Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

...After Happily Ever After	By : Lissa & snowblind12 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25739 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of these stories. This is just fun for me.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
omniken31: You just made my ever-loving day, darling. Thank you so much for your review! Stick around, much more to come!!
Chapter Seven
"What's your next class?" Draco asked politely, glaring at Weasley who kept tossing death stares over his shoulder at him. It was barely the start of the year and already it felt like Draco Malfoy against the entire Hogwarts student body, well except his own house. At least there he still had a couple friends. It was going to be a long bloody year.
"I have Ancient Runes next," she answered after digging her crumpled schedule out of her robes. "I love that class. You?"
"Same." Draco gave her a stiff smile, trying to keep his attention on her and not Weasley. "Let's go this way." He grabbed her elbow and steered her through a tapestry into a hidden passageway.
"Holy hell," she muttered, looking at the rows of armored suits lining the alcoves down the hall. "This place is terrifyingly fascinating." She turned in a circle and walked backwards for a moment, staring up at the beautiful candlelit chandeliers above her.
"It's all right," he drawled. "This will be my eighth year here and I still get lost on occasion. I'll give it big and disorganized." Draco was transfixed by the way her hair shimmered in the candlelight. "Anyone ever tell you your hair looks like spun gold?"
Lizzie felt her face flush. You have got to be kidding me. She met his eyes shyly and gave him a small smile. "No," she said quietly. "Thank you."
Draco smirked at her obvious pleasure from his comment but it quickly turned into a frown. She was the only one in the school who didn't know his past, it probably wouldn't last long, and then she wouldn't give two hoots of the owl post to talk to him. He scowled and looked away. Did he regret his past? Yes. Was he ever going to live it down? Not at this bloody school. He sighed. "Where did you go to school before coming here?"
"Oh, all over. My last school was Ilvermorny, though." She shrugged.
"Yeah? Does that school have Houses?" he inquired. "This way." He put his hand on her back pack to guide her to the left.
"Yes, four Houses as well." She shrugged. "I was there for two years as a Horned Serpent."
"You were a snake?" One eye brow arched high.
"Yes." She laughed. "But a very different one from your Slytherin snake. The Horned Serpent is more known for scholars whereas Hogwarts, A History tells me that Slytherin's are better known for their cunningness, ambition…and self-preservation." Her eyes glittered at him. A slow smile slid silently across his features. Snape was right, she did have a smart mouth, but a brain to back it up. He had a feeling he was going to like her. A Hufflepuff. He barely kept himself from snorting. He wouldn't have even given her a second look were it not for the fact she had impressed Snape. He guess it helped that she was bloody gorgeous, too. All tiny and wispy with the most stunning green eyes. Her hair really did look like spun gold – nothing like his silver blond hair – it was a mix of straw and glimmer and sunshine and bronzey-gold. As the light pass over it he thought he saw auburn and chestnut as well.
"Where else have you attended?"
"I spent my first and second years in Australia – they tongue tie you at that school, you're not allowed to say the name." Draco gave her a surprised look. "My third was spent at Mahoutokoro in Japan, forth in Brazil at Castelobruxo. Then in America the last two years, so when I was fifteen and sixteen. I had to finish my sixth year by mail because we moved here in April of last year. Talk about scary. My mom and dad refused to let me register with the ministry because of what was going on (we knew exactly what was going on because of one of my teachers at Ilvermorny having family here in Europe). We were glad to hear the end of the war happened in May. My dad was getting pretty close to requesting a transfer because they were afraid I was going to get found out. Being a Muggle-born in Great Brittan last year was something to fear … what's wrong?"
Draco had stopped in his tracks, a look of horror crossed his face. Bloody hell, she’s Muggle-born? Go fucking figure. It wouldn't matter to her he'd been forced to take the Dark Mark and scared witless enough to comply with the Dark Lord's demands. It wouldn't matter to her that he didn't want to be known as the pure blood who hated Muggle-borns anymore. That was his father's soap box. It wouldn't matter to her that he fought on the opposite side for the end of the battle. It wouldn't matter that his father repented and was currently sitting a sentence in Azkaban for the next year. Nor would it matter his family was mandated to pay a hefty reparation fine. All that would matter to her was that his past showed that he could never like her kind, and she would find out soon enough. There goes my already slim chance of having one person in this school my own age to start fresh with. He realized he'd been staring at her using his ice mask. She looked quite unsettled; she swallowed and took a step back from him.
"Did I say something wrong?" She was hesitant with her words.
"No." He grunted, trying to shake himself out of his sour turn of mood. "It's just, this was pointless." He shrugged arrogantly, hiding his disappointment with feigned boredom.
"What do you mean, 'pointless?'"
"What I mean is, you're a Muggle-born," he snapped, deciding to just rip the Spellotape off and get it over with. "You're going to run back to Granger and Potter and Weasley and they're going to tell you who I am. Then you'll either pretend I don't exist or treat me like I have dragon pox for the rest of the year. It's not going to matter that I'm trying to put my past behind me, because you're going to hear the stories and think that my kind could never have honorable intentions where your kind is involved." He was livid. He just wanted to get out of there. One thing he had always despised was wasting time.
"What do you mean my kind and your kind? Aren't we all magical?" He snorted at her naivety. "Who are you?" she inquired, curiosity made those damnable green eyes glitter like diamonds.
"You don't want to know." He waved her off and pushed past her. "I'll get you to class and then you don't have to talk to me anymore."
"I don't know if I've ever met someone as self-depreciating as you, Draco Malfoy," she stated simply, staying stock still and watching him with careful eyes.
He stopped short and spun on her. "Self-depreciating!?" he snarled. "Fine, you want to know who I am?!" He backed her into the wall, slamming both hands on each side of her head. He towered over her. She flinched slightly, but her gaze never broke from his. "I was a Death Eater," he growled. Her eyes widened imperceptibly and her heart stuttered in surprise. He put his face millimeters from her ear and rumbled. "And you're a Muggle-born. You know as well as I do that when you find out about me and what I did during the war from your new little Gryffindor friends it won't matter what I say or what my side of the story is. So let's not waste our time." He pulled back to fix her with a flint and steel gaze and was surprised to see her eyes alight with…inquisitiveness, rather than fear.
She paused for a long second, watching him watch her. He looked, for want of a better word, scared. And tired. So very tired. Like he’d lived a million lifetimes.
Her chin rose defiantly and she squared her shoulders standing up straight, making him back away a step. "I think you presume to much, Draco." Her voice was steady, and…sympathetic? "I'm pretty good at making my own judgements about people. So if you don't mind, I'd like to do just that where you are concerned."
He was clearly startled. "What?" He grimaced at the emotion that one word betrayed and silently chastised himself for letting them show.
"I'm a pretty good judge of character," she professed. "And I'm pretty good at giving people the benefit of the doubt. Always the 'new girl,' you see. I always hope people give me the benefit of the doubt, it's only fair for me to return the favor." He would never let her see how those words made his blood hum with surprise and hope.
"You trying to take the Mickey?" He crossed his arms over his chest and his form stiffened to a menacing height. Lizzie let out a confused huff.
"Take the Mickey?" …what? Then it dawned on her. "You mean am I trying to pull one over on you?"
"What the bloody hell else would I mean?" He demanded, bewildered.
"Well, that's not an expression I'm familiar with." She informed him. "Typically, we American's say something along the lines of 'are you fucking with me?'" Draco's mouth dropped at her obscenity, then it turned into a slow sexy smile. Hot damn, he's pretty! It distracted her.
"No, I'm not taking the Mickey," she told him with a smirk. "What's the point in pretending? All though I am going to tell you this, you're not gaining any points by trying to scare or intimidate me. I'll put you down faster than a hot cauldron if you think I'll take shit from you."
He laughed, those gray eyes brightening like a spring day after rain. She turned her face away and continued walking in the direction he had been taking her.
Hermione dumped her bag on her bed and flopped down on her back. The week had been excruciatingly slow. So much of what they were doing in classes this week was review to get them all back up to speed after the turmoil of the previous year. Even though she, Harry, and Ron had missed the entirety of it, to her the review was an utter waste of time. She sighed and rolled to her stomach. It was just after six. She had about an hour and a half until she needed to meet Snape for their planning session. He had owled her that morning with his expectations. She was to bring her Advanced Potions book, parchment and quills, a copy of her weekly schedule, an outline of what she did in her free time, and a list of her extracurricular activities. Basically, he needs to know where I am at all bloody hours of the day – because that won't be distracting at all.
After class but before dinner, she sat down and outlined her entire week. He was going to think she had zero life. Outside of classes, Head Girl duties, and meals, all she did was study. She probably spent as many hours in the library every week as Madam Pince. Who cares. He's an intelligent man, I'm sure he spent a fair amount of time in the library when he was a student, too. She harrumphed and rolled into a sitting position.
Maybe I should shower. If she got her evening routine out of the way before she went to see him, she could just come back and go to bed when she was done. She didn't know if he was going to start her extra classes with him tonight, but being that he wanted her to bring her book and supplies, she wouldn't put it past him. Who knows how long she'd be in the dungeon. It's bloody freezing down there, too. She sighed and toyed with her hair, contemplating her real feelings. Face it, Hermione, you also want to look and smell nice.
Groaning, she made her way into the private bathroom off her quarters. Super huge perk of being Head Girl. Her own bathroom! It was nice too, separate shower, huge, deep tub with multiple taps. Not as big as the swimming pool in the prefects bath, but bloody brilliant. She took her time in the shower, washing and conditioning her thick mane of hair. Using a wide tooth comb while the conditioner was in, she pulled all the tangles out of the locks. She decided to take the extra few minutes and shaved her legs and armpits. Once she was out and dry she lotioned her legs and arms and spritzed on a coordinating body spray, all Muggle products she loved the smell of.
She dressed in a pair of indigo blue cotton string bikini knickers and a coordinating microfiber bra that had silver crescents on it, a pair of Muggle jeans and long sleeved thermal shirt that hugged her curves and was made of a pretty lilac colored weave with three quarter length sleeves to wear under her robes. She pulled at the sleeves for a moment, realizing the O-O-D of the scar from Bellatrix on her right arm was showing.
She paused, second guessing her choice in tops, then chastised herself. What did it matter? Why did she feel nervous? For Merlin's sake, she wasn't the only person who had permanent scars on their body from the war. She had another on her neck where Bellatrix had pressed the silver knife that had killed Dobby to her throat in attempts to hold her friends at bay, another circling her right breast from the blow she had taken at the ministry. These, along with many smaller ones all over her body from this and that were minor compared to some people’s physical scars. Harry had many scars, Ron had a huge gouge out of one arm from being splinched. She knew from firsthand experience how many scars were on Snape's upper body. She would never tell him how many hours she spent with him while he was unconscious. The first ten days or so they wouldn't even put a sheet above his mid-section as he burned with a terrible fever from Nagini's venom while they worked on perfecting the antidote that had been started when Mr. Weasley had been bit back in her fifth year. She had only been allowed in the room because he had no next of kin – and she was part of the Golden Trio. No one would have dared to tell her no those first few weeks, and she had used it to her advantage when it came to Potions Master Severus Snape. She could still sometimes push the envelop when she felt entitled to; she didn't do it often, though.
She sighed again and worked some Sleekeazy's into her scalp. She had gotten use to using it, and now it was second nature. To really make it look amazing she had to do three applications, but she had found through some experimentation that one relaxed it enough to make it look like a normal person's head of hair and didn't add too much time to her routine. Using her wand, she dried her damp tendrils until it looked like a wild mass of copper and chocolate curls. Good enough. She nodded at herself in the mirror and checked her watch. It was time to go.
Snape was edgy. Fucking edgy. How was this girl making him such a blood wreck? He paced back and forth in his classroom. He wasn't worried about everything he had put together, he was nervous about doing something inappropriate. The last time he'd spent more than five minutes alone in her company, he'd forced a kiss on the poor thing, and she thought it was her fault! She had apologized to him about it. He growled in frustration under his breath. He was thirty-seven years old, it was ridiculous. He could control himself.
But if he was being honest with himself, it had been years since a woman had caught his attention as much as Hermione Granger did. She had been positively engaging throughout their summer interactions. Her bedside chats, and even just the way she had sat with him - reading out loud from the newspaper or a Potions journal - had endeared her to him more than he cared to admit. Not that he'd bloody say so aloud. He hadn't understood why she kept coming back. He'd been growly, unkind, and temperamental. But she had returned – three, four, sometimes five days a week – always with a smile and kind words, for almost ten weeks straight. Until that disastrous kiss happened.
When he had been well enough to sit for long periods of time, but not ready leave the hospital permanently, he'd been forced to stand trial. Her testimony in his favor had been smart and sure. It had surprised him that Potter also testified in his favor. He had been required to give memories and had consented to the use of Veritaserum. Not only had he been cleared of all charges against him, his deeds had turned around and landed him a fucking first-class honor. She had acted so proud, and he'd be damned if that hadn't made him feel good.
While he had not been surprised she didn’t come back to visit him after that calamitous lip lock, he had found himself…missing her. He'd never missed anyone in his life. Well, apart from Lily, but he had loved Lily. This revelation had bothered him, and he had decided to pretend their connection from the summer meant nothing to him. He shook himself out of his reverie and glanced at his watch. She would be here any moment.
He had their first lesson planned, it had actually been refreshing to put an advanced lesson together for someone who would be able to handle it. They were going to brew Veritaserum. His stocks were low, so it killed two doxies with one squirt and would cover the next three to four sessions as it needed the full lunar phase to mature. He might throw another potion in on week three, something simpler that only needed a couple of hours. He was still mulling it over; maybe Essence of Dittany. The potential Healer in her might find that interesting
The knock at the door startled him out of his mindless planning. He checked the time. Early, as always. He smirked. Taking a deep breath, he rearranged his face into a bored expression. "Enter," he drawled, perching on the corner of his desk.
"Good evening, Professor." Hermione smiled kindly at him as she slid the door closed behind her.
"Good evening, Miss Granger." He gestured for her to put her stuff on the table directly in front of his desk. "Would you like to go through your schedule first, or should we start with our lesson?"
"Let's get the boring stuff out of the way," she replied, pulling her planner out of her book bag. "I made a copy of my class schedule for you, along with my study schedule, Head Girl duties, and patrols." She handed him the pages of parchment. She continued to not look at him as she dug in her bag, retrieving a quill and some blank parchment. "I'm not currently engaged in any extracurricular activities," she told him, finally looking up. He was riffling through the papers she had given him. "My lessons are intensive, I have no free periods. Most of my free time is spent doing school work."
He finished with her schedules and set them on his desk. Turning to her, he stood. "Everything looks in order," he told her. "If anything in your schedule changes, please let me know. We will meet every Friday evening at eight o'clock to go through your upcoming week and will have a two to three-hour potion lesson, per your request."
"Yes, sir," she replied. Well, there went what little social life she had. She usually used Friday evenings as her free time.
He made his way over behind the lab table he had prepared for them and turned to see her watching him. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow.
Her mouth popped open and she tripped slightly on the hem of her robe in her haste to follow his lead. "Oof," she muttered, her hip slamming into a table. Bloody hell, he's going to think I did this on purpose. It was much too reminiscent of what happened before she threw herself at him this summer. She kept her gaze averted as she pulled at her robes. "I'm so sorry, sir. The robes are – they're new and a little long. I haven't had a chance to hem them." She chanced a look at him as she finally righted herself to move forward and ran right into a solid expanse of muscle, nose slamming into his chest.
Mortification swept through her; she knew her face must be the color of a pomegranate. "Oh Merlin," she whispered, pulling herself back even as he placed his hands on each side of her shoulders to steady her.
"Miss Granger," he snipped. "Do try to be careful? We're going to be working with some expensive ingredients this evening."
"Yes, sir." She met his eyes with her own and he smirked at her before releasing his grasp and turning back to the table. She followed more slowly.
Twenty minutes later, she was powdering snakeweed with the mortar and pestle while he was explaining the following stage of the brewing process. "We do have to increase the flame before adding the snakeweed," he clarified. "The intense heat coupled with the weed will later help the potion be tasteless."
"Okay," she concurred. "Flame to stage eight?"
"Just a little past eight," he amended as she pushed the mortar to the side.
"Just a moment." She stepped back and pulled her robes off, tossing them over the table behind where they were working before turning to the flame. He watched her face closely, a bead of sweat trickled down her temple and her forehead was creased with concentration. He knew she would take these courses seriously, but never anticipated her excitement and enthusiasm to exceed that which she usually demonstrated in his classes. She would make a wonderful Potions Mistress. She set the flame precisely and double checked the instructions. "Three pinches of snakeweed," she mumbled. He watched as she reached for the bowl and the sleeve of her snug top pulled. She started grinding the weed again, as the potion called for fine powdered snakeweed.
His mid went blank for a moment as he noticed the silver marks on her arm. Trying to look closer without her noticing, he made out a double O and a D. Does that say what I think it does? Cold fury swept through him in an instant. His teeth ground and he growled before he could stop himself. He grabbed her wrist, startling her so bad the mortar, pestle, and ground snakeweed hit the floor and shattered with a reverberating crash that echoed around the deserted classroom.
"What is going on?!" She blurted, trying to pull away. "Did I do something wrong?!" Her expression was positively gob smacked.
"No!" He snapped, barely calming when he pulled the sleeve up past her elbow. "What the hell…is…this!" he exclaimed, and she realized he had seen her scar. Burning charcoal eyes furiously meeting disconcerted chocolate ones. "What is this?!" he repeated – demanded.
Tears welled in her eyes as shame washed through her body. "I-It's a scar," she whispered.
"I can see that, Miss Granger, I'm not dense," he snarled. "What happened?"
"It happened d-during the war." Tears spilled over her lower lashes as she tried to pull her arm away from him, he held it fast. She turned her face away, trying to hide her confusion and humiliation. Why was he so angry? "B-Bellatrix…" She trailed off as if that was enough of an excuse.
Bloody hell, I scared her. "I did not mean to make you cry, Miss Granger." His voice came out distorted through his set jaw. He gently traced the thin, raised lines of the word on the silky-smooth skin of her forearm. Her skin felt scorched as he outlined the scar, like he was carefully opening each letter he touched with a hot scalpel. The feeling of want conflicted with her embarrassed emotions.
"Did this happen when you were held captive at Malfoy Manor?" he inquired, control returning to his inflection. He finally dropped her arm and she quickly stepped away from him, trying to clear her head while she tugged her sleeve down in place. She wrapped one arm around her waist in a form of self-protection. She watched him intently as his fists clenched and unclenched. She again tried to understand his boiling fury.
Calm down you bastard. He forced his body to unfurl tense muscles. "Tell me what happened that night." The demand came after minutes of silence. His voice was gruff and dark.
"I-I…" She trailed off, then steeled herself. "We were captured by a gang of Snatchers. G-Greyback and Sc-Scabior." She paused as a strangled sound left her professor. She watched his profile carefully for a moment, surprised by his display of barely restrained emotion, before continuing. "Harry, Ron, and I. I put a stinging jinx on Harry so they wouldn't recognize him. It worked for a minute. They figured it out quick enough. They had caught Dean T-Thomas and Griphook – a g-goblin – t-too. They took us to the manor. W-we had the sword of Gryf-ffindor and B-Bellatrix was beyond outraged."
"I'll bet she was," he huffed. He had put that sword in their hands. He was responsible for that scar on her arm. He gripped the table in front of him, his knuckles going white. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Hermione licked her lips and took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. This was the first time she had told this story aloud. Her throat was closing with anxiety. "They kept…" Her breath hitched and she fought down the rising panic and sick roiling in her stomach. "They kept me to torture, because I am a Mudblood."
No. His mind raced at the defeat in her voice. He spun to her and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. Her brain rattled in her head as fresh tears cascaded down her lovely face. "Don't call yourself that!"
"Why not?!" She spat at him, her body flaming to life with his touch. Her Gryffindor courage sparked anew. "They chose to torture me because I was expendable. She used the Cruciatus curse on me, because I was disposable. They wouldn’t need me. If I died or went mindless, it wouldn’t matter!” She threw the words in his face and he flinched. “She demanded between sessions to tell her how we had gotten into her vault; asking what else we had taken. I managed to finally form the lie that the sword was a fake. I apparently work well under duress." She gave a mirthless laugh and he felt his face drain of what little color he had. His fingers tightened painfully, but she didn't seem to notice, just continued to stare directly into his face, not seeing him anymore.
"At least then she stopped cursing me. She started cutting me instead, which hurt less." Her voice had gone flat, the glittering in her eyes died. He stared at her, unblinking, for a fraction of a second before crushing her to his chest just as the uncontrollable sobs broke free from her chest.
The tears were better than the deadened look in her eyes; the look that made him think she had never before spoken these words audibly before. He sank to the floor, pulling her with him. Not knowing what else to do for her, Snape cradled her to him. He had never comforted a witch this way before. Hell, he'd never comforted anyone any way before. He felt awkward, like a gangly prepubescent teenager. He tangled one hand into her hair and wrapped the other around her shoulders securely. He let her cry, guilt washing over him for insisting on the details.
"Shh." He hushed her after a few moments. He bent his head, burying his nose into her unruly, magnificent hair. Intending to only give comfort, he struggled to keep his need to take pleasure in the feel of her body against his at bay. God, she smells good. Lavender and vanilla. "Shh." He soothed again, unthinkingly he kissed her forehead. "It's okay, Miss Granger. It's okay."
"I'm so sorry." She sniffed, pulling back slightly to wipe her cheeks with her fingers. "I don't know why --"
"Stop. You apologize too much." He told her, dropping the hand from her hair and placing a finger over her lips. Her tear softened, perfect mouth. She froze and he tensed, their eyes locking. The air between them was suddenly electrified.
She had felt his body responding to hers. She had felt the kiss in her hair. She felt safe, and warm; she was at peace in his arms. What she did next used every ounce of courage she possessed. Gently puckering her lips, she kissed his finger, never taking her eyes from his. His lips parted in surprise heat curled in her belly as his hand cupped the side of her face. Searching her eyes carefully, he silently asked her permission. The hunger that flamed to life in the depths of her chocolate and amber orbs and the whimper that left her throat almost made him groan aloud. He slowly bent his head and touched his lips to hers. Her breathy sigh ignited feelings long dormant in his soul. Her tentative fingers slid up his chest and over his shoulders, coming to rest entwined at the nape of his neck, kneading hard muscle, making him shiver in appreciation. She moaned softly as he deepened the kiss with a gentle sweep of his tongue.
It started slow and gentle, but quickly escalated as all senses became heightened and he growled. She cried out softly as his tongue swept deep in her mouth and his hands cascaded down her back, coming to rest in a death grip on her bum. He pulled her onto his lap, and she reflexively straddled him while thrusting her fingers into his hair, trying to get closer to him. He ripped his mouth away from hers and trailed hot kissed across her jaw to one ear where he nibbled gently. She gasped as the sensation shot straight to her core, tilting her head to give him better access. The heat of his mouth was seeping into her core, soaking her knickers instantaneously.
"Oh, Gods," she breathed, feathering gentle kisses along his cheek bone. His rough, long fingered hands slid up her back, under her shirt and she hissed at the feeling, rocking her hips into his. She was not naïve enough to miss the growing bulge in his pants as he lapped and nipped at the column of her throat, sucking at her pulse point. "Ah!" She was panting. He tugged at her shirt and she leaned back, allowing him to rip the offensive fabric up over her head.
Her arms fell gracefully to her sides. The sight of her straddling his hips, eyes darkened and heavy lidded with lust, her wild hair cascading over her shoulders and curling around the swell of her breasts held in the softest bra he'd ever felt spurred him into frantic action. In a rapid of quick successions, he pushed her to stand and stood himself, casting a stasis charm on the potion they had been working on and warding the classroom door. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her through the classroom to the doors of his quarters.
She did not try and stop him, following with willing desperation. The door burst open before they even reached it and he spun her in a circle into his office. The door slammed closed and she heard bolts spring into place as the chamber door to his bedroom magically opened. He pushed her into the wall with his hips, capturing her mouth with his again while shoving her arms above her head. He entwined her fingers with his, holding her captive against the cool stone. Her breathy gasp and involuntary roll of her groin against his elicited a delicious sound from him, making Hermione feel like a goddess. She swallowed Snape's groan and met his hot, wet, skilled muscle with her own, dueling him with equal fervor. She hitched her leg around his hip and her hips rolled again, searching for friction she so desperately needed.
He released her hands and one arm dropped to encircle her slender form, cupping her bum through those damnable Muggle jeans while the other hitched under her raised knee. Too much fabric. He spun them in a circle and backed her to the settee. He pulled away, but kept his hand on her butt as he searched her face for any sign she wanted to stop. It was flushed a beautiful pink, her lips swollen from their kisses. She looked back at him with excitement in her eyes, he was sure this time. She wanted this. He bloody well wanted it, too. Keeping one arm around her, he pulled his wand from his robe pocket and shot a fire into the brazier to keep his office and anti-chamber warm. The fire roared to life in his bedroom as well, casting a comforting glow in the open doorway.
Without stopping to consider the consequences, he doffed his robes and tossed them on the couch, then scooped her petite form up into his arms, his lips thundering down on hers again as he carried her to his bedroom.
Her heart was pounding; she thought it was going to dislodge itself from her chest. It certainly was making a valiant effort. One hand clutched Snape's neck while the other dug fingernails into his shoulder, bunching the fabric of his button-down shirt. Where was his frock coat? She felt the softness of the mattress dip as he settled her on the bed. He climbed on top of her, his hard body covering her pliable one. She relished the weight and sighed contentedly, returning each enthusiastic kiss with one of her own.
It felt like he was snogging the life out of her, and her entire body convulsed in one massive tremor of need and excitement and nerves. He was being the right combination of fierce, but, oh, so gentle. Hermione never could have dreamed that Snape could be gentle. She wondered idly if it was because of their exchange in the lab. His teeth nipped her ear lobe; his wet, hot tongue curled around the sensitive base behind, making a shiver cascade down her spine. His hips ground into hers and she wriggled as the heat of his cock pressed into her gusset. It felt like her pussy had sprung a leak. Her knickers were soaked, she would be surprised if the jeans weren't as well.
His kisses and licks and nips were driving her mental. Her nails raked into his hair, scoring his scalp and drawing a long hiss from his nose as he worried the sensitive swell of her breasts, wet muscle lapping while rough stubble from his jaw scrapped the sensitive valley between. His hands, which had been propping his weight, slithered up her rib cage and cupped one breast encased the slippery soft fabric, rubbing the pad of his thumb over a nipple which peaked and hardened like a knut. All the while his hips ground into hers.
She rocked hers back tentatively and was rewarded with another low growl. "Miss Granger," he rasped even as he tugged the fabric of her bra down exposing a nipple. His hot breath cascaded across it and she whimpered. "If you have any intention of stopping me, now is your chance." That hard mouth grazed around the edge of her areola and, if it were possible, the nipple tightened further. Her need centering in the tip of the soft mound of sensitive tissue.
"No, don't stop," she breathed arching her back, presenting herself for him. They groaned together as he pulled the sensitive nub into his hot chamber, swirling his tongue lazily making her gasp and twist beneath him.
That's all it took for his very tenuous grasp on control, on making sure what was happening was what she truly wanted, to dissipate utterly. In what felt like moments her bra was gone and his shirt was unbuttoned. He smothered her lips with his again and again, his tongue dancing with hers in the same ancient rhythm his cock throbbed to participate in below.
He rolled them, pushing her up to straddle him while he unbuttoned and dragged the zipper down on her jeans. She rolled off to shove them down her hips and kick them off her feet, cursing as she met the resistance of her trainers, toeing them off. When she turned back to him, he was stark naked and she froze. He was gorgeous. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but his broad shoulders were toned, his chest flat and spattered with dark hair while marred skin flowed over muscle to his hips, which narrowed appropriately. While he wasn’t defined muscle, he wasn’t soft or overweight in the least. Lean and hard were the words that came to mind. The scars around his neck and right shoulder from the snake and others that were unexplained only added to his allure. They made him sexy and dangerous and even more appealing to her. His dick stood out hard and violently dark in contrast with the pallor of his skin, dark pubic hair curling at its base. It was huge, certainly larger than average. Definitely bigger then she would have ever anticipated.
She had never gotten this far before; she had no idea what to do next. Panic rose in her throat. I can't do this, I don't know what to do. Gods, his cock looks big. Are they all that big? That's supposed to fit inside me? She knew the basics. She was an avid reader, after all. She knew how it was supposed to work. She knew what she wanted to do, but what if he didn't like it? What if he laughed at her inexperience? Should she tell him she was a virgin? She didn't want to stop, she was worried if she said something, he'd force her to stop. He must have sensed her nervousness.
"I'm no different than anyone else you've ever been with," he told her gently, reaching for her. He pulled her face back to his as he settled her into the pillows on her back. He sat back and stared at her for what felt like hours. Blush stained her cheeks a brilliant pink as he took in her breasts. Her areola were a dark, dusky pink with taught nipples that seemed to lengthen under his stare. Her stomach was flat, but soft, and her hips rounded out in a perfect hourglass form that men would kill for. The apex at her thighs held a dark, curly expanse of pubic hair that made his mouth water. One arm came down to cover herself as his scrutiny got the better of her.
"No you bloody well don't, love," he grumbled menacingly. "You're fucking stunning." He kissed her deeply while trailing calloused fingertips down her body, between her breasts to the juncture just above her sex. He smoothed his palm over her low belly and his fingers teased along the top of her pubic hair. She shuddered and arched into him, moaning into his mouth. His fingers sank lower teasing the folds of her sex apart and finding her clit. Her body thrummed with heat and need, she ripped her mouth away from his and hissed through her teeth as he suckled her jaw bone.
"You're soaked, Miss Granger," he muttered approvingly as his deft and nimble fingers circled and slid in her most intimate of places.
"Uhh." Her hips arched again and her head lolled back into the pillows. "Oh, Gods," she keened. The lovely sound grew louder as he sunk his middle finger into her velvety heat, his breath released in deep, visceral sound that thrilled her.
Snape was thoroughly enjoying the wanton, writhing young woman beneath him. He hardly dared to believe this was really happening. His prick felt like marble and his bollocks ached with want for her. He slid a second finger in with the first. Before going any further, he wanted to see how responsive she was, what he might have to do to bring her to climax. Her legs fell open wider, allowing him a breath-taking view. He trailed more wet kisses across her chest, lapping at the neglected nipple from before. The pad of his thumb found her clit, which was swollen and hard. He gritted his teeth against the ridiculous sounds his body wanted to make as he positioned himself to kneel between her knees. She was watching him; he could feel her gaze. He lifted his eyes to watch her back, slowly giving her the friction her body was craving. Her arms were loose above her head, her hair spilled riotously across the pillows. His pillows. This beautiful creature was in his bed. Wanting him.
"Oh, please sir." Her hips arched again and her chin tilted up as her eyes rolled back in her head. He knew she must be close. He leaned into her soft thighs, trailing his mouth up the sensitive insides while keeping a steady, firm pace with his fingers. When he kissed her glittering slit her hips bucked and she let out a guttural groan of need. Whimpers of "Pleasepleaseplease!" falling from her lips in a tantalizing husky murmur that was making him mad. His tongue stroked her clit while his fingers sought out the sweet spot inside of her. Finding it, he used a sweeping motion with his fingers. He felt her walls twitch and he sucked her hard, making her spiral over the edge, throwing herself into the abyss of pleasure.
"Ah….unhh!" She screamed, sobbing with her release as she flew. She whimpered when his hand and mouth came away, feeling his loss in the very center of her being.
With one swift movement, he settled his knob at her hot molten entrance and slammed himself into her before she had time to come down from her orgasm completely. He froze at her surprised pant of pain, her hands slamming onto his shoulders to stop him. Horror pulled at him as he realized what had just happened. She was a virgin? His mind whirred with astonishment as he dropped himself onto his hands to look at her. Her fingernails were digging into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indentations.
The pain had shocked her. She thought she'd be able to mask it if it hurt; she had been very wrong. Every fiber of her being wanted him out.
Now.
She pushed at his shoulders, trying to control herself. Taking fast, deep breaths; tears streamed down her temples into her hair.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded hoarsely, it was taking every ounce of his already out of control resolve to not move, to let her adjust. If he had known he would have…what? Stopped? Not bloody likely. Gone slower? He would have tried.
"I didn't think it mattered," she whispered, her voice shook with discomfort. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Gods!" He pressed his forehead into her shoulder, feathering kisses over her collar bone while he waited for her body to relax. He was so glad he had brought her to orgasm before slamming into her. At least she had been well warmed up. "Of course it mattered, you silly witch. I would have approached this much differently. Do you want to stop?" Merlin, say no. He didn't know if he could stop.
She thought about that for a moment. Did she want to stop? It didn't really hurt any more, it was just an uncomfortable stretch now. She had read that it could pinch or be painful, but she'd also read if the woman had used tampons that they would break the hymen and she most likely wouldn't bleed. She naïvely thought that also meant it wouldn’t hurt. Plus, she had a vibrator she used frequently, which felt amazing. She hadn't taken into account that his cock was probably three times bigger than her vibe. She realized that those things together made her believe it really wouldn’t hurt. As her mind whirled, she tried to get her muscles to relax. It seemed to be working. She felt her pussy spasm and contract around him, adjusting to his size. She felt full to bursting, her breathing finally starting to slow and the low ache of want came back as he trailed blistering open mouth kisses across her neck and jaw, trying to calm her and bring back her desire.
"You're okay?" He murmured questioningly as he felt the tension seep out of her along with the tiny whimpers of pleasure from his ministrations on her neck and jaw. He kissed the corner of her mouth. She whined in response, shifting beneath him. He gritted his teeth against the sensation and ground his face into her neck. "You have to say the words, love," he whispered into her ear. "You have to tell me you're okay, that you want to continue."
"Yes." Her voice was filled with desire, rough and thick. "Yes, I'm okay."
"What do you want, Miss Granger?"
She paused, not sure what he wanted her to say. So she said the first thing that came to her mind. "I want you to fuck me, sir. Please."
He growled, her words couldn’t have been any more perfect. As he slid forward, her gasp of surprised pleasure made his bollocks tighten in answer. He had to go slow, make this good for her. Snape needed to last, he wanted to bring her to orgasm again. Why in the wizarding world this young witch had chosen him to be her first would never be understood – he might have to have her explain it to him. He slipped one arm under her back and pulled her into his chest, finding her mouth once again as he pulled out and then nudged back in. "Wrap your legs around me, pet." She complied with no hesitation. Merlin's balls, she was tight as a vice. The angle deepened and he settled more comfortably into her, sliding in and out slowly; nudging her cervix gently with each thrust until she was mindless beneath him.
"Harder, harder." She whimpered against his lips, finally dragging her mouth away from his to suck in greedy breaths. Hermione pressed her forehead to his shoulder. He kissed her temple.
"I can pick the tempo up a bit, pet," he murmured and her breathy groan edged him forward. "Let's not be too rough, or you won't be able to move tomorrow." He sat up on his knees and cupped the sensitive skin behind her own, pushing them up to her shoulders. Changing the angle again so he could sink deeper while notching the speed up to a slow cantor. He watched her eyes roll up into the back of her head while a quivering gasp escaped her lips.
"Oh!" She sobbed, the pressure was rebuilding in her to the point of an inescapable wall of pleasure-pain that fell so good and so terrifying at the same time. She was convulsing with the sensations. Her brain miraculously blank, sensation taking over everything.
"That's right, pet." His baritone caressed her, making the tension in her body ease. "You like that, don't you?" His voice was thick and gravely. The desire in it dragging her closer to a precipice.
"Yes." She panted, starting to meet his thrusts with her own. The growl that rumbled out of him only pushed her closer to nirvana. She reached out to run her fingers through the coarse hair on his chest.
"I want you to come for me again, do you understand?"
"Yes, so…close." She'd do anything he wanted her to. She would jump off the astronomy tower so long as he didn't stop. “Please keep talking.” This request surprised a low chuckle out of him.
His fingers found her clit again, rolling a gentle circle around it's girth. "You're a naughty, girl, aren't you, Miss Granger?" His voice dripped with comical desire. He was trying to make her blush. It was working. To her surprise, she loved it, his voice brought her all the closer to the edge she was dangling off.
"Yes, sir." She gasped as his hips slammed harder into her thighs, bollocks slapping her arse.
He clenched his teeth hard as his balls rose, trying to crawl into his body. He could see how close she was, felt the trembling of her whole body. He increased the pressure of his thumb on her nub and continued to murmur unintelligible words at her. When her legs stiffened, he knew he had thrown her off the cliff again. "Oh, Gods!" She cried out, jerking her hips into his firmly. One, two more strokes and he came with her, his release felt like it was being pulled from his toes. The groan emanating from his chest was deep and animalistic and only prolonged her own pleasure. He collapsed on her, crushing her into the mattress, hips jolting of their own accord while his seed flooded her core. His face submerged in her glorious, fragrant tresses. Her arms snaked around his shoulders as they both gasped and shivered and slowly fell back to Earth.
She welcomed his weight, hard and flat and sinewy, she didn't even mind his sharp hip bones pressing into her soft flesh. It was perfect. Everything had been perfect. She sighed in contentment and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.
As Snape's breathing slowed and his shaft started to go soft inside her, his mind returned. With it, a dawning horror spread through his body. He had just fucked a student. Not just any student – Hermione-bloody-Granger.
A/N: If you're enjoying this story, please give me some feedback! I would appreciate it more than you know! x ~*Lissa
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