Another In His Kiss
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,401
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,401
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I not own the fandom of Harry Potter. The Harry Potter Universe is property of J. K. Rowling. I am making no revenue from the writing of this fanfiction; I write for my own pleasure, not for profit. I intend no copyright infringement.
Another In His Kiss
Hello everyone!
Just a quick little drabble, real life doesn’t leave me with time for anything else at the moment: I’ve moved back to Uni and I’ve a mountain of background reading to do (my own choice to swot up – curl my hair and call me Hermione).
Anyway, this drabble was inspired by Snapes_Goddess, luv ya duckie. 1000 words of HG/SS fluffyness (not including title).
I don’t own Harry Potter or anything you may recognise from JKR’s work. I’m not making any money from this fanfiction piece. I write purely for my own enjoyment to make me feel better after a mad fortnight. I post to share my enjoyment with other like-minded people.
IN HIS KISS
Hermione sat on one of the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry’s lawns beneath an oak tree deep in thought. This was not a particularly unusual occurrence for the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor; but what she was thinking of was.
She pondered over the time-old question that troubles so many women: ‘How do I know if he loves me?’.
Her relationship with the Potions Professor was new, barely a month had passed; but she knew full well she’d fallen head-over-heals in love with him in that short time. Four weeks was not long at all – but it was a long enough time to have Hermione’s every spare moment to think focussed on him; to feel butterflies in her stomach whenever he came close; for her breath to catch whenever he touched her; for her heart to sing with the happiness she felt.
Oh yes, Hermione Granger was in love, and falling deeper by the day.
But whether Severus held the same feelings was doubtful. He was a cautious man – decades of living a double life had jaded everything for him; it was hard for him to lay his trust in another’s hands – regardless for how trustworthy and gentle those hands were.
Hermione felt proud that he’d hold her small hand with his elegant fingers when they were in the privacy of one or the other’s chambers; she was overjoyed at the rare proper smiles that shone in her direction; and the gentle kisses were enough to send her into spasms of rapture…
… but still most of his emotions were veiled behind a mask of indifference – a safety mechanism that had become commonplace for Professor Severus Snape since he was a child.
Hermione had heard other witches mentioning that a wizard’s kiss told all you ever needed to know; she was in the mind that Veritaserum would probably work with more accuracy – but managing to get Severus to give up his little vial was like drawing blood from a stone.
“In his kiss…” Hermione mumbled, sighing as she looked at the sun dancing through the swaying leaves of the majestic oak she sat at the roots of.
Ginny had said Harry’s kisses were like the comfort of a warm bath at the end of a very long day. Gentle, peaceful, soothing. Kisses that for a brief moment could make all your problems vanish in their wake.
Severus didn’t kiss like that; the dark wizard hardly knew what comfort felt like to his own person – he was utterly useless at comforting another being. Any Slytherin student suffering from a tragedy was tactfully shuffled onto another member of staff who would be able to offer emotional placation.
Lavender had told her that Ron’s kisses were like fire dashing down her spine, passion filled riots of flame.
Severus didn’t kiss like that either; he kept his emotions hidden and well checked. Each violent emotion ended up looking like insensitivity – be it anger, anguish, or complete happiness, very few could tell the difference between the three; they were all blank canvases of a pale face with dark eyes.
Tonks (who even now a Lupin, still insisted that people call her ‘Tonks’, not Nymphadora) said Remus’s kisses were feral and dominating, taking what he wanted in plundering motions. Remus’s alpha nature shone through in his kisses.
Severus was certainly a domineering man, by merely being present, he could take command of even the most unruly class in moments… but his strength and authority didn’t pass from the classroom into his private chambers – as in the same way it did not transfer from his commanding voice into his kiss.
‘How does he kiss?’ Hermione thought, nibbling her thumb nail as she pondered, ‘Do I really know how he kisses?’
Hermione and Severus were in no rush with their budding relationship, they were letting it blossom in its own time; there had been no advancement past holding hands, small kisses and controlled embraces…
‘Perhaps his kisses will change when, if, we become more intimate?’ she thought, knowing full well she wasn’t ready for them to make love – one of the very few things she didn’t have knowledge of. Severus was just as keen to take things slowly; he’d never bedded a woman who didn’t want paying afterward. He savered her purity like a wine taster with a spectacular vintage; he did not want to ruin his first ever experience with something so beautifully uncontaminated.
* * *
A shadow fell across Hermione, and she looked up into the unmistakeable silhouette of Severus; he sat down next to her and gently removed the thumb nail that had fallen victim to her bad habit of biting her nails as she thought.
“You’ve no nails left now, and this one is bleeding.” He said softly, taking out a pristine white handkerchief to wipe away the drops of crimson.
“I’ve been thinking.” She whispered, saying no more.
“I can tell.” He replied, not prying into something she didn’t want to tell him herself – she’d explain what bothered her when she was ready, he respected that.
She stretched and lay her head on his shoulder, one arm sneaking around his back and the other in his lap. Severus had grown accustomed to embraces, and he nervously placed one arm about her shoulders and held her hand with the other. Gobsmacked students stopped to stare as the kindest and warmest Professor thawed the frozen heart of the coldest.
“They’re laughing at me.” Severus grumbled into Hermione’s hair as some seventh year Ravenclaws passed the tree.
“No, they’re giggling at us.” she corrected, leaning up to gently brush her lips against his cheek.
Severus gasped and turned to face her fully, tentatively pressing his lips against hers in a trembling kiss. He pulled back, and performed a motion that showed his adoration – even if he didn’t realise at the time…
… he gently rubbed the tip of his large nose against hers, smiling while he did.
The Eskimo kiss proved his love.
Just a quick little drabble, real life doesn’t leave me with time for anything else at the moment: I’ve moved back to Uni and I’ve a mountain of background reading to do (my own choice to swot up – curl my hair and call me Hermione).
Anyway, this drabble was inspired by Snapes_Goddess, luv ya duckie. 1000 words of HG/SS fluffyness (not including title).
I don’t own Harry Potter or anything you may recognise from JKR’s work. I’m not making any money from this fanfiction piece. I write purely for my own enjoyment to make me feel better after a mad fortnight. I post to share my enjoyment with other like-minded people.
IN HIS KISS
Hermione sat on one of the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry’s lawns beneath an oak tree deep in thought. This was not a particularly unusual occurrence for the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor; but what she was thinking of was.
She pondered over the time-old question that troubles so many women: ‘How do I know if he loves me?’.
Her relationship with the Potions Professor was new, barely a month had passed; but she knew full well she’d fallen head-over-heals in love with him in that short time. Four weeks was not long at all – but it was a long enough time to have Hermione’s every spare moment to think focussed on him; to feel butterflies in her stomach whenever he came close; for her breath to catch whenever he touched her; for her heart to sing with the happiness she felt.
Oh yes, Hermione Granger was in love, and falling deeper by the day.
But whether Severus held the same feelings was doubtful. He was a cautious man – decades of living a double life had jaded everything for him; it was hard for him to lay his trust in another’s hands – regardless for how trustworthy and gentle those hands were.
Hermione felt proud that he’d hold her small hand with his elegant fingers when they were in the privacy of one or the other’s chambers; she was overjoyed at the rare proper smiles that shone in her direction; and the gentle kisses were enough to send her into spasms of rapture…
… but still most of his emotions were veiled behind a mask of indifference – a safety mechanism that had become commonplace for Professor Severus Snape since he was a child.
Hermione had heard other witches mentioning that a wizard’s kiss told all you ever needed to know; she was in the mind that Veritaserum would probably work with more accuracy – but managing to get Severus to give up his little vial was like drawing blood from a stone.
“In his kiss…” Hermione mumbled, sighing as she looked at the sun dancing through the swaying leaves of the majestic oak she sat at the roots of.
Ginny had said Harry’s kisses were like the comfort of a warm bath at the end of a very long day. Gentle, peaceful, soothing. Kisses that for a brief moment could make all your problems vanish in their wake.
Severus didn’t kiss like that; the dark wizard hardly knew what comfort felt like to his own person – he was utterly useless at comforting another being. Any Slytherin student suffering from a tragedy was tactfully shuffled onto another member of staff who would be able to offer emotional placation.
Lavender had told her that Ron’s kisses were like fire dashing down her spine, passion filled riots of flame.
Severus didn’t kiss like that either; he kept his emotions hidden and well checked. Each violent emotion ended up looking like insensitivity – be it anger, anguish, or complete happiness, very few could tell the difference between the three; they were all blank canvases of a pale face with dark eyes.
Tonks (who even now a Lupin, still insisted that people call her ‘Tonks’, not Nymphadora) said Remus’s kisses were feral and dominating, taking what he wanted in plundering motions. Remus’s alpha nature shone through in his kisses.
Severus was certainly a domineering man, by merely being present, he could take command of even the most unruly class in moments… but his strength and authority didn’t pass from the classroom into his private chambers – as in the same way it did not transfer from his commanding voice into his kiss.
‘How does he kiss?’ Hermione thought, nibbling her thumb nail as she pondered, ‘Do I really know how he kisses?’
Hermione and Severus were in no rush with their budding relationship, they were letting it blossom in its own time; there had been no advancement past holding hands, small kisses and controlled embraces…
‘Perhaps his kisses will change when, if, we become more intimate?’ she thought, knowing full well she wasn’t ready for them to make love – one of the very few things she didn’t have knowledge of. Severus was just as keen to take things slowly; he’d never bedded a woman who didn’t want paying afterward. He savered her purity like a wine taster with a spectacular vintage; he did not want to ruin his first ever experience with something so beautifully uncontaminated.
* * *
A shadow fell across Hermione, and she looked up into the unmistakeable silhouette of Severus; he sat down next to her and gently removed the thumb nail that had fallen victim to her bad habit of biting her nails as she thought.
“You’ve no nails left now, and this one is bleeding.” He said softly, taking out a pristine white handkerchief to wipe away the drops of crimson.
“I’ve been thinking.” She whispered, saying no more.
“I can tell.” He replied, not prying into something she didn’t want to tell him herself – she’d explain what bothered her when she was ready, he respected that.
She stretched and lay her head on his shoulder, one arm sneaking around his back and the other in his lap. Severus had grown accustomed to embraces, and he nervously placed one arm about her shoulders and held her hand with the other. Gobsmacked students stopped to stare as the kindest and warmest Professor thawed the frozen heart of the coldest.
“They’re laughing at me.” Severus grumbled into Hermione’s hair as some seventh year Ravenclaws passed the tree.
“No, they’re giggling at us.” she corrected, leaning up to gently brush her lips against his cheek.
Severus gasped and turned to face her fully, tentatively pressing his lips against hers in a trembling kiss. He pulled back, and performed a motion that showed his adoration – even if he didn’t realise at the time…
… he gently rubbed the tip of his large nose against hers, smiling while he did.
The Eskimo kiss proved his love.