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In The Restricted Section	By : MissLibrarian Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 29928 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the films or books. I make no money from this story. It's all good fun!

Chapter List
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A/N: Though I could get down on bended knee, and beg you all to forgive me, I cannot be forgiven for the massive gap between the my chapter and the one I am uploading now. To my shame I realised not long ago how long it had been since I abandoned this story and I wanted to rectify it as quickly as possible

I had found it quite difficult to write a happy ending a while back, and consequently I abandoned this almost-finished story, like a bowl with an ugly crack in it. Now I am pleased to say I have dusted it off, fixed up the cracks, and filled it with lemons! :P

Though I have a simply awful track record when it comes to uploading, I really do sincerely mean it when I say will be uploading the other two chapters of this story imminently, probably before the month is out. There are some formatting problems with the last chapter which I can’t seem to fix at my end, I hope it doesn’t go on that way, but if it does I will try and do something about it ASAP.

I have received a wonderful amount of rates and reviews for this story and I am very humbled by that. If you enjoy reading my story as well, I hope you will consider leaving me a review too, if you haven’t already. Though they aren’t the reason I write they certainly are a very nice perk! I answer all my reviews personally so I hope you won’t mind my taking a brief bit of time to list them here. The chapter begins below.

I'm very sorry but I've had to take down the review replies in some of my chapters to to Author's Note length limitations :( It's sad that, since you have all been so wonderful leaving me messages, I don't have space to thank you all personally. I hope everyone saw their replies before I had to delete them. Sorry again and thank you all so much for your reviews!

Thank you for reading my story, and please do rate and review, you’ll make me very happy! Enjoy the next chapter ~Love Marie.

Decisions

“Oh God, I can’t believe him,” Hermione muttered bitterly as she strode angrily along the corridor.

“How fucking typical of him! To be so infuriating!” She stared down at the floor as her mind raged and her pace increased even more. “I hate him,” she ground out through gritted teeth. “I fucking hate him.”

She ran her hand lightly along the cool stone of the wall as she stomped up the stairs towards the Great Hall.

“You’re right, Ron. You’ve always been right. He’s a fucking slimy git.”

She glanced behind her but couldn’t see Ron climbing the stairs after her as she had expected.

“Ron?” She called, crouching down a little to look as far as she could along the corridor at the bottom on the staircase. “Ron? Where are you?”

She huffed out a sigh and stomped back down the stairs, rolling her eyes, he was probably signing autographs again. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen along the corridor, however, and she began to hurry again as a slight panic set in. She didn’t know where he was, but she had a sudden, awful feeling that he might just be talking to Snape. And if that was the case, then he must suspect something. She sighed again, and tutted, angry and annoyed at both herself and the whole situation.

She shouldn’t have called him Severus aloud like she did. She had known it with an icy certainty the moment it had slipped out. And she wasn’t sure that Snape would be willing to lie outright for her. She broke out into a run as she raced back along the windowless corridors, her heart beating hard in her chest. He had never assured her any sort of secrecy. She hadn’t even asked for it. But then, if he did tell Ron, then he would be putting his own job on the line. McGonagall would be sure to find out everything.

As she turned down the corridor of Snape’s classroom, however, she saw Ron coming out of the room and closing the door behind him.

He was smiling as he walked towards her, which she saw as a good sign, and when he glanced up and spotted her his smile widened and he waved to her.

“Hey babe,” he said with a grin.

“What were you doing in there?” She asked him with some indignation, annoyed that he had stayed behind at all, now that the fear of discovery had been momentarily subdued.

“We just had a chat,” he said with a shrug. “Nothing important.”

He moved off along the corridor, but she stood fast.

“What could you possibly have to chat with Snape about?” Hermione asked, confused and more than slightly annoyed.

“Just quidditch shite,” he shrugged again. “The Quidditch Cup. And talking of quidditch, Denny Creed will be getting to the Three Broomsticks in an hour, and I need to hurry if we’re going to eat something before.”

Her stomach heaved uneasily at the mention of food, and she knew that she needed more time to get ready for the meeting with Denny Creed than Ron would, so she pulled him aside as they got the Great Hall.

“Listen, I’ll meet you in my rooms, OK?” “Sure,” was all he said with a half-smile, and he disappeared into the dining room.

The corridors were crowded with people and Hermione moved through them as if in a dream, a lone figure drifting against the current, fighting against the sea of students making their way to the Great Hall to eat. She didn’t even see them, instead she was replaying memories in her mind, and trying to make sense of her maelstrom of thoughts. Ron – why did Ron stay behind?

He surely couldn’t have been actually talking to Severus about quidditch. He must have suspected something. Or was it just her guilt that was making her paranoid beyond reason? But no – such a blasé conversation between the two of them would surely never happen, there must have been something more to it, but why would Ron lie about it afterwards? Why was he acting so cheerful and carefree? Unless they had been talking about quidditch…

The corridor leading to her room was empty by now. She took long strides towards her door while she reached for her wand.

…Or unless Severus had convinced Ron that nothing suspect had happened between them. Though, of course, it had. But if there was one thing knew about Snape, it was that he knew exactly how to spin a yarn, and make people believe it.

The lock turned beneath her charm and she pushed the door open slightly, but she recalled his deep and melodious voice, and it made her freeze where she was. Hovering over the threshold of her room, one hand still clutching the door handle, eyes wide and glassy as she remembered.

“I honestly think it would be a bad idea to pursue anything more between us. We should try and conduct ourselves as professionally as possible from now on.”

In her rooms she glanced at the clock and realised that more time had passed than she had thought. She couldn’t let herself become distracted by endlessly circling thoughts right now, she had to get ready for the meeting with Denny Creed, and her role as a national quidditch player’s girlfriend was intensive at the best of times. It was rather ridiculous how tiring and tedious it was, standing looking attentive on Ron’s arm, while he talked a load of bollocks with other bollock-talking men. She had to get through the afternoon with Creed, she just had to. After that, well - she was sure she’d have plenty of time later on, to drive herself crazy.

Her hair always took so long to master, and today proved to be no exception. At least ten extra minutes of her mentally–noted, perfectly allocated preparation time was spent in trying to contain curls and smooth down persistent bumps. She rushed while she changed, and pulled on her stockings while she sat on the toilet, to save even more time. She was leaning in towards the mirror when Ron came back, painting her face with the careful hand of a practised artist, while staring at her own features for so long that they became nothing more than just shapes before her.

“Sorry I took so long,” Ron said in a rush as he passed by on the way to the bedroom. “But they served Sticky Toffee Pudding, and I had seconds. I’m going to be late now, I know it.”

He disappeared into the bedroom but left the door open behind him. She called out after him.

“I’ll be ready in two minutes,” she said emphatically, as one always is when telling a lie that they fervently believe at that point.

“Pardon?” Ron called back, his voice sounding quite muffled.

“I said I’m almost ready,” Hermione almost-shouted, laughing a little.

There was a brief silence from the bedroom, and then she heard Ron calling to her again, and her smile slipped. “Ready for what?”

“The meeting,” she called, and tutted loudly. Ron appeared in the bedroom doorway, his fingers working on the line of buttons of his half-buttoned shirt, a bemused look on his face. She rolled her eyes. “With Creed,” she said. “Of course.”

Ron lifted the collar of his shirt and dragged a tie around his neck, frowning as he looked across the room at her.

“‘Mione, you’re not coming,” he said simply, and vanished into the bedroom again.

“Pardon?” It was Hermione’s turn to call out this time. For some reason she felt the sinking feeling of disappointment in her tummy.

Ron appeared once more with black dress robes on, his shirt and tie just visible beneath, his hat crooked as he jammed it onto his head.

“It’s just me today, okay?” Ron said breezily, putting his hands either side of her waist, and kissing her swiftly on the cheek. “Bloke talk,” he added.

“But… you never said,” Hermione could hardly get her words out. “I got ready,” she gestured to her dress and hair vaguely, as if she were in a dream.

“You look great, babe.” Ron said, looking into the mirror over her shoulder, straightening his hat and tie. “When I get back I’ll take you out to dinner, how about that?”

And without another word he opened the door and left.

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The passing years and lives of students were marked on the surface of the old desks in the Hogwarts library. All of the students who had passed through the doors of the school had found themselves, at some point, sitting at one of these desks as tests or exams loomed, and sweating. The lines of ink and chipped graffiti carved into the wood seemed to twist and move as she stared at them. She ran her fingertips over them.

At some point in his life, when he was a student and when he was young, Severus might have sat at this table. Perhaps in the very seat that she was sitting in right now. Perhaps Fred had sat here too, and Lupin. It was a humbling thought, really.

As Hermione had stood and stared at the closed door of her rooms, the moment after Ron had disappeared through it, she had felt raging anger build up inside her to a level she rarely ever reached. She had seen red, and had sat on her hands on the sofa, willing herself to stay calm and still while pure vile anger surged inside. She thought about Ron. She thought a million things about him and more. She couldn’t help but think about him. And then she had become so angry that she was afraid that she would smash all of her own things in a violent rage. So she had scrawled a quick note, so that Ron would know to look for her in the library when he came back, and she got the hell out of there.

Now she sat dejectedly at the desk, resting her head in her hands while trying not to mess up her nicely styled hair, staring at wood which had been varnished and polished so much over time that it glowed the same amber as her eyes. She wondered why she had come here. What sadistic part within her had thought it a good idea to return, as it were, to the scene of the crime? The library was quiet and mostly empty, Pince sat and intimidated like a beetle at her desk, and Hermione felt ridiculously overdressed. She glanced at the clock. She only had half an hour now before she had to go on her rounds. It had become late without her even noticing, and there wouldn’t be time to go out with Ron now anyway, even if he did show up.

She sighed deeply, and rested her forehead on the polished table, feeling very tired.

“Er, excuse me?”

She snapped her head up at the sound of the voice, frowning a little in a small moment of confusion, and then her eyes narrowed as she recognised – with some surprise – Sam McNabb standing in front of her.

“This had better be good,” she muttered darkly.

“Er, I don’t mean any funny business,” McNabb seemed genuine enough. For a teenage boy, anyway, but she didn’t have a clue why he was talking to her if he didn’t mean funny business. “I was wondering if I could have a chat with you,” he added. “Somewhere private.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow at this. She definitely was not about to go anywhere private with Sam McNabb.

“I’m sure you can say – whatever it is you have to say to me – right here,” she replied stiffly.

McNabb glanced around at the quiet library, and seeing no-one but the stern librarian at the far-away desk, turned back to her. ‘Alright,’ he said.

He leant forward, put his hands flat on the table, and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what you were doing in that office, last night…” She felt colour rise in her face as she stared at the teenage boy, and over his hunched shoulder to Pince, who – though apparently reading – seemed to be listening to their every word with masterfully mocked indifference. She turned and glanced at the doorway to the offending little room, her mind filled with the touch and the smell of him, before snapping her head round to glare at Sam McNabb again. “With Snape,” he whispered unnecessarily.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Pince’s head swivel round, like an owl’s.

“Professor Snape was merely showing me an interesting and rare copy of Merypop’s ‘Common Miscastings’.” She spoke as loudly and haughtily as she could manage. “The Wellman Edition, there were only one hundred printed.” And she’d noticed it on the shelf above them, nerd that she was, while Severus had been kissing her neck, before his tongue… well, before she’d become completely distracted.

“It was very interesting,” she rambled, while standing up and picking up her bag. Pince sedately looked away again.

“I have to go and start my rounds now.” She was trying to speak through gritted teeth. She turned and stared at McNabb for a moment, while he stared blankly back at her. “Coming?” She asked shortly.

“Oh, right!” He replied, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, and plodded out after her. Once they had walked a little way along the corridor, and quite far away from the doors of the library or the busy staircase, she turned on him.

“Right, what the hell’s all this about?” She asked, furiously. “Thought you’d found a bit of dirt on me, did you? Going to try and blackmail me or something? Well there’s a flaw in your master plan…”

McNabb shook his head rather violently and talked over her. “That wasn’t what I…”

“…There’s nothing going on between me and Snape,” she finished.

“…Meant,” he said. He let out a sigh and his shoulders drooped. He put his hands in his pockets again. “I wanted to say thank you,” he mumbled.

“Thank you?” Hermione repeated sharply, still rather confused.

Sam met her eyes. “Thank you,” he said again, more loudly. “For what you said last night…” he gazed down at the floor then, and his blonde fringe fell across his face. “About me and Vi. We’re going out,” he said enigmatically, with a sort of half-hearted shrug.

“Oh,” was all she could say, while her guard dropped a little. “I see.”

“She wouldn’t have known…” He stopped. “I wouldn’t have said anything…” He stopped again, then he seemed to find the courage to look at her, and say what he meant. “We wouldn’t have happened, if you hadn’t have said anything. We’d’ve never made the decision to act otherwise. Like I said, I don’t know what went on in that office – “

She avoided his gaze this time, staring quite avidly at the wall beside them.

“– And I don’t want to know,” he told her quite emphatically. “But I just wanted to say that you shouldn’t care what people say, if you find something that makes you happy. I didn’t know what would make me happy, but I do now. So… thanks.”

He gave another quick shrug and then turned and sauntered off up the corridor.

“Thank you, McNabb,” she called after him, and he answered by casually raising one hand briefly while not even bothering to stop or turn round.

She didn’t know what the time was, now, but she was pretty sure that she wouldn’t have time to go back to her rooms to leave another note for Ron before starting her rounds. She decided to head straight to the fourth floor, where she would walk the corridors for about an hour, and think enough thoughts to fill a book.

As she climbed the stone stairs, she couldn’t help recalling again, words he had told her in the classroom.

"We should try and conduct ourselves as professionally as possible from now on."

Ouch. It really had hurt. She’d been filled with rage when he’d first said it, but now her bruised feelings had numbed somewhat, to a dull ache. It wasn’t as though she didn’t understand, nor did she blame him for feeling that way, it had been exactly the type of thing that she had expected him to say in any case. But it had hurt her much more than she had expected it to. She was with Ron, she felt sick with guilt for hurting Ron, so why did she care so much whether Severus wanted her or not?

She’d have to try and make some sense out of all of this. Too much had seemed to happen all at once, she barely knew what she thought about the whole thing, let alone how she felt about it.

She was trapped. Trapped in a relationship with Ron which, she had the most worrying feeling, would only continue to get steadily worse and worse as the days and weeks and years passed. But Ron loved her, depended on her, she might not love him anymore but she still didn’t want to actually hurt him. After everything they’d been through together – it wasn’t easy to just leave him, as her friends urged, after all that.

She would leave him though, she would if she knew there was something there to support her, anything that could stop her from just falling alone into an unknown oblivion. For a few breathless hours the day before she had thought that Snape might just have been the one who would catch her. He would be the thing to stop her falling. But he’d rejected her – in no uncertain terms – he didn’t want anything more between them. Was that because of her, though, or because of the situation as a whole? She didn’t know, but she felt she had to find out, one way or another. Perhaps he would meet her. She really hoped that he would, although she didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she needed to talk to him badly. She needed to know.

She climbed the last step and came out onto the landing of the fourth floor, turning down the main corridor, the sporadic torches lining the empty corridors filling them with muted light. At the end of the corridor was a large arched window, the lead on the glass spindly lines against the watery night-time light that spilled in through it, the few torches not strong enough to hold it back. In the summer, towards the end of the school year, the sun was still setting at this time. She could recall the golden light streaming in through this very same window. But it was winter now – November – and it had long since gone dark.

She stared at the window, her eyes trying to make out the lines and shadows around it, something wasn’t quite right. After only a few seconds she realised what it was, as he stepped forward out of the shadows, his tall silhouette outlined by the starry sky behind. She swallowed.

Somehow she willed herself to walk towards him. Her shoes clicked on the stone floor with every step, she looked down at her feet and remembered how overdressed she was, the toes of her red satin heels a stark reminder. They were not practical shoes to wear while doing her rounds, she thought, but the cushioning spell she had adapted for her high-heeled shoes was working wonders, she should write to Witch Weekly, and they might print it in their hints section, like that hair-drying spell she’d…

…What the hell am I thinking? She thought. Shut up, shut up, shut up!

She took a deep breath and brought her head up, looking at him evenly as she felt herself squaring her shoulders, she was near enough to him now to see the look in his dark eyes.

“Well,” he said quietly, when she was only a couple of feet away. His deep voice washed over her and gave her goosebumps, as his dark gaze dragged slowly down her body, and back up again. “Do you always look so tantalisingly edible when you do your rounds, or is this glorious effort just for me?”

His thin lips had that playful smirk about them, just the merest twist of a smile at the very corner of his mouth, but she found it so disarming and so very attractive. She let out a breathy sort of snort at his compliments, but her head was suddenly aching so badly she could hardly think, while her heart hammered in her chest. She had expected to find him severe again, strict and straight-edged and serious, as he had been in his classroom. His smirk did more to unnerve her than his stony glare ever had done. She rubbed her aching forehead for a moment, then dragged her hand over her eyes, and down to cover her mouth.

Her weariness was obviously evident, his eyebrows knitted and forehead wrinkled in concern. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice quieter now, and caring. “Tired?”

“A little,” she said, letting her hand drop to her side. “A lot,” she confessed, and sighed as she stepped forward and leant her arms against the cold stone of the massive window’s sill. “And going a bit mad,” she added, rubbing her face with both hands as the chill from the stonework seeped into her elbows. She felt him move and stand beside her, his large hand spread out across her lower back, and rubbed gently up and down. Warmth spread through her to her fingertips.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asked, his voice hot against her ear.

She shook her head, though her breath had already steamed up the large expanse of glass before her, and in the corners of each of the leaded diamonds she could see the glinting glimmer of forming ice. They were silent for a while, she didn’t know how long, and she couldn’t think of anything to say, though she wanted to tell him and ask him a thousand different things.

“I slept on the sofa,” she eventually blurted out, and then she felt foolish and wondered if he understood what she’d really meant to say. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her with a deep frown for a second, before his face relaxed and he nodded at her. “He stayed behind and spoke to you,” she said, and he nodded again. She felt a sinking feeling in her heart. Though his face was quite impassive now, she could tell from his awkwardness that the conversation he’d had earlier had definitely not been about quidditch. She had to know what had happened. “Well?” She asked. “What did he want?”

He still didn’t speak for another long moment, but only stared down at her with his level gaze, and she knew – she just knew – that he was considering whether or not he should tell her what had been said. She wanted to throttle him. The image of her fingers wrapped round his neck while she shook him to a frenzy raced through her mind.

“He wanted to know if I thought you were having an affair,” he said bluntly, eventually.

A cold chill ran through her.

“Did he suspect… anything between us?” She asked quickly. He nodded again.

“I think he may have done,” he said, his deep voice quiet and steady as his gaze. “For a moment.”

“You were able to persuade him…?” She asked awkwardly, but he nodded once again as she tailed off, and relief flooded over her.

“He does suspect something though,” he murmured. “He felt you had been acting suspiciously.” It was her turn to nod this time, she did so dejectedly, staring at the frozen window again as bitter guilt rose up in her throat.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” Severus said then suddenly, harshly, and she turned to look at him in surprise. “An absolute pig,” he reiterated, the disgust written on his face. She wondered just what Ron could have possibly said to provoke such a reaction from him. He was usually so calm and collected. Then, all of sudden, a sort of sadness came over him. His head dipped down, and his shoulders drooped, she could see it clear as day. “But, regardless of that,” he said with a sigh, “I must admit I don’t exactly feel good about – what we did.”

He wasn’t hiding his emotions from her, and she wondered for a moment at the fact that they were talking like this – so honestly, like friends. Like lovers.

She still nodded again, though, understanding what he meant. Another crippling wave of guilt crashed over her, she was glad she hadn’t eaten anything, she would have surely been sick. She really didn’t feel good about the underhand events that had brought them together like this. But she didn’t regret them either, the sudden hot memories of their time together that rushed through her like a fire, burning her breath away.

“You don’t regret it though, do you?” She asked uncertainly.

“No,” he said quietly, with a sigh and another hint of a smile. That one small syllable was possibly the most wonderful thing she had ever heard him say, she fought the urge to throw her arms around him, and smiled shyly instead. “I could never regret it,” he added. His thumb brushed the soft flesh of her own and she looked down, surprised to see that her hand was clasped tightly with his, how long had they been holding hands? It seemed to happen automatically. The air crackled around them, she was aware that they were gravitating towards each other, his lips moving nearer to hers.

“But I’m not a cheater,” he said suddenly and firmly, pulling away and breaking the spell.

She didn’t know what to say or do. She wasn’t a cheater either. Though part of her was aching for him, she was actually glad that he’d kept his head, and pulled away. Silence stretched between them, she stared at the glinting frost on the window, wondering what the hell she wanted. She wanted him to speak, actually, so she wouldn’t have to. And, after a moment, he did.

“I can’t share you, Hermione,” his voice was beautiful even when it cracked and splintered. “If you’re with him – when you’re with him – you can’t be mine. And I want you,” his hot, whispered words filled her with heat and made her heart race. “I want you for myself,” he said.

“You want me?” She repeated, staring up at him. He raised their clasped hands to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.

“Of course I do,” he told her, and she thought her knees might give way right there and then. “But you have to choose what you want for yourself,” he said firmly, and he interrupted her when she opened her mouth to answer him. “Weasley has a right to know your decision before I do,” he told her, “though I couldn’t care less about him, it’s important that you do the right thing. If you want me then you’ll have to end it with him first. I won’t have it any other way.”

She frowned a little, sighing deeply, wondering how on earth she was going to do the ‘right thing’. Severus had told her that he wasn’t a cheater, and neither was she, not deep down. She felt absolutely awful with their dirty secret hanging over them, there was no way anything else sordid or underhand could happen between them again, not now. It was decision time. He wanted her and God help her, she wanted him so very, very badly. But Ron – how was she supposed to leave Ron after all this time? Break Ron’s heart?

How would she tell him?

God, it was all such as damn mess! She raised her free hand to her face and rubbed her tired eyes.

“I need some time to think through all of this…” she admitted quietly.

“Go back to your room,” Snape muttered, pulling his hand away. “I patrolled the corridors before you arrived. Don’t worry, I shan’t be expecting a visit from you any time soon,” he added bitterly, and he spun round and strode away. The cold bit into her hand now his warmth had gone.

Had she said something wrong? Did he think she didn’t want him? She didn’t know anything anymore.

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She thought that the best and only thing to do was head towards her room and wait for Ron to come back. She didn’t know what she would say to him, when he did, but she couldn’t do anything else right now. She wished someone could just tell her what to say and do, she’d never been good with decisions like this, though she would think things through ‘til she was blue in the face she still always seemed to end up choosing the worst option. Maybe, she thought, this time I should think with my heart.

On the back of her hand the spot where he’d kissed her tingled like magic.

When she got to her room and opened the door she was shocked to see Ron there, slouched on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table, glaring up at her.

“Ron!” She exclaimed. “How long have you been back?”

He stood up. “Hours and hours. Where the hell have you been?”

“I was in the library,” she said angrily. “I left you a note.” She pointed to the small piece of parchment she’d left on the side. He turned to look where she pointed and then shrugged.

“I saw,” he said.

“Well, why didn’t you come and find me?” She asked, absolutely indignant at his actions.

“I thought you’d be back sooner,” he said with another shrug, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Me too,” Hermione said quickly. She felt another sickening wave of guilt, but she suddenly knew now exactly what she had to say, what she had to do. “Ron, let me go first…”

“No, ‘Mione,” he told her, and he lead her to the sofa and sat her down gently, as if she were an invalid or elderly relative. He sat on the chair opposite, and shuffled it forward, leaning in towards her. “You need to hear this.”

Something’s happened with Denny Creed, she thought. His career was about to go super-stellar, or – she couldn’t help but notice the way he was sitting, shoulders hunched, while he rubbed his palms together nervously – was possibly over. But the glorious thing was she didn’t have to sit through him talking about his stupid quidditch career ever again.

“Ron…” she tried again, though he shook his head at her. “Please let me…”

“There’s someone else,” he said loudly, interrupting her.

She blinked once or twice, her heart racing, memories of Severus’ face and voice and hands rushing through her mind. Ron’s head was down, he wasn’t looking at her, his hands were still rubbing together palm-to-palm.

“What…?” She began, but didn’t know how to finish.

“Her name’s Kate,” Ron said then. “I love her. I want to be with her.” He finally showed some courage, and lifted his head, looking her in the eye. “I’m leaving you, ‘Mione.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as the penny proverbially dropped.

“‘Mione?” He asked after a few moments.

“Never call me ‘Mione’ again,” she said.

Then she stood up and walked out.

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Out in the corridor Hermione felt such as rush of absolute freedom that she felt as if she could throw herself from the Astronomy tower and fly off into the clouds. She held her arms out for a moment, breathing in the sharp cold air, and she felt so alive. She was free, completely free, and she knew exactly who she was going to fly to.

Hardly more than ten minutes could have passed, since Severus had turned round and left her by the big window at the end of the fourth floor corridor, but she still didn’t know where the best place to start looking for him would be. He could still be up on the fourth floor, or had he made his way to his rooms? Or was there some secret place in the castle he liked more than others, where he might go to think, a tower or walkway or balcony? She didn’t know. She hurried along the corridor towards the stairs, thinking that she’d decide whether to go up or down when she reached them, when a sudden thought flashed through her head and she hesitated. She turned round and dashed back a few yards, then gathered herself up, and leapt head-first through a mirror.

The staircase at the other end of the fourth floor lead down to the other side of the castle, where steps down to the main hall and the dungeons wound down from the corridor that ran along-side the library. Oscar’s Folly lead to that corridor. It was all she could think of as she was rushed along in a swirling, sickening wave of magic, trying to keep her head and remember the way to traverse through the procession of speeding spells. When she got it right she felt as though she was flying, but once or twice she forgot herself, and moved through air like treacle – cursing at herself – before finding her pace again. If God was on her side, she just might catch him.

She burst out of the other end of the Folly and raced as fast as she could past the library doors and into the main corridor. Though her ridiculous, impractical shoes weren’t pinching, they still weren’t easy to run in. She was out of breath when she turned the corner and looked down the main corridor towards the stairs. One or two older students were drifting here and there, but at the far end, just descending the staircase – she saw him. She hadn’t the breath to call out, but just rushed after him, going as fast as she could in her heels and only pausing to gasp an apology after knocking into a moody teenager.

When she reached the stairs she ran and leant over the far bannister, gazing down at the entrance hall, and she was sure she just spotted the tail-end of dark robes disappearing through the doorway down to the dungeons. She tried to rush down the stairs while looking carefully at her feet, hand clasping the bannister, afraid of falling. The steps down to the dungeons were even worse, but she still hurried as fast as she could, breathing heavily.

The dungeons opened out before her, the torches down here – even fewer than in the corridors upstairs – only making the dark alcoves even darker. Once again she thought she saw robes just disappearing round a corner.

“Severus?” She tried to call out to him, but her panting voice wasn’t strong at all, it would have been a miracle if he had heard her. She kept her eyes on the spot where he had disappeared and ran forward. When she reached the corner she skidded round and almost fell over – then she stopped. The long corridor stretched out in front of her, and it was completely deserted. She stood for a second more, breathing in and out, gasping air into her lungs. She slowly walked forwards, wandering down the empty corridor, wondering what to do next.

A hand shot out from the dark shadows and gabbed her wrist tightly. Before she even had time to scream, it had dragged her into the darkness of a deep alcove, and his mouth was on hers. His lips were hot and wet, his tongue lapped at her lips and stroked against hers, goosebumps raced along her arms as the little hairs stood on end. He thrust his hard body against her and she gasped out, he took advantage of her open mouth to brush his tongue right inside, her body shook at the feelings sweeping through her and she could already feel the moistness of her arousal seeping between her legs.

God, it was so right, it felt so right. He could turn her on with only a kiss, make her want him so badly that she could hardly think, the only thing she knew for certain was that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. He kept on kissing her, so deeply, so sensuously. His mouth captivated her entirely, she breathed his name as he gently bit her lower lip, she could feel his long hair brushing against her face as he angled his head.

He pulled away from her, not far, but enough so he could look down at her face. She opened her eyes, but the alcove was so dark and the light was behind him, she could hardly make him out as his hand caressed her cheek and then slowly dragged down her neck and collar bone.

“Me,” he growled out, thrusting against her hip-to-hip. “You chose me.” He thrust again, moving his hand down to her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple through the soft satin of her dress.

She whimpered and he kissed her again.

“Of course I did,” she murmured against his lips, dragging her own hands across his back as she tried to pull him even nearer. “Of course it was you,” she said. “I’d be a fool not to choose you.”

His mouth was on hers again then, their kiss hot and wet, she fumbled with the buttons of his robes, desperate to get beneath them. He dipped his head down and kissed her neck, slowly working up to her ear, and he whispered to her.

“Say my name.”

“Severus,” she breathed, moaning quietly as she finally got his thick robes undone and began unbuttoning the shirt underneath. “God, Severus,” she moaned out as he licked the edge of her ear, “I want you.”

“Here?” He asked with amusement, she could feel lips smile against her skin, his fingers stroking her neck and then moving down to brush the thin strap of her dress off her shoulder.

She groaned with frustration, and gave up on the last two buttons, grabbing his shirt and ripping it open instead. “Right here,” she whispered, running her hands across his bare chest at last. “Right now.”

He groaned then, pushing her up against the wall as he kissed her deeply, her tongue fought with his. His hand exposed a breast, her nipple hard in the cold chill of the dungeon corridor, his fingers stroked the hard bud and then pinched it. She moaned out his name again, though it was hard to speak, while her tongue was in his mouth. Her body pressed against the cold stone and she felt something dig into her back, she felt around clumsily and realised there was a small ledge of stone, built into the alcove behind her.

“Help me up,” she managed to breathe, and he steadied her as she backed herself up onto the ledge. It was a bit too high, but she was able to pin her high-heeled shoe against the wall for support, and he had his hot body pressed right up against her anyway.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” he moaned, hardly having to dip his head to suck her hard nipple into his mouth. He sucked it, then licked it with hot strokes of his tongue, while she moaned and writhed against him. His hand settled on her calf and then ran up her stockinged leg. She pulled at his belt, her shaking hands making his the buckle rattle as she slipped it off, dropping it to the floor. She started to undo his trousers.

When his hand reached the top of her stockings, and his hot fingers caressed the bare skin above, he took an audible breath and groaned again. “God, you’re wearing stockings,” he breathed. “Fuck.” His hand stroked her inner thigh, then his fingers dragged across the damp material of her knickers, making her groan along with him. She whimpered again, and stroked his erection through his boxers, then she pushed them and his trousers down so that he sprung free. She stroked him again, loving the satiny feel of his hot skin in her hands, speeding up when he moaned and rocked against her. She wanted him, she needed him.

“Take me,” she whispered against his ear as he sucked her nipple and continued to rub her through the sopping fabric of her underwear, making her eyes roll back in her head. “Please take me,” she begged.

The tip of his index finger drew lingering shapes on the inner thigh of her supporting leg, making her jerk violently, then it slid up and hooked round the stringy edge of her black lace knickers. He pulled at them, tantalisingly slowly, and she shuffled as much as she could in her precarious position so that he could remove them. She had to bend her legs for him to slide them off completely, but she clung at the stonework above her to keep her balance, and his other warm hand gently supported her. Then he dropped her underwear to the floor, kissed her again, and touched her slick pussy with his long fingers.

“My God,” he breathed, sliding two fingers deep into her. She moaned and writhed as he thrust them in and out. “You’re so wet,” he said, his deep voice wavering.

Then he suddenly pulled out his fingers, and thrust into her with his thick, hard cock. The shock of it made her gasp out and cling to his shoulders, even in the short space of time since they had last been together she had begun to forget how much he filled her, how absolutely amazing he felt. The small ledge she was perched on was awkward, but God it was just the right height, it let him go so deeply into her. He tilted his hips forward and pressed into her, until she’d taken him all, and she was filled completely. Then, slowly, he pulled out again.

He kept up this agonising pace, making her pant and moan as loudly as she dared, as he slowly filled her – inch by inch – and then withdrew. There was something so very carnal about it, the control he had over himself, she could see his white teeth flashing in the dark as he snarled with the effort. She could feel herself clutching him each time he pressed into her completely, she’d never felt so deliciously invaded, so absolutely taken. She moaned again and writhed against him as best as she could, wanting his touch, wanting more.

He leant down again and licked her bare nipple, and the stabbing feeling of pleasure raced through her entire body, especially to where he was still pushing in and out of her with infinite slowness. He seemed to be holding his breath, she could only hear the odd breathy moan from him now and then, but she couldn’t help but beg out loud.

“Oh God, please,” she said. “Please, Severus.”

He thrust his tongue into her mouth and did speed up a little, but not nearly enough as she was wanting, craving. He pulled out from her again and she felt the tip of his thumb against the wetness of her opening, then he dragged it slickly across her clitoris and rubbed, just very slightly above it. His other hand was at her waist, holding the hem of her skirt up and supporting her as she gasped, she could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin satin of her dress.

His thumb speeded up but his thrusting remained painfully slow, teasingly slow, her inner muscles continued to clutch at him in desperation each time he slowly pulled away. She had one hand in his long hair, while the other clung at his back, she could feel the flex of his body as he moved in and out of her. Sensation began to fill her whole body, she was shivering and shaking, and she started to tingle all over. The feather-light strokes of his thumb were like magic, every stroke sending glittering shudders through her hips and stomach, and coupled with the feeling of his hard erection inside her she could barely keep from crying out. She felt like she was so close to absolutely shattering, so very close, but she still needed more.

“Oh please, fuck me,” she begged, pulling him forward so she could whimper it hotly into his ear. “Fuck me, Severus.”

Whatever little resolve he had left in him vanished then, he moaned loudly, and started pummelling into her. The slick sound of their paring echoed in the empty corridor, as did the sound of their bodies slapping together, he slid his hand down to her waist and fucked her just as she’d begged him to. She moaned as her body shuddered, she was so wet for him now, he felt so deliciously hard inside her. Every inch of him filled her over and over as he pounded into her, and his thumb still teased, catching against her clitoris each time he ground up against her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, but it was still hard to make much out in the dark, she closed her eyes again and drowned in the sensation as she parted his lips with her tongue and kissed him deeply.

The breathless pleasure he was pounding into her was quickly becoming too much to take, her hands scrambled at his back and shoulders as she clung to him, moaning his name. Each thrust sent her higher and higher, and she gasped out again, feeling her orgasm build towards the point of no return.

“Oh. Oh God,” she moaned against his sweating skin. “I’m coming.”

His hot mouth dragged down and clasped around her nipple again at the same time as his pounding thrusts finally sent her over the edge. She moaned out his name, her head tipping back and her back arching, as she went absolutely still for a second and then collapsed into shudders. He was in her fully once more, filling her up as her shuddering body gripped him tightly, making her orgasm all the more intense. She moaned his name again and leant against him as the shaking subsided and she panted for breath.

“You chose me,” she thought she heard his deep voice whisper.

Then he thrust into her a few last, long, satisfying times, and groaned out next to her ear as he shuddered in her arms. Deep inside, she felt the hot warmth of his climax pouring into her, and she felt as though she were flying.

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