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The Massage	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 52203 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

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A/N: Thanks for your continued support, and your patience! Hopefully this will have been worth the wait. ;-)

Her bed was lumpy. The sheets were stiff. The room was stuffy. Her pajamas were too confining. Those were the only reasons Hermione Granger was willing to accept as she tried to justify why she was unable to find sleep. It had nothing to do with anything else and especially not if that anything else was a brooding, ill-tempered, foul man residing several floors below in the castle dungeons. Even if that brooding, ill-tempered foul man was in need of her assistance as a medical professional. Hermione groaned and forced her eyes shut; deluding herself that the gesture might actually force sleep upon her. She had tossed and turned for hours, trying to find a comfortable position that would allow her mind to slip easily into slumber. But to no avail no matter how she sprawled her legs out over the mattress all she could think about was Severus Snape.

            It was vexing. The man was a terror. And at the same time desperate, though he’d never admit it. And in reality he was more than deserving of kindness, though he’d never agree to such gestures. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he moaned, the way he had responded to her touch, the way she had responded to him. Wildly inappropriate and yet she’d been so pleased with herself. There was nothing to be done for it but she couldn’t fight the bubbling sensations in the pit of her stomach when she thought about having to administer another massage. His skin was soft, much softer than a man so scarred ought to be. And his muscles collapsed under ministrations as they so desperately deserved to. But it was all physical; the way his low moan crept up from the depths of his throat, breaking across his lips, meeting her ears as she pressed her thumbs into the tender patches of muscle along his shoulder blades. And the slippery savory sensation of his release against her finger, and then against her lips. It was all physical.

            She kicked her legs in frustration against the bed. Why had she agreed to take the position at Hogwarts during Poppy Pomphrey’s sabbatical? It had seemed such a simple decision at the time. Hermione had never once thought that she’d find herself in such a predicament; having to care for one of the staff in such an intimate way, and for that staff member to be Severus Snape. It plagued her to the point of feeling ill and more than once she had felt queasy. Why did it have to be him? Fate was cruel if nothing else, she decided before finally giving up on the notion of sleep. Dawn had just crested over the great lake and was creeping through her window as she stood from the bed and yawned. Her body was drained but her mind was wired. It would do no good to lie in bed for the rest of the morning grappling with her dilemma.

            Hermione took her time in washing off, she didn’t really want to indulge in a shower, too afraid of where her thoughts might lead her. All night she struggled against them as they tempted her to wander down the dark and sinful path. If she shut her eyes for just a moment she found her mind wondering if his lips were as soft as his skin. And if she laid too long on her side she found her mind trying to imagine what it might feel like to have him pressed firmly against her backside, his arm curled around her waist. The sensation of hot water streaming down on her was too much to tangle with, so she settled for a bird bath. After dressing and tying back her hair she paced around her bedroom a few times before heading off to check on him. She had promised that she’d drop in before breakfast.

            It wasn’t going to be a pleasant visit of that she was certain. She’d been so preoccupied that she’d nearly forgotten to stop by the medical wing and grab a jar of salve. But not wanting to project the wrong idea, she backtracked and stopped into the office to retrieve a soothing muscle relaxant. Her fingers turned the pot over idly in her robe pocket as she descended staircase after staircase, secretly hoping that perhaps he had been as eager to avoid the encounter as she, and that he had perhaps ducked out early in hopes of avoiding the whole thing. As she approached his door she could feel her stomach turning summersaults and it took her a moment to draw in a steady breath before she approached and knocked.

            She stepped back quickly hoping that he would not answer. But the door opened and Severus Snape stood in the doorway, gazing down at her with weary eyes. His expression was blank, but she could see the formation of tiny black circles beneath his eyes. This caused her to frown as she stepped inside his office. She felt her heart race when he moved across the office to the door at the back and stepped through into what she could only assume were his private chambers. With heavy footfalls she followed quickly behind him, her fingers twitching nervously, hidden thankfully in the depths of her pockets. He closed the door to his chambers behind her and waited.

            She was hardly given a moment to take in his sitting room; the empty hearth on the far wall and a few other furnishings before he was standing in front of her arms crossed over his chest, eyes blazing into hers. Hermione bit her lower lip and tried not to shudder. The man could melt iron with the heat of his gaze. It was then she noted his state of dress. A thick black night robe and what appeared to be little else; his bare legs protruding from the hem which fell just below his knees. It was tied tightly around his waist with a cloth belt, but his chest was still visible. Hermione stepped back and waited for him to speak. But he remained silent. With a deep breath she stepped out and around him, coming to stand at the middle of the room. “You don’t look as if you’ve slept well,” she muttered.

            “I could say the same to you, Miss Granger.” His voice was low but not entirely unkind.

            “I had patients to attend over the night,” she lied. At least her back was turned and he wouldn’t see the blush that crept into her cheeks as her mind betrayed the truth. “And you? Did you not sleep well because you had potions to attend to?” she hoped her response would be enough to keep him from prodding about her overnight patients and the real reason she had not slept.

            He did not answer her. She heard his footsteps on the stone floor; bare feet quietly padding across the room until he stood near the empty hearth. “Have you come to play inquisitor or to check up on your patient?” he sneered.

            “Checking up on one’s patient often requires an inquisition,” she snapped.

            He folded his arms once more over his chest and waited for her to proceed. She wasn’t sure how to move forward, something about the man held her frozen to her spot. Had he been any other patient, it would have been simple. Asking the man to strip his garments so she could examine his muscles and do a few quick tests. But this was not any other patient. The man before her detested being in her care and on top of that she was finding herself physically drawn to the man, which simply would not do. Hermione reached into her pocket and produced the pot of salve before speaking. “I’d like to look at your shoulders and your back, it will most likely involve another massage, but I can manage in a short time so that you are not late for breakfast or your classes,” she said.

            Severus nodded curtly before slowly turning around, facing the hearth. With a gentle shrug of his shoulders the thick black robe fell free from his form and aside from a pair of black boxer shorts the man stood naked in front of her. Hermione swallowed hard, closing her eyes for a moment. She had seen him naked. But that was before she had realized that she was physically attracted to him. Her stomach tightened, twisting in knots and she felt her legs tremble slightly as she stepped forward. She tried to think of all the injured students currently residing in the hospital wing, going over each injury in her head like a check-list in an attempt to distract her mind. As she stood just inches from his form she found herself speaking before she could help it. “Do you always sleep like that?”

            “I sleep in the nude but you’ve already had quite the look. Another show is not necessary,” he snapped.

            Hermione’s cheeks were on fire. It was uncomfortably warm and she could feel the red of her blush slipping to other places in her body. “Kneel down,” she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. She hadn’t meant to ask him such a ridiculous question but her bodily responses were claiming control of everything. She bit her lower lip and watched as he slowly lowered himself to his knees. “And tilt your head forward,” she said, more of a whisper than she’d intended. Hermione had placed the pot of salve back in her pocket and was now standing just behind him, at the right height to be able to grip his shoulders firmly. She placed both hands on the top of his shoulders and began to squeeze his skin, kneading his flesh at the base of his neck. He did not tense at her touch as she had before and for a moment she felt her heart skip a beat.

            With his head bent forward his hair hung loose around his face like a black silk curtain, hiding his head. Hermione pressed her thumbs at the base of his neck and slowly began to work her fingers up the back of his neck until her nails were raking gently against his scalp. His hair was soft, as silky as it looked the fine strands tangling against her fingers as she worked. She could hear his breathing, slow heavy almost silent pants as she rocked his body gently forward, leaning her weight into her hands as she massaged his scalp. She closed her eyes and for a moment she allowed herself to imagine running her fingers through his hair in a much different manner. But she quickly opened her eyes and dragged her hands back down his neck until they were once again working on his shoulders.

            Without stilling her work, Hermione slowly knelt down behind him, one leg straddled on either side of his calves, and she leaned her body forward slightly, applying a great pressure to the space between his shoulder blades. He cried out; the low guttural moan from before, a release of tension filling the room. Her fingers tingled as she felt his muscles loosen and her mind reeled as his whimpers and groans released more freely than before. She dug her knuckles into his skin, pushing hard under his shoulder blades, working his muscles with fervor as she massaged him. She could feel her heart racing in her chest and noted that her own breathing was slightly labored. It took all of her concentration not to lean into him and beg for something wildly inappropriate. While she was attempting to consciously care for the man, her inner thought seemed to have a different intention.

            It would be so easy, and how wonderful he would feel, his weight laid upon her as she was pressed flat on her back against the bare stone floor in front of his empty hearth. Hermione shook her head, never stilling her hands, as she tried to clear the thought from her mind. He was her patient, however deliciously his moans sounded and however strongly he turned her on, it was not appropriate thoughts to have about her patient. The tight grip on her left hand startled her and she squeaked, leaning forward against his back, her chest pressing against his skin.

            His right arm was crossed over his chest and he was gripping her hand in place against his shoulder. He was panting; his head straight up, tiny drops of sweat dripping down his neck.

            “Are you in pain?” she croaked, trying to slide her hand out from under his. Perhaps she had applied too much pressure, or perhaps she had pinched a nerve. With all her distracted thoughts it was not inconceivable that she had misjudged how hard she had been massaging him. But he did not respond, nor did he relinquish his grip upon her hand. She watched as his back shook, trembling, his body keening forward until he collapsed, catching himself with his left arm. “Oh!” she cried and scrambled quickly to help him.

            “Get back,” he hissed and curled his knees up to his chest before pulling himself up to his feed. He clawed at the ground, pulling his robe up over his figure. But not before she could glance at the large wet spot on the front of his boxers.

            Hermione blushed again. She remained on the floor, staring up at him dumbfounded. He hadn’t gripped her because he had been in pain. He had gripped her to steady himself when he was climaxing. She quickly turned her gaze to the floor. It was déjà vu like she had never experienced before. It took a moment to stand up but as she did she gazed at him, only to be met with a scowl. Her eyes widened and her cheeks paled. His accusatory look made her stomach tumble and she squeezed her fingers into tight balls before stuffing her hands into her pockets. She was beyond bewildered and completely speechless.

            “If you are quite satisfied with yourself…” he hissed, crossing his arms tighter across his chest. Had he been anyone other than Severus Snape he might have been hugging himself.

            “Satisfied?” she sputtered, eyes still wide. Hermione shook her head. “You are unbelievable. I’m just here to help—”

            “Some help,” he spat.

            “Oh no,” she snapped and marched toward him, pulling her hand from her pocket and poking him firmly against the chest. “I’m doing what I’m supposed to. This is a routine procedure that should induce release of tension. I have nothing to do with the way you choose to release it!”

            A squeak escaped her lips as he grabbed her hand, clutching it tightly in his own. His arm trembled as he gripped her fingers and this did not go unnoticed by Hermione. She did not twist her arm back, or try to break his hold on her. She met his gaze and held it, feeling her chest thumping hard as she drew in a shaky breath. “You are hurting my wrist, Severus.” She said, very voice trembling slightly.

            Severus slowly unfurled his fingers from around her wrist and withdrew his hand. “Leave,” he said.

            “Look,” she said, turning her eyes to gaze at a point over his shoulder. “Obviously you have a—”

            “No more of your observations are necessary,” he sneered and stepped back. “You have provided enough—”

            “I have provided medical treatment as prescribed per your medical chart, coupled with treatments indicative of assistance to your deteriorating condition! Your responses to said treatment are beyond my control and as a medical professional I will not continue to be the point of your ridicule because you can’t control yourself!” she shouted.

            Severus, despite his tremor, stalked forward and in one swift motion had wrapped an arm tightly around her backside and pulled her close to him. She was pressed firmly against his torso, her breath coming in short gasps, her heart racing faster than lightning. Her blood raced through her veins, thrumming so loudly inside her head that the whole room seemed to spin. His body was shaking slightly, and she noted that his breath was ragged. His hair hung wildly around his face, his eyes glowing bright black with a fire reflecting in them. She tilted her head back slightly and gazed at him. “I— I didn’t mean to—”

            “You didn’t mean to what?” his brow was perspiring and his eyes were crinkled with the slight wince of pain.

            “I…” she swallowed and tried to calm her panting. “I just…”

            Hermione cried out in surprise as his head lulled forward against the crook of her neck. His nose nuzzled against her skin and his grip around her back tightened. Hot, supple lips pressed against her neck, the heat of his mouth causing her to whimper. Her lips were caught in a frozen expression; open as a soft cry escaped her throat, eyes wide as she felt his teeth graze her flesh. But before she could respond or protest his trembling arms gripped her hips and spun her around, pushing her forward until her palms were pressed flat against the wall next to the fireplace. His weight was leaning against her and she whimpered, her breath wildly flaring through her nostrils.

            Firm hands groped her chest and she moaned. Her heart was racing and her knees were wobbling as she felt one of his hands stroke down her side, grabbing at the material of her robes. He drew her robes up with a rough tug, hiking her robes along with her skirt up around her hips. Hermione twisted her head over her shoulder, wide doe-like eyes trying to catch his gaze as she felt his hand grazing her inner thigh. There was no denying she was wet; her stomach tightening as he stroked the thin fabric of her knickers with his fingers before gripping the elastic and tugging it roughly down.

            She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against the cold stone wall. But her eyes flew open as she felt him, rubbing his length against her slick slit. Hermione cried out as she felt him push into her. He was thick, longer than what touching him had led her to believe. Her chest was heaving, burning, and her legs trembling so fiercely that had she not been pressed against the wall she would have collapsed. His hips were rough, slamming into her from behind, arched at the strange angle against the wall. She whimpered and he grunted; the growls and groans of his cries filling the air. The sounds were familiar, similar to the ones she had heard coming from him during the massages, if louder and somewhat more carnal.

            Severus wrapped an unsteady arm around her waist and used his weight to thrust into her, leaning hard against her back his other arm pressed against the wall beside her head. She felt his lips once more against her neck, roughly pushing her hair out of the way with his mouth as he growled against her skin. Hermione whimpered, feeling his thick member stroking into her hot slickness. He pumped into her, faster and faster, and she cried out as he tightened his grip around her waist. He slammed hard against her backside and she felt him shudder, his full body quaking as he spilt his seed within her, finding his release in a guttural moan against her neck.

            Hermione felt him trembling, the weight of keeping on his feet clearly a burden. She shifted slightly, feeling the sticky sensation of his member sliding from between her legs. She turned around and leaned her back against the wall, reaching her arms out to grab him. Severus leaned forward and allowed his frame to collapse against her figure, his head resting against the wall. Her skirt and robes were still bunched up around her hips and his robe had come free. His body trembled and Hermione slowly wrapped her arms around his back, feeling his heartbeat still as his breathing slowly calmed.

            Severus cleared his throat and slowly shook free of her embrace. He stood straight up and gathered his robe together before tying it off to hide his body from her once more. He ran a trembling hand through his hair which was now slightly dampened with sweat, clinging to the side of his face. He turned his eyes to Hermione who was still slightly panting, her cheeks flushed and her hair disheveled.

            Hermione slowly dragged her hands down her side and smoothed her skirt and robes down her thighs before reaching awkwardly between her legs to adjust her panties. With a quick shake of her head she turned her eyes to meet his. But found that once again she was speechless. Words of all varieties escaped her. It had happened so fast and the sensations had been incredible. She hadn’t hit climax and hadn’t even really come close but it had still felt exquisite. And she wasn’t entirely certain that it wasn’t a dream. With wide eyes she attempted to gesture at him.

            “You have patients to attend to,” he said and crossed his arms across his chest.

            Stunned to the point of disbelief, Hermione moved slowly from against the wall and crossed his room, eyes never leaving his. As she reached for the door, Severus turned his back to her and disappeared into the depths of his chambers. Once outside of his chambers and back outside of his office in the dungeon, Hermione collapsed against the cold stone wall. Her legs were shaking, her mind spinning so fast she was certain her head was going to spin right off her shoulders. Her legs still tingled and her thighs were sticky. She ran her hands through her hair before standing up straight, smoothing her robes once more just to be sure, and then she made a hasty retreat up several flights of stairs to her chambers opposite the medical wing.

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The Massage