Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Scattered	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25013 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I don't make any money from this fiction.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Massage

Hermione lay across her sleeping bag, her feet throbbing with discomfort after another day of walking around the Welsh countryside. She’d barely been able to keep up with the brisk pace that Snape had set for them, inspecting one house after another, and finding only one half-suitable location. It had been nixed due to a strange smell, and overabundance of rodents, and a strange hair-raising sensation it cause as they walked through it. They’d agreed it would be a second choice if nothing else panned out, but both clearly preferred camping even to that hovel.
“Stop fidgeting, some of us are trying to sleep.” Snape’s caustic tone filled the tent for a moment, causing Hermione to freeze, not realizing she’d been moving around.
“Sorry, I can’t get comfortable.” She mumbled, resisting the urge to rub her sore legs, the prickling soreness growing the longer she lay still.
“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable under a stunning spell?” He offered rudely, earning him a silent glare at his turned back.
“No thank you.” She bit out, rolling to lie on her back, and stretch her legs out. She propped one leg up until it began tingling, then the other, trying futilely to find a way to ease the discomfort.
“For the love of Merlin, girl!” He sat upright, and turned to glare at her. “If I have to brew you a poison to get you to sleep, I will! Just please stop moving!” He growled the please with more emotion than she could see on his face, which was a feat, since his expression said he was half an inch from murdering her before she even got cozy enough to sleep.
“I can’t! My legs hurt too much!” She grouched back, shifting once more, stretching both arms and legs out in frustration. He glared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowed with thought.
“Give me your leg.” He finally ordered, holding out his hand. Hermione hesitated, inspecting his face, and reading the undercurrent to his thoughts, looking for any intent to hurt her. She found a sleepy muddle of irritation, determination, and sparkly yellow around the edges of his mind. She sat up and turned, bracing her arms behind her, and lifted her leg to offer to him, hoping he knew a spell to relieve the discomfort.
Instead, his fingers clasped around her ankle, pulling her foot into his lap, and skimming to her calf, digging gently into the fabric of her pajamas, forming slow methodic circles. His eyes had turned away from her, closing his thoughts to her, but the firm, careful way he touched made her certain that he held no ill-will. It took her a moment to realize that he was massaging her leg, putting her muscles to rest with his fingers alone. She felt a small shard of embarrassment at the thought, but pushed it away, unwilling to turn down such a relieving and pleasant gift. His eyes seemed nearly closed as he rubbed, his fingers making their way in a pattern up and down her leg, around to the front, and then to her knee, stroking downward across the back of her joint, making her eyes close with enjoyment as he worked, the relaxing fingers laboring onto her thigh, his long fingers splaying and kneading. Hermione felt her breath coming quicker as he moved higher, and squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to look at him as he came inches from touching her more intimately. His movements were deliberate and thorough, and she didn’t think he was going to try and molest her, but after the way he’d mocked her the previous day, she felt uncertain. His fingers swept back down, and traded her leg out for the other, beginning at her ankle again, and leaving her with a feeling of disappointment.
She’d nearly expected him to inch even higher, to ‘accidentally’ brush against her pelvis. She told herself it was a good thing he hadn’t. That she didn’t want him to. It was just some strange result of asking such personal questions. Of being on the receiving end of his passion a few times. A passion he seemed to be totally lacking in his exhaustion. Hermione opened her eyes infinitesimally inspecting his blank face. He could almost be asleep if it weren’t for his hands moving up her leg, and the tiny blinks that proved his eyes weren’t completely shut. As his fingers came closer again to the top of her thigh, she held her breath, as though waiting for him to wake up, and realize how close he was to what he’d fantasized about. She was starting to tingle at the thought, fighting her imagination as it began producing the scenario of his fingers continuing the massage after her legs had been finished.
“Professor?” she whispered as he leaned across her leg, his head hanging slightly as his fingers traveled. He looked up, his hands continuing their movement as he met her gaze. “Thank you.” She mumbled having nothing else to say as she effortlessly searched his tired thoughts. The irritation was nearly extinct, and the sleepiness was fading as he stared at her, realizing just how close his motions had brought him toward her. The yellow glitter at the edges was more prominent, and she recognized it as enjoyment. The feeling of her leg under his fingers was making him happy, and she could feel the way he was storing the feeling, memorizing the shape under the fabric. She could smell herself through his mind, the floral scent of her shampoo nearly filling the tent. Her eye color nearly matched his in the dark, and she felt his fingers go still on her thigh, and his eyes broke from hers for a half a second, breaking her from his thoughts as he glanced downward, only to rejoin hers once more, with guilty presence behind them. Her lips were parted, nearly close enough to kiss, if he weren’t already stretched across her leg. His fingers twitched slightly, and he held them still again, refusing to slide them higher up her leg, though he wanted to. He knew she was in his mind, but he couldn’t close off his thoughts, feeling it was useless. She already knew he wanted her, if she didn’t like the repetition, she knew how to get out. The thought surprised her, and she stayed put, unmoving as he stared back at her. He let her roam freely around his thoughts, his fingers tightening slightly on her leg as he focused on staying still, not taking what he wanted.
The fluttery pink feeling shot across his thoughts, and she snatched for it, finally able to latch into it without him locking it away.
“You want me to touch you?” the words were light, playful, but gone almost instantly, replaced with others. “Well, I WAS almost asleep…” “Anything else I can rub for you?” They were barely full thoughts, each seemed to be considered, and discarded, as though he were searching for something to say. Hermione realized it was flirting. The fluttery pink words he’d hidden, the playfulness, mixed with more sexual tension than she’d thought possible. He was trying not to flirt with her though, and the fluttery pink allure was chased by dark shame, apprehension, and worry. He wanted her so badly, but he felt wrong for it. She was too young. She was too pure. She had her redhead. He had his to grieve for.
But none of it stopped his desire to slide his hands up her, push her to the ground, and make her beg for him. He was positive he could make her like whatever he offered, certain that she’d enjoy his hands doing uncivil things. She’d been so very eager last time he’d kissed her, he wondered how much more enthusiastic she’d be without the worry of painfully losing her virginity. His fingers twitched again, spreading wider across her leg, just a hair closer to the warm junction of her thighs. She felt her hips tilt through his mind, and flushed, not even having felt the movement herself.
Her face burning with embarrassment, she pulled away, removed her leg from his lap, and scooted farther onto her own bedroll. The tension surrounding them seemed to ebb slightly as his fingers slid away from her, and he leaned back, sayinging nothing as he lay back down, and closed his eyes, his face blank as he lay there. Hermione stared at him for a moment, trying to pry into his emotions, hoping he wasn’t angry that she’d snubbed him. His face betrayed no anger, but she knew he must feel at least a little frustrated. She certainly did. Her core felt like it was on fire, throbbing with her pulse, begging for release.
She snatched up her wand, and unzipped the tent flap, saying not a single word as she exited, needing the fresh air, and more space between their bodies than their shelter provided. She re-zipped the flap behind her, hoping he understood the silent message to stay put. She rubbed her face in the tepid night air and stalked a bit past the invisible boundary of their campsite, hiding behind the few trees there were, and sank to the ground with a groan of dismay. Her head thunked back against a tree trunk, and she closed her eyes, trying to think clearly. There had to be some logical explanation to her physiological reaction to the man. Was it just teenage hormones? She doubted it; she’d never felt the urge to behave so inappropriately before. She’d snogged Ron during the battle, and sure, she’d kissed Viktor, too, but neither had made her completely lose her mind with the thought of just being caressed. She’d enjoyed their kisses, she’d been turned on by Viktor holding her body against his as they made out, but it hadn’t been the same as the insanity-causing inferno that Snape aroused.
She almost laughed at that thought. ‘Snape aroused’. What an unpredictable turn of her life. Stuck in the woods with a surly sourpuss, and sinking into depravity. She rubbed her legs uncomfortably together, though the earlier discomfort had been replaced by a new ache. She could still feel his hands on her legs, his fingers grazing closer and closer to her heated apex. She could still feel his need, the flirting he tried to suppress. Was that why she was so turned on right now? Because she’d been in his mind, and he’d been all stirred up? She told herself that must be it. The only logical explanation to why she was suffering right then. She disregarded the fact that the titillation had begun before he’d looked up at her. She refused to think about the times she’d burned for him before she was a Legilimens. She latched onto the idea of blaming him entirely, and stuck with it, trying to exert some modicum of irritation towards his contagious lust.
She opened her eyes and stared up at the stars, unable to work up a proper amount of gall. She stood, brushing the seat of her pajamas free of dirt and leaves, and walked the short distance back toward the tent. Her hand stretched toward the zipper, her fingers nearly ready to pull it open, when she heard the strangest noise. She froze, focusing, glancing around for any sign of encroachers, or animals. There was nothing, and the soft noise sounded again, from inside the tent. She stared at the canvas, eyes wide as she listened for a moment, confirming her suspicion.
She could hear a muffled whapping noise, steady, rhythmic, cut across by another low growl. The sound was like a line, tugging at her stomach, making her lurch backward as she thought about going in. She was not going in. He was busy, so she’d leave him be. She turned on her heel, and marched back to where she’d been sitting, retaking her previous seat, and staring blankly into the dark trees, trying to put the sounds from her mind. So what if he was having a wank? Maybe it would get rid of some of his damned desire, and make her life easier. She envied him a moment, feeling the incessant need between her own legs, and thinking of his imminent return to relaxation.
The thought struck her like a hammer, confusing for a moment, and then nearly painful. She could do the same. If he wasn’t going to be burning with unfulfilled need, why should she? It would be unfair to let the cause of her own unease be the only one sleeping soundly. She argued back and forth with herself for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of trying to relieve herself, her eyes darting around for any possible witnesses with which to reason her timidity. She found none, and closed her eyes, trying not to think too much about what she was doing, and slid a hand between her legs, rubbing the hot mass of want. The pressure was like a blanket on a cold day, instant gratification. The moment her hand left though, the throbbing returned, vengeful, and demanding. She stroked hesitantly at the seam of her pajamas, taking a moment to appreciate the abatement of pulsing distress. She leaned back into the tree, trying to relax as she stroked up and down, causing small jolts of pleasure to eddie through her nerves. She put more force into the motion, her hips tilting slightly as she gasped with the sensation it caused. It was like a sharp, concentrated fire beneath her fingers, burning into her, and taking root deep inside her belly.
The memory of Snape mentally illustrating an orgasm for her came to the forefront of her thoughts, and she compared the rush of pure pleasure he’d felt to the sparks of heat she was pushing into herself. Her fingers were shaking slightly, and she stroked faster, aiming for that same crest of satisfaction he’d shown her. Her hips twitched, and her back arched, displacing her hand, and making her groan with frustration as she chased her own body, her hand snaking lower, to once again reach for that pinnacle. Her face was pinched in concentration, her breath a rapid panting as she vigorously caressed herself, getting closer, and closer. Her hips swayed the opposite direction, her shoulders jolting slightly as she involuntarily jerked once again. She tried again, tension filling every muscle with the desire to stay still, to not move an inch until she’d finished, but it seemed as soon as she neared climax, she shook, jerked, and was unable to quite get there. It was as though the sharp pinpoints of pleasure were too much, and her body refused to go further, keeping true completion from her grasp. She whimpered with vexation, dropping her hand to the side, and hating the dull throb that came back full force.
She felt like sobbing with anger and irritation, the unfulfilled ache within her still demanding a release that she was unable to reach. After the spasming pleasure she’d inflicted upon herself though, the dull ache didn’t seem quite so unmanageable, a mild discomfort compared to the electric shock of near-orgasm.
She sat for a moment longer, catching her breath, and trying to will her desire to disappear. When the first of the two had been completed, she stood, and angrily made her way back to the tent, determined to sleep off the yearning.
She paused right outside the flap, listening to any indication that her Professor was still preoccupied. She heard nothing, and unzipped the flap slowly, giving him time to make himself decent if he wasn’t already. She entered, and saw him lying on his side, facing the wall of the tent, his chest rising and falling with deep, slumbering breaths. She nestled into her bedroll, grumbling quietly to herself about his ease of sleep, and obvious ability to actually finish what he set out to do. He didn’t seem to have any problems with his body betraying him at the last second. She closed her eyes, hating him for causing her such agony, and being able to so easily alleviate his own. She whispered quiet curses under her breath as she lay there and stewed, willing to be bitter until the moment she fell asleep.

A/N:Thank you all for your comments! I know the slow burn is slow, but please bear with it, things are starting to consiously heat up between our heroes!
Reapergirl: I'm trying to keep consistent with a monthly update, but sometimes I forget. '^_^ Since I was so late on November's, I promise I'll try to upload December's near the beginning of the month, instead of one month from this one.
Clem: Hoping to update again soon, and also starting to get worried about catching up with what I've got written. Please let me know if you think the quality starts going bad in an attempt to keep up with the updates!
archer_elf87: I do love to write tension! Hope you're ready for more in the next couple chapters!!
DeepestShadeOfBlue: First, I absolutely love your name. It makes me giddy that my story got you to register. I haven't got an account on AO3, but I'll definitely look into it, and see if it'll work for me. If you like the if you like the tension, and realistic characters, you might look at some of my other stories. I think I write them full of tension and worry. This one is actually a second part of a sort of series I'm doing on the same AU, but following different couples. This is #2 of 3 I plan to do, and the first is finished! >>http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600099353
Cheese_And_Crackers: I haven't finished writing it yet, and I am also really excited to see what happens, even though I know how it ends. I've got general ideas on how it's going to get there, and I'm super keen to finally write out the exciting parts.
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