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
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: So please be super proud of me and not too mad when I tell you that I HAVE to put this story down until sometime next week. I have a paper due on Sunday evening, and if I don't walk away from this for the rest of the week, I'm never going to get it done. I threw together chapter eight because I was on a roll, but this is a good stopping point in my mind. It shouldn't put me into too much of a mental block to pause here. Bare with me. After this paper, I only have one more big project for this semester and I should be able to kick chapters out fairly quickly. My characters are screaming at me, I know where the story is going for the moment. There will be more! Please keep reviewing! I love to know what you're thinking!

Mumoftrips: Thank you so much for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying your self.

Chapter Eight
September 1998

Lizzie had two dates and a detention this weekend. Professor Sprout had not been available to have her sit detention Friday evening, so she would be completing that obligatory task Sunday afternoon. The sweet lady told her gently to try and not rile Professor Snape up with a wink and a knowing look that Lizzie almost laughed at.
Draco had asked her to go flying Friday evening (so her gratitude of having to postpone her detention was palpable), and Ron had invited her to take a walk on the grounds the next morning. She was excited, but nervous.
She had been up front with both boys. It was a first date, they were to be gentlemen. She was getting to know them. She had also told both of them that she had a date with the other. Neither boy had looked very pleased about that, but she’d be damned if she was going to sneak around. She’d have a date or two with each of them, and then make her decision as to who she wanted to try things with. Maybe they’d both be disappointing – but what if they were both lovely? She closed her eyes, this could get messy.
Hermione and Ginny had been less than impressed with her choice to accept a date with Malfoy. As Draco had predicted, they had both cornered Lizzie Wednesday evening dragging her to Hermione’s Head Girl suite.
“He’s bad news, Lizzie,” Ginny said. “He was a Death Eater! You know what that is, right?”
“Yes,” Lizzie said simply. “And he already told me he was a Death Eater.” She shrugged. “He also told me he’s trying to put it in the past.”
Hermione snorted derisively. “Words,” she sneered. “Malfoy is a lot of talk, not a lot of action. He always has been.”
“Look,” Lizzie replied. “It’s just a date. He can’t hide his true self without a lot effort. I don’t know him – but you guys don’t really know me, either. You’re giving me a chance anyway. I’m going to do the same for him.”
Hermione and Ginny exchanged a surprised look. Ginny had the grace to look a little abashed. “Okay.” She gave a half shrug. “He did stop fighting for You-Know-Who at the end…and, well, he is awfully handsome, isn’t he?” She exchanged a look with Hermione.
Lizzie giggled. “He’s pretty!” She snickered. Even Hermione had a small grin on her face.
“What about Ron though?” The brunette asked after a moment. “I thought you were interested in Ron?”
“I am,” Lizzie affirmed. “I’m not going to lead anyone on, nor am I going to tell any lies. Ron hasn’t asked me out, yet. If he does, I’ll go on a date with him, too. Get to know him better. One date with Draco doesn’t mean we’re exclusive.”
Ginny and Hermione exchange a look. No one called Malfoy Draco. It was always Malfoy. “You better put a bug up his arse, Gin,” Hermione said seriously. “If it takes him even half as long as it did for him to kiss me, she’ll be married with two kids before he even considers asking her out.”
Ginny laughed appreciatively. “I’ll tell him to do it right away, or he’ll lose his chance.”
Apparently, Ron had been horrified that she had accepted a date invitation from Malfoy as well. Disturbed enough to be put into action immediately. He had asked her out for Saturday morning the very next day (which Hermione said was a complete record for him as the girls had whispered and giggled while on the way to Transfiguration).
While Lizzie enjoyed spending time with Hermione and Ginny together, the younger girl didn’t share their class schedule, so Lizzie was rapidly becoming closer with Hermione. She really enjoyed Hermione. She was extremely intelligent, well read, and down to Earth. Lizzie appreciated the candor and easy friendship.
“Sprout is my keeper,” she told Hermione with a sigh. “She decided we’d use my detention Sunday afternoon to go through my schedule. I was thinking about signing up for choir and Charms Club. Plus, I’m trying out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Do you participate in any clubs?”
“I don’t have time, I have to study,” Hermione answered placidly.

Lizzie looked at her appraisingly. “You have to play sometimes, Hermione. Can you help me get ready for my date with Draco tonight?” she asked the Head Girl as they pulled their Charms books out of their bags Friday afternoon. The din of the classroom covered their conversation. The older girl pulled a face.
“I can’t, I’m so sorry,” she blew a stray curl out of her eyes. “I have my weekly appointment with Snape tonight. He sent me an owl this morning with everything he wants from me tonight. I have to outline my schedule after classes. Then it’s dinner, and I was going to shower before I left to meet him. Looks like we’re starting lessons right away. I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept me there until midnight.”
Lizzie smirked at her friend cheekily. “All that extra time with your older man, you must be elated,” she whispered with a wink, after making sure no one was looking at them.
“Shh!” Hermione’s eyes grew wide and her eyes flitted around the room looking for eavesdroppers as well. Seeing none, she visibly relaxed. “All guy-talk on my end needs to be done away from eavesdroppers!” she pleaded, but not unkindly. Lizzie snorted and gave a nod.
So Lizzie had roped Ginny into helping her get ready. Where she was still building a solid base to their relationship, Lizzie liked the redhead quite a bit, and it was obvious the girl was a big part of Hermione’s life. Just as Ron and Harry were. She needed to tread lightly. She didn’t want to jeopardize new, tenuous relationships over boys. Not worth it.
“I like the green top with the flowy sleeves, it brings out your eyes,” Ginny told Lizzie. “Plus, he’s a Slytherin, he’ll be pleased with the color choice as well.”
Lizzie smiled at her in the mirror. “Sounds like a plan,” she pulled the shirt on over her head and gave her hair one final pat. “This braid is fierce, Gin!” Ginny was magical at braiding – no pun intended. Lizzie couldn’t braid to save her soul.
“They’re called plaits,” Ginny told her, laughing. “It was a good idea!” Per Lizzie’s directions, she had started at one temple and wove across her head in a crown to the other temple. Tied off with plastic little rubber things Ginny had never seen in her life; the blonde witch had then pulled the plait so it was loose across her crown and used her wand to set her stick straight hair in flowing waves. While Ginny could braid, Lizzie could style!
“Okay, how do I look?” Lizzie did a quick pirouette, arms outstretched.
“Beautiful,” Ginny answered honestly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Malfoy isn’t going to know what hit him.” Lizzie’s sparkling smile answered the redhead.
“I better get going, or I’m going to be late. Walk me out?” They had gotten ready in Ginny’s dorm room.
“Absolutely,” Ginny agreed.

Lizzie gathered her cloak and broom. “I’ll get the rest of my stuff from you tomorrow, is that okay? I don’t want to haul it with.”

“No problem.” Ginny concurred, and they walked in companionable silence down the tower steps.
“There you are, Ginny! Hey, Lizzie!” Harry called at them, waving from where he and Ron were sitting playing a game of wizard chess. “Join us?”
“Uh.” Lizzie felt awkward. “I can’t, I’m meeting … someone,” she amended at the last second. Better then shouting across the Gryffindor common room she was going out with a Slytherin. She might have only been here for a week, but the rivalry between the two houses had not been lost on her.
She noticed Ron looked like he swallowed a steaming pile of poo. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ron?” she asked as she and Ginny stopped in front of them. “Where do you want to meet?”
At the mention of their date, Ron perked up. “Have breakfast with us? We’ll go afterwards. Meet you in the Great Hall around 8:30?”
“Perfect,” she smiled calmly. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Waving at the trio, she exited the common room through the portrait hole.
Draco was relieved to see her coming down the grand stairwell outside of the Great Hall. She was right on time, but he had half expected her not to show after having time to talk with her new friends. She looked beautiful, despite the fact she was wearing those damn blasted Muggle pants…he thought they were called jeans. He had to admit they hugged her curves well. Then she had on a chiffon-y looking peasant top that had sweeping sleeves. It was bottle green and stunning on her. Her hair was all wild and wavy – much different from the straight golden locks he’d been searching out wherever he went. He shook his head. Cool it, Malfoy, he chastised himself. No need to come across too eager. Just be polite.
“Hi!” She smiled at him, hoping down the last step. He noticed she was carrying a broom and had a cloak draped over one arm.
“You have your own broom?” He was a bit puzzled, he was planning on taking her flying – on his broom. He hadn’t expected her to bring one with. He held his Nimbus 2001 lithely propped against his shoulder.
“Oh, yes!” She nodded enthusiastically. “It was my parents gift for me for my seventeenth birthday! I was so excited. I had to use school brooms to play Quidditch prior to now. I’m thrilled to have my own! I haven’t had a lot of time to fly on it, so I thought I’d bring it with to stretch her legs.” Her enthusiasm was adorable, he hoped his disappointment didn’t show.
She noted his frown, so she continued after a breath. “I thought we could take a side by side for a bit and then you could take me up on your broom after?” It was like she read his thoughts. Damn, he must’ve been more transparent then he’d meant to be.
He played it cool and shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”
He gestured for her to start walking, resting his palm on her low back. It tingled with the contact. Cut it out, mate, he snarled at himself. “So, you play Quidditch?”
“Hm.” His touch had distracted her, but she regained her composure pretty quickly. “Oh, yes. I love Quidditch. I was raised on sports like crazy. My dad was a Marine, so very into physical activity. I was raised playing all kinds of things. Basketball and baseball are my favorite, next to Quidditch of course. I made the team for my House at Ilvermorny - Chaser.”
“You going to try out for the Hufflepuff team?”

“Absolutely! Tryouts are actually tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to go out for Seeker and Chaser; I’d be happy with either. That’s the other reason I wanted to get on my broom, tonight. I was so pleased you suggested flying! Do you play?”
“Yeah, I’m the Slytherin Seeker,” he told her with a smirk. They lapsed into silence. “Tell me about the other sports you mention. I’ve never heard of baseball.” Anything to keep that voice going. It was intoxicating – soft and sweet with an underlying husky tone. He removed his palm from her back and took her hand instead. Her hands were cool and soft. She entwined her fingers with his and beamed at him. Then dove into an explanation about home plates and bases and bats – that were kind of like the ones the beaters used – that was utterly befuddling. Before he even knew it, they were at the pitch. They looked around curiously. The pitch was still not a hundred percent back to normal. It looked like a couple of the stands still needed to be fixed, the center hoop at the other end of the field was broken and sad looking. The grass was torn up and needed re-sodding.
“Professor McGonagall says the pitch will be back to normal before the first game,” he told her, watching wide green eyes take in the damage.
“How is it the castle was put back together so quickly?”
“Old magic.” He shrugged as if that explained it and left no room for questions. She decided to let it drop. She was sure the war was a touchy subject.
“It’s actually pretty nice out here tonight,” she murmured. “Still cooler than I’m used to, though.” She dropped her broom and pulled her cloak over her shoulders, securing it at her neck. “It’s so freaking cold and wet here most of the time.” She gave a fake shudder and chaffed her arms, teasing.
He smiled tentatively at her, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Where were you before this?”
“Hawaii! Almost always hot and sunny. So glorious.”
“Sounds nice.” Why couldn’t he pick up the conversation on his end? It was getting bloody irritating. It was like the little pixie had tongue tied him.
She could tell he was nervous, which was really sweet, and from what she had heard from Ginny and Hermione, very out of character. “Race you to the goal posts!” she called scooping up her broom and taking off with a swift kick to the ground. He watched, bemused as she soared up and away from him.
“I don’t think so, witch!” He called after her, jumping on his own broom, graceful as a leopard leaping limbs. He caught up with her in no time and she was laughing, her hair being caught and twisted in the wind, riotous around her face. It made her look elemental – wild and fierce. She leaned forward on her broom, prompting it to shoot ahead of him and he did a roll in mid-air before pressing forward to keep up with her. She was a good flyer.
They zoomed around the pitch, heckling each other for a bit before he gestured her to set down on the field below. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself more. He noticed they weren’t totally alone. There were a few other couples milling about on their own dates, but no one else was flying. It didn’t bother him, everyone else could sod off if they bothered them.
“Care to join me? I’ll take you out over the grounds and lake.” He held a hand out for her. “A proper tour of the grounds.”
“I can leave my broom here?” she inquired, making sure it would be safe.
“Yeah, you don’t really have anything to worry about.” He waved off her concern. She dropped her broom with no hesitation and quickly pulled her unruly hair into a pony tail over her left shoulder, then she took his hand. Neither missed the spark of electricity between their fingers. Her lips parted in surprise, and Malfoy had the sudden desire to lean in a kiss her.
“In front of you, or behind you?” She hesitated, not sure where to settle herself.
“Front,” he said decisively, pushing his traitorous thoughts away. He’d get to hold her under the pretext of flying a broom. Perfect. She straddled the broom and wiggled her perfect cotton covered curves right into his groin. He bit back a groan. Merlin! Was she completely oblivious? He didn’t think she was doing it on purpose. He breathed in her scent – apples and sunshine and fresh air from soaring around the pitch. It was intoxicating. He wrapped one arm around her slender form – she felt so small! – grasped the broom handled with his other hand and kicked off the ground. She gave a little squeal of pleasure mixed with anxiety of not being in control of the broomstick, but quickly regained her composure and settled back against him. He propped his chin over her right shoulder, away from her hair, and kept up a steady stream of low dictation, explaining their surroundings. The sun was almost finished sinking behind the horizon in a cascade of fiery gold crimsons and sparkling amethysts dripping into cobalt and indigo blues. As a whole, the scenery was quite breathtaking. After a good thirty minutes, as the sky turned completely indigo and stars started to twinkle into existence, he directed them back to the pitch to get her broom. He was disappointed the evening was coming to an end.
Lizzie felt exhilarated. She was having such a wonderful time with Draco. She sighed when he touched down and reluctantly slid off onto her own two feet before scooping up her broomstick. She turned to him grinning, but her smiled faltered catching the sight of his face. He looked positively pensive. “You okay, Draco?”
He studied her face for a moment, she had looked happy, grinning at him like that. Did that mean she had a nice time? He certainly had. Guarded as ever, he wasn’t about to tell her that without hearing it from her first. A Malfoy never showed his hand. He forced his face to clear. “Yeah, sorry,” he responded automatically. “Just thinking.”

He reached for her hand again and they walked slowly back towards the castle. “I had a really good time tonight.” She didn’t beat around the bush; this American girl was pleasingly straight forward. It was refreshing.
“I did, too,” he admitted reluctantly. He pulled her closer to his side and unlaced his fingers from hers, sliding his arm across her shoulders instead.
Lizzie liked how direct he was. He moved with purpose. She had enjoyed their conversation. He was bright and well spoken. Definitely not an idiot. Even though he had been guarded, and not very self-revealing, he had been the perfect gentleman. She just wished they had time to talk about more personal things, get to know each other on a deeper level. She hadn’t asked him anything about his family.
“I’d like to see you again, another date,” he stated casually, not looking at her. They were at the front entrance and she pulled him to a stop, turning him to face her.
“I’d like that, too, Draco,” she agreed with a sparkle in her eyes. He gave her a cautious smile, no teeth, but his eyes glimmered. She’d take it. He pulled her back to him and they continued walking. She was surprised when he didn’t leave her at the steps of the dungeon, instead escorting her all the way back to the Hufflepuff barrels in the basement. Stopping about ten feet away, he pulled her to a halt.
She had warned him she expected gentlemanly behavior from him tonight. He could tell she was an innocent. That thrilled him more than he cared to admit. He felt he had held up that promise well, but very much wanted to give her a goodnight kiss. Prove to her he had enjoyed himself, figure out how she was feeling. He wasn’t sure if a kiss on the first date was gentlemanly or not. Any other girl he’d ever dated had expected it, but this one – she felt different.
They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment before she heard him grumble. “Ah, fuck it!” With that, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She had been expecting it and welcomed the attention with enthusiasm. She kept the kiss chaste, but sweet, and pulled away after only a few seconds. Just as she felt him decide to take it to the next level. She smiled kindly at his confused look, trying to hide the fact that her lips were burning where they had met his. It wasn’t that she was a prude or a tease, but if she was going to be dating two guys for a time before making a decision to pursue one, she wasn’t going to build a reputation as easy or loose.
“This was a really lovely first date,” she told him, her tone giving a gentle reminder of their brief history. “I’m a bit of an old fashion girl, so please don’t mind my chasteness. Let me know when you’d like to get together again?”
He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. She had ended the kiss well before he had wanted to. Why? This girl was going to be the downfall of him, he could just tell. He was going to have to tread carefully. “Goodnight, Lizzie. I’ll see you in Potions on Tuesday.”
She looked surprised for a moment that he was putting her off so long, but after a moment a resigned smile lifted the corners of her pretty mouth. “See you Tuesday.” She turned and took the last few steps to the common room door, whispering the password and disappearing inside.
He watched the golden blonde locks vanish as the door clicked quietly back in place. She had a date with Weasley in the morning, which infuriated him. Did he fight for her, or did he back off and just not bother with the trouble? If he went through the hassle of courting her seriously for her to turn around and pick the weasel, he might not live down the humiliation. He’d have to think on it.
Snape rolled off and out of Hermione after a few minutes, raising a hand to cover his eyes, still mentally berating himself. She automatically curled up next to him, tucking her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing to do. He couldn’t help his involuntary response of wrapping his arm around her and using his fingers to pull her hair from her face and smooth it away. “Mmm,” she sighed dreamily into his chest.
He stared at the top of her head. To say he felt he had been hit with a Confundus Charm would be an understatement. The mix of emotions running through him – he, who was good at keeping all emotions at bay – was overwhelming. He was sated, he felt content, he felt fulfilled. Her snuggling next to him like it was meant to be did something to his chest that was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Because of this, he felt a bit…anxious? Then there was a deeper part of him that felt regret, shame, and disgust. He was her professor, he was supposed to teach her – not fuck her. He had been assigned to her as a mentor and he had betrayed that role in an unfathomable way. He had taken her virginity for Merlin’s sake! When he focused back on her she was tracing a lazy, nonsensical pattern through is chest hair. How was she staying so bloody calm? Did she really have no comprehension of what they had done? What lines they had crossed?
Hermione was not calm at all. She kept her head down and concentrated on keeping her breathing even. Inside her overfull mind, her thoughts were racing. She had stepped so far over the propriety line she felt a bit … dirty. And embarrassed. She was just waiting for him to start in on her. To tell her this could never happen again; that it was a mistake. She felt her eyes prick and blinked rapidly, refusing to allow herself to cry. She didn’t want him to say it was a mistake, it would crush her. Everything had been so perfect.
Really, though, what is so wrong about this? Outside of the fact that McGonagall would be appalled and they’d have to keep it a secret – until graduation, that is. She was of age! She was going to be nineteen in two weeks. She lived through more than most grown adults did before she had even graduated from secondary school. She was responsible and mature. Not to mention she had lived her third year three times over, so really she was more like twenty-one, close to twenty-two. She should be able to have a relationship or sleep with whomever she wanted.
And, oh, she wanted him. If she was completely honest with herself, she had wanted him from the moment she had discovered he was still alive. After respecting him as a teacher and intellect for six years. After fighting with others to show him respect for years. After finding out what he had done to keep Harry alive and all he had sacrificed to fight Voldemort. After finding out he could love so deeply that it transcended time and space – she had to face that notion had been the biggest allure – she wanted that kind of love. After sitting day after day by his hospital bed, watching him fight for his life. She had always admired him, even if he had been a bit of a … jerk was really the best word. All right, jerk it is … jerk sometimes. She probably would have been a total arsehole, too, if she had to live the double life he had; constantly fearing a death with no warning, never sure if those who surrounded him believed him completely. How many times had she, Ron, and Harry doubted him? Too many to count, especially after Dumbledore’s death.
“Miss Granger,” he started to say.
“Hermione,” she whispered, wanting the formality to go away after what they had just shared.
He paused, turning her name over in mind. All right then. “Hermione. It seems we’ve … crossed a line.”
She flattened her palm on his chest, contemplating the hidden inflection behind his words before giving her tentative answer. “No, I don’t think so.”
His surprised snort made her smile. She pushed herself up and folded her hands on his chest, resting her chin on top. He stared at her, taking in her still flushed face and bright eyes. She looked just fucked, and it was utterly … delectable. His hand moved from her shoulder to sink into hair, twisting the thick curls around his fingers.
“Severus…” She hesitated, and he hoped he did not betray the thrill that ran through him as his name rolled off her lips. “May I call you Severus?”
He hesitated for a moment before replying. Yes, he wanted her to say his name. “When we are alone,” he answered.
She nodded, agreeing that was a safe answer. “Severus, I…” She trailed off, wanting to word things just right. Not wanting to come off as some love-sick school girl. “I’m interested in you,” she said finally, deciding that was the safest route. His hand stilled for a moment before continuing the rhythmic petting of her locks.
“Why?” He asked in his clipped, shielded tone.
She looked up at him, her turn to be surprised. “What do you mean...‘why?’” She mimicked his tone of voice and was rewarded with a very tiny, but very there, smirk.
“I mean why would a beautiful, young witch – who literally has the world at her feet – be interested in an old git like me?” His voice was rough, but serious. It made her unhappy that he thought she couldn’t be attracted to him. She thought she had proven that fact admirably. His fingers hit a lovely spot on the nape of her neck that made her give a small moan of appreciation and she dropped a light kiss on his sternum, the afterglow of their coitus session still very much keeping her mind foggy.

“You’re not old,” she murmured. “Thirty-seven is still quite young.” She placed more kisses along his chest.
He was startled she knew how old he was. “Don’t do that, pet, it’s very diverting,” he scolded her, but not without a touch of humor. She gave him a small smile. “I believe I asked you a question.”
“What? Oh, yes.” She licked her lips while she thought, and then finally answered. “Because you’re intelligent.”
He snorted again, but inside he was pleased. That was her most attractive feature to him as well. Of course, it was aided by the fact she was physically appealing as well. “You couldn’t possibly be attracted to me,” he chastened her.
“I think I just very much proved that statement a lie,” she murmured quietly, not taking her eyes off his face.
He swallowed hard and, Merlin be damned, looked away from her to collect himself. What was it about this witch that made it so easy to let his guard down? “Be serious,” he told her, grateful to find his normal snark lacing his voice. He met her eyes again. Bollocks, she had the most beautiful eyes. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position on one hip, her feet curled up to her side and rested her forearm across his chest gently. Her hair hung over her shoulders and her nipples played peek-a-boo with him, it was extremely deterring.
“I am being serious,” she insisted. Feeling exposed, he sat up as well; propping pillows against his headboard. He settled back into them and gestured for her to move and sit next to him while they talked. She acquiesced graciously and curled into to him, again like she belonged there. He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the hopeful feeling that blossomed in the pit of his stomach. Hope was dangerous, it always led to disappointment.
They were silent for a moment, and he summoned the sheets to pull over their naked legs. “Your very tall,” she whispered.
“Pardon?” He was confused by her statement.
“My attraction to you – you’re very tall. That makes me feel petite and feminine, even though I’m not, really. I mean – I know I’m female and all, but I’m pretty much the tallest witch in this school. I’m taller than a lot of the boys here, even. Especially the ones sixth year and down – which doesn’t leave a lot of options, you know.
“You’re strong, and I like that. When you held my hands over my head and when you picked me up to carry me … that was … hot.” She felt herself blush prettily. He looked down at her in amused astonishment, but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead she watched her fingers, which were twisting and untwisting in the sheets. “You have a strong jawline and a hard mouth that work with your…” She paused, continuing to attempt to choose her words prudently. “That work well with your other features.” She nodded to herself, pleased. She wasn’t going to come out and say that she liked his large, Roman nose. It worked for him. “You’re independent, self-sufficient, brave – one of the bravest wizards I know. You’re brilliant – wait I already said that. Oh, no matter, that bears repeating.” She was starting to ramble and Snape was getting uncomfortable with the mushy praise, no matter how much it secretly pleased him. She met his eyes and he wondered at the honest desire in them, trying to figure out how he had missed this look all summer long. “What you did for Harry during the wa –” And now I make her stop.
“That’s enough.” He told her firmly. He didn’t want to talk about Potter. It just made him think of Lily. He didn’t want to think of Lily when he had this intelligent minx in his bed. “You’ve made your point, Miss Granger.”

“Hermione, please. And I think I made my point when I gave myself to you tonight.” Her brave declaration hung in the air, leaving no room for argument and she pulled back so she could face him more fully. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to collect himself. She really couldn’t be more spot-on about that.
“Be that as it may, this was very … unprofessional of me.” He started his speech slowly. “You’re a student, I’m a teacher. I’m the adult, I’m supposed to have better control. You’re barely of age – now wait a second!” He glared at her as she tried to interrupt him. Her jaw snapped shut and that pretty fucking blush stole across her cheeks again.

He was just about to start talking again when her jaw unhinged and she bolted out of the bed, spinning around and slamming her hands down on her hips as her eyes flashed hotly. “I will not wait a second. I’m not the ignorant adolescent you’re making me out to be. I’m going to be nineteen in two weeks, I’ve been of age for almost two years! I – ”
Being she was completely starkers, it was one of the most magnificent things he’d ever seen. He would have told her so, but he was furious with her for interrupting him - twice. “Bloody hell, do you really think two years past the legal age gives you any sort of idea what the world entails?”

“No, I think surviving years of terror and a war does!” She spat, stamping a foot. Her breasts bounced and he growled, feeling himself start to get hard again. Bloody hell, she was gorgeous with the firelight silhouetting her and her eyes flashing. All that blasted hair made her look like some sort of ethereal goddess.
“Just because we survived a war, doesn’t give us free reign to do as we please. There are rules to follow!” He had stood off his side of the bed and stalked over to where she was, getting in her face.
“I disagree!” She retorted, backing away from him, intent on finishing their argument, even though her core had flamed to liquid heat again. Hard bodied, naked, angry Snape was dangerous and sexy as hell. He apparently was being aroused as well, his manhood was coming back to life.
He snorted. “Miss Insufferable Know-It-All thinks that breaking the rules is okay?” One eye brow arched high, and the smirk on his face was just so damn Snape-like.
Well, he is Snape, you dolt!
Her chin came up. The name had stung, but she refused to let him see that. “I’m not an insufferable know-it-all!” She snapped. “And yes, I think breaking the rules is okay when the intentions are good.”
“And just what makes you think I have good intentions towards you?” he demanded, eye darkening wickedly as he slowly started stalking towards her. His intentions were clear – devour. She left a trickle of arousal slip past her labia. It took everything in her not to squeak and bolt, if only to prolong the game.
“I just do, and I have good intentions, too!” Her shoulders slumped in what only could be described as sadness. Snape came to a hault, the frown that pulled down the corners of her full lips bothered him. He wanted to kiss it away. She continued in a much more rational voice, no longer yelling at him. The rush of their argument was invigorating, he was almost sad that she had calmed. “I know that when you touch me it feels like my skin is on fire. When you kiss me, my brain turns to mush. I know that I’m aware of you when you’re in the same room with me. I know that I looked forward talking to you and debating with you every visit all summer long. You challenge me and keep me sharp and it’s not nonsensical, boring prattle like it is with so many other people I interact with! I know I missed you when I stopped visiting, but I just didn’t know how to come back after what had happened.”
She had missed him? Had anyone every told him that they had missed him?
“You might be a snarky, mean bastard sometimes.” Here his face flooded with ire, how dare she! “But I’ve seen who you are underneath enough to know there’s a real person behind your ice façade.” She sucked in a deep breath and her voice cracked with the weight of all these embarrassing admissions. She was avoiding his gaze, afraid she’d see him closing himself off. He was so good at shutting people out. “I know that I saw too many people die last year and I’m not willing to ignore my feelings because of an imaginary line of propriety! Life is too short!”
That brought him up short, and he had been so ready to start firing back. Instead, he stared at her avoiding his gaze idiotically for the breath of a second before closing the gap between them in one long stride, grabbing her face to his roughly. His mouth crashed down onto hers in passionate senselessness while his mind whirled. Is this seriously happening? I must be dreaming. She was kissing him back with the same vigor and abandonment, her smaller hands slid up his arms and her fingers curled around his wrists, holding him to her. His dick stood at full attention, hard as a marble cauldron. He hesitated in taking this any further for fear of hurting her. She had just lost her virginity, for Salazar’s sake.

Then she was pulling away from him, trailing her hands down his chest and over the hard planes of his stomach as she sank to her knees. She grasped her slender hand around the base of his cock and squeezed gently, eliciting a grunt of approval. Apparently, she was going to make the next move. He watched her through obsidian eyes.
So…okay, Hermione. You’ve got this, you’ve read what to do, watched a video or two on the net while sneaking around at mum and dad’s. Just…go.

Her pink tongue flicked out of that perfect mouth and he thought he’d died and crossed the veil. Her hand was blissfully hot and soft her tongue felt like molten lava. His eyes slid shut of their own accord and he rumbled his approval low in his throat. She licked his length, tasting herself on him, starting around the base of her hand while pumping slowly and evenly with her palm, finally reaching the flared head. A drop of precum had collected at the top and she tentatively lapped it away, causing another grunt of appreciation. It was salty and had a musky tang. She fancied it. She swirled her tongue around the knob of his shaft more quickly prompting more rumbles and groans. She must be doing something right. One book said to sweep her tongue light and fast just under the head where it flared. She did and was rewarded with a growl and a hand gathering hair out of her face and tugging with gentle insistency. She took a deep breath and pushed him into her mouth, still pumping with her fist.
“Yesss!” He susurrated, guiding her with the helpful hand in her hair. She shielded her teeth and increased suction, reveling in the jerk of his hips and the rasping sounds coming from him. She continued to swirl her tongue around him and removed her hand to see how far she could get him in. When he hit the back of her throat, she gagged slightly and withdrew to huff a breath. Then went right back for more, angling her head differently and loosening her jaw more. “Fuck,” he grunted. Now both hands were in her hair, looping themselves in and cradling her head with a tender insistence, his hips helping her find what he wanted. She picked up the pace taking him as quickly and as deeply (and had a long way to go if she wanted him all down her throat) as she could while maintaining a swirl of her tongue. When she gagged again, he pulled away from her. “That’s enough.” He helped her to stand and then he was snogging her again, his arms wrapping around her, crushing her breasts into chest, her nipples tightened against the scratchy hair there. Her hands kneaded his shoulders and neck while his skimmed down to cup her bum possessively.
“Get on the bed.” He directed, breaking their kiss and giving her a gentle push. “On your hands and knees.” Her eyes darkened with the directive and the hunger on her face made his cock twitch. She moved quickly to submit. He settled in behind her, his whispered baritone making her shiver. “We’re going to go slower this time, tell me if it hurts.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, shuddering as his hands skimmed down her back and over her bum. She felt one hand reach around and tickle her clit making her give a small puff of desire as her back arched. “Mmm!”
One hand gripped her hip as the other lined his hard-on at the entrance of paradise. He pushed into her slowly this time, feeling every twitch and pull of her cunt. She was hot and wet, it was utterly intoxicating. He felt, rather than heard, her slow, low keen of bliss and was in complete agreement. Her walls stretched more easily this time, craving him. He bottomed out with a low moan. “Gods, yes,” he breathed. He stayed there, just basking in her heat and tightness. He could feel her heartbeat in his dick.
It wasn’t until she gave a desperate little grunt and pushed back into him that he started to move. He slid in and out in short bursts, knowing he was hitting her cervix with every thrust. He watched as one of her delicate hands twisted into the bedcovers and chuckled under his breath.
“I heard that,” she whined, but it turned into a lustful peel of need. “Oh, my God. You feel…so…good.” Her last few words were accented in time with his assault. She pushed back against him, starting to pick up the rhythm. As he jutted into her she ground back, squeezing the muscles of her scorching channel around him.
“Fuck!” He growled. He wasn’t worried about outlasting her this time, having just come less than an hour ago, but she was trying to make him lose it. He leaned forward into her, snapping his hips harder. So much for taking it slow. She squeaked with surprise, and collapsed onto her elbows, but kept her bum high and continued to meet him thrust for thrust. He slid an arm around her and his fingers delved into her pubic hair, seeking the sensitive nub that would help push her over the edge. He circled it again and again, playing her like a harp whose strings were winding tighter and tighter. He whipped his hips even harder into her, his bollocks slapping off her dripping sex. Her whole body tensed and she slammed back on him hard, he gritted his teeth and a grunt of pleasure was pulled out of his chest.
“Oh, yes. Severus! Fuuuck!” She wailed, her orgasm hitting her hard, reverberating in her body like a pin ball machine. She buried her face into her arms which held her propped on the mattress, sobbing with the release.

He gripped both hands over her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and continued to crash into her growling with satisfaction as his balls tightened and expelled himself to flood her for the second time that night. When his hips stopped jerking, all he could do was mutter. “Fuck, Hermione.” He pulled her limp, quivering body into his. Keeping them connected, he rolled to the side and spooned her from behind, pressing himself tightly into her while their thundering hearts returned to normal. He swept her colossal tendrils of hair off her shoulder and tucked it under them so he could have access to her neck and shoulder and ear. He dragged wet, lazy kisses over them, biting and nipping; only stopping when she started grinding back into him.

He chuckled softly. “There’s very little chance of us going a third time, you greedy girl.”
She laughed aloud and pulled his arm tight over her, trying to get closer. “That was amazing,” she told him.
“Do stop, you’re going to give me a big head,” he deadpanned, which made her giggle harder. He was floored, he wasn’t known for humor. That sound was intoxicating, though, and he’d say anything to hear it more. She whimpered slightly as his prick slid out of her with a damp flop.

“Bugger, I could have stayed like that all night,” she muttered. It was his turn for a chortle, a real one. She had just made him laugh! She turned in his arms, grinning tentatively up at him. He was beaming down at her, a real smile on his face. “That changes so much,” she said softly, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, smoothing the crinkled crows feet at the corner of one eye. His whole face changed when he smiled, He looked years younger and softer, not nearly as menacing.
He reached up and took her hand, dropping his gaze from hers he kissed her fingers to make it look natural. Really, he was just uncomfortable with the smile of satisfaction on her face. He batted down the hope that was clawing in his stomach again and kissed her nose as a way to distract her. Before he could stop, he found himself blurting out the first thing that popped into his head. “We have to come up with a plan if we’re going to continue seeing each other like this.” Did he really just say that? Shite! He gritted his teeth in alarm.

Her eyes widened and she smiled brilliantly – it dazzled him so much that his grit loosened immediately. “You want to keep seeing me like this?” The pleasure she depicted was so blatantly obvious it humbled him.
He closed his eyes briefly to dispel her diverting smile and glowing eyes. “I need to think,” he muttered, pulling away from her. “Just, stay where you are,” he told her, climbing out of the bed. This was so unreal, he was sure she would disappear. “Touching you is distracting, I need to think.”
“I distract you?” Her question was dripping with innuendo and lust and a dash of that blasted hope he was so trying to fight. It was all he could do not to throw himself back at her and ravish her for the third time that night. He raised his hand to wipe the smile off his face.
“Yes, Hermione, you are a delicious distraction.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Just give me a few minutes, I’m going to use the loo.”
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