Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Fantasy Book	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 44517 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
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
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A/N: Thank you CelestBlack for getting the gears turning on this one. Great suggestion, so this one is for you!

Hermione longed to gaze into his eyes, though she wasn’t sure what she would do if he were to awaken suddenly and find himself laying against her mostly naked body. It would be a situation she wasn’t entirely sure she could explain but at the same time it would be a situation she would always remember. She ran her fingers through his hair, it was becoming a habit, touching his tresses fondly as if it were something she had done all the time she had known him. He had such soft and touchable hair and it pleased her to be able to touch it. She imagined it was not something he often had the pleasure of feeling, someone running their fingers through his hair.

            She sighed and closed her eyes. When he did wake up, because she was determined that she would find away to return the man to the land of the waking, it would be over. She leaned her nose against his hair and slowly inhaled. He smelled of the generic hospital wing shampoos that the mediwitch had taken to using on all of her patients. When she set him to a bath later in the evening she would have to fix this, but a trip to his personal chambers would be in order before she did. A part of her longed for him to stay asleep, knowing he would never allow such intimate closeness especially not from her once awake.

            Hermione placed a gentle kiss at the top of his head and reached for the book. “Let’s try another one…”

~*~

            “Honestly, Hermione, I think we need a little time alone…” his hand was on his shoulder and he leaned in dangerously close to him.

            It hadn’t been bad enough that she’d spent the better part of the train ride trying to hide from him by checking up on all the other students onboard, whom by now were so annoyed with seeing her face that she’d run out of compartments to duck into in her attempts to avoid the boy in front of her. Though he wasn’t much of a boy anymore, she noted. This did little to put her mind at ease regarding the current situation.

            There had been loads to celebrate the previous summer, just after the fall of the dark lord. On her list (though definitely not on Harry and Ron’s) had been the summons to return to Hogwarts for a final year of schooling and education. Molly and Arthur had insisted on a big party at the Burrow just a few nights before they were all due to take the train back to school. She’d consumed a bit too much butterbeer that night and in her inebriated stupor she had managed to share a rather steamy snog with Ron which she’d been regretting ever since.

            For two days thereafter at the burrow she’d managed to avoid him by either sticking to Ginny like muggle superglue or hanging out in the kitchen with the matriarch of the family. But once upon the train he’d hardly let it go. He’d chased her through every carriage, ducking into compartments looking for. As she had been deemed honourary Head Girl, she had only received half the privileges, being able to check on the students and admonish them, handing out punishments and house point deductions (if they were old enough to have been sorted into houses) and detentions, but not the privilege of receiving her own private compartment in which to ride.

            Hermione closed her eyes focused all her strength and put her hand on Ron’s hand. “We can discuss this later,” she said. “I’ve got a lot of preparing to do, N.E.W.T.S. are going to be insane and I’ve hardly had a moment to organize my time table for this year!” she blurted out. “So if you wouldn’t mind giving me a moment’s peace to think about all the other things on my plate, I’ll come and find you later and we can talk about it!” The hand behind her back pushed firmly on the door to the compartment behind her and she stepped in, sliding the door shut in his face before he could protest.

            She breathed a heavy sigh of relief and let her shoulders slump. There was no banging on the door as she had expected, and it didn’t appear as if Ron was trying to barge his way in, and this allowed Hermione a little smile.

            “Are you in the habit of invading private compartments, Miss Granger?”

            The voice shocked her. Hermione spun around. She hadn’t given thought to the fact that the compartment she was escaping into might be occupied, let alone that it might be occupied by Severus Snape.

            “Professor!” she cried. “You startled me.”

            “That much was obvious, Miss Granger.” He sneered.

            Hermione shook her head. It had sounded as stupid as he had implied. “I didn’t know that any professors were onboard this particular trip to Hogsmeade,” she said, trying to sound slightly less stupid.

            “By the look on your face that much is also obvious.” Again he sneered, remaining seated leaning partially against the window. He was dressed in his traditional teaching robes, all black with the long black cape hooked on one of the cloak racks on the opposite side of the compartment.

            “I’m sorry,” she said, blushing. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” Hermione turned on her foot to leave but as she faced the glass door of the compartment she frowned. Most likely Ron had not gone far and the thought of encountering him again while trying to find a new safe haven made her shudder. They’d only been on the train a few hours, the sun was streaming early afternoon light through the windows. She wasn’t sure she could continue the game of hide and dodge for much longer. “Might I request to stay here and occupy the empty half of the compartment?”

            Severus Snape preferred solitude. Most students had sense enough to avoid him. And those that didn’t learned quick the hard way. But this was different. She knew his reputation but still sought to remain in his company. What was she playing at? He churned it over in his mind, debating up on her motive before giving a slight nod. “If you agree to stay silent, not interrupt my reading with inane questions and idle chitchat, then you may seat yourself on the opposite side of the compartment and endure the remainder of the trip.”

            Hermione hadn’t noticed the book in his lap. It appeared to be a potions tome, which immediately filled her mind with questions. His miraculous recovery had been plaguing her mind for months and the fact that he was aboard the Hogwarts Express with a potions tome brought even more questions to mind, but she closed her mouth before her lips could start asking any of those questions that would more than likely get her ejected from the compartment before she’d even had a chance to take a seat.

            She didn’t smile but rather nodded in return, choosing to non-verbally communicate her thanks. If he approved he made no return gesture, but rather turned his head down and fiddled with a chain around his neck. Hermione quickly cupped her hand to her mouth to prevent a gasp from escaping her lips. The professor wore reading spectacles. They were a thin black wire frame, simple and elegant, hooked to a silver chain that hung loosely around his neck. The sunlight caught on the chain drawing her attention to the two puncture marks on the side of his neck. She looked away before he had the chance to glance up from his tome and lecture her on the impoliteness of staring.

            There were so many things she longed to say to the man before her. He was a hero. The hero unsung, responsible for saving them in more ways than she could count. He’d suffered, more than any of them, and his dark and deep secrets had finally been revealed. And yet he had returned to Hogwarts, presumably to teach, in one piece, appearing to be the snarky professor she’d encountered so many years before the final battle had begun. The scars, however, made him different, and it occurred to her that his collar was turned down. Perhaps they still held pain when he pinned his collar up to hide them. Or perhaps alone in the compartment he felt he could let his guard down, and Hermione almost felt guilty for intruding.

            Hermione gazed out the window. She wished she’d bothered to have grabbed some of her own reading materials to help alleviate the boredom that was settling over her. It was going to be a long trek if she was going to spend the remainder of it in silence with nothing to occupy her mind while he sat across from her reading.

            The sun had hardly began to dip below the horizon when the train shuttered to a violent halt. Hermione had nearly dozed off with her head leaning against the window when she was thrown abruptly from her seat and found herself hurtling forward. She collapsed against him and various pieces of luggage followed after her, tumbling down from their overhead compartments. One should have hit her head but she felt his arms draw around her, deflecting the impact.

            The lights inside the compartment flickered and the speakers crackled as a hoarse announcement echoed through the train. “We’ve stopped. Dunno why, just everyone stay where you are. Don’t move.”

            Hermione felt her breath hitch in her chest. The last time the train had stopped unscheduled Dementors had been present. She hoped that was not the case at present, but in so far as she could tell the room was not frosting over, aside from the occasional flickering of the overhead lights there was still fading sunlight flitting through the windows. She stretched her arms out to the side as if to push herself up off the man she’d fallen against only to have both arms snatched closely back to her side.

            But before she could protest he clamped his hand around her mouth. “They said don’t move, Miss Granger, surely you can hear.” He hissed. His whisper was so sharp it stung her ear.

            “Surely they didn’t mean literally, they just meant don’t go milling about the train,” she whispered.

            Severus wanted to the throttle the girl. “If the train is in duress, if we are under attack, brigands, or bad wizards, what have you, and they see movement this will be the first compartment they attempt to overtake,” he snapped. “Now hold still and be quiet, foolish girl.” He snapped. It had been a bit louder than he intended. And he scowled.

            The compartment’s overhead lights died completely. The sunlight outside the window was fading as the sun began its decent over the mountains in the west. Shadows danced across his face though she could still see him quite clearly. She thought he was being a little ridiculous but she supposed years as a double agent, tearing ones insides apart to make sure that the side of good and light would prevail while appearing to sabotage their every move would take a number on an individual. In that moment she was reminded of the dearly departed Moody and his slogan of constant vigilance.

            It didn’t take long for the sun to set completely, throwing the compartment into almost complete darkness. Her arms ached. She had landed a bit unceremoniously in his lap and was sprawled against his chest at an awkward angle. After what seemed like forever she finally drew her arms down to her side and started to slip as slowly as she could off his person. “I think we’d be safest on the floor,” she whispered. She didn’t really think it would add to their safety. Playing possum would only be helpful if who or whatever it was decided to bypass their compartment all together. And in all likelihood there was nothing more dangerous than a terrorizing poltergeist or two that was holding up the train as their evening prank.

            Severus Snape did not stop her as she slithered down his body and landed with a soft thump on the floor. With a quick maneuver he slid from his seat and pressed his back against the wall, leaning his shoulder against the seat. He motioned for her to align her back with the wall her right shoulder against his left and she did so. It did not take long for her back to become stiff and painful and before she knew it her eyes were drooping, head lulling to the side.

            There was a pointed jabbing in her ribs. It hurt. Hermione’s eyes flew open to see blackness. She was blind. But only by cotton. Slowly she lifted her head and found that her gaze was met with glittering black eyes. She’d fallen into his lap, slumbering against his shoulder somehow and immediately her cheeks filled with a crimson flush.

            “You were starting to snore,” he muttered.

            This made her blush further. Her arm had fallen asleep and was tingling smartly as she tried to shake it to life. “How long have we—”

            “Long enough Miss Granger, night is thoroughly upon us and no improvement upon the mobility of the train,” he said.

            She noticed he was no longer whispering. “Then no brigands or bad wizards to worry about?” she tried her best to smirk in the darkness.

            Whether or not he saw her she saw clearly the scowl on his lips. “Poltergeists, lead by Peeves no doubt, swooping down from Hogwarts, and don’t bother, we’re far enough out that it would take long to walk than it will to dispel them. And on top of that the train has stopped on the trussle above a river. They’ve managed to lodge the compartment doors shut, I’ve tried blasting them while you slept,” he narrowed his eyes at the door. “And they’ve managed to steal the light from inside the train.”

            “I see,” was all she said. She breathed a slight sigh of relief. At least there were no dementors. It also meant that she was free to move up from against the man and take her seat back on the other side of the compartment. But he was warm and comfortable and she hardly noticed that she was resting mostly in his lap. It was odd that he had not made to push her off, and even if it had been a courteous move to allow her to rest her head upon his person now that she had been woken from her slumber he should have made protest for her to remove herself from his person. That struck Hermione as odd but she dared not to speak on it.

            “You have a habit of muttering in your sleep, Miss Granger.”

            She could feel the hairs on her neck standing on end and suddenly the compartment felt very warm. The shadowy darkness obscured his face as she tried to catch his gaze. But all she managed to do was bring his lips closer to her ear. She inhaled sharply feeling his hand brush back a strand of her hair and tuck it behind her ear. “Preferable to your snoring, I must admit,” his words fluttered against her earlobe, a delicate whisper that tickled her and sent shivers down her spine.

            Hermione’s heart raced and she could feel her face flushing despite the darkness. Her head was reeling as she closed her eyes, trying to recall what she might have said whilst napping pressed against the man. Ginny had told her on several occasions that her nocturnal verbalizations were less than appropriate for polite conversation. Fortunately, Ginny had always assumed that her friend’s midnight mumblings had always been in reference to Ron or some other bloke she fancied. She swallowed hard and tried to draw in a deep breath to calm herself.

            “Something about kissing?” he whispered again against her ear. Hermione tried to shake her head but found herself frozen to the spot as he tilted her head to his. “Did I mishear you, Miss Granger?” his lips were still at her ear but he had managed to pull her closer to him somehow, his hair tickling her nose. “When you mumbled through sleepy lips that you wished…” his voice trailed off. She shivered as she felt the pad of his finger trace a slow circle around her lips. “…that you wished you could kiss…” his lips brushed against her earlobe. “…me…”

            Her whole body shivered and a tiny squeak escaped her throat. His lips, hot and soft, pressed against the flesh just at the edge of her jaw. She closed her eyes, feeling his presence. Her body was on fire and with just the lightest of caresses from his mouth. Feather light kisses on top of each other moved his lips down her jaw until he was hovering at the corner of her mouth. “Or was that someone else?” his voice was almost raspy when he spoke, one hand resting under her chin, trying to tilt her head up to allow the tiny glints of moonlight to catch on her eyes.

            Hermione could not speak. She’d lost the power of speech and coherent thought. But her senses were pumping into overdrive. He was practically on top of her, his lips just a breath away from her own. “And was it me…” he whispered against her lips, his words almost kisses without touching her, “…that you wanted…” his free hand brushed her hair back from her ear once more. “…to feel inside of you…?” he practically growled his last question.

            Hermione could feel the moisture pooling between her thighs and her chest was straining forward, her mind clouded with fog, her lips lost for words. She tried to lean forward only to have his lips pull back ever so slightly keeping him just out of reach. Had there been proper light she would have seen him smirk. “I should be certain I heard you correctly, Miss Granger…”

            “Yes,” she panted, finally having found her voice. But she didn’t get the chance to repeat herself. His lips were upon hers, swallowing her echo in his mouth. She whimpered against him, his tongue slick and velvety claiming her mouth, snaking against her own tongue. His hands tangled in her hair but only briefly before grasping her hips and lifting her fully into his lap. She sat awkwardly, straddling him, her legs falling on either side of his thighs.

            She gasped her eyes wide as she felt his rigid length against her sex, layers of skirt, knickers, and trousers separating her slick sex from him. But again her lips were claimed in a brutal and crushing kiss. He was demanding, hands tearing at robes, though she did little to stop him as he untucked her shirt from her skirt and slid his hands up under the fabric. Rough but firm, his hands were warm as they cupped her breasts and pushed the fabric of her bra up over them, exposing her nipples to his palms.

            Hermione let her head fall back as he began to grope at her flesh, squeezing her breasts, catching her nipples with his thumb and finger. She moaned but the sound was lost in his mouth as he continued to kiss her, tongues dueling inside her mouth. She gripped his shoulders and then tangled her hands in his hair. So soft were his tresses that she was almost surprised but the surprise didn’t last long as she felt one hand leave her breast. She almost moaned in protest but practically cried out in shock when she felt his hand riding up her skirt between her thighs.

            “You’re wet…” he hissed against her ear.

            Hermione could not find words. But she whimpered and arched into his palm as he continued to play with her breast; his other hand pushing her knickers roughly to one side, exposing her dripping sex. Her breathing was labored but not so loud that she did not hear the zip of his trousers come down. He was pressing at her entrance, his free hand guiding his tip to the slick folds of her sex.

            Her walls were clenching in anticipation and she moved her face forward, desperate to find his. Lips met and she cried out, the sound lost in his mouth as he lifted her hips up and slammed her down upon his turgid member. She tried to gyrate against him but he gripped her hip with his left hand and began to bounce her up and down in his lap. He was incredibly strong, needing only one tightly gripped hand to move her, the other continuing to massage and squeeze her breasts, alternating from left to right.

            His lips were searing as they crushed her, thrusting his member up inside of her, snarling into their kisses, capturing her essence with his tongue. She longed to shriek, but groaning and moaning was the best she could manage as he continued to bounce her against his erection. It hit her in spots deep inside that she’d not felt stimulated before and her whole body shook as he pounded upward into her. Thrust after thrust had her keeling forward in his lap, gripping at his shoulders, body shuddering as she came. He continued to push her up and down, faster than before and he yanked her head back, capturing her lips and growled his release into her mouth.

            She felt him come inside of her and their hot sticky mixture ran down his shaft and their thighs. Her chest was heaving as she collapsed forward against him. He did not make any attempt to move her. She rested in his lap, feeling his cock deflate slowly, their combined fluids slowly drying against their skin and his trousers. Her knickers had bunched a bit uncomfortably against her inner thigh but she didn’t want to move.

            “Hermione!” the voice of Ron echoed from outside the compartment door.

            She tensed and tried to scramble out of his lap, but a firm hand on her back held her in place. He placed a gentle finger across her lips. Severus narrowed his eyes. He made a mental note to punish the daylights out of the boy later for ruining a perfectly peaceful moment.

            “Hermione! Are you alright? Harry managed to blast us out of our compartment! I’m going to have him blast you out of there!” he shouted as if the door being shut somehow meant she couldn’t hear him properly.

            “Mr. Weasley, while Mr. Potter may have come across a very clever way of fighting back against the poltergeist’s spell, perhaps it would be put to better use elsewhere as your companion is not currently in my private compartment.” He growled.

            “Snape?” Ron gasped.

            “Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for disturbing my slumber.

            “But I saw Hermione—”

            “Enter my compartment hours ago? Yes and when she realized it was occupied she quickly turned and left. And I suggest you do the same before you land yourself in detention!” he practically bellowed, being careful not to shout in Hermione’s ear.

            “Bloody bat,” Ron muttered.

            “Another ten points from Gryffindor!” he shouted.

            Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when once again the compartment and the outside corridor were quiet. She turned her eyes to meet his in the darkness. “Um…”

            “Don’t speak,” he said. “Wait until you’ve drifted off, you say far more than you’d imagine,” he smirked a bit.

            She settled her head against his shoulder once more, content to fall asleep in his lap with their genitals still touching, post coital bliss and exhaustion taking over her body.

            There was a knocking on the door. Hermione’s eyes flew open and she dropped the book to the floor. “Who—who is it?” she called from his bed and scrambled quickly to get dressed.

            “Medical assistance, dear.” The man said. “Surely Poppy told you someone would be by?”

            Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, but these are private rooms, he’s being tended to.” She said.

            “Ah, my mistake,” the male voice echoed. Footsteps scuffled by the door and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

            She turned her head to Severus who was still sleeping but she swore the man wore the slightest of smiles on his lips. “You— you weren’t smiling before…” slowly she approached the bed and sat on the edge of it. “Severus Snape? Can you hear me?”

            There was no response, but the man sleeping in the bed was definitely smiling.

A/N: So leave me a review. Also- what's he playing at, that smiling snake? ;-)
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The Fantasy Book