to taste every corner of it, learn the feel of his teeth, and memorize the taste of him once more. With each lap of her tongue along his, she sighed a little louder each time, her voice progressively becoming a chant of moans.

Reveling in Hermione's voracious concupiscence, Severus let a low growl rumble through his chest, which seemed to drive Hermione's desire to a new level.

Trailing her mouth along the underside of his jaw, delighting in the rasp of his growth of hair against her lips, a counterpoint to the softness of his lips, Hermione found Severus' Adam's apple and began to suck on it, as his hand played with her hair still knotted in a bun.

Severus felt like he was the one being seduced for once, and if it wasn't for the fact that he wanted Hermione as bad as she had wanted him, he would have let her do just that. Eagerly, Severus' hands reached for the waistband of her jeans and began pulling out the hem of her blouse.

Hermione, sensing what he was doing, moved her own hands from Severus' hair down to the buttons of his shirt, blindly trying to find his buttons, as both their breaths came in short gasps. She removed her mouth from the task of licking Severus' neck to find that first button, and once it was found she went back to work at kissing his mouth and undressing him.

Her shirt pulled free, Severus' hands slipped up under her blouse and stroked the skin, marveling at its softness. His mouth trailed from her lips to her ear, and he grasped one lobe between his upper teeth and his lower lip.

The feel of his hot breath grazing her ear, licking that spot behind her earlobe made Hermione groan loudly, as her eyes rolled up in her head. That one spot made her feel as if every bone in her body had been removed. The task of Severus' button temporarily forgotten, she clutched at his shoulder and pulled her to him, arching her neck in offering. As he trailed wet kisses and nipped at the tendons and sinew of her neck, Hermione gave a plaintive sigh.

Her shirt was in the way of continuing his path of kisses, so Severus grabbed the hem of Hermione's blouse and lifted. Their bodily contact was briefly broken as the garment was being removed. With her arms above her head, and her arms still trapped in the fabric of her blouse, Hermione tried to lean forward and begin kissing him again, but could not. Severus was gazing hungrily at her, pinning her arms – still trapped in her blouse – above her head, her cleavage more pronounced in her simple flesh-colored cotton brassiere.

He liked the idea of having Hermione trapped in place, and subjected to the same torturous teasing she had subjected him to over the past several weeks, especially after that time she had had him begging her twice for some relief.

Gazing at her nipples, disturbing the smooth lay of the fabric covering her breasts, he let his eyes wander over her body, noting the way her ribs were more pronounced as she arched her back, and the line of her neck.

With one hand, he kept her wrists pinned to the wall above her head, while his other hand reached out and tentatively stroked her rib cage under her breasts.

Hermione took a great wheezing breath and threw her head back, lightly knocking it against the wall. His touch was electric, and the fact she was in a position that immobilized her – as if she was his captured prey – heightened the eroticism of the moment. Images of that first fantasy of her and Severus came back to her: chained spread-eagle and naked while Severus took her roughly from behind. It was enough that Severus was undressing and teasing her, but the added imagery of her fantasy made a tightening sensation in her lower belly come to life, like a pulse that throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

Severus liked to watch her squirm, aching for his touch. Skating his hands along her stomach and then around to her back, he heard her whimper.

“Severus, please.”

That alone broke his concentration. He leaned forward, pressing into Hermione into the wall and finished yanking her blouse off. One hand began groping at her breast, the other held tight onto her hair and jaw, angling her head so that he could delve his tongue into her mouth as deeply as he could.

Hermione felt like she was being subjugated by Severus, and she wanted to completely surrender to him. Her hands wound down his back to his buttocks, and she urged his hips forward to press into her. She wrapped one leg around Severus’ leg and began rubbing it up and down his thigh.

As Severus' mouth began trailing back down her neck to her shoulder, Hermione's hands squeezed his arse through his trousers before she moved them up to caress his back, then hooked them around his shoulder to pull him tightly against her.

Wanting to get into a much more comfortable position to continue this, Severus urged Hermione to wrap her other leg around him. He placed his hands under Hermione's bottom and lifted her up. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles behind his back.

With his mouth latched to the top of her shoulder, Severus turned around and opened his eyes so that he could get them both to the bed without stumbling. Hermione was busy licking and kissing his neck as they finally reached the bed. Once there, Hermione unlatched her legs, but before she could gain her footing, Severus threw her down playfully.

Hermione squeaked and laughed as she landed on the bed, bouncing a couple times before she came to rest. Propping herself up on her elbows, she gazed up at Severus. He was smiling, almost laughing. His eyes spoke of a rapacious lust within them that almost made Hermione shiver in anticipation.

Twisting her arms back behind her back, Hermione undid the clasp of her brassiere. She leaned back and slowly pulled one strap down, then the other. Severus stood above her, his knees pressed against the edge of the bed, as he began unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. Their eyes never broke contact.

As he slid his shirt off, Hermione drank in the sight of him. Slender, muscular, he had pale skin contrasting with the black hairs of his chest and the soft down that swirled around his navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Some base biological need within her twinged with desire to mate with him.

Hermione slid her bra off, exposing her breasts. Suddenly she felt the need to cross her arms and cover herself, or at least draw the curtains to make it less bright in there. If it wasn't for the fact that Severus was looking at her with such wanton abandon, she would have asked that he darken the room for her. She knew she didn't have perfect breasts, but she hoped that he wouldn't find fault with them. She drew her hands across her chest, if only to partially hide them.

Severus watched her face change from one of sexual confidence to uncertainty. “Let me see you,” he requested gently.

Hermione pulled her hands away, letting them rest limply beside her, and gazed back up at Severus questioningly.

“Beautiful,” he whispered reverently.

She turned her head to the side, looking away from Severus as tears pricked behind her eyes. What had she expected him to say? She wasn't sure, but recollections of Ron making left-handed remarks about her areolas came to mind.

Severus crawled up onto the bed next to her and cupped her face. “What's wrong?”

She pulled her face to look away from his as a few tears fell down her cheeks to the side of her head, pooling in her ears. “I hate my breasts. I just didn't...” She smiled weakly and shook her head.

His hand came up and cupped one gently, the other trailing fingers along the underside of one breast.

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed.

“I think they are lovely. Why would you hate something so perfect?”

Hermione gave a short laugh. “My areolas are too big?”

“Says who?”

She gave Severus a pointed look as to who exactly would say something like that.

He growled internally, damning that boy for making Hermione hate herself, and causing her to question all that was sexual about herself.

Placing light kisses on her, trailing his mouth down from her collarbone to the top of her breasts, he breathed against her skin. “They are perfect. I have seen enough of them to judge the matter.”

His finger began tracing little circles around one areola, and watched with fascination as the skin began to pucker and tighten. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, one hand stroking Severus' hair. The flat rosy pink skin became a textured surface of gyri and fissures surrounding a rosy red erect nipple.

“See,” he said, rubbing his nose along the puckered flesh, “beautiful.”

Hermione watched, hypnotized as Severus rolled over, partially on top of her, and began suckling at her breast. As his mouth engulfed her nipple and tugged on it lightly, Hermione felt the throbbing between her legs return.

“Oh, that feels so good,” she sighed, noting how for once it was a very pleasurable experience to have her breasts played with, instead of staring up at the ceiling in boredom wondering when Ron would be done.

Severus' other hand began to play with her other breast, and Hermione squirmed beneath him, wanting to be rid of her jeans and feel his flesh rubbing against the inside of her thigh.

He had kissed and suckled many a breast, but what Severus could not get his fill of were Hermione's kisses. He had not kissed another witch on the mouth for years. As a rule he did not kiss any of his clients, as it was too intimate an act. Fuck them he could, but kissing was just too personal for him. He moved up the bed so that he could feast on her sweet mouth. He loved the way her lips contorted and reacted to each of his actions, the way her lips nipped and suckled at his own lower lip and her tongue probed his mouth. With each thrust and swipe of Hermione's tongue, he felt as if she was penetrating him. She was taking some sacred and reserved part of him, and he was sharing a part of himself with her by allowing her to probe his mouth, laying bare some inner secret within himself for her to consume and swallow.

Wanting to be more aggressive, Hermione rolled over, pushing Severus onto his back so he lay there like a man on a cross, his arms out to the side. She rubbed her breasts against his chest, thrilled from the feeling of his chest hairs tickling her breasts and stomach. Stroking his face, she began nuzzling her nose against his neck, licking and biting down his jaw, neck and finally to his chest. She rubbed her face against the hair there, playing with it and noting its slight coarseness. Her hand traveled further down to his stomach and discovered the hair there was much softer. She kissed and pressed her cheek against the hair, noting its soft down-like quality. Experimentally, she licked the area around his navel and heard him gasp sharply.

This was unlike any seduction he had ever done before. Hermione was an equal participant in this, not some witch lying on her back waiting for him to do all the work or to instruct her how to please her future husband. She was taking the initiative, seeking to please him, bringing him as much pleasure as he wanted to bestow upon her. And when she licked his navel, a jolt of pleasure went the very short distance to his groin. He was already hard, but this seemed to magnify the sensation.

Encouraged by his reaction, Hermione probed his navel with her tongue, laving it gently, swirling her tongue around and dipping it in.

Severus’ hands went to her head to release her still tightly confined tresses. He began searching for the pins while she continued to lick his navel. Once the last pin was gone, he pulled her hair free, running his fingers through it. With each stroke of his hand, it seemed to increase in volume.

Hermione sat up and looked at him. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in a wild riot of waves and curls, the tips of some tendrils brushing along the tops of her breasts.

When she smiled at him, Severus felt his heart ache, as if it was too full or incapable of holding all the emotions within him at the moment. Her hands went to the buttons of his trousers and she began to undress him once again.

He lifted his hips as she slid his trousers and pants off. When they both realized he still had his boots on, he toed them off quickly; and Hermione finished undressing him, chucking his trousers a few feet away from the bed.

Severus lay there nude and open to Hermione's scrutiny. He, himself, wondered if he lived up to her expectations.

She smiled beatifically and breathed, “Magnificent.”

Her eyes alighted on Severus' erection and noticed it was not as long as she had thought it was, based on how he had rubbed himself against her, but it was certainly thicker than she expected. He was still bigger and longer than Ron, but she was glad he wasn't overly endowed.

Her hand stroked up his thigh and reached his hip. Severus rocked his pelvis, urging Hermione to touch him. Her palm grazed his length. His breath came out in a hiss as his eyes shut tight, and he turned his head to the side.

Tired of feeling her jeans constrict her movements and digging into her waist, Hermione jumped off the bed. Severus gave her a questioning look, wondering why she had stopped touching him, until he realized she was taking off the rest of her clothes.

She stood there at the edge of the bed, letting him drink in the sight of her. Severus' mind worked to preserve this moment, his first vision of Hermione's body emancipated from clothes.

Hermione knelt on the bed. Severus reached out and grabbed her, pulling her over him and onto her back. She squealed with surprise at the swiftness of Severus' movements. He pinned her to the bed with his weight, and they both rejoiced in the sensation of skin on skin along the full lengths of their bodies. Hermione could feel his erection pressing hot and hard into her hip as he brought his mouth to hers again.

As much as she loved all this kissing and foreplay, Hermione's body was desperate to feel Severus inside of her. “Severus,” she pleaded in a whisper, “please, I need you.” She latched one ankle around his calf and urged him to settle between her legs.

Propped up on his elbows above her, Severus stroked her face. “Hermione...” There was so much he wanted to say, but he was struck dumb by the intensity of the moment. For a man who prided himself on his eloquence, words now failed him.

Hermione reached her hands up over her head and intertwined her fingers with Severus'. He released one hand and stroked Hermione's wetness before proceeding. She was wet, and her lips were plump, engorged with blood. Severus rubbed the head of his cock near her entrance, making slow circles around and around.

The witch closed her eyes, unable to keep them open as she began to keen and wail. It was just like the dream she’d had, only better: the throbbing between her legs was now a relentless pulsing ache that bordered on painful. She drew her knees back, opening herself for her lover.

Severus positioned himself and slid into her. Both gasped in shock of the sensation, Hermione from the feeling of being expanded and filled, Severus from being engulfed in snug, hot flesh that grabbed at him. He withdrew and plunged in again, throwing his head back, the sheer tightness of her threatening to make this a quick interlude. Hermione screamed from the sheer pleasure of it, and Severus screwed his face up tight. After a few more cautious thrusts, when Severus became certain that he would not prematurely end their coupling, Severus found a rhythm that he could keep up for a while.

It had been so long for Hermione, it felt like she was losing her virginity again, except without the pain, blood and awkwardness. The invasion of Severus into her was welcomed and appreciated. The friction of his moving in and out of her was so satisfying, she cried aloud with each thrust. Hermione wanted to yell how good it felt, how much she wanted him, that she was all his to take, but all that escaped were incoherent mumblings in between each wailing moan.

Finally sure he wasn't about to come if he opened his eyes and saw Hermione writhing beneath him, Severus sat back on his heels, moving back and forth as he slid in and out of her. He grabbed her knees for support and to guide her body.

“God, you're fucking incredible,” he sighed. It was trite, but it was exactly what he thought at the moment as he gazed down upon her, her breasts swaying and jiggling with each thrust, her face flush, eyes dilated and drowsy with lust, mouth open, lips swollen from kissing, and legs opened to welcome him.

Hermione finally opened her eyes and saw Severus above her; she observed the muscles of his chest and arms flex, and his stomach tighten as he moved. He was like some dark angel making love to her: his pale skin, black hair, sharp features that bordered between cruel and beautiful.

Severus tilted her pelvis to allow a different angle of penetration before moving his thumb down to her clitoris to begin stroking it.

Hermione's voice was beginning to get hoarse with all the screaming she had been doing, but it reached a higher pitch when he began stroking her there. She arched her back and bucked her hips, trying to grind herself into him.

“Deeper,” Hermione begged. She wasn't sure if she wanted Severus to go deeper, but she usually asked Ron to go deeper when she wanted more of whatever he was doing to her.

Severus smiled and hitched her knees over his elbows, then drove home.

Hermione's eyes flew open and she grunted in pain, “Too deep.” She wanted to curl up on her side, now feeling like Severus' cock was going to come up through her belly button.

Seeing her in momentary pain, Severus slowed down and made his strokes shallower. Coming back down to press his chest against hers, still moving in and out of her, he mumbled, “Sorry,” while pressing kisses to her brow.

“It's okay,” she replied quickly before kissing him back.

Her hands roamed his back, finding his scar and mole, mapping the muscles as they flexed and moved. She dug her heels into his hips, moving her thighs in time to his strokes.

Soon it was there on the edge. She could feel it approaching. Closing her eyes, Hermione concentrated on the orgasm she could feel building inside of her. This is what she had wanted for so long, to come while feeling herself get pounded into the mattress, to feel herself clench and tighten around something so long and thick inside of her. The heat in her belly was raging now, and her head thrashed from side to side, but she could not come. It was there hovering just beyond her reach.

“Almost there,” she whinged with a heaving breath.

Severus was almost there, as well. He wanted to wait until Hermione came before he allowed himself to come. He wanted her to scream his name, and thrash and undulate in the frenzy of an orgasm that he would give to her. He knew Weasley had never given her that pleasure, and he wanted to be the first.

Bending his head down, he began sucking on one breast, alternating between his teeth and lips worrying at her nipple.

The sensation of Severus' mouth there sent a jolt down to her belly straight through her core, and Hermione was certain she would come now.

“Almost,” she moaned.

Severus moved his hand back down to her clit, stroking it in time to his thrusts.

Hermione grew agitated that she could not peak. She wanted to so badly, but it was not happening. She was standing at the precipice, and she could not find her way over the edge. Worry and doubt that she could never come during sex crept into her mind.

She started to cry, “I can't come! Oh God! I can't, I can't.”

Severus stopped and rested on top of Hermione, trying to sooth her. “Shhhh, it's all right.”

“No, it's not,” she sniffed, looking up at Severus' face so etched with concern. “Ron was right, I am a lousy lay. I can't come.”

He knew exactly what was happening, and why Hermione was not orgasming. Severus had dealt with a couple of witches whose husbands never bothered to satisfy them; the only way they knew how to orgasm was through masturbation. Hermione had confessed that Ron had never made her come, so that meant that she only had orgasmed through touching herself.

“Yes, you can,” Severus told his lover, smoothing her furrowed brow with a calming hand. “You're just not used to orgasming during sex. We just have to train your body to relax and come during sex.” Now he wished he had held back on his impulses and engaged in more foreplay before mounting her. Still, all that foreplay might not guarantee an orgasm during intercourse for her anyway.

Wiping away her tears, Hermione asked, “How do we do that?”

Severus pulled out of her and sat back on his heels, his cock bobbing in the air. “Like this,” he said, and slowly stroked Hermione's outer labia with his fingers.

Noting how she was becoming a little drier, he stopped and reached into his bedside table drawer and pulled out a small vial. “Here, drink this.”

“What is it?”

“A natural lubrication potion. Drink this, and you will be plenty wet for what we will be doing,” he said with a knowing smirk.

Looking at the vial with circumspection, she asked, “Will this interfere with being on contraceptive potions?”

“No,” he told her. “I've made sure of that.”

She drank it down in one gulp. It tasted a little oily and a little sweet. As it went down her esophagus, Hermione could feel an icy heat slide down through the center of her body, that was equally pleasant and unsettling, as she hadn’t known what to expect when she took it. When it reached what felt like her uterus, there was a pleasant tingling sensation followed by a small gush of fluids which Severus began spreading about her lips with his long, slender fingers.

“How does it feel?” he asked, having had only a few witches to ask for feedback.

Hermione laid back, marveling at the warm glow in her lower abdomen and how it began to gradually fade, but how her body kept producing a small trickle of clear, viscous fluid. “It feels kind of nice. Just feeling all this wetness is turning me on even more,” she confessed, and arched her back as Severus dipped a finger between her folds. She hissed, “Yes,” and spread her legs wide for him.

Gazing down, Severus finally looked at her and admired the shape and color of her sex. The hue of her curls so dark, they almost appeared black; the way her swollen reddish-pink clitoris glistened as his thumb circled it, the way her inner and outer labia wrapped itself around his long fingers. Slipping two fingers into her, he found her g-spot and began to stroke it while the palm of his other hand pressed down on her lower abdomen, just above her pubic bone to increase the pressure of his finger to her sacred spot. His thumb played with the small cluster of sensitive nerves as his fingers began to slide in and out, slightly curving them with each pass.

Hermione's body remembered this, but Severus was stroking that elusive spot inside of her that she had never been able to find with her own fingers. The fire in her belly roared back to life and quickly grew. Severus kept a slow pace, guided by Hermione's moans, picking up the pace as her breaths became shorter. With a few more strokes, Hermione's body crested, and she gave a hoarse cry. Severus knew she was coming, as he felt her muscles quiver and grasp at his fingers. He kept stroking as he positioned himself over Hermione again, marveling at how her face twisted with the beautiful agony of pleasure. Just as she started to come down off of her climax, Severus removed his fingers and slid into her.

Her eyes flew open as her orgasm returned, and felt intensified. She opened her throat and bellowed Severus' name in a deep and throaty voice, unlike she had ever used. Bucking wildly beneath him, Hermione clawed at his back, anything to keep him moving in and out of her, to keep this burning sensation going and making her feel electrified throughout her whole body. She could feel herself tightening around Severus as her orgasm continued to become more focused, and it felt like nothing she ever imagined. Her toes curled, and she prayed her foot would not cramp to ruin this glorious sensation that seemed to go on for more than just a brief spurt.

As Severus thrust into her, he felt his own climax approach. He let himself finally fall over that edge, joining Hermione in that wondrous free fall. Severus grunted, and let her name escape his lips. Her name came out as a plea as he felt himself empty into her as she began to come down from her own petit mort. She watched Severus' face change from fury to surrender, his cock pulsing against her slightly tender walls with each spurt.

Hermione encouraged Severus to collapse on top of her. They were both exhausted, sweaty, and gasping for breath. Hermione could feel Severus' heart pounding through his chest, hammering at her breast. She loved the idea that she could make his heart beat like that. Her own heart was thumping loudly and painfully.

Severus didn't know where he found the strength, as it seemed what little he had possessed left him after his orgasm, but he lifted his head and began placing tender kisses all over Hermione's face. Never had he felt so satisfied after an orgasm; it was as if he had poured his own soul into the act itself. There was a sensation of completeness and contented satisfaction to the act that stirred the love he felt for Hermione to new levels. He wondered if this was what others meant by “making love,” for it felt as if his feelings for Hermione had been cemented with this carnal conjoining.

Reaching her eyes, he felt tears streaming down her face. Hermione was crying, but was simultaneously laughing.

“Oh God, Severus,” she said in relief, as her crying became intensified. She wanted to tell Severus how much she loved him, but didn't think that such a declaration after the most incredible orgasm of her life would be taken with any seriousness.

His brow furrowed, worried that she was beginning to regret this. Though she smiled at him with warmth, her tears confused him. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she laughed again, shaking her head

“Then why...”

Hermione kissed him, holding him tightly before releasing his mouth. “Because I'm so happy,” she confessed.

Her tears of joy humbled him, that he could bring her this much happiness. Severus smiled, almost chuckling at the absurdity of it all. He had made others laugh and consoled their crying, but never both at the same time.

Suddenly, Severus felt very drowsy. He noticed Hermione stifle a yawn.

“Did you sleep last night?” he asks, brushing a stray sweaty tendril of hair off her forehead.

She shook her head. “You?”

Squinting his eyes shut, he didn't want to think about last night. He had felt so rejected, angry, and forsaken, that last night seemed like one long nightmare of his tortured soul.

“I'll get you those ingredients,” Hermione said out of the blue.

Severus looked at her, suddenly realizing that he had made love to her without even getting her answer beforehand. All those plans he had made in his head has flown out the window in the moment of passion between them.

Hermione simply said, “Sleep.” She stroked his forehead with her thumb and pressed it against the spot between his brows.

For Severus, it was like she had cast a Sleeping Charm on him, for he could not keep his eyes open from that gentle pressure on his brow. It was so soothing.

He rolled off Hermione and she curled up next to him, snuggling her head upon his shoulder and chest, one hand lazily playing with the hairs of his chest and stomach.

Neither spoke, as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, drunk and soporific on feelings of love and contentment.

============

A/N: Perselus has drawn a lovely illustration to go with this end of this chapter. It is mostly work safe, with just a bit of bare back with Hermione and Severus sleeping under the covers. You can view it here on Perselus' DeviantArt page: http://perselus.deviantart.com/art/And-finally-3-27907364
Or on the ATDLHEA Tumblr page: http://atdlhea-betz.tumblr.com/post/132015965000/fan-art-by-perselus-and-finally-severus-rolled
I have always wanted to use one of my favorite exchanges from a movie and was finally able to use it somewhat unaltered. The original exchange is from the movie, “Mr. Mom” and is one of my favorite scenes of all time, it's just too damn funny.

Michael Keaton: “You wanna a beer?”

Martin Mull: “It's seven in the morning!”

Keaton: (Waits a beat and says deadpan) “Scotch?”

So... they FINALLY shagged. Happy now? Not perfect, but pretty good for them both.
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After