Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11373585.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Severus_Snape, Draco_Malfoy/Original_Character(s), Susan
      Bones/Ron_Weasley, Ginny_Weasley/Harry_Potter, Luna_Lovegood/Neville
      Longbottom
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-02 Updated: 2017-08-19 Chapters: 37/? Words: 147677
****** After Happily Every After ******
by LissaDream, Snowblind12
Summary
     They hoped that life could find some normalcy after seven years of
     fear and tension. What they forgot was the Wizarding World is never
     merely "normal." SS/HG, DM/OC, HP/GW. WIP. NON-CON, NC-17, Adults
     Only. Chapter 37+ co-written with SnowBlind12.
Notes
     Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter Does not belong to
     me, but this plot does. I do not get paid for my stories.
     AN: No need to leave a review OR read this story if you are going to
     complain about OR if the following things bother you - 1. Character
     Pairing: If you don't like a Snape/Hermione pairing, move on. 2. Age
     Difference of Character Pairing: For pity sake. My husband is 10
     years older then me. We met when I was 17, started dating when I was
     19, married when I was 24 and had children together at 25, 27, 29,
     and 32. My HUSBAND'S mom and dad were NINTEEN (that's 1-9: 19) years
     apart in age. There are women out there that are too mature for their
     own good. I needed a large age gap to find someone who was on my
     maturity level emotionally, physically, and mentally. The age gap
     just ISN'T that big of a deal. 3. Hermione Student/Snape teacher:
     Agreed, it's creepy. It's also a bit romantic and every school girl
     who has ever had a crush on her teacher fantasizes about it. Fits the
     realm of Fan FICTION very well. I relish this pairing simply because
     of my own life experiences. I see Snape in my husband and I see
     Hermione in myself. It's personal. IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT...MOVE ON.
     I want you to all know that this Prologue is dark. This is rated M
     for a reason. There will be erotica (lemons), adult language, and
     adult content. There is one chapter in this story that explicitly
     depicts rape. This is an angst/drama, but much of the beginning of
     the story will be light and fun and fluffy. The bulk of this story
     belongs to Snape and Hermione. There is one original character in
     this story - her name is Elizabeth Williams (Lizzie). Her story is
     going to center around Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, and Hermione and
     she's my solid co-story. There will be light stuff with other
     couples. I hope you enjoy. I beg you to review. I'll take positive
     and constructive alike! x~*LissaDream
     Adult Tags: Masturbation, sexual intercourse, sexual intercourse of a
     minor (17), kidnapping, rape, torture, beating, cutting, hints of
     anal intercourse, light BDSM, pregnancy. Extreme emotional situations
     following abduction and rape.
     Read at your own risk. If you don't like - I don't need to hear from
     you. Flames are not necessary - just walk away.
***** Prologue *****
                                   Prologue 
===============================================================================
She woke with a soft moan of anguish, her head pounding. Although she was
having trouble remembering why, anxiety filled her body. She slowly attempted
to unfurl her cramped extremities. Where am I?! Her breath started coming in
fast, hiccupping gulps; the oxygen not getting to her fingers and toes which
were agonizingly cold and tingling. She realized she was bound and twisted
painfully. Eyes flying open wide, her disorientation continued as she attempted
to peer into the darkness that flooded her corneas. She could see nothing.
Using her shoulders and knees to press into a low kneeling position, she winced
as the tough skin surrounding her patella was pinched painfully into the damp,
concrete floor. “Hello?” she whispered. Her throat felt like sand paper and she
swallowed hard.
She felt a trickle of liquid over her lips and her tongue flicked out and
tasted the metallic tinge of blood. I’m bleeding? Her heart started to thrum in
her ears as adrenaline surged through her veins. Oh, my head, she groaned as
her chin fell to her heaving chest. The sound of heavy booted footsteps came
from above and she startled hard, attempting to curl into herself. The rough
ropes knotting her wrists behind her back and to her ankles allowed no such
movements. She made a pitiful puff of pain as she pulled and her right shoulder
stretched uncomfortably. It was then that she realized she was completely
naked. A sob broke free and her body started to tremor violently. True and
unrelenting fear coursed through her body.
A door creaked and a small shaft of blue light dimmed through her surrounding,
lighting unfamiliar and terrifying objects. Those heavy boots started on the
stairs and she recoiled with a small squeak, frantically searching for
someplace to hide. She closed her eyes when she realized it was futile and
sucked in a deep breath to hold, trying to calm her frantic mind.
“Isn’t she a hot piece of arse?” a deep, gravelly voice came from behind her.
“Look at those perfect, heart-shaped globes.” She froze, back going ramrod
straight while her shoulders hunched in attempts to cover her nakedness. Her
breath whooshed out of her in a rush of panic and she squeezed her eyes tighter
– willing this to be a bad dream.
“I do see why you felt she could meet our…needs, it will certainly make him sit
up and pay attention,” a softer tenor responded, oddly familiar in its lilt.
“Do you think this was the wisest move, though? It may make him play much more
roughly than we intended.” Two? She swore she hadn’t heard two people enter.
Her breathing hitched to a more rapid pace and sudden rough hands came under
her arms pulling her up awkwardly against his chest, making her thighs fall
open. Another terrified yelp broke through her restraint as tears pricked
behind her eyelids.
“Doncha think this is a wise move?” the gruff voice lamented. “Look at that
slit, it’s fucking gorgeous. And her tits! Fuck.”

Hermione’s lips pursed tightly closed and whimpered a sound of pain out her
nose as a rough, long nailed hand slapped her nipple with a sharp crack. A
rolling chortle of breath fingered out over her breasts. A soft, surprisingly
gentle, hand curled at her throat and another at her thigh. The second man. She
opened coffee with cream colored eyes and stared, mouth gaping in surprised
horror, into the ice grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. “Doncha ya wiggle like that,
witch, or I’ll give you something to wiggle on.” One of the rough hands that
supported her to his chest slid down her arse, pinching it roughly.
She whimpered frantically, attempting to pull away as the soft hand on her
thigh rose higher. Her stomach clenched in revulsion, she sucked in a breath
and daringly spit at him, hard. It hit Malfoy just below the left eye. She
didn’t even have time to take a breath before the open-handed blow snapped her
neck back. She cried out in terrified agony as the blow made her head reel all
the worse, but her sound was squeezed off as the hand at her throat tightened
restrictively. She thrashed against her binds, desperate for life-giving
oxygen. Seconds ticked by, she felt her eyes bulge. She met Malfoy’s eyes with
pleading tears.
“She can’t meet our needs if she’s dead,” the gruff, thick voice came from
behind her and the pressure on her larynx disappeared. She choked sobbing
breaths into her bruised trachea. I don’t understand, she wept internally,
trying to force the tears that prickled her eyes to stay put.
“Well, well, well … Miss Granger,” came Malfoy’s silky voice as one hand
returned to her thigh. His voice was laced with satisfied amusement. “What have
we here?” Hermione turned her face away from his gaze, ashamed, as a crimson
blushed its way up her torso, breasts, and across her high cheek bones. One of
his perfectly manicured fingers delved into her soft, slippery fresh. The sob
that broke from her chest was defeated as he flicked her clitoris and her body
betrayed her with a shiver. “Perhaps you are happy to see me?”
***** Chapter One *****
Chapter Summary
     I have this written through Chapter Thirty. I have it coded and
     edited through Chapter Seven. It is a WIP. I will post as frequently
     as I can until they are all up. I do have this posted in it's current
     entirety on FFN and AFF.
                            Chapter_One_–_May_1997

“Will you two come with me?” Harry’s voice whispered from nowhere. Hermione and
Ron immediately rose. “Dumbledore’s office,” he murmured. They followed him,
unseeing, hand-in-hand, through the Great Hall and up the ruined stone
stairwell. Climbing exhaustedly, they reached the Headmaster’s office with
little interference.
They watched with pride as the past headmasters and mistresses from Hogwarts
cheered and congratulated Harry through their portraits. Watched as Harry and
Dumbledore had their odd, sentimental exchange. When the cheering died down and
the people in the portraits started to file out to seek news of the dead and
injured, Harry turned to them. “I want to tell you what happened.”
And he did. Hermione, gripping Ron’s fingers tightly in hers, listened with her
heart in her throat as Harry told them about Severus Snape and Lily Potter.
Tears trickled down her face and Ron’s arm circled around her shoulders,
pulling her close as Harry recounted his insanely brave trek to his death in
the Forbidden Forest. They both gasped with wonder that the Resurrection Stone
was in the Snitch and exchanged thankful, sorrowful glances with each other as
he described how his mother and father and their friends helped him find the
courage to walk into the bosom of Death Eaters that surrounded Voldemort and
the curse that would take his life.
They listened in fascination and wonder as Harry retold his after-death
experience of conversing with Dumbledore and how he was allowed to choose to
return to them. At this point, she couldn’t take it anymore. Hermione pulled
away from Ron and wrapped Harry in a snug embrace, burying her face in his
chest as she cried. Hermione’s display of undiluted love and friendship choked
off Harry’s words as tears fell for the hundredth time that night. He reached
for Ron to join them. After what felt like years, they all calmed. Grateful to
have each other safe. Grateful for it to be over.
“So, Professor Snape was the hero,” Hermione mused with deepening sadness, as
she untangled herself from her two best friends and wiped tired eyes on her
sleeve.
“The bravest man I’ll ever know,” Harry agreed, letting a deep sigh puncture
the momentary silence.
“We should go collect his body,” Ron suggested after another brief stillness.
“Yes,” Harry and Hermione said in unison. Hermione reached for Ron’s hand again
and he took it, gently weaving his fingers through hers, a dumfounded smile on
his face. She returned it with a watery one of her own, her heart aching.
Together they made their way out onto the grounds. Harry was stopped numerous
times by volunteers combing the rubble for bodies. They wanted to touch him,
talk to him, and thank him. After only being able to journey a few yards in as
many minutes, Hermione whispered in his ear, “Harry, we’ll go get Snape. You
stay with these people, they need you.” For some reason, her anxiety was
peeking again. She felt a pull to dignify the man that had likely saved them
all with his fearless, cunning bravery.
It felt like a lifetime had passed before they made their way into the
Shrieking Shack. Hermione had captured the attention of a Healer who had
insisted on bringing a Mediwizard and a magicked stretcher with. Hermione was
the first through the passage, her wand held high with its tip lit to see the
way through the dreary tunnel. Pulling her weary body into a sitting position
as she crawled out of the channel, she struggled to her feet. She rounded the
bend, her eyes landing on Snape and froze, mouth agape. His coal black eyes
sparkled feverishly, his wand raised as if poised to attack. It trembled
slightly, but otherwise a show of strength and rage dominated his features. His
other hand was clamped tightly over a bunched bit of rags at the wound in his
neck. She cried out, wand tumbling out of her fingers, and lunged towards him,
ignoring that his wand rose menacingly. Both her hands pressed to help cover
the one he held at his neck. His eyes met hers, searching, as if trying to
assess her realness; trying to see if she was there to help or destroy. She
shushed him gently as the Healer and Mediwizard sprang to action. “I won’t let
you die, I promise,” she whispered fiercely, earnest and kind caramel eyes
meeting onyx. “I know what you did, I know who you are. I won’t let you die!”
His large hand turned and grasped one of hers tightly in it as his eyes dulled,
whether with pain or mistrust, she didn’t know. She stared back at him with
clear, syrupy eyes. Apparently finding what he needed, he closed his own and
his hand went limp in hers, head lolling.
“HELP HIM!” she wailed, frantically turning his face to hers, trying to wake
him. Gentle hands pulled her away as she tried to spring forward to assist; not
knowing what to do but needing to do something…anything.
                                  August_1997
Hermione woke with an anguished cry, tears pouring down her cheeks as the bed
covers tried to strangle her legs. “Hermione!” a soft, pleading lilt. “’Mione,
please wake up. You’re going to wake up Mum!” Hermione’s breathing slowed some,
her sharp mind locking onto Ginny’s soft, sweet voice. Her friend and
confidant. Her truest supporter. Inhaling a deep, cleansing breath through her
freckled button nose she stilled.
Her eyes opened to find Ginny’s boring holes into her. “Did you dream about him
again?” she whispered worriedly. Hermione nodded mutely. “Are you okay?” Ginny
prodded.
Hermione nodded. “Yes,” she whimpered through a tight throat.
“Should we go see him today?” her friend’s gaze was intense, unwavering.
“Yes,” came the almost inaudible reply, tinged with relief and longing.
Ginny nodded. “Try and get more sleep first, okay? Mum said she wanted to visit
some of the other wounded who haven’t gotten to go home, today, as well.”
Hermione’s imperceptible affirmation was given and Ginny rolled off the edge of
the twin bed made up for her guest and crawled back into her own. “I’m glad you
and Ron decided not to take a romance anywhere,” she murmured conversationally
as she cocooned herself back into the covers. “I know it took him a few days to
get over, but I heard him tell Harry last night it was probably for the best.
He values you as a friend too much to lose you completely if something were to
not turn out right down the road.”
“Have you gotten anywhere with Harry?” Hermione asked softly, changing the
subject quickly as she pulled the bed clothes straight and threw a couple of
punches into her pillow to fluff it up. “Is he still talking nonsense about not
being with you?”
Ginny snorted. “I think I ‘talked’ him back into it. I knew he didn’t mean it,
I know he’s just still apprehensive about it truly being over.”
“I think we all are,” Hermione answered gravely. “How’d the ‘talking’ go.”
“Almost too far,” she chortled with a wicked grin. Then she sighed, “I was half
naked and he was completely disheveled before he called it off this time.” Her
smirk broadened. “I wished him a bad case of the blue balls, mentally, for
leaving me so ready and wanting. He’s determined I be seventeen before we have
sex. I told him he better have an awesome present for my birthday.” She
snorted.
Hermione choked. “Sex? Pft. I’m not ready and I’m eighteen.” Her mind wandered
to the stolen moments with Ron after the battle, both seeking comfort for their
wounded hearts and bodies. She never would let it go past some heavy petting –
with clothes on. But would she have made the person stop if it had been him?
She shook her head, dispelling her thoughts.
“You’re not in love,” Ginny responded wisely.
Hermione mulled that over for a moment, then acquiesced with a nod of her head.
“I’ll give that to you.”
She wasn’t a hundred percent sure if she would make someone stop or not. If it
felt right, she was definitely old enough…right? Moments later, she heard
Ginny’s soft, even breathing and she slipped out of bed, pulling the comforter
with her. She crawled up onto the window seat into a tall kneel before tilting
to one side to rest on her hip, one shoulder to the window frame. She pulled
the warm folds of the worn blanket around her legs. It was very early, she
guessed around 4:30. The sun was barely peeping over the horizon in royal blue
streaks that blended into the indigo of the night. Stars still twinkled
brightly above, it was a new moon, so the stars were the only light that could
be seen.
She sighed, dropping her forehead into one hand. It had been a rough summer. A
summer of recovery. Hogwarts students had been dismissed the day of the battle
and had not returned. While she had read in the paper that magically the castle
had restored itself through its deeply engrained enchantments, there was still
many repairs left to complete throughout the grounds and Quidditch pitch which
the giants and enormous arachnids had destroyed. Minerva McGonagall had been
appointed Headmistress. Most of the teaching staff were returning to their
posts, except Slughorn, who was permanently retiring. It had been decided that
because the school had a tumultuous prior year, all students would be returning
to repeat the year they should have completed formerly and there would be a
double batch of first years. This meant that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were
returning to Hogwarts to complete their seventh and final year and take their
N.E.W.T.s. Ginny would return for two more years to complete her secondary
school education. While some students felt bitter about this, between the
Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts’ staff, it was deemed the best solution versus
having partially educated witches and wizards perform poorly on their exams and
left to desperately attempt to qualify for posts they were not ready for.
Hermione was grateful she would be able to spend one more year not having to
take on full adult responsibilities. She felt blessed that she would get the
chance to do up her final year right, with no fear. She was excited to learn
what she should have learned while on the run last year, and graduate with the
scores she would receive after a year with no distractions and the proper
amount of hard work and studying.
Her mind wandered, and she wondered if Snape would return. A slow tickle of
warmth in her stomach would not allow for her denial of want. She wanted him to
return. She shook her head violently. No, ‘Mione. That’s enough. He’s your
teacher. Of course she knew that. She didn’t know what her problem had been
this summer. But her longing to know the real him, the one he’d kept hidden
from everyone for so long was very intense and threatened to derail her
thoughts completely. She bit her tongue and forced herself to redirect her
thoughts.
As soon as the dust had settled at Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley had gathered all her
chicks – herself and Harry included – and they had returned home to the Burrow.
Many funerals were attended by all, and a sob broke softly through her lips as
she remembered laying Fred, Lupin, and Tonks to rest in the ground. Tears
trickled down hollow cheeks and she swiped at them angrily. She had cried
enough. Once a new routine had been established by the Weasely family, Hermione
had let Molly know she needed to find her parents and restore their memories.
It was good to have them home and know that she could return to them and her
childhood when the need became dire, but staying there had been suffocating.
She had owled Harry to see if she could move in with him at Grimmauld Place, to
which Harry replied he was staying at the Burrow for the summer with the intent
to permanently reside at Grimmauld Place after the school year ended. She had
balked at the thought of returning to Ron. In the aftermath of the Battle, when
she was no longer terrified for her life, it had all felt wrong. Even though
they had invited her to join them, she had declined to come. This prompted both
Harry and Ron to turn up on her stoop the next day.
Harry took one look at Hermione’s surprised and apprehensive face and
immediately realized what was wrong. He awkwardly excused himself into the
house to prattle at Mr. and Mrs. Granger while Hermione took Ron’s hand and
strolled with him to a local park.
They sat on the swings together and Ron lamented over the weather, looking
increasingly uncomfortable. Finally, his eyes met hers, and as the tears
toppled over her lower lashes, he reached out and brushed one away.
“We’re not going to do this, are we?” he asked her tenderly. She bit her lip as
another tear fell, then gently shook her head.
“I love you, Hermione,” he whispered. She nodded.
“I know,” she murmured, gripping the chains of the swing, making her knuckles
go white. “I love you, too, Ron. It’s just that, I’m not in love with you.”
He sighed deeply and averted his gaze. “I’ve been wondering about that the last
couple weeks, too. I know I love you, but I’ve been worried it was all the
pressure and responsibility of the war that made me think I was in love with
you.” His voice sounded wrong, but her eyes flew to meet his, a wave of hopeful
relief rolling over her like tides over sand.
“We can go back?” she pleaded. He gave a firm nod of his head and gentle smile.
“I think so.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “It’ll be okay. Come
back to the Burrow with us?” Her heart shattered at his expression. He was
trying to put on a brave front through his disappointment, she felt like a
harpy. She was ashamed of herself. Her gaze dropped.
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
"Never,” he responded, the truth peeled out of him like phoenix song. “No
matter how life changes, ‘Mione, you and I will always be family. We’ve shared
too much.”
The gentle tears that had slid down her face fell in thicker waves as her
breath caught in her throat and she reached out to him. He stood, pulling her
with him and into his arms. Wrapping them tightly around her and burying his
face in her fragrant, bushy hair.
She shook herself out of her reverie and was startled to realize the sun was
fully over the horizon. Heaving another sigh and wiping yet one more tear off
her cheek, she forced herself to stand and don a dressing gown. She would see
if she could start breakfast for Mrs. Weasley before the house stirred to life.
Keeping busy helped her the most.
***** Chapter Two *****
Chapter Notes
     Reviews are always delightful. I'll get this up as quickly as I can.
     x LD
                                  Chapter_Two
Severus Snape let a long, impatient sigh run languidly through his large nose.
If that bloody Mediwitch asked if he wanted a fucking sponge bath one more time
today, he would not be responsible for what happened. “No, Miss Dronna. I
washed with the therapist this morning,” he drawled, maintaining a bored, but
reasonably polite expression on his face. Ever since the truth of his part in
the war had come to light, he had received an outpouring of attention from
witches all over the country, much to his chagrin. Apparently, an Order of
Merlin, First Class was enough to make the knickers drop all over Great
Britain. He insisted that all mail be forwarded to his house. He would burn it
when he got back to Spinner’s End. Crazy, hero-worshiping witches. Didn’t they
know he just wanted a life back?
He had zero interest in being the hero. He just wanted to survive this bloody
hospital stay and be allowed to live a … normal life. Normal. He snorted This
made the Mediwitch startle and throw a hopeful glance in his direction as she
pretended to straighten up the small wardrobe near the door. Will I even know
what to do with normal? “Please…leave,” he breathed menacingly, employing a bit
of the old brusque tact he used with his students. Her eyes widened slightly
and she scurried out of the room. He bit off the desire to laugh at her as she
scuttled and let himself fall back into the flat feather pillows of the
uncomfortable bed as his eyes slid shut.
A moment later they snapped open as hesitant footsteps filled his ears. “I
thought I told you to get the fuck out, witch!” he bellowed nastily.
There was a soft “Oh!” of surprise and his gaze landed on her. Instantly he was
sitting up, an apology on his lips. His eyes brightened from dull coal to
glimmering onyx. The girl was back. His heart ticked up a notch and it was a
struggle to keep a welcoming smile off his face.
“Miss Granger!” He stopped her as she was turning to flee, a box of what
appeared to be biscuits in her trembling fingers. “Please stay, I thought you
were someone else.” He saw her stiffen and pause, her scrumptious backside
facing him in skin tight Muggle jeans. Her shoulders heaved as if she were
taking a deep, cleansing breath and she turned back more slowly. He rolled his
head, cracking his neck. The first thing he was going to have to do when he got
out of here was find a witch to shag.
“You should be more polite to the staff, Professor,” she murmured meekly with a
small smile on her face. It was off-putting, her being so…polite with him.
However, each time she had visited him since the Battle of Hogwarts it was the
same. He had always used intimidation with his students, but this particular
student had never seemed to care. She always had her insufferable hand in the
air; always with the persona of the know-it-all. Finding this side of her was
utterly…arousing…this of course being her intelligence and capability of
carrying a conversation without the show-off, brown-nosing attitude. He shifted
distractedly and plopped a pillow into his lap to hide his growing welcome to
her with a flabbergasted grimace. Returning his attention to her, he gestured
to a bedside chair, which turned magically to face the bed.
“Sit,” he instructed briskly. She obeyed with no hesitation, the soft, sweet
smile still curving her delicate mouth. His erection grew. Fuck. “To what do I
owe the pleasure of a second visit in as many days, Miss Granger?” His baritone
rumbled down her spine. Was it his imagination, or had her thighs pressed
tighter together? His glance rose back to her lovely face as she shook her head
minutely, as if to dispel something from her thoughts.
“Mrs. Weasley is here visiting the handful of wounded who are still
hospitalized. She baked biscuits.” She raised the tin, inviting him to take it.
He did so, his fingertips lightly brushing over hers. His stomach flopped, did
her breath just hitch? He didn’t understand why she kept visiting him. He was
never particularity stimulating company. Most of the time they wound up sitting
in silence, sometimes sharing a newspaper. She read aloud to him occasionally
as well, which was actually very soothing. She had a smooth, husky voice.
Where the visits were companionable, they were also…. odd. “I thought you might
enjoy them, chocolate chip?” she inquired, bringing his attention back to the
tin of cookies. He popped it open and took one, offering the tin to her. She
politely declined with a small wave of a petite hand, her fingers wiggling
absently. He shrugged, replacing the lid and took a bite. It took a bit of
effort to keep himself from groaning in pleasure. The food at this place was
abysmal. This damn biscuit was the best thing he’d had in weeks.
“They’re…mouthwatering,” he drawled, noticing her quick twitch and shift in
posture. She crossed her ankles. Alright, Sev, he chided himself, finishing the
biscuit in two more bites. He’d been testing limits with her, seeing how much
he could get her to squirm. Leave the poor girl be, you’ve gotten what you
needed. He found it amusing, her change of heart – so to speak. She almost
acted as if he affected her physically, which was utter nonsense. He was
nineteen years older than her, for crying out loud. A “greasy git” he’d heard
his students mutter, and a sour one at that.
“Do you find yourself ready for your seventh year at Hogwarts, Miss Granger?”
he asked, reaching for, and taking a sip from, his water glass.
She relaxed. “Oh, yes, Professor.” She smiled broadly, deepening a shallow
dimple in her right cheek. How had he never noticed that before? His mouth went
dry; he took another sip of water.
“I’m feeling nostalgic for Hogwarts and am looking forward to taking my
N.E.W.T.s after a, hopefully, uneventful year.” She chuckled softly and the
sound forced an unmistakable smirk to tug the corner of his mouth. How was she
gleaning this reaction from him? She had certainly gotten under his skin over
the past six weeks.
It was Severus’ turn to shake his head to clear it. Her genuine smile and
sparkle left him momentarily breathless, not to mention her avid desire for
learning. A smart witch was more of a turn on then a pretty one, but she was
both. You bloody idiot, she’s your damn student! Get a grip.
“Have you received your booklist yet?” he finally managed, doing his best to
keep his voice sounding uninterested. He knew starting a topic on books with
her could be dangerous, but he was disappointed with her answer. He had been
prepared to sit back and listen to that soft, husky voice ramble about her new
spell books.
“No, sir,” she replied simply. “I hear they’re still trying to fill a couple of
posts…” She trailed off for a moment, hesitating.
“Do you have something….to…ask…me?” he drawled, leaning towards her while
inflecting the words as if he were answering her raised hand in the classroom.
She threw a hesitant glance at him, her eyes quickly darting away to the
clenched fingers in her lap when she found him watching her. He was surprised
with himself, this was one of his most vocal visits yet.
“Are you going to be returning to Hogwarts, sir?” She bit her lip, barely
daring to breathe while she waited for his reply.
He studied her face for a moment before replying. Gods, her lips were sexy.
Plump, soft, pink – no hint of gloss or lipstick which he reveled in. He
preferred a natural look. “Yes,” he stated briefly, noticing his voice sounded
higher than it should. He cleared his throat before continuing. “A Potions
master once more, it seems.” Her eyes flew up to meet his again before dashing
away.
“That’s…good,” she intoned lamely. You sound like a silly little girl, she
chided herself. She huffed out a breath and shoved fingers through her wild
chestnut hair. “Well, I best be going. Please enjoy the biscuits.” She rose
quickly, accidently tipping the bedside table. “Ouch,” she muttered as the tin
of biscuits went flying. Snape raised his hand and the tin soared right into
it, the table righting itself with a soft clunk. She looked disconcerted and
then impressed by his wandless magic, her hand thoughtlessly massaging her
iliac crest where the table had hit.
“Miss Granger, are you alright?” he asked her, sliding to the edge of the bed
while carelessly tossing the tin to the end. He watched her rub her hip where
she had hit the table, wincing. He thoughtlessly grabbed her by the hand and
pulled her to him, dragging down the hip of her jeans to investigate. He
marveled in the softness of her skin and his cock jumped as he took in the
spring green string of her knickers. As he brushed his fingers gently over the
bruise that was already starting to form, he muttered an incantation. She
froze, her breath hitching in quick, rapid successions as an apparent charm
cooled her skin. His fingers flamed as if he had been burned. Does she feel
this, too? His stare bore into her, willing her to look at him. When she did,
it was as if a Bludger had struck.
Without taking even a moment to consider the consequences, his dick took over
all sense of propriety. He yanked her down while she simultaneously threw
herself into his lap and he claimed her soft pink lips in his unyielding, hard
mouth. She grunted in surprise, which allowed him the entrance he desired into
that petal soft orb. His tongue swirled in, claiming her in a deep, decadent
kiss that turned his stomach in a painfully delicious knot. Her wet, pink
muscle reacted to his as if starving, stroking wetly. He groaned and shifted to
slide his fingers up into her hair, breaking contact to shift his probing lips
into a different direction. Suddenly, as quickly as she was in his arms, she
was across the room, chest heaving and hand to her startled mouth. She was
looking at him with barely suppressed shock and …. and what was that?
Revulsion?
“I have to go,” she flung out. “I’m so sorry, Professor!” Her face reddened
with…shame? Embarrassment? Disgust? Why is she sorry? His chest knotted in
apprehension, what in Merlin’s hairy bollocks had possessed him to react in
such an unprofessional manner? He’d frightened her worse than a boggart. Before
he could even speak, she was gone in a whiff of vanilla and lavender fragrance,
deep brown locks trailing behind her.
“Miss Granger!” he called after her.
“Shit.” He struggled to his feet, intent on following her and apologizing,
claiming insanity and inability to work out tensions in a hospital room. He
took just two steps before having to reach out and steady himself on the chair.
He was in no condition to chase her through the corridors. Two weeks of utter
unconsciousness followed by two weeks of bed rest had left him weak. It would
be at least two more before he regained his full strength. He collapsed into
the chair, furious with himself for overstepping the boundaries. For playing
his hand without knowing hers and letting his guard down. He couldn’t do it
again. A young, beautiful, and intelligent witch such as herself would not be
interested in him. What was he thinking? His elbows hit his knees at the same
time he let his hands fist into his hair. You stupid, bloody bastard. The one
nice thing going for you – what felt like real companionship for the first time
since Lily – and you blew it by overstepping all the red tape.
                                     .oOo.
She was out on the street without knowing how she got there, her breasts
heaving with ragged breath. Oh, Gods! She crossed her arms over her chest,
realizing her nipples were rock hard. Why had she done that? Her brain was
fuzzy. The electric shock of his touch so intimately close to her arousal had
thrown her and she had pounced on him like a niffler to gold. Her hands fisted
in her hair as hot tears coursed down her cheeks. She couldn’t see him again.
Oh, Gods, class is going to be unbearable! She ground the heels of her palms
into her eye sockets in useless attempts to damn the waterworks.
Forcing herself to take deep, even breaths, she leaned against the brownstone
exterior of the building and bent at the waist, arms still hugging her middle
tightly. When she had finally calmed her racing mind and slowed her shallow
breathing, she found herself feathering soft strokes across her lips with her
fingertips. She leaned back into the stone. Her lips tingled as if they had
been jinxed. His tongue had tasted of mint and chocolate chips, his hands had
left a scorching trail of blazing fire over her hips, and the back of her scalp
tingled where they had knotted into her hair. Stop it! He was going to pull you
away, she chided herself. Don’t delude yourself into thinking he wants you,
you’re just a child to him. A student, for Merlin’s sake! She huffed a sigh,
unable to help her mind from replaying the whole scene again and again.
***** Chapter Three *****
                        Chapter_Three_–_September_1997
Elizabeth Williams was nervous. More nervous than she had ever been in her
entire life. A slender, petite, and pretty witch of seventeen, her sparkling
green eyes roamed Kings Cross Station. She popped up onto her tip toes once or
twice to stretch her five foot nothing frame to scan the crowds. Heaving a
breath, she blew side bangs out of her face as her hands dropped from the red
and paint chipped colored trolley. After a moment, she dug in her pocket
looking for a hair tie. Finding it, she pulled her straight, honey blonde locks
up into a high pony tail that cascaded thickly to the small of her back.
She was nervous because she found herself not only about to attend a new
school, but in a new country as well. She wasn’t just attending any school,
either, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was legendary. It was the
school where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had met his end less than a half of year
before. Even in the far reaches of the United States, they had felt the wrath
of the most notorious dark wizard known throughout history. It was also the
school where Harry Potter and his friends – that they were now calling “The
Golden Trio” – would be attending their final year.
Elizabeth, or Lizzie as most people called her, was a Muggle-born witch from
the United States. While born in Michigan, her father (a “classified” military
personnel member) had been deployed to work all over the world at various times
in her life. He currently held employment at the U.S. Embassy in London. This
new position had transported their family more than halfway around the globe
this time. She smoothed her sweater down over tanned arms, trying to rub a
little warmth back into them. Her tan probably wouldn’t last much longer,
especially now that summer was coming to a close. It had already faded
considerably since the previous spring when they had left the tropical islands
of Hawaii for London. It was definitely a climate shock.
However, Lizzie didn’t mind. She was used to moving, used to needing to make
new friends. She was quite good at it, actually. As a result, she had wizarding
connections in almost a dozen countries across the world. Her mother (an
Occupational Therapist turned stay at home mom) was a kind woman with a heart
triple the size of most. An avid lover all of things little children, she had
presented the world with six of her own; Lizzie, being the oldest at seventeen,
and siblings Thomas (twelve), Michael (ten), Geoffrey (nine), Benjamin (four),
and baby Sarah (one). Lizzie, being the only witch in the family, made for some
interesting family talks with all those little blabber mouths. She rolled her
sparkly eyes thinking of their farewells this morning with a slight lump in her
throat. She exhaled again. Being the oldest of so many children was often
taxing, and at this point in her life she had felt she had raised a couple of
kids of her own. She enjoyed getting to go away to school every year, no matter
how much she missed them while she was gone.
She anxiously continued to push her trolley through Kings Cross Station,
looking for the likely spot of platform nine and three quarters to be. She
figured it was most likely a magical barrier, being it was in the heart of
Muggle-ton London. She was scanning the crowds, looking for out of place
“Muggles,” to see if she could ask where it was.
It was then that she spotted a large group of what was clearly a wizarding
family. A matronly looking mother with thick red hair waving to four older
students, two red heads – male and female, a dark haired young man, and a wild-
haired teenaged girl, along with three laden trolleys. She approached them
cautiously, but relaxed when she saw a small owl hooting excitedly in a cage
that precariously topped a stack of trunks while an ugly orange cat prodded at
it through the bars. “Pig, shut it,” she heard the tall red-head mutter at the
bird.
“Excuse me!” she called, picking up her pace to reach them. “Hello?” The owl
berating boy turned to her, and she stopped in her tracks as emerald eyes met
blue ones. She sucked in a breath of surprise. Holy hell in a handbasket! Her
mind raced. Why does he look familiar?
“Hi,” Ron said slowly, a bit of pink tinging the tops of his ears. His eyes
slid down her body. Well that was a bit daring, she thought with an inward
chortle that helped dispel her own sprinting thoughts. The red-headed girl
nudged the dark-haired boy in the ribs, who smirked down at her with a twinkle.
He stepped around the dumfounded Ron just as Hermione and Mrs. Weasley realized
they had fallen behind and came to a halt. Harry noticed a beautiful and
unusual owl nestled in a spacious cage a top her things.
“Hey.” He reached out his hand. “Are you looking for platform nine and three
quarters?” he questioned, nodding pointedly at the owl. “What kind of owl is
that? She’s beautiful.”
The pretty girl smiled brilliantly at him, thinking he looked familiar, too.
She clasped his outstretched hand warmly in both of her tiny ones, and Harry
heard Ron mutter, quickly turned his snort into a cough.
“I am. She’s an Elf Owl, her name is Arwen,” she said, her voice strong and
firm, looking him straight in the eye. “My name is Elizabeth Williams, Lizzie
for short. I’m a transfer student, we just moved from Hawaii….err, the United
States,” she amended. Most people had no idea where one state was over another.
“Hey, cool!” Harry returned her smile. “Join us, we’ll get you to the platform.
No parents with you today?”
She fell into step with him and the red-headed girl who was firmly lacing her
fingers through his territorially. Taken. She gave the girl a warm smile and
winked at her, using universal girl language to let her potential friend know
that she acknowledged the claim and respected it. The girl’s lovely face broke
into a grin. They continued to weave their way through the Muggle crowd,
ignoring puzzled and bewildered looks at their strange animal cargo, and
catching up to the older woman and the brown-haired girl, whom Lizzie noted was
also quite pretty with a perfect heart shaped face and warm, caramel colored
eyes. Was everyone good-looking in London? Christ!
“No folks, today. My parents are Muggles and exceedingly busy people. My dad
works for U.S. Embassy, my mom stays with my other siblings.” Harry’s eyebrows
rose and Lizzie peeked around him at the girl. “You are?” she inquired,
catching the redhead’s eyes.
“Oh, we’re being so rude!” Ginny snorted, shaking her hair. “I’m Ginny. That’s
my brother, Ronald.” She pointed ahead of them to the boy whose striking
Caribbean eyes had stopped her in her tracks. “That’s my mum, and our friend
Hermione. And this is Harry…” She paused for a second, glancing up into her
boyfriend’s bespectacled face. She trailed off, her smile faltering slightly.
Let the tittering begin.
Lizzie faced registered her surprised recognition. To give herself credit she
only missed one beat before stating, “No kidding? As in Harry-fucking-Potter?”
She snickered. “Well, it’s an honor to meet you!” She left it simple, not
diving into any uncomfortable questions, even though she had millions.
Harry and Ginny exchanged a surprised smirk, as Ron tossed a look of
consternation over his shoulder. Lizzie observed Mrs. Weasley, Hermione – must
be Hermione Granger – and their trollies disappear into a brick wall situated
between platforms nine and ten.
“Yes, Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, too.” He laughed. “Best to take it at a
run, if you’re nervous.” She watched with amusement lighting her face as he and
Ginny strolled confidently through the barricade and disappeared. Damn, she
loved magic.
Ron turned to look at her again. “After you,” he gestured.
“A looker and a gentleman to boot!” She laughed as his jaw dropped in
astonishment. “How ever did I get so lucky?” She flirted surreptitiously as she
pushed her trolley and breezed past him, slipping through the barrier with
confident ease. He came out behind her with a goofy grin on his face.
“Sit with us?” he asked her, leading her to where her luggage would be magicked
onto the train.
“I’d love to!” She nodded emphatically, but hesitated when she noticed those
caramel brown eyes shooting daggers at her from one of the entry doors. “Wait,
is Hermione your girlfriend?” She turned an accusatory gaze on him and his eyes
dropped to his feet.
“She’s not,” he sighed. “But for the sake of being upfront with you, there was
almost something. For maybe a minute. She ended it after the war.” He shrugged
and Lizzie took note. Broken heart, poor dude. She frowned. He sure seemed nice
enough, and Lizzie had liked Ginny immediately. She’d love to fall in with this
crowd, positive it would make for an interesting year. She figured they’d be
awfully leery of her, though. Who could blame them after the year they had just
had?
“I would like to sit with you guys, but only if it’s okay with everyone.” She
flipped her long blonde ponytail hair over her shoulder, quickly using slender,
deft fingers to braid it. She left the end untethered and pushed it back. “I’m
an compulsive peace keeper,” she told him conspiratorially as they walked to
join Hermione and climbed onto the train.
Hermione nodded tersely at her and Elizabeth smiled kindly in return. A flicker
of surprise flashed in the girl’s eyes at Lizzie’s genuineness and her smile
warmed a notch. This left Lizzie feeling a bit better about the situation. A
gal being over-protective of a friend she totally got. She followed the taller
girl to a compartment where they found Harry and Ginny and two other people.
“Neville! Luna!” Hermione squeaked, going to hug them both together. Another
couple. Lizzie observed. Smiling and nodding at them when they tossed curious
looks at her.
Ginny spoke up. “This is Elizabeth…” She glanced at Lizzie. “Williams, right?
She said to call her Lizzie,” she continued when the pretty blonde nodded with
another dazzling flash of her even, white teeth. “She’s from the States.”
“That’s brilliant!” Neville gave her a polite smile. “We’ve never had a
transfer in our year before.” Then he paused. “Oh, that’s if…” He trailed off
awkwardly. Luna leaned in a whispered in his ear and he smiled at her, squaring
his shoulders. “You’re in seventh year?” His friendly grey gaze returned to
her. Her heart constricted, too much pain in this boy’s life.
Lizzie waited for Ron and Hermione to make themselves comfortable before
purposely taking a seat next to the brunette. She didn’t miss the quirked
eyebrows the girl gave her, nor the disappointed look on Ron’s face. Lizzie was
as she had presented herself, however. The peace keeper. She had learned early
in her life of moving from city to city and country to country that it was best
to be open and real. To not pretend to be something she wasn’t. Her mother’s
warm, encompassing heart had taught her well. If she was going to move forward
with this crowd or pursue the cute blue-eyed boy, she needed to build a
relationship with them all. Especially the ex-girlfriend-still-good-friend.
“So, let me just make sure I’ve got this all right,” she pointed at Neville.
“You are Neville – I’m guessing Longbottom.” He nodded and she grinned
emphatically. “I read about you, you’re fucking amazing!” He gave a bewildered
nod and looked apologetically at Luna, nervous he was being flirted with. Luna
just smirked serenely at him.
“See,” she intoned. “I told you I wasn’t the only one who thought you were
amazing.”
Lizzie chucked. “And you’re Luna…?”
“Lovegood,” the girl said in a pixie voice that left Lizzie feeling relaxed and
comfortable, it was obvious this large-eyed blonde fairy had a gentle nature
and warm spirit. She was going to love her, too, she could feel it.
Lizzie pointed at the red-haired girl. “Ginny Weasley.” Ginny cocked her head
to the side in affirmation. “The famous Harry Potter there, which makes you Ron
Weasley.” She turned to Hermione as she caught his flash of an attempted
seductive smile, trying not to chortle. “You must be Hermione Granger.” She
smirked at the girl politely, raising a hand. Hermione took it with a pleased
expression.
“You either read the news frequently or you’re up on your gossip columns,” she
smirked. “Either way, I appreciate someone who’s well read. Did I hear you say
your parents are Muggles?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. Yours are, too, right?” Her earnest interest spurred Hermione into a
discussion about being a witch in a Muggle household. Yes, she thought, a warm
feeling flooding her stomach. I think I’m going to like it here.
***** Chapter Four *****
Chapter Notes
     Would love to hear from you all...Kudos also very welcome!
“HUFFLEPUFF!” the Sorting Hat bellowed, perched atop Lizzie’s straight blonde
hair. Ron groaned aloud. She gave the small group of Gryffindors a small,
bittersweet wave as she went to join her new house table for the Welcome Feast.
Hermione watched her intently, her smile deepening as she observed the
beautiful new witch being swallowed by a gaggle of Hufflepuff sixth and seventh
years. Hannah Abbott and Ernie McMillian were the first to welcome the American
into their circle.
Hermione felt it was the perfect fit for Lizzie. The girl was nothing if not
kind and permeated the persona of loyalty and friendship. She saw the girl
fitting into their circle well after the hours long train ride to Hogwarts,
regardless of the house she was sorted into. She had been attentive and sweet,
genuinely wanting to get to know everyone in their compartment equally;
answering questions about herself fully, but briefly, before firing questions
out to her new acquaintances. Hermione had been disappointed when she was
summoned to take care of Head Girl duties and missed over an hour of the
chatter with her friends.
“I like her,” Ginny murmured in Hermione’s ear. “Although watching Ron struggle
with a boner all year might be enough to make me vomit.” Hermione snorted and
then nodded vigorously over the Sorting Hat shouting, “RAVENCLAW!” as it sorted
Zeppner, Tobias – the last of the new first years.
“I like her, too,” Hermione replied, covertly sending a glance through her
eyelashes up at the head table. Snape was sitting in his normal chair, his eyes
fixed stonily ahead with that same old scowl on his face. Ginny searched her
friend’s face before flicking a glance at the man, too.
“He certainly doesn’t look like he’s changed at all,” she reported to Hermione
with a shrug. Ginny had been hilariously horrified when Hermione had described
what had transpired during her last visit to see Snape at St. Mungo’s Hospital
for Magical Maladies and Injuries. What disturbed her the most was her friend’s
dreamy expression after she had insisted on complete details about how the kiss
felt. Hermione had acted like she had never been kissed before – and perhaps
she hadn’t ever experienced a kiss quite like that. It was still disconcerting
that her pretty, sweet friend could be harboring a crush on their scary and
intimidating Potions professor.
“Well,” Hermione breathed, as quietly as she could. “I think he has.”
The Welcome Feast continued as expected. Professor McGonagall told them all to
“tuck in” earnestly before giving her start of the year speech. Hermione
observed that some of the staff looked a bit apprehensive and she wondered what
was going on. She watched Flitwick for a moment and then shook her head,
putting it off to beginning of the term jitters. It wasn’t long before pudding
disappeared and golden plates shone brightly in the candlelit and star-strewn
glow of the enchanted ceiling. Hermione sighed her pleasure contentedly while
smirking at Ron and Harry comparing distended bellies full of the delicious
food. Food was something she had come to appreciate much more since their year
on the run.
She did her best to stifle a yawn. She was eager to get to her new quarters and
snuggle under the heavy covers of the big four-poster bed that she knew awaited
her. Unfortunately, she still had to get first years to their quarters and
complete her rounds. She looked up expectantly as the Headmistress hesitantly
stepped to the podium.
“Sonorous,” McGonagall muttered, touching her wand to the side of her neck.
“Good evening, students of Hogwarts.”
There was a resounding chorus of: “Good evening, Professor!” in return.
“I have the pleasure of introducing four new posts this year. Professor Zipply
will be taking over Muggle Studies.” A squat, round wizard with fly-away light
brown hair combed over a bald spot raised from his seat and bowed deeply.
“Next, Professors Mr. and Mrs. Pfeiffer will be taking over Defense Against the
Dark Arts and Arithmancy, respectively.” She paused again as the smattering of
applause rippled through the Great Hall. The married couple were young and
looked excited to be there as they waved at the students.
The Headmistress’s lips thinned as if she was concerned about her next
announcement. “Lastly, we must welcome back Professor Snape who –” But she
wasn’t able to continue. Harry leaped to his feet and let out an obnoxious
whistle of appreciation while many other students rose to stamp their feet.
Raucous applause cascaded over the room so loudly it was sure to wake the
dragons of Gringotts. Snape, who had been pointedly averting all gazes, looked
up in obvious astonishment at the warmest welcome he had likely ever received.
Hermione was standing on the bench, cheering with the rest of them. The
applause went on for minutes. McGonagall’s tense face relaxed into an approving
smile as she joined in the handclapping. Snape’s eyes roamed the crowd and
rested on Hermione’s for a moment that stood still. Her pulse quickened, but
the sizzle of the moment ended when Hagrid clapped a hand on Snape’s shoulder,
causing him to look up at the half giant. Is that a smile, Professor? She
thought as the grin on her face broadened. She was sure there was a smirk on
his face. As the applause died down, Snape gave a curt nod of his head; his
face had returned to its mask of stone, but Hermione was certain a new light
was gleaming in his eyes.
McGonagall continued, after clearing her throat loudly to regain control. “For
all new students, and a subtle reminder for some old students, the Forbidden
Forest is as its name suggests – forbidden.” A chuckle rumbled through the
crowd; Ron and Harry exchanged grins. “Bulletins and brochures for clubs and
teams will be posted in your common rooms to peruse for the week. There will be
an open house signup for these activities Saturday morning here in the Great
Hall for you to ask questions and see what would be a good fit for you.” She
nodded curtly. “Your Quidditch captains will post positions in the house common
rooms and set try-outs for a time that works for them.”
“Yes, I will,” Harry hissed, smiling broadly.
“All students will receive their schedules when they attend breakfast tomorrow
morning. If there is a pink notice on your schedule, you will need to contact
me to set up a meeting to discuss questions and concerns I may have for you.”
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, a severe look crossing her pinched
features. “Here is where my happy news and information comes to an end. I fear,
my dears, that the Minister of Magic has contacted the staff at Hogwarts
earlier today with some unsavory news.
“It seems that, even though the war has been won and good prevailed, evil is
still determined to cloud our happiness.” She exhaled heavily and Hermione’s
stomach flipped with a tinge of fear. “There have been reports of Muggle-born
kidnappings. Three in the last week, to be precise.” Here her Scottish brogue
faltered momentarily. “One being a seven-year-old girl who was reported missing
after her parents were found mysteriously dead in their home by Muggle law-
enforcement officers.”
A gasp flitted through the hall, and Hermione’s heart missed a beat as tears
prickled her eyes. What?!
“Here at Hogwarts, you will all be experiencing a heightened state of security
and safety. I want our Muggle-born students to realize that they will be
watched exceptionally carefully until those perpetrating these heinous attacks
have been apprehended.” She cleared her throat. Harry and Ron reached for
Hermione’s hands simultaneously, while Ginny slid a protective arm around her
waist and pulled her closer to her side, as if directly standing in the way of
her being taken. A grateful lump rose in her throat even as she felt anxiety
rise and course through her veins. She could not stop a look to the Hufflepuff
table, where she met the petrified gaze of Lizzie Williams. It was a look that
mirrored her own feelings.
“I implore all Muggle-born students to be on constant alert and beg you to not
leave the grounds without at least one person by your side. We will keep you
all informed as we see fit. If you have questions, please make an appointment
with me or your head of house.
“With these final words, I ask all Prefects, along with Miss Granger and Mr.
McMillian – who are this year’s Head Girl and Boy, to please help escort
students to their dormitories. You are dismissed.” She returned to her staff
who were huddling in to converse discreetly, their words blocked by the noise
of hundreds of thundering feet and raised voices.
Hermione sat frozen, eyes still locked with Lizzie’s, who finally broke the
connection as Susan Bones tapped her on the shoulder and gestured for them to
walk together to the Hufflepuff common room by the kitchens. Lizzie looked back
to Hermione and waved. “Talk tomorrow?” she mouthed, Hermione nodded back, a
soft smile curving her lips.
She exhaled, looking into the faces of her most beloved friends. They were
watching her with barely suppressed horror and sympathy on their faces. “Okay,
you lot,” she said sternly, her practiced Head Girl voice blossoming out of her
chest as if on cue. “To your rooms.” She squeezed Harry’s hand and knocked her
shoulder gently against Ginny’s while winking at Ron. “I have a job to do, we
can talk in the morning.” She paused, watching them gather their things all the
while throwing her surreptitious looks. “Hey,” she mumbled. They all gave her
their full attention. “I love you guys.”
Three dear faces, three sets of different colored eyes, all warmed as they
enveloped her in a group hug. Murmurs of “We love you too, ‘Mione!” filled her
heart as she embarrassingly pushed them away and started calling for Gryffindor
first years to follow her.
                                    .oOo.
After sending the extra-large group of first years through the Fat Lady
portrait hole (the password “Moldy Voldy” set off some titters), Hermione set
out to complete her first set of rounds as Head Girl. She held her wand loosely
in her hand.
She wandered the corridors she was assigned mindlessly, greeting the occasional
portrait or school ghost. She felt world weary after the evening’s
announcements. She had been looking forward to this year being uneventful and
ordinary, boring even! Didn’t she deserve normal? Hadn’t she been through
enough? Wasn’t it time for her to be able to live without fear? A surge of
uncharacteristic anger bubbled up and out of her chest. She growled and threw a
punch at the stone wall, cursing loudly when pain knifed its way hot and sharp
through her wrist.
“Miss Granger?” A rich, deep baritone came through the silence. “Such
language,” he scolded. She whirled, cupping her apparently broken right hand
against her breast supported in her left, her wand had clattered to the floor.
He bent to pick it up and was about to hand it to her with more rebukes, but
one look at her face and his reproachful attitude changed.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, surprised with his alarmed concern. He closed the
gap between them in three quick strides and pulled her injured wrist gently
into his large, warm hands. A shiver wracked her whole body and her breathing
came in quick, shallow pants that had nothing to do with the pain. She tried to
jerk away, embarrassed by her reaction, but he held her fast. “Your metacarpals
and wrist are broken. What in Merlin’s name have you done?” he demanded
accusingly, trailing a cool finger lightly over said wrist.
“Er…” Her voice came out breathless as another shiver shot up her arm (it felt
like it went straight to her groin), she let out a soft moan as her heart rate
skyrocketed.
“Miss Granger?” He intoned more softly, hopefully misreading her reaction as
pain.
“I punched the wall,” she squeaked, face going red with mortification. Idiot!
She chided herself.
“You…? I see.” He pursed his lips while searching her face. She refused to meet
his eyes. “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.” He directed briskly, taking her
elbow and attempting to turn her in the direction of the infirmary.
“Oh, no!” She was successful in pulling her wrist away this time, digging in
her heels. This caused an unintended cry of pain to slip past her lips and her
breath sucked back in with shock. “Couldn’t you…I mean…would you fix it,
Professor?” She let out a shaky breath as her body started to convulse.
“Please? I’m quite tired, and my rounds are about done. I just want to return
to my quarters.” He studied her for a moment and then nodded curtly.
“Very well,” he muttered, laying his palm out facing up and indicating for her
to place her hand over his. She did so after a moment’s hesitation. “Brackium
emendo,” he murmured, gently sliding his wand tip over the back of her hand and
around her wrist. There was a piercing, tingling feeling and then warmth spread
through her wrist and fingers. It was still tender but the searing pain of
moments before dissipated.
She relaxed as the pain left her body and glanced up at him shyly. “Thank you,
Professor,” she whispered kindly. A very faint smile touched his lip as his
head jerked a tight nod. He handed her back her wand, which she took
gratefully.
“You’re welcome, Miss Granger.” His voice was clipped. He turned and gestured
for her to lead the way. “I will walk you to your chambers.” Her astonishment
was clear on her face and he had to bite his cheek to hide a smirk.
“Alright,” she agreed, taking a hesitant step. He fell into place next to her
and they walked quickly through the silent castle. “It appears the inside of
the castle is fully repaired.” She observed.
“Yes,” Snape agreed. She heaved a sigh when he offered no more.
“How did the rest of your summer go, Professor?” She questioned interestedly
after a few minutes of tense silence.
“I do not see how that is any of your concern, Miss Granger.” He stopped short,
eyes glancing to what he knew to be her dormitory door. Her face flushed
prettily. Snape had to stifle a growl of desire. I have to get out of here.Her
eyes watched his face carefully.
“Professor, I –” He broke her off.
“I trust you will heed the Headmistress’s admonishments to not travel alone
outside this castle,” he muttered in a dark voice, wanting her word that she
would be smart and safe.
“Of course I will!” A tinge of fury colored her retort. “Professor, I just
wanted – ” But he broke her off again.
“Goodnight, Miss Granger.” It was as if he was deliberately derailing her
apology. In reality, Snape knew if he didn’t get away from her, he would do
something he’d regret.
She sighed, watching him clasp his hands together behind his back and stalk
into the darkness of the corridor, his frock coat flapping familiarly behind
him. “Goodnight, sir,” she whispered, still feeling the warmth of his touch on
her hand.
                                     .oOo.
Snape had to use an unpleasant amount of determination not to turn back around
and haul that pretty flushed face to his. Memories of his tongue pillaging her
mouth got him through many wanking sessions throughout the remainder of the
summer, but being in her presence while remembering that kiss was torture. He
was getting stiff just thinking about it. He was going to have to be on high
alert when she was in his vicinity. Especially if they were alone. Forcing
himself on her would solve nothing, just create more of a mess. He breathed a
deep sigh of relief as he descended the dungeon steps towards his rooms,
thankful he was far enough away from her now to control himself.
***** Chapter Five *****
“Goodnight, Miss Granger.” His voice trailed along her spine, sending shivers
of delight to cup deliciously there, low in her belly.
“No. Don’t go,” she whispered, reaching out and taking his hand. She laced her
fingers through his in attempts to keep him from going. Startled dark eyes met
hers, blackening with undiluted desire.
“You don’t really want that, Miss Granger,” he murmured even as he invaded her
personal space. He pushed her against her bedroom door. One hand pressed next
to her head, the other at her waist, just at the sensitive undercarriage of her
breast. She felt the hard flesh of his abdomen rub against her sensitive
nipples through their clothing and her head fell back in bliss from his
nearness. As his protuberant nose skimmed against her cheek, he growled in her
ear. “You’re playing with fire...”
She tilted her face to brush her nose against his. “Too late, I’m already
burning.” She groaned, sliding warm hands over his chest to twine up around his
shoulders. She pushed the length of her slender, soft form more firmly into his
solid body. Groaning, he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
“I want you,” he growled, fingers sliding to sink into her hips. Three simple
words made her knees buckle with need and she gasped, gripping his shoulders
for support.
“Yes,” she choked out. An animalistic noise rumbled out of his chest as his
lips trailed down her jaw bone and across her chin to hover just over her
decadent mouth. She gasped, pressing her belly into his growing erection.
“Please,” she whimpered, pleading, trying to raise her mouth to his, eyes
clouded and heavy with lust. His mouth hovered and their combined breath made
her feel heady. “Kiss me,” she breathed. The words broke all his lingering
resolve and his mouth collided with hers in a swirl of tongue and gnashing
teeth. She panted loudly as his fingers dug into her bum and he hoisted her
against the door. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist and she
ground her pelvis into his sex, eliciting another crazed sound. A thrill ran
through her, it felt bloody powerful to entice such sounds from this seemingly
indifferent man. One of her hot hands cupped the side of his face, her nails
digging around his ear into the soft, sensitive skin of his neck, the other
seemed to be slapping at the door as if she was looking for something.
He chuckled against her mouth as he realized what she was trying to do.
Wandlessly, he threw open the door, tilting his pelvis to support her while
wrapping one well-toned arm around her petite curves. He took three long
strides and all but threw her on her back onto the bed. She squealed with
shocked surprise as the door slammed shut behind them. His eyes bore into to
hers as she pushed herself into a half-seated position on her elbows. A slow
smirk spread across his face he deliberately slid one finger through the air,
making the bolt of the lock clink into place. Her respirations picked up,
making her flawless bosom strain against the buttons of her uniform top.
He strode to the bed, stepping between her knees. Her molten, burnt caramel
eyes never left his as his fingertips encountered one stockinged knee. Her head
tilted back and she mewled high in her throat, her pussy pulsing with
anticipation. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are, Miss Granger?”
Even though his voice was low, his baritone thundered through her body, making
her heart stutter.
“Put your hands on me, Professor!” she pleaded, reaching one willowy hand to
him. His groan was slow as he crawled onto the bed like a sleek black panther,
settling his hips between her spread thighs and nestling his mouth to hers in
another blazing kiss. She gasped and tangled her fingers in his butter soft
locks. His tongue curled around her lower lip and he sucked, nipping, making
her sigh with desire before trailing hot, wet bites down her jaw. Her hips
bucked against his erection and he squeezed his eyes tight, gritting his
resolve against his hunger.
Grabbing her jutting hips, he rolled them, pulling her on top of him. She
pulled back, somewhat bewildered, as he reached a hand up to cup her face. They
stared at each other, burning dark eyes into blazing brown. He looked as if he
was trying to read her mind…and maybe he was. She swallowed. Slowly she turned
her face into his hand, her soft pink tongue darting out to swirl across his
thumb. He watched with fascination as she daringly sucked the pad into her
petal perfect pout. Growling, he pulled her back down to him. He seized her
mouth in his while raking his hands up her slender torso, pulling her shirt out
of her skirt as they skimmed up her lithe body. She squeaked, and her frantic
fingers rushed to help. He stilled them and she pulled away slightly to
question him with her eyes.
“I want to undress you,” he rumbled and her hands moved to the buttons of his
frock instead. He grunted his approval even as he was pushing the blouse off
her slender shoulders, trailing his fingers over the bare skin of the swell of
her breast. Her bra was an enchanting aquamarine color, silk, trimmed with
lace. He gave a grunt of appreciation and cupped them in his hands, running his
tongue along the swells while pinching a nipple through the material. “Ahh,”
she breathed, her nipples standing to immediate attention. It felt as if they
had a direct line to her pussy as it leaked in response. His hands felt like a
torch. She was on fire. She never knew it could feel like this. It had never
felt like this with Ron or Viktor.
He sat up unexpectedly and her fists balled into knots in his coat, afraid she
was going to topple off. He unfastened the clasp of her bra in one swift
motion, causing her breasts to tumble out. She released her hands from his coat
so he could fling it away. A scorching mouth encircled one taut pink nub and
sucked deeply. She felt mindless for a moment before her fingers returned to
him – deftly trying to complete her unbuttoning task. They trembled as she
muttered wordless praises, arching her chest into his face. “Bloody hell,” he
growled, sliding his stubbled chin across her areola as she writhed. “Too many
damned buttons!” Yanking his wand from his coat he unbuttoned everything in one
soundless incantation. She rumbled her agreement and started thrusting his coat
and shirt off his broad shoulders. He helped her get his arms free and then
rolled her again to her back, teeth nipping at her collar bone.
“Ooh, please!” She whimpered as his fingers trailed up the outside of her
thighs. He snorted at her wantonness as he hooked his fingers in her knickers
and pulled them down her legs.
His fingertips traced a lizard line up her inner thighs. “Look at me, Miss
Granger,” he breathed hotly. She propped herself up and met his smoldering eyes
over the mounds of her breasts as he slipped a finger into her slick folds.
“You’re drenched,” he intoned gruffly as she fell back with a mewl, eyes
sliding closed again. He circled her clit with one deft digit, making her hips
buck and her head roll from side to side.
The combination of her panting and thrusting had his cock leaking and screaming
for release. He pulled away to stand, smirking at her bereft whimper of
disappointment. When she realized what he was doing, she quickly rolled to her
knees to assist. She cupped the front of his trousers, rubbing gently through
the material while her other hand slid the leather belt from the buckle. She
slowly, reverently, undid the button and sensually slid the zipper down while
meeting his searching gaze with a heavy-lidded desire. He helped her push his
trousers and boxers off his hips and his shaft sprang free. Eyes widening
comically, she deftly encircled the base of his more than adequate cock in her
tiny fist and pulled gently, reveling in the visceral sound that exploded from
his chest.
Daringly, she bent at the waist, bringing his proud knob to her lips. A
tentative lick of her tongue flicked the drop of pre-cum off its tip. “Again,”
he demanded, and she flattened her tongue to bounce his glans off, swirling
gently around the head. She liked the taste of his skin; it was hard but
yielding under her curious mouth. His smell was musky and spicy in her senses.
Carefully, she sheathed her teeth with her lips and pushed the tip into her
mouth, hallowing her cheeks to suck with care. His breathing changed and she
pumped him firmly with the fist that encircled the base of his cock. She
alternated sucking and driving her fist, picking up a slow, steady rhythm. His
hips started to move, pushing his length a little further into her mouth. She
dropped further to allow greater access, grateful for the assistance. She was
pretty new at this, after all. His fingers sunk into her hair, grasping it up
off her face into a loose ponytail so he could watch her expression, and slowly
rode her face. Suddenly, emboldened by his aid, her confidence soared and she
devoured him like a circus lollipop, swirling and sucking and nipping until he
stilled her with a grunt.
“That’s enough,” he rumbled low. She released him and sat back, a worried look
on her face. “That was bloody amazing, Miss Granger, but it’s your turn.” His
voice was gravely and thick with desire as he kicked his slacks and boxers off
his feet. “Lay back.” He guided her down to the mattress by gliding his fingers
up her thighs. She was still wearing her stockings and skirt and he pushed the
latter out of the way, exposing her glistening sex.
“What are you...?” She trailed off as his fingers spread her folds wide and
gasped her gratefulness as his warm, wet tongue delved inside, circling her nub
with tender pressure. “Yes,” she hissed, eyes rolling back and hips grinding.
He held her hips down and increased the speed, sucking and nipping until she
was thrashing. “Please,” she breathed.
“Pleasewhat, Miss Granger?” he inquired, one eyebrow raised as he stopped.
“Please make me come, Professor.” It was a demand.
“Good girl,” he responded as he pushed two long fingers into her core. She
groaned as the pad of his thumb found her sweet nub and flicked. Stretching her
tight inner walls, he searched for her g-spot, finding it with little trouble.
He concentrated on the bumpy interior mass while watching her chest heave and
her breath come in hitches that made his chest constrict; she was stunning.
Deliberately, he removed his thumb from her clit and replaced it with his
tongue. Flicking and sucking while her legs started a telling tremble. “Come
for me, Miss Granger.” His voice vibrated into her folds, and she did.
                                     .oOo.
“Unnhh!” Hermione cried, waking as waves of pleasure engulfed her body. She was
drenched in a light sheen of sweat, her breath coming in hiccupping gulps of
excitement. She lay in her bed, fingers clenched tightly into the mattress as
her body rode a massive orgasm, whimpering with undiluted shock and chagrin. As
she started to come down from her high, she felt her joints turning to jiggling
jelly and she sucked in and then repelled a long, measured breath. What the
fuck was that?!
***** Chapter Six *****
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for the kudos and comments!!
                                  Chapter_Six
===============================================================================
 
“My schedule has a pink slip on it.” Hermione sighed, showing Ron and Ginny.
“Where’s Harry?” Her eyes roamed the crowd of students in the Great Hall.
“He was going to put up the Quidditch flier before coming down.” Ginny told
her, rolling her eyes. “And of course the poor guy can’t go ten steps without
someone wanting to talk to him. I hope it dies down soon, I mean, ah!” She
shook her head exasperatedly, burgundy locks tumbling in pretty waves.
“I don’t think it’s so bad.” Ron shrugged, ears turning pink with pleasure. He
was getting quite a bit of attention himself, though not nearly as much as
Harry was.
“That’s because you’re a conceited git!” Ginny declared waspishly.
“Hey!” Ron’s face was starting to turn purple.
“G’morning!” A sweet, American accented voice rang. Elizabeth Williams was
sidling up to them. “Tell me that I don’t have to live at the Hufflepuff table.
I can sit with you guys, right?”
“Right,” Hermione said quickly, sliding over so Lizzie could sit between her
and Ginny, across from Ron. “How was your first night?”
“Not gonna lie, a bit disappointing.” Lizzie sighed. “I thought for sure I’d
get Gryffindor after having so much in common with you guys.” She shrugged.
“Hannah and Susan seem really, nice, though. So, hopefully I can hang with them
sometimes, too.”
“Well, we’re all allowed to co-mingle.” Ginny told her.
“Good!” Lizzie nodded one. “I got a pink slip on my schedule, what about you
guys?”
“Nope,” Ginny and Ron responded together, while Hermione nodded.
“Wonder what that’s all about?” Hermione sighed. “The start of the year and I’m
ending up in the Head office already.” “What didga do, ‘Mione?” Harry
materialized out of nowhere, plopping down next to Ron and hurriedly scooping a
massive pile of scrambled eggs on his plate. “I’m starved!” He growled, shoving
a bite in his mouth while reaching for the tray of sausages.
Hermione watched him gorge himself with a small look of disgust on her face
before shaking her head to clear it. “I got a pink slip on my schedule, Lizzie
did too.” She added, tossing a look at the American. “Do you want to go now? I
won’t be able to eat until I know what the deal is.” “Yeah, that works for me.”
Lizzie stood, pulling her bag onto her shoulders. “Lead the way, Head Girl.”
“We’ll see you later!” Ron almost knocked Harry over in his haste to rise to
his feet and see the two girls off. Hermione snorted at his attempt at
gallantry, but Lizzie seemed to find it charming.
“Bye, Ron!” She winked and followed the brown-eyed girl out of the hall. Lizzie
hurried to catch up with Hermione, familiarly linking her arm through the older
girl’s. Hermione looked startled for a moment, and Lizzie smiled kindly. “I’ve
been told by a few people already that I’m way too touchy-feely for all you
stiff English folk,” she chortled. “If it bothers you…?” She trailed off,
making a move to pull her arm away. “No.” Hermione smiled back, she didn’t mind
the simple and friendly gesture. It just surprised her how quickly she was
warming up to this girl and thinking of her as a friend.
“This place is ginormous!” Lizzie’s wide eyes looked around as she let Hermione
lead her up the stone stairwell. “I’m never going to find my classes.” She
heaved a sigh, looking down at her schedule.
“Let me see.” She held her hand out and Lizzie handed it over. Hermione scanned
the sheet quickly, while making sure they skipped the trick step. “We have
almost all our classes together! Which I guess isn’t super surprising as we’re
both N.E.W.T. level seventh years, but you’re taking almost all the same
classes as I am!” She exclaimed excitedly. Glowing brown eyes met green. “You
have Care of Magical Creatures while I have my only free period, but that’ll be
easy to find, as it’s out on the grounds. I’ll point out Hagrid’s hut for you
while we’re at lunch this afternoon.”
“That’s great!” Lizzie sighed happily. “I’m so happy we’ll have lots of classes
together, I’m really enjoying getting to know you. It’s been a while since I’ve
had a good girlfriend.” She gave Hermione a searching look with a small smile.
“Why’s that?” Hermione asked, suspiciously.
“Remember how I told you all on the train that my dad is U.S. Military?” she
asked. Hermione nodded and directed them up yet another moving staircase,
Lizzie was completed lost now. “I’ve moved no less than ten times in my life.”
The blonde continued.
“Ten?” Hermione was flummoxed. “Wow, that’s a lot!”
“Yes, assignments, you know,” Lizzie whispered, removing her arm from
Hermione’s to pull on her hair. Hermione was starting to recognize that Lizzie
played with her hair when feeling insecure. “As good as I am at moving and
making new friends, it doesn’t always make the transitions easy. Other girls
often get jealous, no matter how kind and open I try to be. Most of my friends
around the world are male or past teachers. I haven’t really had a close
girlfriend since I was around twelve.”
“That’s a long time.” Hermione conceded, stopping. She searched the girls’ face
for a moment. Hermione knew what she meant, though. She and Ginny hadn’t gotten
super close until the redhead started dating Harry. It wasn’t always easy being
friends with boys. “I can tell Ron likes you, and I have a sneaking suspicion
you find him attractive as well.” She watched with amusement as Lizzie’s eyes
widened slightly and she started to say something, but Hermione stopped her.
“Yes, we have a past. I can see that you know that.” “Ron told right away,”
Lizzie responded carefully. “So I decided it would be more prudent to be your
friend first. Listen, I’m just not one to stir caldrons, and -” She stared.
“Hey!” Hermione put a hand up to stop her. “It’s okay.” She told the girl.
“Yes, Ron and I have a history. It’s a really stressful history, filled with a
lot of fear and a need to just survive. Of course we glommed on to each other
to help make it through. Nothing serious ever happened between us, though.” She
finished. “We’re friends, first and foremost. Best friends – more like
siblings. I love him like a brother. Like I love Harry.” She hoped her honesty
was transparent. “I’m not in love with him, though.”
Lizzie watched her for a moment before a tentative smile turned up the corners
of her mouth. “How did he feel about that break up line?” She was grateful the
Gryffindor was being candid with her.
Hermione didn’t know whether to laugh or feel offended, but the look on
Lizzie’s face said she wanted Hermione to laugh. “How did you guess I broke it
off with him?” She was trying not to smile back, but crossed her arms around
her stomach to try and hide the fact she was a bit put off at the girl’s
ability to read her so well.
“Well, for one – he told me. Second, what you just said to me sounded quite
rehearsed.” She shrugged. “I’m assuming it was really hard to say!” She reached
a hand out to lay on Hermione’s arm when she saw the hurt and anger rising in
the other girl’s eyes. “I don’t mean to upset you, that’s not what I meant by
it. You do love him, I can see that. I can see how close all four of you are –
Harry, Ron, Ginny, and you. I’ve been there with the ‘love but not in love’
mentality. I totally get it.” She paused, relieved as the brunette took a
calming breath.
“I’ve read about you guys. I never thought I would actually get the chance to
be a friend. You have experienced more than most do in a lifetime. I know your
ties with Harry and Ron run deep. Everyone does; the way you three are together
screams it! Not to mention it’s all anyone is talking about around here. It
almost makes you unapproachable…almost.” She squeezed Hermione’s arm as the
girl looked prepared to say something again. Lizzie’s honesty had a way of
getting herself in trouble sometimes. She hurried to continue. “Hermione, you
three have obviously shared something that will be carried with you your entire
life. I refuse to come between that. I won’t be the person who makes Hermione
Granger and Ronald Weasley hate each other.”
Tears filled Hermione’s eyes. This girl was so incredibly insightful that she
made Hermione feel almost transparent. “I hate myself for hurting him the way I
did,” she choked out, and attempted to cover her face as a couple of third
years were passing them in the hall, looking at them curiously. “Piss off!”
Lizzie glared at the two girls, who looked comically affronted before quickly
scattering. She pulled the quietly weeping Hermione into a more secluded alcove
and cast a silencing charm.
“He did want to keep going.” Hermione continued once realizing they weren’t
being snooped on anymore. “But I couldn’t. Something changed in me after the
dust settled and it wasn’t him I wanted anymore.” A sob broke.
Lizzie was unsure what to do or say, so she gently pulled the girl into her
arms and squeezed. Hermione froze, surprised with the intimate gesture. “If you
want to tell me anything,” Lizzie said, pulling back to let Hermione see her
candor, still grasping her elbows in her palms. “I’m happy to listen. I promise
that anything you say to me will stay with me.”
Hermione’s suspicions rankled again, and she searched the American’s face. All
she saw was earnest uprightness. After so many years of holding so much burden
and having to keep so many secrets, she let go. “I…I’m really into someone
else,” she breathed. “I d-didn’t want to keep it going with Ron and have it
ruin the friendship we share.” A cry hitched in her throat. Lizzie conjured a
bench and guided Hermione to sit.
Settling onto the cool stone, Hermione sighed. “I can’t tell you who, because
he doesn’t even know. I don’t think I can tell him, either.” A blush crept up
her face. “It would be a very inappropriate relationship,” she murmured. “He’s
a lot older than me.”
Lizzie stayed quiet, just listening. “He’s a hero, what he did during the war
most likely saved our lives. Most definitely saved a lot of lives.” Her arms
finally relaxed away from her middle and she reached out to clutch the blonde’s
hand in her own. “If you like Ron, don’t let me stop you from having a go with
him,” she said suddenly.
Lizzie was startled in the turn of conversation. “Only if you’re sure,
Hermione.” She was hesitant. “It’s not like I would move too quick with him.
I’d like to get to know him as a friend first.”
“I’m sure!” Hermione stood abruptly and watched Lizzie slowly get to her feet.
The blonde disappeared the bench and removed the silencing charm. “Let’s get up
to see Professor McGonagall or we’ll be late for our first class.” All trace of
discomfort gone, Hermione looped her arm through Lizzie’s this time. Lizzie
felt warmth spread through her chest at the sweet gesture as they continued to
the Headmistress’s office.
“Tabby cat!” Hermione announced to the gargoyle. Lizzie watched with
fascination as the stone figure jumped out of the way and a spiral escalator
turned up the hallow column. Hermione let Lizzie go and jumped on the first
step, beckoning her to follow. When they reached the top, Hermione clanged the
knocker.
“Enter!” Came the Headmistress’s Scottish lilt.
“Good morning professor!” Hermione greeted as she entered the room; Lizzie, a
step behind, looked up at all the portraits. “Elizabeth Williams and I wanted
to come see you straight away to talk about our pink slips.”
“Yes, yes.” McGonagall gestured for them to sit down, they obeyed. “Well, as
I’m sure you have guessed, it’s in regard to the Muggle-born disappearances.
I’m speaking with the handful of students who fall into this category to let
them know I will be having a staff member assigned to keep a bit of an extra
eye on you. I will be expecting your assigned staff member to be in contact
with you a time or two per week and monitor your schedules. Do you ladies have
any questions?” Hermione and Lizzie exchanged nervous glances. “Do you really
feel this is necessary?” Hermione inquired.
“I do, and so does Shacklebolt.” McGonagall’s lips were tight with concern.
Hermione slumped back in her seat.
“Do they know what is happening with the victims?” She whispered. Lizzie felt
the atmosphere change. Instead of the professor and the pupil, it felt as the
exchange was happening between peers. Nonchalantly, Lizzie averted her gaze and
tried to busy her mind with other things so they could have a bit more privacy.
She wasn’t very successful.
“They do not,” McGonagall replied tersely, her eyes closing as if to give
herself a moment to think. “Miss Grang – Hermione.” Her tone softened. “We are
terribly concerned for your wellbeing. I, amongst other of the staff and
Ministry officials, intend to keep you safe. No harm will come to you here.”
“Professor, I’m not worried about my safety at Hogwarts,” Hermione whispered.
“It’s safer than home, even.”
McGonagall nodded. “I wish to have Professor Snape be your advisor until the
culprits are apprehended.” She told the wild haired girl. “He alone, above all
the staff, has the experience and skill with which to keep you best protected.”
Hermione swallowed hard, and Lizzie couldn’t help her curious glance at the
girl’s reaction. Hm. “He’s a lot older than me.”Her brain buzzed the connection
with the flush creeping up Hermione’s cheek bones. “I don’t think he’ll be
pleased to hear that, Professor.” She argued feebly.
“I’m sure I can provide sufficient incentive for him to take on this task.”
McGonagall sniffed dismissively. “I just wanted to make sure you would be okay
with the arrangement. I know Professor Snape is a bit…rough around the edges.”
Hermione snorted. That’s an understatement. “No, Headmistress, I don’t mind
Professor Snape helping out with this. Perhaps he’d be willing to give me some
independent potion lessons while we meet? You know I’m planning on going to
University next fall, and I really want an Outstanding in Potions so I can
pursue a degree as a Healer.” She hoped her excitement about spending one on
one time with Snape wasn’t obvious. She thought her voice was shaking and she
clasped her hands together to keep her body from trembling. She didn’t notice
the smirk Lizzie was giving her.
“Miss Granger, I’m sure that could be arranged.” McGonagall turned her
attention to Lizzie. “Miss Williams, do you have any questions?”
“What about our families?” Lizzie responded quickly, her dazzling smile in
place. “I appreciate the extra effort that is being taken for my safety. Is
anything being done to protect our families?”
Hermione looked surprised at this question and turned her face back to the
Headmistress.
“Miss Granger’s parents are being kept under surveillance, due to her fame.”
McGonagall reported. “We thought it for the best. The Minister did take the
time to inform them what has been transpiring and they agreed the safest place
for you is at Hogwarts until this is over. Miss William’s, being your family is
relatively new, the Ministry is just doing a daily check on the house.”
Lizzie nodded her understanding, but Hermione spoke. “I’ll be expected to stay
here for the Holidays?” she was disappointed. She missed her parents and had
been looking forward to spending Christmas with them.
“For now,” the professor replied. “I’m sure you’d also be welcome at the
Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be adequate protection for you, as well. Any
additional questions?”
Both girls shook their heads.
McGonagall gave a tight smile and a brief nod. “Very well, ladies. You are
dismissed.”
===============================================================================

                                        
“Okay, now,” Minerva McGonagall said, weariness seeping into her voice as she
removed her spectacles to rub tired eyes. Around her the teachers of Hogwarts
exchanged guarded expressions. Seeing Minerva so troubled was not something new
to them, but something they had all hoped this year would lack. The sixteen
solemn staff members exchanged worried glances before looking at their
Headmistress expectantly, none of them really eating their lunches. A few quiet
murmurs of concern rippled before she spoke again.
“I have been instructed by the Minister to assign a staff member to each
Muggle-born student,” she declared. “They will be in charge of knowing their
student’s schedules, extracurricular activities, and locations to the best of
their ability at all times.” “It’s an admirable idea, Minerva,” Sprout replied.
“I also think that’s a grea’ idea, Prof,” Hagrid agreed in his gruff voice. “I
volunteer ter wa’ch after Hermione.”
“While I know you care for the girl, Hagrid.” Snape’s low, languid voice came
from the shadows of the staff room. “I believe that someone with a little more
experience and magical talent should mind our ‘Golden Girl.’”
Hagrid growled and was about to argue when Minerva cut in. “I know how much you
love Miss Granger, Rubeus. However, I must agree with Severus. I worry about
her being a target in this madness. She’s the most famous Muggle-born of our
time. We do not know why this is happening, only that it is. I wish I could
watch after the girl myself, but I just fear I do not have the personal
resource of time available to me while maintaining my Transfiguration schedule
and Headmistress duties.” She huffed, abruptly dismissing them with a wave of
her hand.
“Back to the topic at hand. I have a total of ten Muggle-borns on my roster
this year. Of course, you all know Hermione Granger. Then there is Justin
Finch-Fletchley, Dennis Creevey, Elizabeth Williams – the transfer student from
the United States…” She continued on. Total there were three Gryffindors, five
Hufflepuffs, and two Ravenclaws.
One by one, the students were taken on by individual staff members. McGonagall
left Hermione as the last student to be paired, hoping Snape would step
forward. She was disappointed.
“I can take on Miss Granger.” Professor Babbling volunteered grudgingly as her
name hung out over the group; everyone was hesitant to be assigned to her for
fear of failing. “She is a remarkable girl, I do so hope we can keep her safe.”
“Please, do not take offense to this, Bathsheda, but Severus…?” She trailed
off, meeting his eye across the room. She noted his shoulders tense and jaw
clench. “Severus, I am wishing you to be assigned to Miss Granger.”
You have no idea the problems this could cause, Minerva.Severus grumbled to
himself. He had volunteered to take on the William’s girl and both Ravenclaw
students; she had assigned each one to someone else and now he understood why.
He didn’t want to get put with Granger. His tenuous hold over his…desire, he
spat the word in his head, for her wouldn’t do well to be subjected to the
enticing little nymph in a one on one environment. “And do you think it would
please her to have an old nemesis breathing down her neck all year?” He
countered, a vain attempt to sway her. Everyone knew how the girl and her
friends had advocated for him at his summer trial. Minerva was even aware of
the two plus months she had visited him regularly.
“Miss Granger and I have spoken briefly about this.” She detailed plainly. “I
do not believe she sees you as a nemesis, Severus. Far from it. She is
agreeable and I think you are the best match against anything or anyone that
would attempt to harm the girl. She even implored me to ask you if she could
potentially get extra potion lessons out of the deal. She’s ambitiously
questing an Outstanding on her N.E.W.T.s as she is planning on attending
University next fall in hopes of becoming a Healer.”
Snape bit back a groan. How the hell was he supposed to say no to that? “You
have got to be kidding me,” he grumbled. “I take it you have already agreed to
this arrangement, Headmistress?” He addressed her formally, outwardly
displaying his displeasure.
“Yes.” McGonagall bit out firmly. “I have your assistance in this matter?” When
Snape dipped his head grudgingly she gave a sharp nod of satisfaction. “Good.”
“I wish you all to set up meetings with your students at least once a week to
check in with them.” She instructed. “I’m not asking you to follow this student
twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. However, please make it clear that
if they need to change their schedule they should confer with you.” Her
shoulders slumped. “Let’s try and make this term a good one. There are several
students who very much deserve an uneventful year.” She heard several murmurs
of agreement ripple through the room. “Very well, enjoy your meals.” She exited
the break room. No one was eating.
===============================================================================

                                        
“Double Potions after lunch on the first bloody day!” Ron moaned, plopping down
at the lunch table with Ginny and Harry. “Could we have worse luck, mate?”
Harry grinned at his friend.
“It shouldn’t be as bad as the other five years we had him as Potions master.”
He tried to encourage his friend. “I mean, he’s got to be a little different,
right?”
“I should hope so!” Ginny’s face darkened. “You and Hermione did save his
bloody life!”
“Hermione did.” Ron corrected. “She was the one so anxious to get to him. Harry
and I thought we were going to collect a body. Hermione insisted on taking a
Healer with and was the first to reach him. You should have seen the way she
reacted.”
Ginny avoided her brother’s eyes. “I’ve heard the story,” she drawled. “Look!”
She nudged Harry, changing the subject. “Hermione and Lizzie.” Harry looked in
the direction she was pointing. “They’re getting awfully chummy,” Ginny
muttered, taking in the two girls walking arm and arm and giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Harry asked as Hermione settle down next to him and Lizzie
sat across from her next to Ron.
“Nothing!” They said together, exchanging a look that had them both tittering
again. Ginny harrumphed.
“We’ll tell you later, Gin.” Hermione assured her friend, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing the boys need to know.” Ginny let a wicked grin cross her face,
glad she was being brought into the circle.
“The three of you have double Potions this afternoon?” Ginny asked.
“Four of us,” Lizzie said, flipping her long golden hair over her shoulder as
she settled in next to Ginny and reached for a sandwich. Hermione sat across
from her next to Ron. “I have Potions, too.”
“Brilliant,” Ron said around a mouthful of corned beef sandwich. “You can
suffer with us.”
“You don’t like Potions?” Lizzie said. “I find it utterly fascinating.”
“It’s not so much the subject as it is the instructor.” Ginny filled in their
new friend. “Snape is a hard ass.”
Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice letting out an explosive cough. “Oh, my
goodness!” She wheezed. “I’m so sorry!” Lizzie was wiping spittle off her face
with a bemused expression.
“Scourgify!” the blonde said calmly, watching the juice disappear from the
table top.
“You all right?” Harry patted her on her back and Hermione waved him off,
assuring him she was.
“Tough teacher?” Lizzie eyed Hermione with a continued hunch.
Hermione attempted to clear her throat, eyes streaming. “Tough, but good. He
knows his subject.”
It was Ron’s turned to choke. “What?”
“You know what, Ronald?” Hermione demanded seriously, finally regaining her
composure. “I think we owe Snape the benefit of the doubt this year. After all,
he did save our sorry arses last year!” Her eyes blazed with defiance and Ron
shrank at her reproachful glare.
Lizzie watched the exchange with a bemused expression. Hermione was being
awfully protective and defensive.
“Well, I never –” Ron started, but Harry interrupted.
“Hermione’s right, Ron.” He stated simply. “We do owe Snape a lot, let’s give
him a fresh start. After all, he did agree to allow us to continue with our
N.E.W.T.s even though we only got E’s on our O.W.L.s.” Ron looked properly
abashed.
“Okay, okay!” He muttered.
===============================================================================

                                        
“Open your books to chapter sixteen,” Snape snarled. Lizzie was thus far not
disappointed with the performance she had been promised. She almost burst out
laughing when Snape had barged into the dungeon class room, frock coat and
robes billowing behind him like the bat everyone described. She attempted to
exchange a look with Hermione, but the girl had her chin in her palm. Her other
hand holding open their Advanced Potion Making book to chapter sixteen. She
quickly hastened to get hers to the same page, watching her new friend’s dreamy
face out of the corner of her eye.
“It appears we have a new student joining us this year.” Snape looked the
pretty, beach blonde Barbie doll up and down. “Miss Williams, I hope you can
keep….up.” His insinuation of her inferior intelligence would have been
insulting enough to make her stand up for herself – if she hadn’t been
forewarned about him.
Instead, she thought it would be fun to take his obvious bate. She rolled her
eyes. “I’m sure I can sir, I looked over this book the weeks prior to term
starting. Most of it I have already studied.” The silence that rang through the
dungeon was stifling. A pretty, blond boy across the way looked absolutely
stunned. Green tie. Slytherin.She noted.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Miss Williams?” Snape’s voice was
dangerous, and Hermione reached out to place her hand over Lizzie’s and shook
her head imperceptibly.
“Yes, sir. I apologize for that, it was an automatic reaction,” she stated
sweetly, smiling brightly. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Snape blinked,
momentarily put off his game. As his reputation usually proceeded him, he had
never actually had a student tease him before. He bit the inside of his cheek
to keep from laughing. It was certainly shaping up to be an interesting year.
“Ten-points from Hufflepuff, Miss Williams, for your snarky cheek.” He
succeeded in keeping his face like stone. “Detention on Friday. I will let
Professor Sprout know to expect you.” Lizzie’s eyes widened with startled
surprise.
Uh-huh,Snape mused to himself. My reputation did proceed me. She just likes a
challenge. Oh, my. I can see why Hermione finds him…alluring. So authoritative,
domineering. He’s kinda sexy. That profile is awfully chiseled, the nose is
quite regal, even if a bit big…broad shoulders, tall. It works…if you’re into
the older man, anyhow.“Yes sir. I truly am sorry sir,” she replied with honest
frankness. This seemed to throw him off and a smirk tugged at his lip.
He studied her with feigned indifference for a moment. Was she checking him
out? “Your apology is duly noted, Miss Williams.” He nodded and began his
lecture by tapping the blackboard with his wand. A list of ingredients and
directions for a Calming Draft appeared in neat, slanting lines. Out of the
corner of Lizzie’s eye, she saw Hermione chewing on her bottom lip. Her big
brown eyes were full of surprise at Snape’s reaction. She looked at Lizzie,
mouth agape, as did many other student around the room; Harry and Ron even
turned in their seats to stare at her. “Miss Granger.” He refocused his
attention back to their two-person table. Lizzie turned her laugh into a cough
as she noticed all students in the room snap back to attention. “You are not to
help Miss Williams with this potion today, we shall see if her abilities can
back up her smart mouth,” he drawled lazily.
Hermione agreed. “Yes, sir.”
Lizzie did her best not to chortle at the complete look of submissive desire on
Hermione’s face. She had her number.
The class passed quietly. Lizzie was at a bit of a disadvantage due to not
having a partner to help ready supplies and not knowing where anything was in
the store room, but she hummed quietly to herself while persevering through the
potion. Hermione was looking utterly bored off her rocker. Because of this,
Lizzie assumed that she did not realize how longingly she was staring at the
oblivious man at the front of the classroom. “You’re practically swooning,
Hermione,” she whispered, trying to catch her attention. “Hmm?” Hermione’s eyes
were glazed over. Suddenly, she realized what Lizzie had said. She took in
Lizzie’s smirking face, startled. “What did you say?” She demanded in a hoarse
undertone.
“I know you heard me,” Lizzie muttered, trying not to grin manically at her.
“Pretty sure I know who your older man is.” Hermione whimpered in fright and
Lizzie’s smile vanished. “It’s okay,” she whispered, trying to reassure her new
friend. “Nothing to worry about. Secret’s safe.”
“The buzzing I’m hearing from your table is only assuring me that I will be
less than impressed with your potion, Miss William’s,” Snape snarled, not
looking up from his scroll work. “Ten minutes.” He addressed the entire class.
Lizzie didn’t flinch. She only needed two and the potion was clearing just as
described in the book. It would be perfect. Hermione had averted her attention
to reading the chapter to be covered in their next Potions class.
“Bring your labeled vials to the front.” Snape instructed in a bored voice when
time was up. When Lizzie handed her vial to him he noted the bubbly handwriting
on the label and did his best not to roll his eyes. “Well, Miss Williams,” he
drawled, arching an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’re not a lazy American idiot after
all.”
Lizzie grinned and thanked him, going to collect her things. The attractive
blond boy was waiting by her table, while Ron, Harry, and Hermione waited for
her at the door.
“Miss Granger, I would like you to stay after class.” Snape’s voice rose above
the clatter in the room. “We have some things to discuss.”
Lizzie was disappointed she would be unable to watch Snape and Hermione
interact, but her overt politeness had her nodding and greeting the Slytherin
boy instead. “Hello.” She smiled.
“Hi.” His tenor voice was as nice as the smile that didn’t quite reach his icy
grey eyes. His shoulder length white-blond hair was impeccably groomed, just
touching the tops of his shoulders. “I just wanted to take a moment to
introduce myself to the girl who almost got Snape to smile.” He reached out his
hand. “Draco Malfoy.”
She shook his hand, startled as a current surged through her fingers.
“Oi, Lizzie!” Ron called. “You coming?”
“I’ll catch up!” She called back, feeling guilty as a murderous look flooded
his face and he glared at the back of Draco’s head. Malfoy did not turn to look
at him.
“Will you walk with me?” Draco asked her politely. She hesitated for a moment,
he made her slightly uncomfortable, then acquiesced.  
“I suppose I could do that,” she agreed and followed him out of the classroom.
===============================================================================

                                        
“Yes, Professor?” Hermione asked as she approached his desk. She did not miss
the way Harry had to grab the back of Ron’s robes and steer him out after
Lizzie told them she’d see them later. She needed to warn Lizzie about Malfoy.
“It appears we will be spending some quality time together this year.” He told
her, not meeting her gaze. His tone sounded bored.
“That was my understanding as well,” she murmured quietly, trying to keep the
giddy twinge at bay.
He looked up to study her face. His breath caught in his throat when she met
his gaze, and then quickly averted her eyes. “All right then, my office Friday
at seven o’clock,” he said simply, dismissing her with a wave of his ink
stained fingers. Hermione hesitated. “Yes, Miss Granger?” Snape pushed back in
his chair this time, leaning back with interest while crossing his arms over
his chest.
“I wanted to apologize for what happened this summer, Professor,” she
whispered, unable to meet his dark gaze.
“What exactly do you think happened this summer, Miss Granger?” he retorted
coldly. Her eyes flew to his with noticeable surprise.
“Sir?” She had expected some sort of reaction from him. Over ten weeks she had
visited him in that wretched place. Granted, he’d been comatose for two and bed
ridden for another two, but she had gone at least three times per week. At
least. Usually it had been every other day. They had spent so many hours
together. Had discussed many things – perhaps not personal things – but
academic and school related, about the people who had been killed, about the
people who were injured. They had sat in comfortable silences, even. Just being
with him felt good, and she had figured it had been the same for him simply
because he had never asked her to stop coming. She had thought they were at
least…friends. This cold indifference he exuded was almost insulting after the
time they’d spent together in his hospital room.
“I have no idea what you are referring to, Miss Granger,” his voice was gruff
and impassive. “My summer was quite…boring. Nothing of significance or
importance occurred. Certainly nothing worth an apology.” His face was a mask
of ice and Hermione felt her heart sink. She had ruined the tenuous friendship
they had built by assaulting him in his hospital bed. Tears pricked hot in her
eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” she mumbled. Turning her face away.
Was she upset? He thought she would prefer he not bring up what happened this
summer. “I will see you Friday evening.” She exited the room without being
dismissed. He watched her go, a gnawing panic clawed his stomach. He rose and
was about to make after her before coming to his senses. He had to control is
urges to be with her, comfort her, touch her. He had to curb his craving for
her or there was no way he would make it through the academic year without
crossing a very clear line.
He threw himself back down in his chair, brooding. He could not pursue a
student. It was reckless to even think about it. He growled in frustration and
swiped up his quill, returning to his scroll work, doing his best to dismiss
her from his mind.
***** Chapter Seven *****
                                 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 Historytells 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
himabout 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’tmatter!” 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.
***** Chapter Eight *****
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for the kudos and comments! Please keep them coming!!
                                 Chapter_Eight
===============================================================================
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’spretty!” 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, heis 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.”
***** Chapter Nine *****
                                 Chapter_Nine
===============================================================================
Snape stood over the toilet, one hand resting on the shelf above while the
other aimed. He was looking up at the stone ceiling, the floor was freezing
under his long, slender feet. His mind was discombobulated. For a man who was
used to being in control, it was unusual for him to be in the situation he was
currently living. His nineteen-year-old student wanted to have a relationship
with him. That's what he gathered from their talk. It didn't seem like she just
wanted sex; she had mentioned his intellect and that she looked forward to
their conversations. She told him she liked being in the same room with him.
She was attracted to him – and she had to be – no one goes through that much
trouble and potential embarrassment to tell someone they just want to fuck. All
this coupled with the more than mind blowing coupling they had just experienced
– twice – made for the start of a pretty promising relationship…right? He shook
his cock of residual drops, flushed, and moved to wash his hands in the sink.
He let the water continue to run long after he finished drying his hands. They
would obviously have to keep this between themselves, but with the required
connection of his mentoring and their extra potion lessons, they could easily
see each other secretly through the end of the school year. Or until she gets
sick of me – because really that was more likely. It never even crossed his
mind that he would end it before she did. That seemed unlikely. She was
attractive (beautiful, really, in a wood sprite kind of way), intelligent,
kind, compassionate, vexing, fascinating, sexy (in a natural, unexperienced
sense), and the list continued. Not that he'd share these thoughts with her, he
just didn't think she really fancied him the way she thought she did. It was
most likely just a school girl infatuation she would outgrow. But did that mean
he couldn't enjoy himself for however long it lasted? He snorted. Fuck no.
He sighed and turned the sink off. Upon entering his bedchamber, he found her
dozing on the bed on her stomach. A pillow cushioned her head, obscuring half
her face, but what he could see was a soft smile on her petal lips and long,
dark lashes laying against creamy, freckled skin. She looked so…young. You
idiot, she is young. A child, really.
In the aftermath of their romp, her hair had become the unruly bushy mess of
curls he remembered of her early adolescents when she was all gangly and
awkward, and it made him feel protective of her, which made him feel
uncomfortable. He pushed the thought away while taking in the sleek curve of
her shoulders and the trail of beauty marks across one crest of a blade. He
could see a hint of her bosom beneath her rib cage. She wasn't a tiny girl, but
she was slender and feminine and soft. He liked that she didn't feel fragile
under his fingers the way some women could. The emerald green top sheet was
wrapped over her bum and waist, obscuring the jut of her hip and the padding of
her buttock, but one sleek limb was out, curled into the other hidden beneath
the bedding. Her toes were painted a shimmering silver and for some reason he
found that completely adorable.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and then reopened them, almost astounded to
find her still there, her back raising and lowering with deep, even breaths. He
took a seat by the fire to just watch her, trying to talk himself out of this
situation. Trying to let his morals win out over his attraction and fascination
with her. He would go to McGonagall, make up an excuse as to why he couldn't be
her advisor. Tell the girl this was a mistake. That they couldn't continue like
this. That he should have controlled the situation better. He wouldn't
apologize, that would be demeaning and cruel. She had wanted it as much as he
had. He continued to watch her, his eyes drifting over her slender back resting
on each nub of vertebrae he could see dimpling her spine. She shifted slightly
and rolled to her side, muttering something softly under her breath. He froze,
thinking she was awake, but she settled back in. Only now he had a much more
tantalizing view. He could see the top of the dark curls at her pubic bone and
one soft nipple of her breast. He felt himself stir and glanced down in his lap
in astonishment. He shook his head in attempt to clear his mind. He knew in
that moment he would not be ending this…whatever "this" was.
He rose and silently padded around the bed, slipping in behind her. He
encircled one arm around her, pulling the girl back into him. Unbelievably to
him, he was definitely growing hard again. He wasn't about to let it go to
waste. Not with a warm, willing witch in his bed.
===============================================================================
                                        
Lizzie watched Hermione carefully at the breakfast table the next morning
between tidbits of conversation with Ron and Harry and Ginny (well mostly Ron,
as Harry and Ginny seemed extra wrapped up in each other that morning). The
girl seemed to have a permanent smile glued on her face and a very dreamy look
in her eye. She seemed…different. Lizzie was sure something had happened with
Snape last night. Her suspicions were confirmed when she caught the brunette
gazing up at the staff table underneath lowered eyelashes.
Lizzie "accidently" dropped her spoon so she had a reason to look over her
shoulder and caught Snape looking back at Hermione. She dropped the spoon for
real a second time at the undiluted carnality of that gaze. Holy shit,
something did happen! She sat up straight and stared daggers into her friend
until Hermione realized she was looking at her. When she did, she sat up
straight and had the grace to look abashed. "Can I pop by your room after
Hufflepuff tryouts?" Lizzie questioned, the underlying intent obvious to
Hermione, who swallowed imperceptibly.
"Yes, of course. I thought we could go over that History of Magic essay due
next week together, anyway. I'd like to know what you learned about the Battle
of the Rocky Mountain Giants in 1492 at Ilvermorny."
The finesse of which Hermione covered their get together only made Lizzie more
suspicious, but Ron had stood and pulled a bag onto his shoulders. Then he
offered a hand to her. "We should go!" He smiled kindly at her and Lizzie
looked up with a grin of her own. She was looking forward to this date with
Ron.
"Yes!" she replied, but did not miss the opportunity to give Hermione a pointed
look. "I'll see you after try outs," she said firmly. Hermione only nodded,
that dreamy, faraway expression crossing her face again.
Lizzie turned her full attention to Ron as they made their way out of the Grand
Hall. They made pleasant exchanges about their evenings, carefully avoiding the
subject of her date with Draco. They quickly got around to the topic of their
relations and both enjoyed discussing their big families. As they walked out
onto the sunlit grounds, they fired questions back and forth asking how it felt
to be the oldest and (almost) youngest of such a large group. For Lizzie the
responsibility was crushing, for Ron the expectations were overwhelming. After
fifteen minutes or so of strolling hand in hand, exchanging familial war
stories, and laughing hysterically at each other, Ron pulled up short.
To Lizzie it felt like they were in the middle of nowhere, of course she could
see the castle, but there were no people around. The Black Lake sparkled far
off to her left. "What are we doing here?"
"This." Ron said excitedly, pulling the bag off his back. He opened it with a
flick of his wand and yards of string started to pour out of the bag. Another
quick incantation and a large, nylon owl flew out of the bag and soared into
the sky. Ron caught the string and, after pocketing his wand, he let it trail
through his fingers while digging into the bag and catching a spool.
"A kite!" Lizzie glowed at Ron with appreciation, and he gave her a goofy grin.
"I love it!"
"I borrowed it from Seamus." He pulled his wand out again and flicked it at the
bag from which a large blanket flew and fluttered itself perfectly on the
ground along with a picnic basket that held fresh fruit, cheese, crackers, and
a flask of pumpkin juice. "I thought we could fly the kite for a bit and then
have a snack."
Lizzie almost didn't know what to say. She was overwhelmed at the gesture. She
would have been happy just to wander around the grounds chattering. "I'd like
that." She gave him an answering smile and he held the spool out to her. The
owl above was twisting and dive bombing of its own accord. "What do I have to
do?"
"Just don't let it go, nudge the string if you want him to go one way or
another." He shrugged, looking very pleased with himself. "Otherwise he kinda
just does his own thing, but it's fun to watch."
He was fun to watch, and after a half hour of tossing the spool back and forth
and watching the bird soar around the sky, they decided to have a seat and rest
for a bit. Ron magicked the kite back into the bag and they settled onto the
blanket, sitting close together.
Ron poured her a glass of pumpkin juice. She took it with thanks and took a
swig. He filled a cup of his own and spread out the light snack. They picked up
their family conversation right where they left off. Ron told her about his
older brothers. Bill was a Gringotts curse breaker, Charlie a dragon trainer in
Romania. He slid over Percy with a statement of "works doing boring stuff at
the ministry." When he got to George and Fred, he paused for a moment and she
was startled to see mixed emotions in his eyes.
"My brother's own the joke shop in Diagon Alley – Weasely's Wizard Wheezes."
"Oh! I know that store! It's incredible!" Lizzie exclaimed.
"Yeah, it is." Ron nodded, a faraway look crossed his face. "My brother Fred
died in the war – one of the twins," he said after a long pause. Lizzie gasped
and covered his hand with her own, squeezing his fingers tight.
"I'm so sorry, Ron," she whispered, her eyes prickled with unshed tears for his
pain.
The redhead swallowed hard and met her eye briefly before turning away, his
cheeks going a bit pink. "It's just taking some getting used to." He was trying
to shrug it off. Lizzie squeezed his hand again.
"It will never truly go away," she murmured. "I'm sorry your family had to go
through that, I couldn't even begin to imagine. The closest death I've had in
my family was my Meme when I was twelve. I don't think children grieve the same
way adults do, so I don't feel it can compare."
"I loved my brother, and I miss him," Ron sighed. "I don't feel my grief
compares to George's though, or my mum and dad’s. I mean, losing a twin –
losing a son…so much worse, right?"
"Not worse." Lizzie scooted closer to him, aligning her hip to snug against his
own. He relaxed into her touch like it was a balm for his open wounds. "Just
different. Tell me about Fred."
Ron was surprised that talking about his big brother helped ease some of the
stiffness and pain in his chest. As the stories flowed, so did their laughter
at Fred and George's countless antics and shenanigans. Over an hour later, they
found themselves on their backs, as close to each other as they could get
without laying on top of one another, both laughing with tears pouring down
their cheeks. Between stories and laughter, they had munched on the picnic food
which was now mostly gone. Their conversation was easy and fun; the bantering
light and teasing. She was enjoying herself immensely. She didn't see it
coming, though, when he rolled onto his elbow at her side and stared at her
while she talked about the baby sister she had always wanted and didn't get
until she was almost sixteen. How her little sister felt more like a daughter
to her. She realized that he was staring at her with a bit of an awed
expression and was about to ask him to close his mouth because his expression
was reminding her of a stunned garden gnome, when he leaned over and planted a
kiss right on her mouth.
Lizzie's eyes flew open wide in shock. She wasn't used to anyone sneaking
something like this up on her. His mouth was firm, but gentle. His eyes were
closed. She let her eyes close and kissed him back tenderly. He brushed his
mouth against hers a few more times softly before running his tongue gently
over the seam of her mouth, asking for access. She kissed him back chastely and
pulled away with a small grin at his look of disappointment. "I'm having a
great time, Ron." She assured him, brushing a lock of ginger hair out of his
eyes.
He returned her smile hesitantly. "Me, too," he murmured and leaned to brush
his lips to hers once more. This time he kept the kiss chaste, which relieved
Lizzie of the burden of having to control the situation and she was able to
just enjoy his lips on hers. He pulled back after a few moments and grinned at
her, she laughed and pushed him away teasingly. He rolled into a tall kneel and
helped her sit up. "We should head back," he said softly. "I know you have to
get changed for your tryout and it's almost lunch time."
Lizzie nodded in response. "I really did have a great time, Ron. You British
wizards are awfully inventive with your dates being we're stuck on campus in
the middle of nowhere." She mentally berated herself for the comment when his
smile slipped a bit. Stupid! Poor guy doesn't need reminding I had another date
last night! She reached out and brushed his shoulder. "I'd like to do this
again. Real soon!"
This pulled his grin back into place and Lizzie relaxed. He was a good-looking
guy. He didn't have Draco's beauty, but he was sweet and endearing. He had a
face she could look at for years and not grow bored; it was expressive and full
of humor. Oh, he had made her laugh – her sides ached with it. She helped him
clean everything up and pack away their supplies in his magically expanded bag.
They walked hand in hand back to the castle and parted at the bottom of the
grand stairwell with one last, innocent kiss. Neither noticed the platinum
blond head who eyes were boring holes into Ron's back.
===============================================================================
Lizzie sat with her Hufflepuff friends at lunch that afternoon, needing to
distance herself from Ron and Hermione so she could concentrate on the task at
hand. She loved Quidditch more than any other sport on the planet and she'd be
damned if she didn't get on the team in one way or another. The Hufflepuff
Quidditch captain was a boy she hadn't had a chance to talk with much yet name
Zacharias Smith, all though Genny told her he was a right old git. She sighed
and pushed her plate away, her nerves were starting to get the best of her.
When lunch was done, she made her way out onto the pitch to find about two
dozen students trying out for the team. She donned her leathers as Smith
explained he would be starting tryouts with having them all demonstrate their
flying skills. Confident in hers, Lizzie dove and twisted and zoomed through
the air, utilizing the whole of the pitch to show off to her ability. After the
flying tryout, almost half the hopefuls were cut. Many of them left grumbling
while a few younger students sat on the far side of the pitch to watch the rest
of the tryout.
It was at this point Lizzie realized she had fans. Harry, Ron, and Ginny waved
at her from one of the stands, she smiled and waved back. As she was doing so,
she caught sight of silver hair a few stands down. Draco was leaning against
the bottom of the stand the Gryffindor's were in, arms crossed. Watching her
with raised eyebrows. She felt her heart thrum and a blush creep into her
cheeks. She grinned coyly at him and raised her hand to answer Smith's question
of who would be trying out for Seeker, giving her attention back to her would
be captain.
She and one other girl watched their captain expectantly, but Smith
looked Lizzie up and down a little too eagerly. "You're a great build for
Seeker!" He told her appreciatively. "Have you played on a team before?"
"Yes," she answered, pointedly telling him with her expression she was
unimpressed with the lewd way he was checking her out. "I was a Chaser on the
Horned Serpent team at Ilvermorny."
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Not Seeker?"
"No, I started there when I was fifteen and they had an established Seeker,"
she answered him regretfully. "They didn't even try out the position. I would
have been better. We lost the season because of that Seeker." She knew she was
boasting, but didn't care. She wanted this spot. "I knew I'd be leaving mid-
sixth-year, so they refused to allow me to play Seeker because they wanted to
keep their current one in top form." A few fellows gave her sidelong glances
while flicking their gazes between her and Smith and the other Seeker-hopeful,
who was giving Lizzie the stink eye.
He nodded. Impressed with her boldness. "Our last Seeker graduated year before
last and last year's Quidditch teams were a joke under the circumstances. All
right then." He shrugged and pulled the snitch out of the box. "Let's see what
you got." Before he even let it go, she was on her broom.
She caught the damn thing thirty seconds after he released it and heard a wolf-
whistle from the stands. Ginny, she thought with a grin. "I'll give it a head
start this time, no?" She winked at Smith, who was staring at her open-mouthed.
She watched the snitch flit around the field until it disappeared and then
kicked high above the stands to start searching for it. She caught sight of a
flick of gold after only about four minutes and dived it. It was a tricky
snitch and twinkled out of sight until she saw it back by the stand where her
friends and Draco were. She grinned at it menacingly and pummeled ahead. She
flew straight to the bleachers before diving and snaring the snitch out of the
air about three feet above Draco's head. She did not miss the heated look he
gave her as she pulled out of the dive with the snitch held high in her right
hand. The Gryffindor's and Hufflepuff's were cheering and grinning at her. The
other student who had been interested in trying out for Seeker was telling
Smith she'd prefer to try out for Chaser as Lizzie landed.
They wound up playing two short scrimmages while Smith watched from the ground
calling out suggestions and plays he wanted to see. She caught the snitch six
more time to tremulous cat calls and screaming from her friends. An hour later
he was announcing the team. "Herbert Fleet – Keeper, Samantha Ricket – Beater,
Maxine O'Flaherty – Beater, Sam Summers – Chaser, I'll be the last Chaser, and
Lizzie Williams – you're our new Seeker." There was muttering from some of the
Hufflepuff's who didn't make the cut, but mostly happy, celebratory sounds from
those who did.
After the first practice was settled on, Lizzie fell in with her new teammates
and started back towards the castle. She enjoyed their chattered excitement
over her abilities for a few moments. Then, giving thanks and praising them as
well, she purposely let herself fall behind. She wanted to be alone for a bit
and reflect on the tryout. She knew her Gryffindor friends had left before the
roster was settled. She remembered Ron telling her he and Harry had an
Astronomy assignment due Monday and that they wanted to get it out of the way
so they could relax on Sunday. She hadn't seen Draco near the end of tryouts
and figured he'd gotten bored and went back to the castle.
Which is why he was able to startle her when he fell into step beside her a
couple of minutes later. "Merlin, Draco!" She stopped short, covering her now
racing heart with one hand. "Announce yourself next time!"
He snorted and shook his head. "No, your reaction was much more fun."
She let out a short laugh and swatted at his shoulder. "Did you hear the
announcement of the team?" she inquired, giving him an excited smile.
"I didn't, but I can't imagine anyone else got Seeker." He cocked his head at
her, raising an eyebrow.
"You're right, no one did," she boasted, eyes sparkling with excitement. He
nodded, unsurprised.
"I never thought we'd have to watch out for the Hufflepuff team," he grimaced.
"But you're going to level the playing field a bit." The admission pleased her.
"You'd better watch yourself, Malfoy," she sneered with a laugh. "I'm gonna fly
circles around you. You won't catch the snitch playing Hufflepuff this year,"
she promised, winking.
The fire in her eyes and the way her teasing voice laced around him made the
blood rush in his ears and he invaded her personal space physically. He wrapped
his fingers around her hips and pulled her into him. She gasped at the contact
and looked up at him as the electricity of his touch sizzled through her body.
His eyes glinted like hot steel as his lips crashed down on hers. She felt the
broom slip out of her fingers as all her careful inhibitions evaporated. One of
his hands came up to grasp her chin and hold her in place while the other arm
slid around her tiny waist, dragging her even closer as his tongue delved past
her lips, set on exploring her mouth. She gave a startled whimper and opened
like a flower without even thinking twice. Her body pressed tightly to his of
its own accord. She matched the slide of his hot, wet tongue with her own, her
arms winding around his shoulders while her fingers tangled in the satiny hair
at the nape of his neck. She didn't know if it was seconds, or minutes, but he
was sucking her lower lip and then pulling away too soon.
"That is how I should have kissed you good night last night," he told her as he
released her, relishing her dazed expression and heaving breasts. "I'm not even
going to give you a chance to think about Weasley. I will be the only wizard on
your mind."
With those words, she watched him back away, face brimming with smug, confident
beauty. She stayed still until his back was turned to her, and slowly pressed
trembling fingers to her lips.
***** Chapter Ten *****
                                  Chapter_10
                                  October_1998
===============================================================================
Hermione Granger’s reprieve of mindless reviews evaporated within days after
the first week of term. All of a sudden, she and her friends found themselves
drowning in N.E.W.T. level work that was more intense then she remembered fifth
year O.W.L.’s being.
She, Harry, Ron, and Lizzie hunkered down together most evenings and Saturday
mornings in the library, fixedly completing their coursework for the classes
they shared: Advanced Transfiguration, Advanced Potions, Advanced Charms,
Defense Against the Dark Arts (which they were breezing through, undoubtedly)
and Herbology.
The addition of Lizzie to their group was natural and easy. While Hermione,
Harry, and Ron were connected in a way that most people might find
uncomfortable, Lizzie did not seem to mind. She never questioned their private
looks or the way they could talk to each other without saying anything. If any
of it made her feel unincluded, she never said and never acted like it. For the
first time in her life, Hermione felt like she had a true best girlfriend. Not
to belittle her friendship with Ginny, but for the most part Ginny had her own
girlfriends at school. It had just always been easy for Hermione and Ginny to
fall together when Harry was such a big part of both their lives; they got
along well.
Hermione found the way Ron acted around Lizzie to be cute and endearing. He was
kind to her, they didn’t fight like she and Ron always had (and still did, if
she was being honest). They had a lot in common with Quidditch and family life,
and viewed day to day existence with the same easy go-with-the-flow mentality.
Hermione wondered, though, how deep their feelings ran. At least how deep
Lizzie’s did. Most of the time they acted like a brother and sister who were
close. They easily touched each other on the hand or the arm. Ron would plop
his arm along the back of her chair and Lizzie would sit close enough that
their hips were touching. They talked with and teased one another, but it
seemed to Hermione something was missing. She couldn’t quite put her finger on
it.
Her Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes were beyond brutal, often having
hundreds of pages a week to read between the two and multiple discussion topics
to prepare for each class. She was grateful to have the brilliant Miss Williams
in both of these classes – and as Lizzie was still involved with Draco Malfoy –
he started to tentatively tag along with the girls to study a few weeks into
term as he was also in these courses.
Hermione found herself pleasantly surprised with the personality changes in
Malfoy. While he still had a sharp tongue, and she would never have
affectionate feelings for him regarding friendship, his intelligence impressed
her. It was something she had never witnessed in the past. One afternoon in his
presence was remembered with chagrined pleasure. The three of them battled over
their current Runes essay for over two hours. His opposite view to hers (while
Lizzie played devil’s advocate and spurred them on) of the parallels of the
Egyptian alchemy text they were translating and interpreting left her irritated
and feeling a bit barmy – but in the end, she had to relent that he had made
excellent points on his debate. The look on his face when she told him so was
pricelessly comical. Lizzie’s secret smile of pleasure at the two of them
getting along was not missed by the curly haired brunette.
The other thing that astonished Hermione about Malfoy was the fact he was good
to her new friend. Even though she was of Muggle birth, the derogatory word he
had so easily spat at her in their younger years were never uttered. The
sincerity in his pursuit was obvious – to her anyway. He held open doors and
pulled out chairs; they held intelligent conversations in her presence that
occasionally crackled with an animalistic energy that made her feel like an
imposing third wheel. She never saw them touch, though, and he never kissed her
in Hermione’s presence.
Her abridgment of the situation was that while Lizzie was comfortable and
relaxed with Ron, she and Malfoy always seemed to be on the edge of their seats
while a rumble of thunder and shock of lightening sizzled under them both.
Hermione was unsure how to feel about this, and as the weeks started to blend
together and the Indian summer of September gave way to the blustering winds of
October’s fall, she was starting to get nervous for the girl. On the surface,
Lizzie seemed to be unable to decide which of the boys she needed to let down.
Hermione wished with all her heart the girl would choose Ron, she couldn’t help
but feel Malfoy was the better match for her. Lizzie never did ask her opinion
and she was reluctant to give it uninvited.
===============================================================================
Lizzie William’s thought Ron Weasley was a gem. She was growing more and more
fond of him as the weeks started to swirl by in a blur of essays, quizzes, and
Quidditch and choir practices. He was funny and sweet and never tried to
overstep the boundaries she had put in place to protect her reputation. He was
attentive to her, but if she was being honest with herself, she realized she
was coming to regard him as a lovely friend borderline brother figure. The way
he, Harry, and Hermione acted as siblings seemed to envelop Lizzie as their
relationships willingly and lovingly grew. When Ginny was with them, she and
Ron fell in with Hermione as Harry always absorbed himself in the redhead’s
presence.
They had a few stolen moments and innocent kisses. He made her feel valued and
respected, but she wondered if the fact that she and Ron were very rarely alone
was the culprit of the non-existent romantic feelings towards him, or if they
didn’t seek out being alone because they both knew there was really no point in
trying to develop a romance. The thing that worried Lizzie the most is how
Hermione would react if she chose Draco over Ron. Her new friendship with the
girl was more important to Lizzie then she had anticipated.
Lizzie was more than a little impressed with Hermione and she started to think
of her as the big sister she had always wanted. The Gryffindor was an amazing
confidant. She was supportive and encouraging without being over bearing or
suffocating. She was accommodating and, if her acceptance of Draco was any
indication, an all-around good-hearted person.
She was kind to Draco, which Lizzie hadn’t been hopeful for given their
history. And yes, she knew their history. Both sides of it. Turns out once you
got Draco Malfoy talking about the Golden Trio, he couldn’t seem to stop. He
went through their interactions of their early years and Lizzie was quite
horrified the boy she was growing more and more fond of used to be such a
prick. Enough so that Lizzie was touched that Hermione gave him the time of
day; she realized the brunette only did so out of friendship to Lizzie. Draco
seemed to know his past misdeeds, though, and while he made no excuses for his
previous behaviors, he was stiffly cordial with Hermione.
As his stories grew more intense, Lizzie began to feel bad for the very mislead
Draco Malfoy. Even if he didn’t come outright and say it, he had been raised to
believe one thing, observed and felt differently about it, but had been scared
of disappointing his lineage. Eventually he was forced into a belief system he
wasn’t sure about under extreme duress. But he was questioning it and analyzing
it. Lizzie was fascinated with his desire to be his own person, and a better
one.
And really – hadn’t they all been scared? Lizzie had only spent a few months in
England while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was alive, and she had been terrified!
Draco had lived with the lunatic. She couldn’t wrap her head around it…he LIVED
with You-Know-Who. He never would go into detail, skating over what she guessed
was the darkest moments of his life. In the end, he had just tried to survive.
He had done what he had to do. Fear was a terrible motivator.
Lizzie continued to keep her guard up around Draco, she wasn’t about to ignore
all the warnings she received from Hermione and Ginny, and even a few words of
caution from Harry Potter, himself
.However, she couldn’t deny her physical attraction to him was electrifying.
She seemed to be hyper-aware of him whenever he was in her vicinity. They
didn’t seem to have much in common outside of their love of flying and
Quidditch, but this did not stop them from hours of heated discussions and
debates. He pushed her intellectually and challenged who she was as a person.
They had sweet moments, too. Sitting hidden in outskirts of the trees at the
edge of the Forbidden Forest, tucked into a stand on the Quidditch pitch, or
sprawled out at a table in a unseen corner of the library; he would hold her
hand, or tuck her against him. While they shared more kisses, she forced
herself to keep a level head and kept them chaste even though she craved more
like the one he had bestowed upon her after her tryout.
He didn’t push her on this; sometimes she wondered if he was just respecting
her earlier request of being a gentleman while she dated both boys and
sometimes she wondered if he had decided he didn’t want her that way. Then she
would tell herself she was being ridiculous, because why would he continue to
see her if he didn’t want to? He had to feel the magnetism between them, too,
right? While she never sat with Draco for meals or classes, and they kept their
relationship quiet and semi-private, she would feel him watching her and often
found herself studying him when he wasn’t looking. He seemed to have two close
friends – Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Both were fellow Slytherin’s. He
didn’t deign to introduce her, tell her he would at a later time and warning
her that both boys were set in what he called “the old ways.” Lizzie felt that
this probably meant they wouldn’t approve of her parentage.
Lizzie was drawn to Draco on a level that dwarfed her feelings with Ron, but
she continued to worry that choosing Draco over Ron would mean losing Hermione
as a friend. She wasn’t sure she was willing to compromise a friendship she was
coming to covet significantly.
===============================================================================
Ron Weasley was in love. Head over heels, ass over teakettle in love. Lizzie
was the epitome of perfection. She was kind, hilarious, liked to eat, loved
Quidditch as much as he did, and was drop dead gorgeous. The best part of her
was how easily she fit in with his friends. He didn’t have to sacrifice any
time with them to be with her.
He was feeling confident that she was going to choose him, but it still made
him a bit perturbed that she was still spending time with Malfoy. He’d never
understand what she could see in him. He avoided the subject completely with
her. He had tried to get Hermione to help him, but she had refused to discuss
it with him, saying she would not come between two friends. If he wanted Lizzie
to make a choice, he was going to have to be the one to ask for it. Maybe tell
her she needed to decide by the Halloween feast?
===============================================================================
Draco Malfoy was frustrated and tired of waiting. Lizzie Williams was the most
beguiling witch he’d ever met in his life. He had done what he promised himself
he wouldn’t – he had waited for her. Something he was getting piles of slack
for from Zabini and Nott. And he had to be honest with himself, if it had been
any other witch in this blasted school he would have told her sayonara weeks
ago. As it was, she had him spending time with fucking Hermione fucking
Granger. Bugger all if he wasn’t enjoying himself, either.
If he was truthful, he liked Granger. She was a total swot, but when it came
down to it, he knew he had no right to even sit in the same room as the girl.
Not after watching his crazy aunt torture her and doing nothing to try and help
her.
He couldn’t believe Lizzie hadn’t walked away from him the second he had the
nerve to tell her that particular tid-bit of information, but he was grateful
she hadn’t. The American witch was a balm on his raw psyche. The more he got to
know her, the better he felt about the world in general. She listened without
judging; she was the only person he knew that was like that. She paid attention
to him, evaluated what he told her, asked what he had learned from his
experiences or their talks and pulled out of him what he wished he had done
differently. Then she told him to forgive himself. He was slowly coming to
terms with the evil path that had been forced on him and she was helping him
move forward.
The only thing about their relationship that could have been better was getting
rid of Weasley. Why she was still seeing the dolt when he was positive she felt
the same pull he did was beyond him and his patience was running out. Perhaps
it was time to outright ask her to choose.
***** Chapter Eleven *****
Chapter Notes
     Still thankful for the Kudos and Comments! Would love to see more
     comments! Let me know what you're thinking!
                                  Chapter_11
                                 October_1998
===============================================================================
Minerva McGonagall couldn’t remember a time since she met Severus Snape where
the man had been anything less than serious and dour. That being said, she was
positive something was going on. They often were the first in the staff room in
the early mornings, especially after the last year. While they never spoke
about it, she was certain he suffered from the same nighttime awakenings she
did, dawn was always a relief. Her hawk-like eyes watched him as he made a
morning cup of tea. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he’d met a
woman. She stifled an uncharacteristic chuckle at this observation, Snape with
some women seemed ... well it seemed out of character. All though she was sure
there had been at least a few in his life. At some point. Maybe.
“Good morning, Headmistress.” Snape nodded as he settled across the table from
her, flicking the paper open with a delicate twitch of his writs.
“Good morning, Severus,” McGonagall answered. Snape did not miss the
questioning infliction in her tone. He groaned inwardly.
“Yes, Minerva?” He asked her.
“Why, Severus. I said nothing.”
“Minerva, your tone said everything,” he stated dryly. “You have a question for
me?”
“Well, more of an observation, really.” McGonagall wasn’t one to beat around
the proverbial bush. The brooding man before her just raised an arched ebony
brow inquisitively. “Well, my boy, there’s really no preamble for my question,
so I’ll just come out and say it. Are you seeing someone?”
If he had been surprised by her question, she couldn’t tell. His expression did
not change from the bored curiosity with her highly personal question. “I am
not,” he clipped. “Why in the world would you ask such a foolish thing?” Inside
his mind was reeling. What had he done to prompt such an inquiry?
“You just seem…lighter as of late.” She cocked her head and Snape snapped the
paper into place again, schooling his features into a mask of stone. “Dare I
say you appear happy?”
Snape pushed aside the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He bloody well was
happy, but he didn’t need her commenting on it. “Minerva, I mean this in the
most inoffensive way possible. Please mind your own business. If anything has
changed in my personal life, I will bring it to your attention only if it will
affect my work.”
McGonagall hid her smile with her coffee cup. His dismissal just made her all
the more certain. “As you wish, Severus.”
===============================================================================
Severus Snape knew she would be here any moment for their Friday appointment.
She was frequently over a half an hour early on their meetings nights. After a
few weeks of this, he had asked her why she kept coming so early when she knew
he would have work to finish before they could get started. “I like to be in
the same room as you,” she had answered sweetly, like it was the most obvious
thing in the world. She was often saying things like this and it continued to
make him squirm.
The last seven weeks had been some of the most pleasant of his life. Pessimist
as he was, though, he was sure the other boot was going to drop any second.
She’d get sick of him or realize he was an unattractive old man with little to
offer her. He breathed a quiet sigh and glanced at his time piece: 6:20. He
turned his attentions back to his marking.
After only two weeks, they increased her extra potion lessons to two nights per
week, and started them an hour earlier than originally planned; both realizing
one evening a week would never suffice. The routine they had effortlessly
established became the paramount of his existence. They performed the
perfunctory tasks of maintaining her schedule and having her extra lesson, but
by nine-thirty they were done with the obligations and could move to more
pungent tasks. And it wasn’t always sex – which had surprised him.
He found Hermione to be more intellectually enticing then he first realized,
which he would have never thought possible. He had always known she was more
than intelligent, but when he truly grasped her ability to dissect and
comprehend the intricacies of potion making, he was elated. Because of this, he
probably unintentionally added mountains of work to her already overflowing
goblet, but she had yet to complain. He would shower her with journal articles
to read and set problems to her that were difficult for even some of his peers.
While she struggled occasionally, with a little of his guidance and a few well-
placed questions, she would always find the correct answers, sometimes coming
up with scenarios he, himself, hadn’t considered.
Sometimes they would work on the extra tasks he set for her. Sometimes they
would stretch out on the davenport in his office in front of a blazing fire; he
in the corner with her on her back, head propped against his thigh. She liked
it when he read aloud to her, which he found amusing. When asked why, she told
him his voice was sexy and soothing and helped keep her mind calm. Many times,
however, they would end up in bed. A tangle of naked limbs and exploring hands
and mouths. The more time he spent with her, the more he began to realize it
was not enough.
He smirked to himself when he heard the door click and lock behind her.
Finishing a nasty note on first year theory essay, he looked up. Expecting her
to smile at him and make her way to her usual seat to wait him out, his heart
jumped into his throat at the sight of her. She looked terrible. Her hair,
which she had become much more adept at taming, would quite literally do Medusa
proud. It was a nightmare which she was currently trying to shove into a messy
bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were blood shot and dark circles had
formed beneath them. He had just seen her in class yesterday morning, how could
she deteriorate this quickly? When they finally made eye contact, she tried to
give him a brave smile, but a single tear tumbled down her face. He was on his
feet and across the room in moments.
“Hermione!” He exclaimed, pulling her overburdened book bag off her shoulders.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m being silly.” She tried to brush it off, but her breath started coming in
short gasps and another tear slipped down her cheek.
“Tell me.” He insisted, guiding her to a chair. He sat her down, pulling
another up for himself.
“I -” But she couldn’t seem to choke out anything more. She was clutching a
hand at her chest while the other massaged her temple. Her body started to
tremble, he realized in that moment she was having a panic attack.
“Hey.” He cupped her face, smoothing the tears away, trying to calm her down.
Without any warning, she was frantically grasping the front of his frock coat,
struggling to suck in broken gulps of air. Foregoing any pretense, he crushed
her to him in a tight embrace and started rubbing firm, soothing circles
between her shoulder blades. “Just get it out, you’re okay.” He kept his voice
low and calm even while his own heart thudded at her distress. He continued to
stroke her back, pressing kisses to her temple while promising she was safe. It
felt like hours, but was more like minutes, when her breathing finally evened
out enough that she could relax against him, methodically pulling slow, steady
breaths in through her nose. When she was finally still, he grasped her
shoulders and pushed her back to look at her.
“You’re all right?”
“Better now,” she answered, she looked drugged.
He frowned. “Does that happen often?”
“Not as much recently, I struggled with them a lot through the summer,” she
answered dismissively. “They’ve been better since I’ve been here.”
“What caused this one?”
She averted his gaze, uncomfortable, and shrugged.
“Hermione…” he warned
Her eyes flashed to his and away again. “It’s really nothing. I’m just feeling
a bit overwhelmed with school work and Head Girl duties.” She was trying to
brush it off. He narrowed his eyes.
“Try again,” he snapped. Her shoulders slumped.
“I had a nightmare last night. Please, don’t make me talk about it.” Her eyes
were haunted, and he swallowed a lump in his throat at her pain.
She lithely slipped out of her chair and straddled his lap, sinking into him
without being pulled forward. She rested her cheek against his heart and curled
her fingers into his chest. Not knowing what else to do, he just held her. He
held her and listened as her breathing became deep and even. Held her as her
heat radiated through him. Held her and knew he was lost. He had never felt so
protective of anyone in his life. After a long while she stirred and pulled
back from him.
“Thank you,” she said, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. The fire of the
simple gesture crackled to his groin.
“What, may I ask, have I done to deserve thanks?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Just by being you.” It was another one of those uncomfortable truths, he
brushed it off with a gentle half smirk.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Now, how about I get you a draft of Tranquility
Drought and Dreamless Sleep and escort you back to your chambers. I think you
need a night off and an early bedtime. Up!” He made to help her out of his lap,
but she turned large doe eyes on him – looking at him like he was mad.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t need an early night, I just need you.”
He closed his eyes to hide his soul. Her words sliced through him like a wand
through the air. He was still struggling to believe his luck – this perfect,
angelic girl wanted him when she was upset. He felt a soft thumb on his cheek
and opened his eyes to find her just about to rest her forehead against his.
She kissed his nose tenderly and then angled her head to press her lips gently
to his, her fingers grazing over his stubbled jaw. He allowed her to control
the kiss and was surprised to find her leaving his mouth to flutter soft
caresses over his chin and cheeks and back to his lips again, where she slid
her inquisitive tongue over them, asking him to open for her. He did with no
hesitation. A deep sigh of pleasure whooshed through her nose and feathered
over his face while her voice hummed in her throat.
He became an active participant then, running his tongue across hers warmly,
sucking her pink muscle to his as the passion between them grew. It felt
different tonight, though. Not frenzied or hurried, but heavy and methodical.
In a show of his impressive strength, he gripped her bum firmly in his hands
and walked with her wrapped around him until they entered his bedroom. After
warding the doors and starting the fire, they took their time undressing each
other. Languidly exploring every surface of each other’s bodies with their
hands as garments dropped to puddles on the floor; never breaking their heated
melding of mouths.
He carefully urged her into the bed and sank them back into the welcoming
pillows and blankets, sliding one knee between her thighs, coaxing her to open
for him. She bloomed willingly and beautifully, continuing to engage him in
long, deep, sensuous kisses. He slid into her slowly, parting her slick folds
with utmost care.
“Ahh,” she breathed, her mouth pulling away from his briefly as the sensation
of their connection overtook her. “Severus,” she whispered, before finding his
hot orifice with hers again. He felt like he was being scorched by the sun,
waves of heat radiated off her and surrounded him in a chrysalis of
unfathomable emotion and buzzing wonder. He stayed deep within her hot box,
grinding his hips into hers. Relishing the closeness of their bodies. Sweat
trickle down his temple and dripped from the tip of his nose, and still he kept
his efforts agonizingly slow and deliberate.
Hermione writhed beneath him, barmy with the passionate bond she was
experiencing. Her breasts were pressed into his chest, the hair there teasing
her nipples. Severus filled her again and again with deep, expansive pressure
and feeling.
Their copulation lasted much longer then she was used to. He was taking his
sweet, precious time. She had been building for what felt like hours and her
body ached with the need to release its desire. When perspiration clung to
every inch of her skin and she thought there was no way she could continue
without losing her mind, he increased the pace just enough to throw her blindly
off the tallest cliff she had ever climbed. “Oh, Serverus,” she breathed, her
breath hitching as her orgasm rolled over her like heatwaves from a pyroclastic
lava flow. They started in her core and erupted through her being, the tight
rupture of the muscles of her inner walls coaxing him to climax with her. He
whispered her name in turn and she felt as if she were glowing with her
affection for him. His seed poured into her in droves and her body welcomed the
life-giving infusion.
When the spasms of their culmination subsided, he rolled to his back, taking
her with him to preserve their joining. Her body lay limp as rag doll over him,
her cheek pressed against his thundering heart. His hands traced trails of
warmth down her spine. She felt safe, and content, and cherished. They must
have dozed like that for a while, for when she woke the fire in the grate was
burning low. She lifted her head from his rib cage with reluctance before
dropping a few delicate kisses through his chest hair. This woke him with a
small rumble of pleasure. She tilted her face to his and kissed him warmly
before slowly rolling off him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His sleep laden voice protested, as his
hands automatically reached for her, trying to pull her back.
“I should get back to my room,” she whispered.
“Oh.” One eye peeked open to take in her upturned nose and freckles. Her wild
hair illuminated with the back drop of the brazier while she stared at him
sleepily. He wanted her to stay, his bed felt cold and empty when she left. He
watched her with regret as she leaned over the side of the mattress to pick her
clothing off the floor. He knew that if he just spoke the words aloud she
would.
He didn’t though, fearful of being wrong and sounding like a besotted swot if
she said no. Instead he pulled himself out of bed and dragged his trousers on
so he could walk her to his door. She turned to him with eyes full of glowing
heat. She whispered her goodnight as she stretched up on her toes to give him a
final kiss. She turned to slip out the door, but he caught her hand, pulling
her back.
“Come back tomorrow night, make an excuse.” He all but begged her, dropping yet
another kiss on her swollen mouth. She pulled back in surprise and searched his
face, a lovely smirk curving her pretty lips.
“I’ll figure it out, it may have to be later, though.” He muttered his
agreement and continued to kiss her. She backed away a few moments later with a
breathy laugh. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, brushing a lock of dark hair out of
his eyes with ink-covered finger tips. He let her go reluctantly and watched
her until she disappeared around the bend. Returning to his chambers, he sunk
on the bed. He was in far too deep.
***** Chapter Twelve *****
                                   Chapter 12
                                 October 1998
===============================================================================
Lizzie didn't know what to do. Both boys had asked her to make a decision, and
she really couldn't blame them. If roles had been reversed, she would have
never waited around as long as these two extremely different boys had.
She had a pro-con list a mile long. Both of them peppered with positives and
only a few negatives. She wanted to talk to Hermione about her struggle, but
felt her friend would be very biased when it came to Ron and was positive she
would point the blonde in that specific direction.
She sighed deeply and covered her face with both hands, elbows plopping down on
the desk at the end of her four-poster bed. "Fuuck," she groaned after another
minute, throwing down her quill.
"What's up, Lizzie?" Susan Bones startled her and she jumped, whirling to look
at her as she entered the dormitory. The cute redhead stopped and looked at the
pretty blonde for a moment. "Boys." She decided when the girl didn't respond,
and summoned a chair to pull up next to Lizzie.
"Yeah," Lizzie groaned. "I have to choose, Susan. I've let this go on too long,
but…" She trailed off, looking desperate.
"I don't know how you think it's much of a choice." Susan looked at Lizzie with
wide green eyes. "I mean, Ron Weasley is…" She stopped herself, looking
horrified.
Lizzie didn't notice, too caught up in her own personal torment. "Ron is
wonderful," she agreed whole heartedly. "He's sweet, and cute, and so, so
funny. I never stop laughing when I'm with him. And I love his friends."
Susan watched the girls' profile glumly.Go figure. The most beautiful witch at
this school likes Ron. All you have to do is look at him to see he's nuts about
her, too. I'll never get a chance.With ever the kind heart, Susan reached out
and covered Lizzie's small, still tanned hand with her creamy freckled one.
"He's lucky to have met you," she whispered, holding back her sadness. "You're
so lovely. Ron has been so through so much." She patted the American's hand.
Lizzie turned her hand over and squeezed Susan's fingers. "You're the
sweetest," she told the Hufflepuff girl. "Draco, though…" Her words petered out
again, another mournful sigh leaving her pouty lips.
"Malfoy is a rotten git and doesn't deserve your attentions," Susan said
harshly, standing.
A wave a fury swept over Lizzie, and she almost retaliated harshly. She caught
herself in time and reigned it in. "I know his past hasn't been the best - "
"Hasn't been the best!" Susan scoffed, flipping her flaming mane. "His lot have
basically left me a family-less orphan. I have no sympathy for him."
Lizzie bit her tongue and Susan continued, pointing a finger at the blonde
accusingly. "You'd be daft not to choose Ron Weasley. Draco will do nothing but
break your heart in the end. No one changes that much."
That brought Lizzie up short. Forcing down her last bit of anger, she realized
her friend was just trying to protect her. Maybe Susan was right, Draco was
dangerous. He had admitted his past to her himself. She knew some of the
terrible things he had done. Does a Nundu change its spots? No. Holy hell.
But…oh, God that kiss.Whenever she thought about that damn panty-wetting kiss,
her insides melted like igneous rock at the center of the Earth.
"Thank you, Susan," she murmured after a moment. "I value your opinion very
much."
Susan's defensive stance deflated quickly. "I'm sorry, Lizzie," she mumbled
kindly. "I know this has been eating you up, I see it in your face. You're
obviously seeing a side to Malfoy no one else does. I just wouldn't trust him
any farther than I could throw him – without a wand."
Lizzie snorted. She understood, and Susan wasn't the first one to say something
like this to her. The girl had every reason in the world to mistrust and
despise Draco. "You're probably right," she admitted reluctantly, turning back
to her list. She felt Susan pat her shoulder before crossing the room to rustle
something out of her trunk.
"See you at dinner?" she asked, just before she left the room. Lizzie nodded.
She didn't have much time left, she was meeting Draco tonight, and told Ron she
would tell him the next morning what her choice was. She either needed to break
it off with Draco tonight or Ron in the morning. Neither prospect excited her
over much.
===============================================================================
"Come off it, Malfoy." Theodore Nott sneered. "What are you doing with that
trumped up little blonde Mudblood anyway?"
Draco gritted his teeth, he was tired of having this conversation with his
friends. And, fuck, he hated that word. Impossible to get his asshole friends
to stop using it, though. The fact that Lizzie still hadn't stopped seeing
Weasley was very apparent to all his Slytherin classmates. It was getting to
the point where it was almost pointless to defend the girl anymore, but damned
if he was going to let Nott get away with being an arse.
"Fuck off, Nott," he growled, shoving his hands through his recently chopped
hair. He had noticed that morning after he was done in the shower how much he
was starting to resemble his father. It had bothered him immensely, so he'd
made use of the Hogsmeade day and stopped at the salon. He was practically
bald, now. Well, not that bad, it was buzzed up the sides and back and he'd
left it longer on top. The witch who had cut it had done a decent job and
talked him into a styling paste concoction he couldn't remember the name of so
he could style it back. He thought it made him look older and nothing like his
father.
"Draco," Zabini berated. "I mean, I know she's a seriously hot piece of ass.
Everyone knows you're not fucking her, though. Weasley has made it clear she's
only 'getting to know you' both before she decides who she wants to date
seriously."
"She's making you look like a fool," Nott sniggered. "You're letting her make
you look weak."
Something inside Draco snapped and he growled at his friends. "She's going to
make her decision tonight," he boasted. "When I'm done with her, everyone will
know she's mine."
"How are you planning on doing that?" Zabini demanded doubtfully.
"I'm going to give her a reason to not walk away," Draco said evasively.
===============================================================================
"Draco!" Lizzie protested, giggling while she pulled her face away from him.
She felt breathless and dizzy. His kisses, while remaining chaste and kind,
were coming frequently tonight. She was overwhelmed and very close to breaking
the promises she had made herself.
"C'mon, Lizzie," Draco muttered against her lips with a grin. He slid his hands
down her back while he pressed her into the wall of the alcove he had warded
off for privacy. "It's been weeks. I know you feel this, too. I know you do."
His mouth pressed against hers again, tongue sliding out to caress the seam of
her lips while he palmed her back just above the swell of her bum. Lizzie
gasped, and Draco took the opportunity to pillage her mouth the way he'd been
dying to since he left her standing breathless just off the pitch after her
tryout.
They both groaned together as their tongues swirled around each other. Lizzie's
heart fluttered into her throat, making it hard to breathe. His body backed her
even more tightly into the stone wall, the torch above them making their
shadows dance like moths caught in a lantern. He felt her give in to him as he
explored her mouth with his probing muscle, sweeping the roof of her molten maw
before pulling back and sucking on her bottom lip. She sighed and wrapped her
arms around his back, dragging her nails up his spine. He growled at her
unshielded response and hitched one of her knees up around his hip and ground
his pelvis into her, delighting at her sigh of pleasure.
He trailed an inferno of sizzling open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and suckled
on the sensitive nub of her neck just below her left ear, nipping her pulse.
"Uh," she whimpered, tilting her hips into his. Her mind was scrambled, trying
to figure out what she had been going to tell him. "Draco, you have to stop."
It was said without any real conviction as she pressed kisses into his
shoulder. I can't think!
He was suckling at her collar bone now, his groin grinding into hers
provocatively. She was losing her mind. He either didn't hear her or chose not
to respond due to her lack of persuasion. His head shot up again and he
attacked her lips with new vigor. "Dra-mmph…" She panted, scoring her nails
into his hair. He needed to stop ... but she didn't want him to … but he needed
to. She ripped her mouth away from his, sucking in air as if she had been about
to drown, trying to collect herself. He moved his ravenous attention to her
earlobe, nipping the sensitive tissue with his teeth. Pull it together,
Elizabeth!
"Stop, Draco," she said, forcefully, finding her mind even as she gripped his
hair in her hands, pulling his face away her.
He growled his frustration and slammed his open hand down on the stone next to
her head, making her flinch, before spinning away from her.
"Dammit!" His own hands flew into his newly shorted locks, tugging at them like
he was mental. "I don't want to stop, Lizzie!" He turned back to her, his eyes
blazing with heat and exasperation. "I've been nothing but patient! I've let
you make me look like a fool in front of the whole school! Waitingwhile you
choose between me and Weasley!" he spat.
Lizzie made a noise that sounded like he had slapped her, and he instantly
regretted his words. "I'm sorry, Draco," she muttered.
"Don't be sorry, just end it with him! He's an idiot!" The gorgeous blond
swarmed back into her personal space and grasped her face in both hands,
pressing his mouth to hers again.
"Draco," she mumbled around his lips, pushing at his chest. Gah! He made her
brain so fuzzy! He was starting to frighten her, too. All those voices in her
head telling her he was dangerous. Telling her she couldn't take him at face
value. Telling her he would only hurt her. Is this where his façade drops? Is
he going force me to do something I don't want in this secluded, warded corner
of the castle? He's not paying attention to me! "Please stop, Draco!" she
gasped as his hands tugged the hem of her shirt out of her skirt. Her hips
bucked in response.
"Your mouth is telling me no, but your body is telling me yes," he muttered
against her throat, suckling the hallow above her collar bone. She moaned – her
heart was going to beat right out of her chest in a chilling combination of
exhilaration and fear. Panic clawed up her throat as his fingers made contact
with the bare skin of her mid-drift. Suddenly the dread and alarm was
overwhelming.
"Draco!" She sobbed, trying to push him away, terror overriding her passion.
"Stop!" He still continued, brazenly palming her breast, and her alarm
heightened. Not knowing what else to do to get his attention, she bit him when
his mouth attempted to claim hers again, and tasted blood
"Fuck!" he shouted, pulling away with a murderous look on his face while wiping
his lip. He froze, though, when the anger and pain cleared the lust from his
brain. Taking in her appearance, he was disturbed with himself. She was sexily
disheveled, her blouse untucked and pushed up, her hair a wild mess, but that
was where the appeal ended. She was boneless against the wall, hands out in
front of her ready to fight him off if he came back at her. Tears cascaded down
her face. The worst thing, though, was look of terror in her eyes.
"Lizzie," he whispered, taking control of himself again. He reached out to her
and she winced, side stepping him and rounding so her back was not to him.
"Do-on't!" she cried, the word hitching in her tight throat. "Stop!"
"Lizzie, I'm sorry!" He pleaded, trying to let his remorse permeate the
atmosphere. She continued to back away.
"Don't touch me, Malfoy!" She yelled as he grasped for her again. Suddenly her
wand was in her hand and he was rooted to the spot. He didn't know if it was
the wand, or the fact she called him Malfoy with so much regret and contempt in
her voice that made his heart sink. He knew in that moment he had made a
mistake he couldn't fix.
"I lost my head." He implored her. "It won't happen again. Please, Lizzie, I
didn't mean to scare you!"
She shook her head, the moisture in her eyes leaking freely. "I should thank
you." He hated the disdain in her voice. "You've made my choice all the
clearer, now. I can't be with you."
"Lizzie," he whispered, horrified. How stupid could he be? What had he done?
"I can't trust you! Everyone said I couldn't." She was angry and hurt and so
confused. Her heart throbbed at the devastation on his face.
"Of course everyone said you couldn't trust me." Even to himself he sounded
defeated. He hated it. Hated how this girl had made him let his guard down.
Hated he had confided so much in her over the last two months. Hated that he
felt sick to his stomach. Hated he knew what was coming. Hated he felt like he
was going to cry. So, he did the one thing he did best – he put his walls back
up. He would walk away on his own terms.
She watched in appalled fascination as the stone mask of their early days
slithered back into place and settled with familiar grace. His back
straightened and his shoulders squared. His hands moved to clasp behind his
back and he stepped away from her. He looked every bit the young aristocrat and
nothing like the boy she had grown so fond of.
"My apologies, Miss Williams." His voice was cold, detached, and polite. All
the feeling and emotion of moments before was gone, just like that. "I lost my
head in the moment and I regret what happened. I did not mean to scare you. I
hope you can forgive me."
"Forgive…you…?" Lizzie found herself giving a surprised, jerky nod as her
resolve slipped. The very core of her being screamed no. She had worked so hard
to tear those walls down. She couldn't believe she had talked herself into
choosing Ron. She cared about Ron, very much, but the passion wasn't there. The
sizzle, the spark – that existed only with Draco. It had never existed with
anyone else.
Should he have stopped when she asked him to? Yes. Yes, he should have. If she
hadn't been so in her own head, though, would she have even asked him to stop?
If she was being honest with herself, that answer was no.
She had made the mistake tonight – she had made the wrong choice before the
night had even started and this was the outcome.
He watched as her face went from fearful, to surprise, to doubt. He brushed off
the flicker of hope the doubt caused and continued to rebuild his walls. "I
hope you find what you need with the Weasel." He spat the last word, grateful
he could at least get in that dig.
Her flinch didn't make him feel as good as it should have.
"Draco, wait," she murmured, for the first time stepping towards him instead of
away.
He would be the one to leave now.
"Good night, Miss Williams." He gave a curt bow of impeccable formality and
spun on his heel, disappearing without another word.
Lizzie covered her mouth with her hand to smother the cry that strangled
through her throat.
===============================================================================
"Lizzie?" Hermione whispered, she glanced at Susan and Hannah with wide eyes.
The Hufflepuff girls, not knowing what else to do for the poor distraught
blonde, sought her out to come help their friend. The girl was sobbing into her
pillow, curled into a tiny ball of nerves and regret. When Hermione laid a hand
on her shoulder, the anguish only got worse. "Lizzie, sweetie." The Head Girl
was almost panicked. She sat down on the bed and pulled at the girl, trying to
get her to look at her.
"We'll give you some time," Hannah whispered, tears in her own blue eyes.
Hannah was such a sensitive person, she often cried whenever anyone else did.
Hermione nodded her thanks and the other two girls left the room. "Lizzie,
c'mon," she murmured, rubbing a soothing hand on her friend's back. "What
happened?"
Hermione was pretty sure she knew what happened. The blonde had obviously ended
it with someone tonight and it had gone bad. Her heart lurched, feeling bad for
Ron. At the same time, she was confused because she had just run into Ron and
Harry in the hall before Hannah and Susan had found her and he had seemed
perfectly fine.
"Honey," Hermione whispered, desperately trying to figure out what to say.
"Lizzie, it's okay."
"It's not," the girl whimpered. "It's not okay. I hurt him."
"Sweetie, I don't think he was that hurt," Hermione disagreed. "I saw him a few
minutes ago and he seemed fine."
"You saw Draco?" Lizzie sat up quickly, searching Hermione's face.
"Oh." Now Hermione was very confused. She would have put money on Lizzie
choosing Draco over Ron. "You ended it with Draco?"
A fresh wave of tears spilled from emerald eyes. "No!" she wailed, burying her
face in her palms.
"Good Godric, girl!" Hermione pulled her into a tight embrace. "You're freaking
me out, tell me what happened!"
Brokenly, Lizzie explained what transpired in the secluded corridor of the
third floor. Hermione grew more and more confused, then angry, and then
baffled. "I don't understand?"
"Neither do I!" Lizzie's voice was hoarse from her tears. "I had every
intention on ending it with Draco tonight – "
"What?!" Hermione was appalled. "I thought you were going to choose Draco."
"You did?" Lizzie's eyes met brown ones, clearly shocked at the revelation.
"Well, yes," Hermione admitted reluctantly. "There's just so much
more…heat…between you and Draco."
"I…" Lizzie was ashamed of herself. How could she have ever thought Hermione
would be angry with her for choosing Draco? "I didn't want to disappoint you."
More tears spilled over red-rimmed eyes. "I'm such a moron."
"Oh, Lizzie," Hermione was exasperated. "What kind of friend do you think I
am?"
"You love Ron so much," she whispered. "I thought you would be upset with me.
Our friendship is so new, and I – I adore you. I didn't want to break our
trust."
Hermione pulled the girl back in for another hug. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't want to lead on Ron, so I guess I'm going be done with both of them."
Lizzie breathed out heavily, blowing hair out of her face. "What a fool I've
been."
===============================================================================
Ron took her let down well. At first, he had looked utterly shocked and a bit
angry. When she explained she was no longer going to see Draco, and hoped they
could still hang out, he calmed immediately. Hermione's suggestion of playing
up the need to focus on her studies this year instead of boys seemed to sit
well with him. He invited her to sit with the Gryffindor's at lunch. She
politely declined, reporting she had promised to sit with Hannah and Susan, but
would see him later.
Draco wasn't at lunch. She overheard a few whispers from the Slytherin table as
she made her way to her seat. Nott and Zabini were staring at her, daggers in
their eyes. She flushed.
"Ignore them," Hannah hissed at her. "You did the right thing. Who needs boys
anyway?"
Susan nodded vigorously. "I was blown away when I heard you'd told both boys
no." While she was being sympathetic to her friend, Lizzie didn't miss the way
her eyes sparkled with excitement. "How did Ron take it?"
Lizzie studied Susan for a moment before responding. "I think he took it well.
He was a bit upset at first, but better when I told him I wasn't going to be
seeing Draco, either."
"Poor Weasley," Hannah sniggered, she knew how bad Susan's crush was. "Always
friend-zoned! First Granger, now you."
Lizzie had the grace to look abashed. "Didn't think of it like that. We're
better off as friends, though, there's really no spark between us."
Susan looked horrified and Hannah laughed again. Lizzie looked questionably
between the two girls. "Am I missing something?"
"Oh, only that Susan has had a crush on Weasley for the last three years!"
Hannah guffawed at Susan's betrayed grimace. "Oh, come off it, Sue. Lizzie
doesn't want Ron. Now that you know, just be honest!"
Lizzie's mouth had dropped open and she looked at Susan with wide-eyed
speculation. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.
***** Chapter Thirteen *****
                               Chapter_Thirteen
===============================================================================
"Wh-what did you say, Minister?" McGonagall shocked face stared at Kingsley
Shacklebolt as her stiff form dropped into the chair behind the desk in her
office.
"It was an ambush. Both of my aurors are dead as well." Shacklebolt looked grim
and tense. "This is the fifth attack this week. I've lost three aurors and
eight family members. We're putting all Muggle-born families under the Fidelius
Charm. Did you send for them as I requested?"
"Yes, they should be here any moment. Why have these attacks not been in the
paper?" McGonagall demanded, her lips as thin as parchment, grief filled her
eyes.
"We're trying to minimize panic." The usually regal Minister of Magic looked
careworn and defeated. "It has been a trying few months. We thought there was a
good chance that there would be attacks last night – anniversary of Potter's
deaths, end of the first Wizarding War and all, but we were not prepared for a
mass attack on one residence."
There was a knock on the door and McGonagall stood, schooling her features.
"Enter!" she said in a controlled voice.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione's anxious faces appeared on the other side of the
door. They hadn't been called into the office all together since before
Voldemort had been defeated.
"You wanted to see us, Headmistress?" Harry said cautiously, eyes flicking
warily to Shacklebolt. "Hello, Minister."
"Yes." McGonagall's voice waivered and Shacklebolt gave a grim nod.
"I fear we have some terrible news," McGonagall started softly.
Hermione's blood ran cold at the sympathy in her beloved professor's voice. The
three friends drew together cautiously, silently providing each other support
"I'm afraid there was an attack last night," Shacklebolt demurred gently.
"There is no easy way to say this, so I'm going to come out and be blunt.
Hermione, your parents were targeted, they are dead."
Hermione's knees buckled and Harry and Ron caught her elbows, pulling her into
them, surrounding her on all sides. Ron looked devastated and Harry looked
murderous. "What happened?!" he demanded, pulling Hermione into his arms as she
started sobbing hysterically. "I thought you had aurors watching her parents?"
"We did, they are dead as well," Shacklebolt stated regretfully.
Hermione's sobs became silent as she ceased breathing, her grief choking her.
Harry indicated for Ron to sit and pulled Hermione to the chair to sit with
him. She was taking in nothing around her, her pain was all encompassing. After
all she had done during the war to keep them safe, all the time she had lost
with them. She hadn't even stayed with them for the summer! She was bursting
into bits; her heart was shattering. Anguish crawling up her esophagus, choking
her; crumbling her to pieces. Then she exploded. She had no words, just
mournful noises ripping from her chest. She scrambled at Ron's chest, looking
for purchase for flailing fingers. She gripped his robes and buried her
forehead into his neck.
Ron started shaking with her, tears leaking from his eyes, holding her as tight
as he could while Harry just touched her. Brushing her hair back from her face,
whispering her name. Minerva slumped into her chair again, burying her face in
hands. All of them aching with Hermione's agony and sorrow.
"Hermione," Harry whispered. "Hermione, we're here."
"Nooo!" The scream left her and made Harry's blood run cold at the utter
desolation in her voice. Suddenly, she was thrashing out. Harry caught a blow
to face and his glasses went flying. He scrambled to grab her wrists as she
fought against the mind-numbing torment that was trying to destroy her very
essence. He resigned himself to preventing her from hurting herself. More
howling sobs cascading from her lips. Tears and mucus washed down her face,
mixing and dripping off her chin. Ron conjured a handkerchief and gently
cleaned her. When he'd done the best he could, Harry crushed her to him and Ron
scooted close behind her, running a hand up and down her back. She struggled
for a moment more before collapsing in a fresh wave of misery.
"We're here, Hermione, we're still here," he whispered in her ear, pressing a
kiss to the side of her head.
Much later the spent and overcome girl lay in Ron's arms, silent. Her eyes
still streaming unstoppable tears with a vacant, faraway look. Ron had pulled
her into his lap while Harry sat at their feet, rubbing small circles into her
lower back.
The boys exchanged a silent look and Ron nodded, pulling Hermione closer and
Harry stood and stepped back to the older adults who were murmuring in low
voices to each other.
"What happened?" he demanded in a low, dangerous voice. "I don't understand how
this could have happened."
Kingsley responded quickly. "As I said, we're pretty sure they were targeted.
My aurors were outnumbered and taken down quickly. We think there was at least
a dozen of them. They to-," he broke himself off and sent a searching glance at
Ron and Hermione. When he was sure they could not hear, he continued. "They
tortured the Grangers and then used the Avada curse."
"Do you know why they were targeted?"
"They left a message," Shacklebolt's voice went even lower and Harry had to
move forward to hear. "They are after her."
Harry's face lost what little color it had left. "Do you know what this is
about yet?"
"We have found no trace of any previous missing Muggle-born witches or
wizards," the Minister looked haunted. "We've lost fifteen since August. Eight
of them children under the age of eleven who were slotted to attend Hogwarts.
The rest young adults in their late teens, early twenties. Two witches in their
early 30s. Most female, but two twenty-year-old males have disappeared. They
are simply vanishing."
Harry felt like he was going to be sick. "She must be protected! She will not
be taken."
"She's safe at Hogwarts," McGonagall insisted. "Professor Snape will continue
to keep a close eye on her."
Harry knew about this arrangement and nodded. "I agree he's the most qualified
in this school to keep her safe, but what about when she's not here?"
"I think it's best she stays here through the end of the school year, maybe
even through the summer," Shacklebolt returned.
"She'd be safe at the Burrow for the holiday's," Harry protested.
"She'd be safer here, under Professor Snape's watch."
"You don't think she'll want to be around loved ones over the holidays?" Harry
countered, his patience slipping. "Her parents are gone. I know what it's like
to not have a family. Holiday's only became great again when I found the
Weasley's. She's going to need us."
McGonagall's lips pressed into a tight line again. "We have a few weeks to
figure things out."
"What about funeral arrangements?"
"It's best that it's done quickly and quietly," Shacklebolt insisted.
"She'll need to bury them to help her heal."
"I agree, Harry," McGonagall sighed.
"How will this be explained to the Muggles?" Harry's questions were surprising
Shacklebolt.
"You're going to make one hell of an auror, Potter," he said gruffly. "It will
be written off as carbon monoxide poisoning. The house will be repaired and
staged as soon as the investigation is over and we will phone it into Muggle
law enforcement."
A curt nod from the black-haired boy was all that was returned. "Ron and I will
stay with her in her dorm tonight." It was a statement, he was not asking
permission. McGonagall nodded.
"I expected nothing else," she agreed.
===============================================================================
"You stay with her, I'm going to get Ginny and Lizzie," Harry told Ron after
they settled the shell-shocked Hermione on to her bed. "She's going to need us
all."
It took him very little time to find Ginny, who paled so much her freckles
stood out like black spots on a Dalmatian. "I'll get Lizzie," was all she said,
after giving him a fierce hug. "I'll meet you in Hermione's room."
Lizzie was horrified. All she could think was it could have been her family,
all her little siblings gone in the blink of an eye. Ginny stood with the
shaking girl for a while, hugging her while she sorted her feelings. The guilt
of her gratefulness that it was not her family was a bit overwhelming.
After about ten minutes, she turned wide green eyes to light brown. "Snape?"
she questioned as both girls quickly made their way out of the Hufflepuff dorm.
Ginny and Lizzie both knew every detail about Hermione's relationship with
Snape. All they had to do was listen to their friend talk about him to know she
was completely in love with him, even if she hadn't said the words aloud.
"I can't imagine there's anyone else she would want right now," Ginny said
hesitantly.
"How are Ron and Harry going to react?" Lizzie whispered.
"I think they would do anything to help numb her pain," Ginny breathed, trying
to stop the tears from collecting in her eyes. "Harry was a mess when he came
to find me."
"What if they don't react well?" Lizzie asked.
"I'll hex them both," Ginny said fiercely. "I know she's going to want him."
Lizzie nodded her agreement. At the stairwell to the dungeons they paused. "You
go on," the blonde said to Ginny. "I'll get him."
"He doesn't know we know," Ginny reminded her. "You're going to have to word it
carefully so you don't freak him out."
"I'll be fine, I promise," Lizzie assured her. "Just get up there by her. I'll
be there soon."
Ginny raced to the grand staircase while Lizzie descended into the bowels of
Hogwarts. Too quickly she found herself shaking at the doors to the Potion's
classroom. She raised her hand and knocked firmly.
"Enter." Came a cool, detached baritone. She took a deep breath and pushed the
door open.
Snape looked up, a small grin on his face, expecting to find Hermione. Instead
he took in an ashen faced Lizzie Williams who was standing frozen in his
doorway.
"Can I help you, Miss Williams?" His tone was bored, disinterested, the smile
quickly hidden and his normal collected demeanor put back into place.
"Yes, sir," Lizzie said quietly. She crossed the room, and much to Snape's
surprise, she placed her palms face down on his desk and looked him straight in
the eyes.
"I know about you and Hermione," she said quickly, her nerves making her
unnecessarily blunt. Snape's face drained.
"Are you threatening me, Miss Williams?" His voice was grave and Lizzie was
appalled.
"No, sir!" she exclaimed, stepping back quickly, horrified. "I'm doing this
wrong."
"What exactly are you trying to do?" he demanded menacingly, standing.
Lizzie swallowed hard and her eyes rose to meet his again. "She needs you," she
whispered.
"What do you mean 'she needs me?' Where is she?" His voice was dangerous, eyes
narrowed in suspicion. Lizzie thought she saw a glimmer of panic.
"Her parents were murdered last night," Lizzie said in a rush. "She in her room
with Ginny, and Ron, and …" She broke off as she watched the professor stride
quickly to his classroom door and leave her without a backwards glance.
She rushed to catch up. "What happened?" Snape commanded as he stalked down the
hall. Lizzie, who was so much smaller, practically running to keep up.
"I'm not sure, sir," she could barely catch her breath. "I don't have the
details."
Silence prevailed as they blew through the castle, receiving startled looks
from the occasional students who were wandering the corridors on this cold
Sunday in November.
At the door of Hermione's room, Snape paused and took a deep breath. He needed
to see her, but he had to be honest with himself – he wasn't ready for Potter
and Weasley to know about their furthered relationship. He would do it for her
in a heartbeat, but what if she wasn't ready for them to know?
The Williams girl seemed to have read his thoughts. "I know she wants you sir,"
she whispered. "Ginny and I will help with the boys."
He gave a curt nod and steeled himself. A moment later he was pushing into her
room, his eyes sweeping the scene.
Hermione was curled into Weasley, who was sitting in the middle of her bed
Potter was on her other side and Ginny was at her feet, all three just watching
and occasionally touching the silent, vacant looking girl. The noise of him and
Miss Williams entering the room made them all look up in surprise.
"Why are you here?" Potter's voice was not rude or condescending, merely
inquisitive. Snape didn't hear him, he just locked eyes with the bushy haired
Gryffindor that was becoming the focal point of his life.
Seeing him brought a wave of relief to Hermione beyond what she could have
expected. Tears immediately sprung to her eyes again and she gasped. He
searched her eyes for a few seconds and she knew what he was asking. Do you
need me? Is our secret safe with them? She nodded as the sob broke and pushed
herself into a tall kneel, pulling away from Harry and Ron who looked stunned
and bewildered.
"Severus," she whispered, reaching for him as Snape crossed the room in three
long strides and pulled her roughly into his arms as a sob shattered the air.
Harry and Ron looked stricken and relieved at the same time. It was the first
word she had uttered in over an hour.
"I've got you," he murmured low into her ear, his heart seizing as another
dreadful cry wrenched from her core. He didn't meet either boys' eyes, simply
stared at Ginny, who did not look surprised to see him. Her eyes met his with a
gratitude he did not expect. As Hermione clung to him, arms wrapped so tight
around his shoulders it was almost suffocating, the rest of the Golden Trio
slowly scooted off the bed and stood, warily circling the two.
"Did she just call him Severus?" Ron asked in strangled voice.
"What is going on?" Snape heard Harry say in a low voice, addressing the room
at large. He tried to ignore their whisperings.
"They're gone," Hermione breathed brokenly into his shoulder between sobs.
"I know," Snape answered, pressing a kiss into her hair. "I'm so sorry, love."
"Love?" Ron choked, throwing a horrified glance at Lizzie and Ginny who were
huddled near the door, trying to give Hermione some privacy.
"Did he just kiss her?" Harry demanded, his voice starting to sound dangerous.
"Harry, calm down," Ginny said softly, crossing the room to grab his arm.
Lizzie also dragged Ron and they moved into the bathroom, the girls wanting to
give the couple some privacy.
Harry couldn't seem to rip his eyes away from the two, his face turning an ugly
shade of puce. He growled when Snape dropped another kiss on her forehead, his
hands sliding too close to her bum.
"Harry!" Ginny insisted, pushing him into the bathroom.
Harry rounded on the girls and a shell-shocked Ron, who was gaping at Snape and
Hermione over the tops of everyone's heads. Ginny pulled the bathroom door
closed firmly and turned, leaning back against it.
"You're not going to cause a scene." She waggled her finger at Harry in a very
Mrs. Weasley-ish fashion.
"What the hell is going on, Ginny?!" Ron demanded.
"SHH!" Both girls hissed together, glaring at him. Lizzie crossed her arms.
With her being so petite, her anger would have been funny if it weren't for the
lethal look on her face.
"Muffliato," Ginny muttered, pointing her wand to the door.
"They're seeing each other," Lizzie stated as if it was a natural thing for
their best friend in the world to be with Severus Snape.
Ron went green and Harry paled. "What do you mean they're seeing each other?"
Harry voice was deadly.
"She's in love with him," Ginny whispered and Lizzie gave her a cautious look.
"She's…in love…with…Snape?" Ron gagged as if he was going to toss his cookies
and Harry looked thunderous.
"He's taking advantage of her!" He insisted, trying to get around Ginny who
planted her feet and raised her wand threateningly at him. His eyebrows shot up
into his hair.
"Stop, Harry," Lizzie insisted. "He's not, he loves her, too."
At the same time, Ginny snorted. "When has anyone ever taken advantage of
Hermione Granger?!"
"Have they told you this?" Ron's whispered could barely be heard.
"When did this happen?" Harry fell onto the edge of the tub, flabbergasted.
"No, I don't think they've realized it yet," Lizzie said softly, eyes wistfully
gazing at the door. She caught herself and turned back to the group. "You
should have seen the look on his face when I told him what had happened,
though. He was in a dead panic. Practically ran all the way here."
"I think it started this summer, you both know how often she visited him at the
hospital," Ginny continued. Harry gave one sharp nod and Ron looked
crestfallen.
"Why didn't she tell us?" Harry's hurt voice came out soft.
"Honestly," Ginny snipped, rolling her eyes. "And how well are you taking it
right now? In this desperate time of need for her? If we hadn't been here to
corral the situation – what would you have done?"
Harry winced at the truthfulness of her words.
"He's a teacher, though." Ron was still visibly shaken, face still an un-godly
shade of sick. "She's a student. This is just morally wrong."
"She's nineteen-years-old, you guys," Lizzie huffed. "And more than mature
enough to make her own decisions."
"Ron's not wrong," Harry stood, he understood Ron's discomfort all too well. It
was Snape. No matter how wrong they had been about him during the war. "He's
old enough to be her father."
"But he's not her father," Ginny said pointedly, eyes narrowing. "Pull it
together, Harry. She's going to need him right now."
"She has us," Ron insisted, pallor turning from green to red as his anger
started catching up with him.
"And she loves us," Lizzie stated simply. "But she's in love with him."
That drew Ron up short, the same words Hermione had used on the playground in
June reversed. He deflated like a stuck balloon and Harry's shoulders slumped
in defeat. They just wanted her to be happy.
===============================================================================
Snape did his best to block the whispered conversation around him and focus all
his attention and energy on the broken woman in his arms. She felt so frail
like this, which was wrong, Hermione Granger was not a frail person.
"They're gone," Hermione breathed brokenly into his shoulder between sobs.
"I know," Snape answered, pressing a kiss into her hair. "I'm so sorry, love."
"It's my fault." She gagged on her worlds, more sobs blubbering into his
shoulder.
"No, no." He dropped another kiss onto her forehead and smoothed his hands down
her back, stopping just above her bum. He heard a growl, but ignored it. Miss
Williams had said they would take care of the boys. He continued to focus his
attention on Hermione. Petting her back with sure, sympathetic fingers. He
breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the bathroom door click close.
If Hermione heard the Weasley boy shout, she didn't indicate it. She just
continued to lay limply in his arms, tears now silently shaking her body.
A soft buzzing sound came from the direction of the bathroom door and he was
glad one of them had thought to cast a Muffliato. "Come." He whispered to her
as the sobs trickled to sniffs. He helped her off the bed the rest of the way
and led her to her couch. He sat and reached out for her. She looked at him
with so much sadness mixed with gratefulness his chest constricted painfully.
She moved into his arms quickly, curling into him. He ran his wand down her
nose and her sinuses cleared. Then he conjured a handkerchief and gently wiped
the tears from her face.
"Thank you," she murmured, her sigh stuttering with the aftershocks of her
tears. He trailed gentle fingers down the side of her face and she leaned into
them, relishing his touch. She turned her face to them and kissed his
fingertips, sliding her own hand up and lacing her fingers with his, pressing
it to her cheek. "Thank you for coming."
"Nothing could have kept me away," he assured her, brushing his thumb under an
eye to catch a wayward tear. He leaned to her and caught a tear from her other
eye with his lips. She relished in the affection and brushed her nose against
his, sighing, it was just what she needed in the moment. She angled her head
and caught his lips.
He kissed her back gently, knowing it was the comfort she was after. He broke
it after a short time and tucked her curly head onto his shoulder. She closed
her eyes and snuggled in. It was then he realized they had an audience.
Weasley stood behind the group, hands clenched with a murderous look on his
resigned face. Potter looked a strange combination of bewildered, regretful,
and relieved. However, it was the soft smiles on the girls' faces he needed to
relax.
"Ron," Lizzie said softly, taking his hand gently in hers. "Let's go get some
food from the kitchens," she suggested. "We all need to eat. It will be easier
for Hermione if we stay in here and keep things private for her."
Ron grunted, looking like he wasn't about to go anywhere. Snape narrowed his
eyes at the redhead as he slipped an arm protectively around Hermione's slender
waist. The grunt of disapproval from the boy almost made him laugh, would have
if the situation weren't so dire.
"Ron," Lizzie insisted. He turned glaring eyes on her. "C'mon." She was
successful in pulling him out the door. "We'll be back in a few." She called
over her shoulder.
The room returned the silence, Ginny and Harry sat close on the edge of the
bed, watching him and Hermione covertly while chattering to each other softly.
It wasn't long until Snape felt the last bit of tension leave Hermione's body,
and he knew she was asleep.
"What happened?" He demanded, capturing Potter's attention. The boy exchanged a
look with his girlfriend before answering.
***** Chapter Fourteen *****
                                  Chapter_14
===============================================================================
Snape turned Hermione over to her friends, promising to return after the castle
had turned in for the night. He purposely ran into McGonagall under the
pretense of giving her a report on how Hermione was doing with her extra
Potions lessons and their check ins. As he knew she would, McGonagall took the
opportunity to fill Snape in about Hermione's parents and the increase in
security surrounding the girl.
"Minerva, where I understand and appreciate your worry about her safety, I
believe that while she is on campus no one can hurt her," Snape insisted.
"And yet, the final battle of the second Wizarding War was fought on these
grounds, Severus," Minerva sighed and rubbed her temples with her finger tips.
"Whoever these people are, they are targeting Miss Granger. She is wanted by
them. Do you realize that these Muggle-born children and young adults are
disappearing with no trace? Their families murdered in their wake?" She paused
before continuing in a pinched voice. "There was a message carved into her
parents' mirror, Severus."
Severus felt his blood go cold. "What do you mean, a message?"
"It said ‘We're coming for you, Mudblood.’"
It took every ounce of control Snape had not to fly into a frenzied rage. He
would murder anyone who even thought about harming the girl! He gritted his
teeth and said nothing.
"How would you feel if we set up quarters near yours for Miss Granger?"
Snape had to bite back a splutter even as his heart leapt. He fucking loved the
idea. "What exactly do you mean, Minerva?" He played dumb.
"I dislike that she is alone at night, even with McMillian across the hall from
her." McGonagall looked grim. "I don't like the idea of moving her back to
Gryffindor dorms. We've learned from past experience how difficult it is to get
into the commons." Her voice was sardonic.
"I think if we did a bit of magical reconstruction, we could expand your
chambers and set up a private room off the opposite side of your bathroom for
the girl to sleep in at night. She can continue to use her room for privacy,
her things, studying, and her own bathroom, etc. I would just like her to
retire to your quarters at night to sleep. It would be the only time during the
day she would be vulnerable within the walls of this castle if someone were to
impregnate our securities."
"I hardly think this is an appropriate solution, Minerva," Snape sneered. "I
would certainly prefer my privacy. I'm sure Miss Granger would as well."
McGonagall's lips thinned. "Humor me, Severus."
"As long as you can guarantee her quarters would be separate enough from mine
that we would not accidently run into each other in some state of undress. I do
believe that would make things exceedingly…awkward." For the first time in as
long as Snape could remember, he struggled with a lie.
Minerva snorted. "I will figure something out with combing the use of your loo
so that when one enters, the other door locks automatically. I want her door to
be inside your office and not accessible from the hallway. You will ward it
each night. I will take care of it tomorrow. As for tonight, Potter and Weasley
have agreed to stay in her chamber."
Snape had to grit his teeth. Potter, fine. Weasley…he didn't trust the freckled
nosed imbecile. "Would you like me to kip on the couch in her room tonight as
well, Headmistress?" he asked sarcastically. In her state of worry, she was
bound to find it a swell idea.
McGonagall's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you offering?" she said placidly.
"Bloody hell, Minerva," he growled. "You can't be serious. I think you're
overreacting." Inside he celebrated.
The headmistress's eyebrows all but disappeared into her hairline. "Since you
offered so kindly, Severus, I think I will have you kip on the couch. Given the
circumstances..." She trailed off.
Snape didn't bother to hide his incredulous snort, it fit both his elation that
she played into his hands and the fact he wanted her to think he was disgusted
with the idea.
===============================================================================
"He didn't stop after you told him to?" Ginny hissed.
"Well, no, not right away," Lizzie whispered back, both girls glanced over at
Ron and Harry who were playing a game of wizarding chess on the opposite side
of Hermione's bed.
"Why in the world do you feel guilty?" Ginny murmured furiously. "He assaulted
you!"
"No," Lizzie disagreed, waving a hand.
Ginny gave an incredulous grunt. "Merlin's bloody bollocks he didn't," she
muttered. "Anything after you said stop was done without your consent or
willing participation. You should have turned him in to McGonagall."
"No." Lizzie shook her head, but a niggling of doubt flipped through her mind.
Draco hadn't assaulted her…had he?
"Lizzie, c'mon," Ginny whispered. "You're so much smarter than this. Do not let
him make you feel guilty. You asked him to stop and he didn't. You had to get
physical to get him off you! You did nothing wrong."
Her confusion only increased. "He said he was sorry…?" She trailed off, leaving
it a question. "I don't think he meant to scare me. I mean – I said stop, but I
was kissing him back. I'm sure he was confused, too."
"Confused or not, you told him no and he should have respected that."
A small feeling of relief slipped through Lizzie's chest. It was almost as if
she just had needed permission to be upset with him – that it was as much his
fault as hers. Ginny was right, what Draco had done was wrong. She had told him
to stop and he hadn't. Did she still think the whole damn situation was a
misunderstanding? Yes. However, she really had no reason to feel guilty for her
part in it. He should absolutely be sorry for scaring her the way he did, and
for not stopping like a proper gentleman.
She wasn't going to give up on her entire part of the blame in this situation,
though. She had made the wrong decision. She had been foolish about the
situation. She had been kissing him back even while she told him to stop. He
had apologized, and she knew he had meant it. He told her he lost his head, he
had asked her forgiveness. She would forgive him. Really, she already had, but
they would need to talk about what happened. That was…if he would ever even
talk to her again. They would both have trust issues after the encounter.
A loud knock sounded at the door and Hermione shot upright in bed, bleary eyes
peering through the dim room. Just a roaring fire cut the darkness in the
corner hearth. "Who is it?" she choked out, her voice was rough from her day of
tears and grief.
"It's all right, Hermione." Ginny stood with a tender look. "I've got it."
She pulled the door open to find Snape on the other side, the redhead
wordlessly stepped out of the way to let him in and couldn't help herself from
staring at his bum while he walked past. Well, as unattractive as I find him,
he certainly has that going for him.She thought with a small snort of approval.
Harry caught her eye with an incredulous look and she felt her face flush. For
the love of all that is magical, she chided herself. My boyfriend just caught
me checking out Snape's arse.
"It's late, ladies, if you don't head back to your dorms soon, you'll be out
past curfew," Snape told Lizzie and Ginny while surveying the room. Hermione
was looking at him like there was no one else in the world and it was
completely distracting. He had even kept his usual cool disdain out of his
voice.
"Yes, professor." Lizzie responded immediately. She took a moment to hug
Hermione and wave at the boys. Ginny had crossed the room to kiss Harry
goodnight. She stopped by the bed again to squeeze Hermione's hand and give her
a reassuring smile.
"We'll see you in the morning, sweetie," she told her friend. The door closed
softly behind them a few moments later.
"Headmistress McGonagall has requested I sleep on your couch tonight, Miss
Granger," he expressed, trying not let a sneer cross his face as both boys
exchanged a horrified look behind Hermione's back. "Potter and Weasley were
also given permission to stay. Are you okay with this arrangement?"
Hermione's face flushed slightly, it was a beautiful look on her. "Yes," she
answered. She looked tired, purple smudges under her eyes told him he was
correct. Even with red-rimmed eyes, tear tracks, and the uncontrollable mop
that substituted for her hair, she was lovely.
"You should go wash up, love," he said softly, reaching a hand to gently brush
a lock of hair out of her eyes. "You'll feel better if you take a hot shower."
She nuzzled her face into his hand, never breaking her eyes from him.
"Check-mate!" Came a low growl. Weasley was glaring at the place where
Hermione's face was pressed into his hand. He quickly curled his fingers and
pulled away from her. He had never been, and probably never would be, good at
public displays of affection. It was torture being so close to her and having
to distance himself so far. Especially when he knew she needed him.
Hermione's face turned to take in her friends. She had been so grateful for
them today. She wouldn't have survived without their presence. She was glad
McGonagall had them come with for her world-shattering news. They'd helped her
through the initial shock of grief better than anyone else could have. However,
she couldn't deny that right now, more than anything, she wanted them to go.
She wanted to – needed to – be alone with Severus. She knew he could make her
forget the horrors in her life, even if only for a while.
She let out a slow, easy breath, watching Ron and Harry watch Severus with wary
eyes. "I know you have questions." She appraised the pair and startled blue and
green eyes turned to her. "Ask them."
Snape raised an eye brow, assessing the young woman who was sitting on one hip
in the middle of her bed. Without turning to him, she reached for his hand.
When he gave it to her, she tugged on him, indicating for him to sit with her.
He gingerly perched on the edge of the bed, sliding to bring one knee up. He
braced himself on his palm and relished the fact that she leaned into his
shoulder without a second thought.
Both boys looked at her with gaping mouths. Harry was the first to come back to
himself. "When?"
"Officially? Right after term started," she answered with no preamble.
"Unofficially, I've been pursuing him since July."
Snape raised an eyebrow at the back of her bushy head and held back a guffaw at
Weasely's look of disgust.
"You've been…pursuing…him…" Harry trailed off, flummoxed.
"Yes, you will not pin this on him," she stated firmly. "I am not being taken
advantage of." Mmhm, thought so. She raised her eyebrows at him, he had the
grace to tinge pink a bit.
"Bloody hell." Was all Ron could say.
After a few moments of silence, Harry continued.
"Why?"
Hermione hesitated. How the hell to make them understand?
"I'd love to hear the real answer to that one myself, Miss Granger," Snape
murmured low in her ear. His breath tickled past the sensitive skin there and
an involuntary shiver ran up her back. She looked at him with wide eyes, he
cocked his head to the side in question. He knew he could just look, she never
tried to keep him out. He was somewhat afraid of what he wanted the answer to
be, however.
"Why not?" She finally retorted after a long pause.
"I can think of a hundred reasons," Ron fumed sulkily.
"Good thing your reasons don't matter," she said waspishly. That shut him up,
Snape wanted to gloat, but kept himself in check. These were teenage boys, he
was an adult.
"But…seriously, Hermione -," Harry started.
"I don't want to fight, Harry," she whispered. "I'm so tired."
Green eyes searched brown. "You're happy with him?"
Snape wanted to jeer and at the same time he was impressed the boy had the
balls to ask that question while he was sitting right behind her.
"Very." The word left her mouth with no hesitation, no note of falsities. Snape
felt a warmth spread through his body and, without even realizing it, a stupid
grin crossed his face.
"Me, too," he whispered, nuzzling the back of her head with his nose. She made
a small whimpering noise in the back of her throat and leaned back into him
turning her face so his nose brushed her ear.
Harry wasn't blind, he'd seen the look Snape got on his face when she answered
his question even if he couldn't hear the words the man whispered back into his
best friend's ear. Had he ever seen this formidable professor smile in person
before? When Hermione's face, so distraught with the day's happenings, broke
into a silly smile he knew instantly that Ginny and Lizzie had been right. They
had to be in love. Nobody looked like that just because they were happy.
"I can't stay here," Ron muttered, seeing the look of incredulity on Harry's
face. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I can't support this."
"Ron!" Hermione pulled herself of the bed quickly and Snape had to restrain
himself from tearing the boy apart at the surprised hurt in her voice.
"Don't 'Ron!' me," he snarled at her, and she looked stunned.
"Ron," Harry warned.
"I can't believe you're just going to sit there and accept this!" Ron groused,
turning on his friend. "He's a teacher – she's a student. I don't care that
she's nineteen – this is not okay!And it's fucking SNAPE!"
"Am I put off by this?" Harry exclaimed, not letting the sound that escaped
Snape's throat divert him, even if it was horrifying. "Yes, I am. It's weird,
and a bit – well – unexpected, obviously, but when's the last time you saw
Hermione smile like that?"
Hermione had stopped at the foot of her bed, watching her two best friends yell
at each other over her relationship with another man. Her heart warmed at
Harry's words even as it sank at Ron's anger. Snape watched her with a guarded
expression. This was probably that other boot. Her friends didn't approve. She
wouldn't stay with him.
"Of course, I want Hermione to be happy," Ron growled at him. "But not like
this. Outside of Draco Malfoy, there's no one else I would want to see her with
less than Snape. I wanted her to be happy with me. If it couldn't be me, at
least it should be someone worthy of her!"
The air whooshed out Hermione's lungs as tears sprung to her eyes for the
millionth time that day. "Ron," she whispered, heart breaking at his words. He
threw a dark look in her direction.
"I loved you," he accused. "You didn't even give us a chance."
The tears spilled over. "I couldn't, I knew it wasn't right. You guys are my
family – the brothers I never had!"
"You broke it off because you had some sick infatuation with an old man," he
spat at her.
"Ron, that's not fair!" Harry placed a hand on Ron's shoulder at the
incredulous gasp that left Hermione. "We were all under a lot of pressure. You
shouldn't blame - "
"Shut it, Harry," Ron shouted, ripping himself out of Harry's grasp. "You're
insane for accepting this. I'm telling McGonagall."
"You won't." Snape's voice was deadly and froze the three teens in mid-
argument. Somehow, he was standing, feet hip width apart, a snarl firmly in
place on his angular face. None of them had noticed him get off the bed. In
fact, all three had all but forgotten he was present.
"Mimblewimble," he muttered, pointing his wand at Ron's mug. Ron felt a whoosh
of cold air and the unpleasant feeling of his tongue rolling back in his mouth
before returning to normal. He gagged.
"If you didn't recognize that, it was the tongue-tying curse. I can appreciate
your anger, Mr. Weasley. I even applaud it. You will not ruin my career or
Hermione's academic pursuits because you are jealous. She chose to let you know
our secret. She trusted you. Think long and hard about where you want your
relationship to go with her before you say or do something you regret."
Ron looked thunderstruck. Without another word, he turned to Harry. "You
coming?"
"I'm staying," Harry said firmly. "Hermione lost her parents today, Ron. I'm
not going to walk out on her."
The redhead looked abashed for a second, then slowly met Hermione's eyes. "I
can't stay." He looked ashamed. He knew the fresh tear marks on her face were
his fault this time. "I'm sorry."
Hermione gave a jerky nod. "I understand, Ron." Even though she didn't want to,
even though she just wanted to be angry with him. She did understand. "Thank
you for being here with me today."
Ron made his way to the door, he hesitated for a moment, but then pulled it
open and left without a backward glance.
"Harry, you should go with him," Hermione murmured after a moment of heavy
silence.
"Wha-? No." Harry said firmly. "I will stay."
"I will be fine. Severus will stay with me," she whispered softly. Harry looked
wildly to Snape and then back to his friend.
"I think that's what he's worried about, love." Snape had stepped up behind her
and placed a hand on her shoulder.
She covered his hand with hers. "Harry, you know who he is. You can trust him,
and even if you're still not fully sure, you can trust me."
Harry drew himself up and stared at the couple in front of him. Snape was
looking at Hermione the way he had seen him look at his mother in the pensive.
Like there was no other witch on the planet. Hermione had leaned back into him
as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Like the warmth of his
presence was the same as her favorite old jumper.
They didn't even look odd together like one might think, they complimented each
other. Pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes. Dark chocolate and milk chocolate.
Feminine tucked into a masculine form. Even their age difference did not strike
him as strange – it just…worked. And the look on Hermione's face…he had never
seen her look like that. Even when she had thought she was in love with Ron.
"I do trust you, I'm just worried about you," he insisted. "You're my sister,
Hermione. This is weird. No offense professor."
Snape did not reply, but he saw laughter in the man's eyes even as his face
stayed neutral…which startled him. Snape…laughing?
"I love you, Harry," she murmured, taking the few steps between them and
wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back automatically, face burying in
her hair. "I know this is peculiar for you. I didn't want it to be. I was going
to figure out a way to tell you two with a little more subtly," she stepped
back and gripped both his hands in hers. "I need to be alone with him, though,
and I think Ron needs you."
Harry watched her carefully for another thirty seconds, searching her eyes for
any hints of subterfuge. "Okay." He finally agreed. He turned his attention to
Snape. The man raised an eyebrow in question.
"This is going to sound horribly cliché," he started.
"Then don't say it!" Hermione broke him off in exasperation. "He'll be good to
me. He is good to me."
Harry gave a curt nod and sighed. "If you're not at breakfast, I'm coming here
to get you."
"Deal."
He hugged her one more time, gave Snape another pointed stare, and then left
the room to follow Ron.
"That was fun." Snape deadpanned as he welcomed Hermione back into his arms. He
dropped a gentle kiss to her forehead and relished how her eyes swept close as
she leaned into it. She gave a gentle snicker as she lay her head on his chest.
"I want you to go take that shower, now," he told her after a moment. "It will
help you relax."
"I want you to join me," she whispered, raising her lips to his in a tender
kiss.
He pulled back, eyes narrowing down at her.
"Make me forget? For just a little while? Please?"
"Oh, Hermione," he murmured, dropping another kiss onto her upturned lips. It
went from gentle to frenzied in mere seconds. "Shower," he muttered around her
kisses, and had the wherewithal to throw a ward at the door as she pulled him
into the bathroom.
She had already started the shower before he closed the door to the loo and was
back at him, running her hands over his chest, pulling his shoulders down while
she stood on her tip toes to kiss him. She wasted no time drawing his tongue
into her mouth and he stifled a groan at her urgency.
"Slow down," he chided around her kisses. "We have all night."
"Mmm." She whinged in noncommitment, frenzied fingers frantically fumbling with
his frock coat. "No, fast," she begged. "Hard."
Bloody hell, I've created a monster! He groaned, but was eager. He often held
back, not wanting to scare the piss out of her. "Rough?" he questioned,
simultaneous grasping her blouse and ripping it apart, buttons flying.
"Ahh!" She gasped at the sensation, arching into him. "Yes," she hissed. They
continued to undress each other in a hurry, frantic kisses turned into
lascivious snogging.
Their teeth clashed, each trying to penetrate the other to the deepest extent.
When their mouths weren't molded together, he was running his teeth and tongue
along the tendons of her neck. He bit, leaving a mark and she groaned.
No more holding back in the future!He pulled away and she snarled at his loss.
He grabbed his wand and they were both completely naked, the clothes in a pile
on the opposite side of the room. She launched herself at him, and his wand
clattered to the ground as he scooped her up by the bum, spreading and
massaging her cheeks. She moaned as her legs lifted and wrapped around him, his
pulsating cock pressed to her low belly. Continuing to kiss her as if it was
how he acquired breath, he stepped into the steaming water. He wasted no time
pressing her up against the cold tile wall. She arched away, squealing at the
cold, but this only served his purpose. He reangled himself and slammed into
her dripping pussy, hard.
Her cries of pleasure were muffled with the rushing water around them, he gave
her no time to adjust. Just gripped her hips hard in his hand, set his feet
firmly to the rough stone floor, pulled all the way out and rammed in again.
"Yes," she choked, white lights sparkling before her eyes as her vision went
blurry.
Her pussy felt like molten lava, he was afraid he was going to lose it before
she even remotely had the chance to build to climax. He toned it back just a
bit and dropped a love bite to one of her upturned tits. She whimpered and
squirmed.
"Bite me again," she begged. He complied, soothing it with a hot tongue after.
He needed to concentrate on keeping a hold of her slippery body and not falling
himself. He readjusted his feet, bit the inside of his cheek, and set a
grueling pace.
Each loss of him brought him back harder and deeper. Hermione felt as if he
were trying to split her in two, and it was exactly what she wanted. Her head
knocked against the tile wall as his prick pummeled her pussy. When he slipped
a hand between them and started playing her sweet spot like a perverse
instrument, she was done.
"Sever-unnhhhh!" She screamed, not able to finish calling his name as all
coherent thoughts fled. She gasped as the most intense orgasm she had ever
experienced tore through her body. Snape looked at her in shock. Her orgasm had
come out of nowhere. He'd been able to time her down to a science after the
last two months. He increased his speed and intensity, digging his fingers into
her hips as she bucked through her climax.
"Sweet Circe!" He groaned as the increase in tempo and her milking muscles
ripped his orgasm straight out of his bollocks. "Fuck, yes!"
He crushed her to the wall as wave after wave of his seed poured into her
depths and she held him to her, murmuring words of praise and thanks into his
ear. It was in that moment he realized he was in love with her, and it
terrified him.
***** Chapter Fifteen *****
                                Chapter_Fifteen
                                 November 1998
===============================================================================
Hermione had been gone for a week, and Snape was going ruddy mad. He knew she
was well protected, flanked day and night with a half dozen Aurors, as she went
through the motions of laying her parents to rest. He wanted to be with her,
but it was impossible without arousing suspicion. He had been required to
attend the funeral with her friends as their escort. It had been painful being
so close to her, knowing how vulnerable she was, knowing she needed him, and
not being able to act on their desires for closeness and comfort.
The strength of his feelings for the Gryffindor girl were overwhelming at best,
downright terrifying at worst. When she looked at him with those sienna and oak
colored eyes, everything in his being pulled him to her. He had only been able
to get her alone for five minutes at the wake, and the tender kisses and long
embrace had done little to settle his need to protect and comfort her. She had
assured him of her understanding, that she knew they needed to play it safe.
She missed him, she said. She wished he could stay with her. He’d played it as
cool as he could without being cold. The hope he’d been fighting since the
beginning of September was an ever-present weight on his mind.
While she had been gone, he and Minerva had constructed a room for her adjacent
to his suite. The entrance was inside his office to the right, while his
chambers were to the left. The bathroom was in the middle of the two bedrooms.
True to her word, Minerva had found a charm that when one door was opened from
the outside, the other locked and then unlocked when that door was opened from
the inside. There would be no accidental walk-ins in the middle of the night.
Not that the feature would be needed. Severus had every intention of Hermione
sharing his bed for the remainder of the school year.
He had gone through the motions, agreeing with Minerva that the burgundy and
gold wall tapestries, the ornate fireplace, and the golden sconces that flocked
the four-poster double bed decked in Gryffindor colors would make Hermione feel
at home, even if they made him nauseated. He recommended she put a desk against
the far wall, even if it would deplete the limited space. He told the
Headmistress he hardly expected someone as dedicated and studious as Miss
Granger to cease studying after curfew, especially when N.E.W.T.s were upon
her. She had agreed wholeheartedly and expressed her pleasure and surprise when
Severus transfigured an old coffee table into a beautiful mahogany desk and an
old stool into a comfortable chair to sit behind it.
It was late Monday night, November 9th, and he was impatiently waiting at the
gate for Hermione’s Auror escort to return her to the school. The funeral had
been Friday. She had to wait through the weekend to meet with her parents’
estate lawyer late this afternoon. He could only imagine how frazzled and
overwhelmed she would be. She had no older adults in her life, both sets of her
grandparents were dead and only one aunt who lived out of the country and was
unable to make it back for the burial.
Finally, the lights of several lit wands were visible on the path that came
from Hogsmeade. He sighed in relief.
“Dawlish.” Snape greeted coolly as the Auror stepped to the gate, there were
three others, obscuring Hermione from view. Snape muttered an incantation at
the gate and the chains curled away. He pushed the creaking iron opened and his
curly haired enchantress made her appearance, giving him a very tired smile.
Moments later she was through the gate. He was disheartened at her appearance.
She looked like she had lost at least a stone while she had been gone. Weight
he felt she could not afford to lose, she had been slender enough beforehand.
The purple smudges under her eyes only confirmed to him she was not sleeping.
Or at least not sleeping well.
“Good evening, Professor,” she murmured, slipping past him.
“Miss Granger.” He returned with a nod, taking her face in as if it were water
and he had been wandering the desert for forty days.
“All went well.” Dawlish told him through the bars snapping the Potions
Professor out of his unguarded appraisal of the young girl. Snape quickly set
himself to reengaged the wards on the gate. “We had no incidences.”
“Thank you.” Was all Snape replied. With a quartet of loud CRACKs!the four
Aurors turned on their spots and disapparated.
The moment they were gone, she was in his arms, face rubbing against his chest,
breathing him in. His arms came around her tightly, one around her shoulders
the other cupping the back of her head, holding her to him. He dropped his
cheek to the top of her head, breathing in her sent. Lavender and vanilla had
never tempted him so much.
“I missed you,” she breathed, her body relaxing for the first time in days.
He said nothing, just held her tighter. She hadn’t expected him to return the
sentiment. Severus Snape was not a sentimental person. “Come,” he said after a
moment. “I will show you your new chambers.”
She looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?” She pulled away, but slid
her slender fingers into his palm before lacing them with his.
“Headmistress McGonagall is worried about you being alone in the Head Girl
suite at night.” He tried to hide his devilish smile, thinking she might find
it inappropriate, but was unsuccessful. His grin pulled a real smile to her
face for the first time in days. It felt strange. “She insisted on setting up a
chamber for you in the dungeon. Opposite mine.” He looked down at her, quirking
one eyebrow high.
He could not stop his outright laugh when her face went so scarlet he could see
it in the dying light of twilight. “Why, Miss Granger, you’re blushing.”
She brushed off his laugh and forced a stern look on her face. “How did
Professor Snape react to this predicament? Being stuck with one of his least
favorite students?”
“He was appropriately outraged, but relented to his boss’s overactive whims,”
he sneered. “He also insisted there be measures put into place so you would
never run into him in any state of undress, or vice versa.”
The laugh that bubbled out of her sparkled around the grounds sending a thrill
through Snape. Oh, he had missed that sound the last handful of days. She
pulled him to a stop and he turned to face her. “So, you’re telling me we’re
going to be livingtogether for the remainder of the school year.”
“Yes, but in much closer quarters then Minerva intended.” He leered at her, and
she felt heat spread through her body. The undiluted lust in his pitch-black
eyes made the rest of the world melt away. Oh, she had missed him. “I want you
in my bed every night. That is, as long as you want to be there.”
He grabbed a hip and pulled her closer. Her breath sped up as his mouth touched
hers in a gentle, chaste kiss that belied the heat in his eyes.
“Yes,” she answered against the hard lines of his mouth.
===============================================================================
Malfoy was struggling. Struggling with his courses now that he no longer looked
forward to study sessions with Lizzie and Granger. Struggling with his
reputation now that the whole school thought Lizzie had dumped him for that
idiot Weasel.
It had hurt to see her wandering to the basement hand-in-hand with Weasley a
couple of weeks ago and it had made him struggle with his mood because…well,
because he missed her. As cheesy as sounded, she had become his closest friend
in their time together. He didn’t talk to anyone the way he had talked with
her. Hadnever talked to anyone the way he talked to her. Not even Parkinson in
the two years they dated prior to the war.
He saw her everywhere, and she was always with that blasted Golden Trioand the
little Weaslette who was sewn to Potter’s hip. His mind growled over the term
that had been coined to describe Potter, Granger, and Weasley. How nice it must
be to be them. He let out a long, defeated breath.
The last thing he was struggling with was what happened in that secluded
corridor the night he walked away from her. The guilt and confusion he felt
over what had happened tore at him every day. He wanted to talk to her about it
more, to apologize again. To get her real forgiveness, not just the wide-eyed,
terrified, and confused nod of acquiescence she had given him that night.
He had tried to figure out where he had gone wrong, but it wasn’t until he
asked Zabini to borrow the pensive he had inherited from his grandfather and
had taken the memory out to examine it from a different point of view did he
realize how many times she had asked him to stop. He couldn’t blame her for
biting him even a little bit.
His mind had been buzzing with her returned ardor. She had kissed him with as
much abandon as he had felt. Not wanting to be told no, he’d refused to hear it
and had somehow made his mind think her struggles against him were frantic
touches of returned lust.
The pain of her bite had left him furious until he’d seen the look on her face.
He never would have wanted to be the cause of that look, it sliced through him
like a million blades. The agony of her distrust after all he had shared with
her over the course of eight weeks was unbearable. He was furious with himself
for the way he reacted. Instead of closing down the way he had, he wished he
had manned up and talked to her. He wished he had fought for her. Reputation be
damned. After two weeks of no contact with her, he realized she was worth
fighting for.
He now appreciated she could probably never forgive him for what he had done.
She wouldn’t be able to trust him. In the same breath, he wasn’t so sure he
wanted to be back with her if she was going to listen to all the whispers
around her. She had promised him during their first encounter she would form
her own opinion, but she hadn’t. She had let other people’s words cloud her
assessment of him.
He gave a deep sigh and turned back to his locker in the Quidditch locker room
to finish putting on his leathers. Yet, he didn’t blame her for this after
watching what he had done in the pensive.
Slytherin was playing Hufflepuff today and he was not looking forward to being
one on one with Lizzie at all. After she had made Seeker and before their break
up, he had been looking forward to the heat of their rivalry on the field,
knowing she was a stellar match for him and it would be a phenomenal game. Now
he wasn’t so sure he could even compete against her.
After only half listening to Flint, who had also returned for an eighth and
final year at Hogwarts, give a pep talk about how the Hufflepuff’s new Seeker
was really good and to go for her at all costs to keep her out of Malfoy’s way,
he made his way to a set of bleachers behind the pitch to wait out the
remaining time until the game started in about twenty minutes in relative
peace.
He was shocked to feel someone tug his arm from under the material surrounding
the stand, and even more dumbfounded when he came face to face with a flushed
Lizzie Williams. He threw his guards up and snarled at her.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was clipped.
He looked at her for a long moment before giving a brief nod. “So, talk.”
“Don’t you dare go easy on me out there today.” She poked a finger into his
chest pads and he stepped back in bewilderment. “I’m here to play a fair game.
You best give it your all.”
“Why do you think I’d go easy on you?” he growled, getting back into her face
to intimidate her. He knew it wouldn’t work. She was too fierce, too stubborn,
too…perfect. And regardless as to what she thought, she knew him too well.
“Guilt?” she questioned, raising a beautifully arched golden eyebrow, and
giving him a … seductive look? That threw him.
“What do I have to be guilty about?” He invaded her personal space, wanting to
make her as uncomfortable as she was making him. It apparently didn’t work
because she moved closer to him, her breath hot on his ear.
“We both have things to be guilty about.” It tickled his neck and sent a surge
of blood to his groin. He bit back a groan. Whatever this heat was between them
was maddening. It left him completely barmy.
She pulled back and retreated a couple of steps – did it affect her as much?
“But I will never forgive you if you don’t put forth your best game today.
Promise me.”
He looked at her with his stone mask in place, but she could see the glazed
look in his eyes.
“Promise me, Malfoy.” She purposely used his surname to bring him out of his
reverie. It worked, his eyes cleared and he looked at her icily.
“You’ll never know what hit you,” he snarled.
The game was almost boring. The Chasers on the Slytherin team were much better
than those on the Hufflepuff team, and the Slytherin Keeper definitely had more
skill. After two hours, the score was Slytherin 270 to Hufflepuff 100.
Draco played hard and tough; he was an excellent seeker. Lizzie had expected
nothing less of him. She was frustrated with her inability to find the elusive
Golden Snitch today, though. Normally she had at least seen it a half dozen
times even if it had disappeared again with the length of the game they were
experiencing. Today, though, she hadn’t seen it even once. She wondered if the
garish yellow robes of Hufflepuff were obscuring the damn thing.
She dodged a bludger and twisted out of the way as the Hufflepuff chasers
exchanged the quaffle while barreling through the center of the pitch, a
Slytherin Beater and two Chasers on their broom tails. That’s when she realized
Draco must have seen the snitch, because he dove. “Fuck!” she muttered under
her breath and spun herself around to pummel after him. He had seen it and was
within feet of the damn thing while she was still a couple of meters behind
him.
“Having a good game, Malfoy?” She screamed above the cheers, it was enough to
startle him for just a second, but that was all she needed. She angled her
broom and dove beneath him and the snitch, quickly turning to pluck it out of
the air, while he reared the broom back to avoid crashing into her. They were
only a few feet from the ground, and she had known they were going to crash
when she decided to make her move.
She prepared herself for the impact. It was hard, but not as hard as it should
have been. She realized why when she felt strong, wiry arms around her,
protecting her as they slammed into the ground. Instead of smashing into her,
Draco had grabbed her off her broom and rolled them in mid-air so he’d take the
force of the fall on his back with her cradled to his chest. She was shocked
even as the air left them both with a loud “Oof!”
He looked at her in a mixture of amazement and fury while trying to reestablish
his breathing. “You’re a nutter!” He heaved out at her once he could draw air
into his lungs.
She gave him her dazzling grin, placing the hand that didn’t clutch the snitch
on his chest and pushed herself up to straddle him. “Yup!” she exclaimed before
shoving her fist in the air to show the crowd who had the snitch. The
Hufflepuff section roared to life even while the Slytherin’s celebrated their
win. The final score was Slytherin 270, Hufflepuff 250. All Draco could
concentrate on was the way her body felt against his. The look he gave her was
almost reverent, and she swallowed past the desire that grew in her belly.
She rolled off him as her teammates came pouring down to the field to embrace
her and give good natured pats to her back and shoulders. Malfoy sat up slowly
resting one arm on a raised knee and stared after her in bemusement as she was
swallowed into a swarm of classmates. Then scowled to himself. Bloody Elizabeth
Williams.
“What the hell was that?” Flint snarled in his ear a moment later, as he and
another team member gripped him underneath the elbows and hauled him to his
feet.
“She got there first,” Malfoy shrugged indifferently, pulling his arms away
from his teammates.
“No, what the hell was that move at the end?” Malfoy realized he was being
taunted. “Looked like you were going to shag her in the middle of the pitch.”
He felt his face go hot and red. “What would I want with her?” he demanded,
keeping his voice laced with its normal poison.
“Don’t be an idiot, Malfoy.” Another teammate scowled at him. “The whole school
knows you want that filthy little American Mudblood.”
It took every ounce of strength Draco had not to throw a punch. “What’s it to
you?” he demanded.
“It matters to us if it’s going to get in the way of the ruthlessness we’re
used to seeing from you on the pitch, Malfoy,” Flint said, raising his hand at
the other members of the team to back off. “If you had just run her over like
you should have, she might have been out the rest of the season.”
“Pomfrey would have been able to put her right, and I didn’t feel like spending
the night in the hospital wing,” Draco retorted coldly.
“Right.” Flint obviously didn’t believe him and Draco glared at him.
“Sod off,” he countered and, without bothering to look at anyone else, stormed
off the pitch.
***** Chapter Sixteen *****
                                Chapter_Sixteen
                                 December 1998
===============================================================================
“Miss Granger.” The cool, detached voice of the Head of Slytherin filtered
through the room. “I think you need to focus on the task at hand.”
She wasn’t fooled with his cold demeanor, she knew that he was delving into her
thoughts which were adamantly replaying their fucking session from the night
before – purposely messing with his head as she replayed every nip, and suck,
and stroke from her point of view with the utmost care. Which was probably why
he was sitting behind his desk. It was also most likely why he had put his
teaching robes back on over his frock coat. She successfully kept the smirk off
her face. “Yes, sir.”
She straightened in her chair and redoubled her focus on the Dreamless Sleep
they were brewing for Madame Pomphrey’s stores. Well, Lizzie was pretty much
doing all the work, which she did feel a little guilty about. She didn’t miss
the sour look Ron threw at her over his shoulder, she gave him a small,
friendly smile. She was trying very hard to keep the peace with him.
“Where are we?” She murmured under her breath and Lizzie snorted at her.
“Step six.” She hissed back. “Are you going to return to your daydream or can I
get you to powder some asphodel petals and grab some essence of nettle from the
store room? We’re both out.”
“Yes, of course.” She threw some dried asphodel petals into her mortar and
quickly ground them into powder. “Here’s this, I’ll be right back.”
She moved between the desks efficiently, knowing right where she was going. She
never noticed Snape quietly move through the room to follow her with an evil
glint in his eye. She almost shrieked when she turned around to find him
blocking the door for the store room. She glanced behind him to see everyone
focused on their work. He muttered an incantation she didn’t recognize and a
silencing charm and lunged at her. “Professor!” She squealed softly as he
devoured her lips. “Someone will see,” she protested.
“No one will see, anyone that looks will see us talking through the open door.”
He argued as his lips trailed a fiery line along her jaw.
“You’ve lost your mind!” She laughed, trying to set the jar of nettle down. He
took it from her quivering fingers and placed it down without incident all the
while maintaining contact with the column of her ivory throat. She groaned and
wrapped her arms around his middle, not sure if she wanted to pull him closer
or push him away. She was feeling instantly light headed. He pulled her firmly
to his chest and returned to her mouth, she sighed against his lips and melted
into the hard planes of his chest. The kiss became more tender and less
insistent. Memories from the previous night making her ardor glow. He caressed
her back lightly through her robes and she smoothed her hands delicately over
his chest, loving the way his skin trembled beneath her touch. “You’re making
me mental,” she breathed, trying to press every inch of herself against him.
“You throwing images at me of everything we did last night while I’m trying to
teach is making me mental.” He growled in her ear, nipping the sensitive lobe.
“Besides, I love making you crazy.”
She whimpered in her throat and then sighed, tilting her head back in abandon
as he lapped the tingling hallow of her throat. “Ah,” she breathed, palming up
his back and dipping her head back to him as his lips nipped across a shoulder.
“Oh, gods. Severus. I love you,” she whispered, running her teeth along the
underside of his jaw. She said it without thinking. Said it without meaning to.
She had been thinking it for days, weeks even, always making sure she kept it
away from the forefront of her mind when she knew he liked to slip in and look
from time to time. She’d been so careful with the sentiment that she could
hardly believe it slipped out unintentionally. She knew he wasn’t ready to hear
it. She was mortified. More so when he stiffened perceptively.
Instead of responding with something…anything, he pulled abruptly away from
her, leaving Hermione breathless with embarrassment, her arms outstretched as
if she were still holding him. A cold feeling tingled down her spine. He didn’t
look at her as he mumbled something about getting back to class before they
were missed as he exited the cupboard before her, the enchantment on the
doorway broken. All she could do was nod stiffly and find her way back to her
desk, face blazing and hands shaking.
“Where’s the nettle?” Lizzie griped when she settled back into her seat,
trembling.
“Oh,” Hermione was dismayed. Her shock was such she’d left the damn jar of
nettle in the stores. “I’m sorry Lizzie,” she whispered, trying to keep tears
at bay. She watched as the girl huffed and stormed off to the cupboard. I will
not cry, I did nothing wrong. I didn’t deserve that reaction even if it was a
surprise. I can’t believe I told him I love him. What was I thinking? It’s too
soon, he’s going to think I’m some silly little girl who throws declarations of
love around like flower petals during a bridal procession. Oh. My. God. Why the
hell am I thinking about weddings?She dropped her face into her palms, stifling
a horrified sob that threatened to break free. She had been too vulnerable
lately, her emotions bubbling too near the surface.
“Hey!” Lizzie had just got back from the store room. “Hermione, what’s the
matter?” She kept her voice low, but both Ron and Harry turned in their seats
to look at her, concern on both their faces.
“I-I’m, sorry,” she muttered, air starting to hitch in her chest, eyes widening
in realization a panic attack was fast approaching. “I, I have to go.” She
raised her voice. “Professor?”
“Miss Granger?” Snape’s voice was low, cold. It only made her want to cry more.
Was it really so terrible to be told that you are loved?
“May I please be excused?” Her voice trembled with every syllable and many of
her classmates turned to look at her with surprise. Malfoy even looked up with
some semblance of concern on his face.
There was a long pause where Hermione dared to look up, keeping her hands up to
hide her face as best she could. Snape was erasing the board manually,
something he never did, his back to her.
“Is your potion complete?”
Lizzie quickly tossed in the nettle and nodded at Hermione, eyes wide with
concern. “Yes, sir.” The sob hitched in her throat, her stomach clenching as if
it was going to eject her lunch that was just barely digesting. She had to get
out of there, now. Or she was going to explode. “Please, sir,” She pleaded
after about thirty solid seconds of silence, tears spilling hot.
What have I done, what have I done. Oh, my God.She sucked in a slow breath,
trying to keep the cloying alarm at bay. Why wasn’t he answering her? He’s
probably more shocked then you are, give him a moment.The longer he took, the
more freaked she started to feel – so much so she knew she was going to have a
full-blown panic attack. She leapt from her seat, not bothering to grab her
things, and made a beeline straight for his office door to disappear into her
chambers – without his permission.
“Miss Granger, that will be a detention.” She paused in shock at the door, no
longer able to breathe. The panic of the moment clawing at her insides, her
all-encompassing grief form the last month only fueling the fire.
Hermione’s eyes flew to meet his and her heart shattered at the look on his
face. It was guarded, eyes blazing with an emotion she didn’t understand…almost
distrustful. Did he think she had lied to him? More white hot tears streaked
her face. “I’ll take the detention, sir.” She gasped out with no feeling and
pushed into his office and through the door to her bedchamber…the one she had
only been in once. She locked, warded, and put a silencing charm on the door
behind her and threw herself face down on her bed, allowing the dam to burst
completely. Instead of sounds, a high-pitched keen broke through with barely
any force behind it. She was suffocating. She couldn’t breathe. Tears tracked
wetly down her cheeks and she rolled to her back, attempting to force her
racing mind to slow, instructing herself to pull in a breath. It wouldn’t come,
and blackness engulfed her.
===============================================================================
Lizzie exchanged guarded glances with Harry and Ron through the remaining
fifteen minutes of class. Their teacher looked…quite upset. Hermione had been
so frantic to escape that she had taken a detention in order to flee. Why Snape
hadn’t given her permission when she was obviously so distraught pegged her as
a bit cruel. It was obvious something happened, but she hadn’t seen them
anywhere near each other the entire double period.
“Sir?” Lizzie questioned, raising her hand.
“Miss Williams?” Snape returned, not looking at her. That was odd in and of
itself.
“I’m concerned about Hermione, may I please check on her?”
“No.”
Lizzie did a double take, attempting to make eye contact with him. He
deliberately avoided her gaze. Ron growled under his breath, his worry rising
tenfold. Lizzie gave him a look to keep quiet, but Snape had already heard.
“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley,” he drawled. Then addressed the
class. “If you are cleaned up, you are dismissed.”
Lizzie bolted to his office door. “Where do you think you’re going, Miss
Williams?” Snape demanded.
“You said if our things were put away we could leave.” She spun and glared at
him, keeping one hand on his office door. “I want to check on my friend, she
was upset.”
“I will check on Miss Granger as soon as everyone has cleared out.” His tone
left no room for argument. “Leave her things,” he said baldly when she started
packing up Hermione’s bag.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lizzie snarled. The class gasped as a
collective whole and Draco actually straightened and looked like he was about
to put himself between the little blonde and the deathly glare their professor
was giving her.
“Fifty points from Hufflepuff, Miss Williams, and a week of detentions, I
think.”
Lizzie was so angry, she was shaking visibly. Ron and Harry quickly flanked the
girl and grabbed her things, dragging her from the room before any more damage
could be done. Harry threw a reproachful glare over his shoulder at the
oblivious Potions Master. While all this was taking place, most of the room
cleared out. Draco being the only one left in his room. He stared at his
Godfather incomprehensively.
“Good day, Draco,” he snarled, indicating he wanted the boy to leave.
“Sir, are you really going to check on Granger? If not…I-I could?” Snape raised
an incredulous eyebrow at him, and Draco hastily threw his bag on his
shoulders. “Or…not,” he muttered and scooted quickly out the room.
Snape sat down heavily at his desk, the stress of the last fifteen minutes
causing his hands to shake. What was she playing at? Severus. I love you. What
the bloody fuck! Women didn’t fall in love with Severus Snape. Ever. He had
thirty-seven years to test that theory – it hadn’t proved false until this
moment. Suddenly, the weight of what had truly just conspired slammed into him
and he groaned, dropping his head into his fists. Severus. I love you.He had
pulled away. Severus. I love you.Left her the moment she expressed something
that made him uncomfortable. He’d given her a bloody detention when her
devastation to his reaction had overwhelmed her. Severus. I love you.She’d had
her arms around him, had been nipping his jaw, making him crazy with want for
her. She had been caught up in a moment and had been unguarded and vulnerable
with him…Severus. I love you…and he had all but attacked her. Because he was
bloody terrified of her. Him. The man who had single handedly duped the
greatest dark wizard known to man. Him. The man who had played a double agent
for over sixteen years. Him. The man who had beat death by the sweat on his
teeth. Terrified of a nineteen-year-old girl with big brown eyes, soft, perfect
lips, and the dulcet Earthiness of a wood nymph.
And instead of returning her affection – which he had longed to do for weeks
now – he had shattered her heart in seconds with no words at all. What was
worse – he wasn’t anywhere near ready to try and fix it.
===============================================================================
Hermione came to and was extremely disoriented. It was pitch black in the room
and her heart instantly leapt with fear. Feeling for her wand, which she was
grateful to find in the pocket of her robes, she muttered, “Lumos.”
The tip of her wand glowed a bright white-blue and she aimed it around the
room. Oh. She was in her chambers off Snape’s office. Then the afternoon came
back to her and a fresh wave of horror washed over her. She bit her bottom lip
and let the pain of it help ground her. When the panic she had felt ebbing up
her throat was stifled, she sat up slowly.
“Incendio.” She shot a flame into the grate of the beautiful ornate fire place,
realizing it was the first time a fire had been lit in it. She directed her
wand at the candelabras and they blazed to life, warming the small room.
Setting down her wand, she scrubbed her face with the heels of her hands before
checking her watch, it was well after dinner. She was bloody starving. Quietly,
she crossed her room and cracked her door. Much to her relief, Snape was not at
his desk, she opened it more widely to notice her book bag and things were
sitting on the opposite side. She grabbed them and tossed them into her room.
She then cautiously peeked out his already ajar office door, the classroom was
empty. She quickly sprinted back into her room, grabbed her wand, doused all
fire, and literally ran into the corridor.
Hermione was relieved to make it out of the dungeons without seeing him. She
cut across the great hall to the kitchens to pilfer a snack and then headed up
to her Head Girl chambers. She took a long hot shower, not able to help the
tears she cried while the hot water washed away her tension and cleared her
mind. What was she supposed to do now? Tell him she wouldn’t say it again until
he was ready? Ask him to forget it happened? What if he pushed her away
permanently? The thought made her nauseous. He was the best thing in her life.
She truly was in love with him.
She cleaned her teeth meticulously and dabbed some moisturizer on her face
after wiping the steam from her mirror with the palm of her hand. She inspected
herself critically. Her wide eyes looked tired, the purple rings underneath
made her look older than her nineteen years. Her lips were turned down. Her
freckles stood out more prominently as her skin was far too pale. Her cheeks
bones seemed higher and more distinct. Her hair was dripping from the shower,
the ringlets pulled to waves with the weight of the water. She removed the
towel from herself to study her body. She had yet to regain the weight she had
lost in the wake of her parent’s deaths. Her collar bones stood out pronounced.
She could count four ribs on each side and her hip bones jutted sharply against
the plane of her belly. If she was honest with herself, she was probably too
thin, but she had to admit that she liked the way her collar bones stood out,
she had always thought collar bones were sexy. She sighed.
She knew Severus desired her. The power of being able to turn him on left her
heady sometimes. Why she was scrutinizing herself so much left her feeling a
bit bewildered. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and used her wand to
dry her hair.
Knowing he had left for rounds at seven, she decided it was probably best to
get back to the dungeon. Perhaps she would light a fire in his room and study
while she waited for him. They obviously needed to talk.
Quickly dressing in her night things and then donning her school robe, she
gathered her clothes for the next day. Just as she was about to pull open her
door, there was a knock. Her heart leapt into her throat in anticipation, but
she was disappointed when she opened the door to find Harry, Ron, Ginny, and
Lizzie behind it.
“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed, pushing past her.
“Are you okay?” Lizzie embraced her friend tightly while Ginny and Ron slipped
into the room behind her.
“What happened this afternoon?” Ron demanded.
Hermione looked at her four closest friends with watery eyes, grateful for
their concern, but knowing she was nowhere near ready to discuss what happened.
Instead, she gave them a brief answer.
“Severus and I had a row,” she said carefully. “It’ll be okay, I was just
really overwhelmed and needed to get out of there before I broke down
completely in front of the entire class.”
Four sets of eyes bore into her disbelievingly. “You were super upset,” Lizzie
said quietly. “Snape was angry. He took fifty points from Hufflepuff and gave
me a week worth of detentions because I asked to check in on you.”
Hermione was flabbergasted. “I’ll talk to him, that wasn’t fair.”
“No, it was,” Ron let out a dry laugh. “Pretty sure she said something along
that lines of what the hell is the matter with you when he refused to let her
go.”
Hermione gaped at the blonde.
“Hermione,” Harry spoke quietly for the first time since he greeted her at the
door. “He gave you a detention because you asked to be excused and when he
didn’t answer you, you fled. Everyone in the class could tell you were upset.
I’m sure most people thought you were having an emotional moment in light of
everything you’ve been through the past month, but … well. Hermione, what
happened?”
Hermione searched her best friend’s eyes before sighing.
“I’m just not ready to talk about it. I’ll tell you after we’ve had a chance to
work things out. I’m going to head back down there now. He’ll be back from
rounds around eleven. I have some studying to do, anyhow. I pretty much slept
the rest of the afternoon and evening away,” she neglected to tell them she had
passed out while having a panic attack.
“You want me to walk with you?” Lizzie asked.
“No,” Hermione shook her head. “I just need to be alone for a while.
To…process.”
Her friends, while reluctant, finally agreed, all giving her hugs before
leaving the room and heading to their respective dorms. Hermione locked up room
and started back towards the dungeons. She arrived without meeting anyone. He’d
left a fire blazing in the hearth in his office. She turned to his room,
determined to wait for him so they could talk, but stopped cold. A piece of
parchment was pinned to his door, his thick, bold handwriting clear.
Miss Granger,
I will ward your door when I come back from rounds. Have a pleasant evening.
Professor Snape
“No,” she whispered, breath catching in her throat. She reached out and tried
the handle. It was locked. She pulled out her want. “Alohomora.” It stayed
locked. She took two steps back in shock, not wanting to believe. He was
shutting her out.
No panic this time, just grief. She fell to her knees, hand still resting on
the locked handle of his chamber door. This isn’t happening.
***** Chapter Seventeen *****
                              Chapter_Seventeen
===============================================================================
Snape bit back a groan as he entered his office. It was after midnight. He had
purposely stayed out late on his rounds because he had the perverse need to
find mischief makers and take house points. Unfortunately, he found mostly
Slytherin couples looming about, snogging...or more. All though he did corner
two from Gryffindor and another from Hufflepuff. If he was honest with himself,
he stayed out late mostly hoping Hermione would get tired and give up on him.
He should have known she was too stubborn.
He was fully aware that the juvenile note tacked to his door was just that –
childish. She was too mature to fall for it and take his unspoken words
literally. Which was why he found her propped in the corner of the settee, a
huge tome from her United States History of Magic open on her lap and a blazing
fire roaring in the hearth. She had one elbow on the arm of the couch with her
chin resting in it and was fast asleep. He sighed, running slender fingers
through his lank black hair. He was really in need of a shower, it had been a
long day.
Deciding not to wake her until he was through, he took down the wards and
unlocked his door, pulling the offensive note down and crumbling it. He closed
the door behind him. Twenty minutes later he was back. Her position had
shifted, she now had her arm down, the book had fallen to the floor, and her
head tipped back. She was snoring very lightly, and he found himself studying
her.
She was too thin and her cheek bones and collar bones were more pronounced
because of this fact. She hadn’t gone to supper, either. He knew because he had
been watching for her. Her thinness was worrisome to him, and at the same time
it gave her an older, more angular look.
While less pronounced in sleep, she had dark circles under eyes. He knew she
was sleeping very little, but they kept each other good company because he,
also, hardly slept. It’s just what happens after years of expecting to be
murdered while you rest. Couple that with the nightmares of all the ghoulish
atrocities of his past and the reoccurring dream he had of Voldemort killing
Lily for the last seventeen years and…yeah. He hadn’t slept much in years.
Finding her in his bed every time he woke for the last month made the nights
all that much more bearable, though. Another thing to add to your list to
solidify your stupid, idiotic reaction today. You’re running out of reasons to
not apologize.
In fact, his own nightmares had been few and far between during this last
month. They had been taken over by Hermione’s. She dreamed almost every night.
He blamed them on her recent horrors, all though, sometimes she dreamed about
Bellatrix. Once she had been screaming something about being burned and a
dragon – he imagined that was the Gringotts break-in; she had told him about it
in fascinating detail in the first few weeks of their relationship. A few times
she had dreamed Potter was dead – those had been hard on her – and made him
unnecessarily jealous. He knew she loved the boy as a brother. Mostly, though,
she had night terrors about her parents. He grimaced – he would mostly likely
be the star in her nightmares tonight. He’d have to blame them on himself,
unless he did something about it.
He was just about to chicken out – and was disgusted with himself for it – when
her eyelashes fluttered. He stared at her, pulling up his mask and shielding
his mind from her coming assault, but there was no offensive in her warm, dark
eyes. They focused on him and immediately welled with tears. He was shut down,
he couldn’t do this. Sweet Slytherin, he didn’t want to be responsible for that
look on her face. He turned to leave the room, feeling too overwhelmed at the
raw emotion in her expression.
“Please, don’t go.” Her voice was scratchy with sleep and wound thick with
feeling. He paused in his doorway, one hand resting on the jamb, saying
nothing.
“I can’t take it back,” she breathed, focusing on his tense back. “I wouldn’t
want to, even if I could…but I won’t say it again if you don’t want me to.
Please don’t shut me out.”
He cringed inwardly. She was saying all the right things. All the things she
thought he wanted to hear. But was that really the truth? Did he want her to
not tell him that she was in love with him? Was she really in love with him? It
was just too fantastical to him.
“Severus,” she whispered. “I know it was too soon. I hadn’t planned on telling
you yet, I knew you weren’t ready – that we weren’t ready. Please don’t let
this ruin us. I – I can’t lose you, too.” Her voice was trembling with emotion,
her words practically screaming how much she wanted him, needed him…loved him.
At her last words, he felt her arms encircling his waist from behind. He
twitched almost imperceptibly. He hadn’t even realized she had gotten out of
her seat, he was so wrapped up in her words and his thoughts. She splayed her
hands flat across his abdomen, resting her cheek on his back between his
shoulder blades. Not even realizing he had been holding his breath, he let it
out in a silent whoosh, but still didn’t move. She stood like that against him
silently, holding him to her while his mind whirred around everything.
Tell her you’re in love with her, too, you imbecile. Apologize for your
reaction this afternoon. Tell her she’ll never lose you as long as she wants
you. And for bloody sake, tell her she will not sit that fucking detention.
Could you have been any more of a dunderhead? What the hell are you waiting
for? She’s bloody perfect and you know it. She’s too good for you, and you’re
going to let the “L” word frighten you away? You know you’ve been in love with
her for weeks. You haven’t even barely looked at another woman since Lily other
than to obtain your pleasure – and here, right in front of you is someone more
perfect for you than Lily had ever been. You know what Lily would say to you if
you could talk to her now – she’d ask what you’re waiting for.
He felt her arms loosen and pull away and he panicked internally. What are you
waiting for? The right time? It already passed you by. You could make this the
right time. You don’t want to walk away from this, you’d break her heart, you
fool. She’d never trust you again. I DARE YOU TO TELL HER.
Hermione mistook his silence and immobility for a rejection. It took every
ounce of her control not to burst into tears. She was so tired of crying. She
pulled away from him and curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her
middle under her breasts and retreating a few steps. She was just about to
leave for her room when he took a deep breath as if he intended to speak.
She waited, heart pounding painfully in her chest. She watched as his form
straightened and his arm dropped to his side. An unbearable amount of time
later, he turned to face her.
She searched his onyx eyes hungrily, trying to figure out where his thoughts
were. She was holding her breath. Finally, he spoke.
“I am sorry for the way I reacted this afternoon.” His deep baritone was like
balm to her frayed nerves, her breath heaved out of her almost painfully. She
swiped at her eyes, embarrassed that there were tears leaking again.
“It’s okay.” Her voice was small, she was just so relieved he was talking to
her.
“It’s not ‘okay.’” He closed his eyes and raised his right hand to his
forehead, rubbing the tension from between his eyes. “I was a fool and I was
cruel. For Merlin’s sake, I gave you a bloody detention.” She couldn’t stop the
incredulous laugh that escaped her chest, and his hand dropped, eyes meeting
hers again. “You didn’t deserve that, you were trying to cope with the
situation.”
She took a quick step forward, reaching out for him. She hesitated after a
split second, but he took her hand, pulling her into his chest. He wrapped his
arms around her shoulders while she buried her nose in his sternum and
encircled his torso with slender arms.
“Forgive me?” He whispered into the top of her head, curls tickling his face.
“You’re forgiven,” she breathed. “It’s okay – I understand.” He pulled back and
cupped her face, wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs. The tremulous
smile she gave him was shattering. She was putting on a brave face, knowing
there was still a hippogriff in the room.
“It’s not okay,” he murmured, dropping a light kiss on her upturned face. “I
should have told you I love you, too,”
The expression on her face was almost – almost – worth the turmoil of the day.
She had been taken utterly aback and he had to bite his lips to prevent a laugh
at the shocked confusion that marred her beautiful features. Instead, he kissed
her. She gave an incredulous squeal of surprise and pulled back, eyes so round
he thought they’d pop out of her head.
“You bloody arsehole,” she cried, half laughing, half sobbing. Then she kissed
him again. “All kiss that kiss bloody drama! kiss For you kiss to say kiss it
back?! kiss You’re worse than kiss a teenaged kiss girl!” On that note, he
didn’t let her pull away again. Slipping his hands down to cup her bum, he
pulled her hard against his erection and she groaned. “Fucking arsehole,” she
muttered again without conviction as he trailed a line of fire across her jaw
to drink in her earlobe.
“Such language.” He chuckled against her ear. The rumble of his voice so close
to her ear soaked her knickers completely and instantly. She growled, frenzied.
“Off.” She demanded, pushing at his robes. They were both surprised when not
only his robe, but his pajama top disappeared. He gave an incredulous laugh,
then his eyes slit in hunger, lust filling his body.
“Off.” He agreed. He completed a silent, wandless spell and she was stark
naked.
She growled, her desire matching his, and pushed him backwards into his room,
manually slamming the door behind them with her foot. Her fingers plunged into
his lounge pants and he almost tripped as they tangled at his ankles while she
continued to push him back to the bed. All the while their lips and tongues and
teeth never leaving the others. She pushed him back, and he fell willingly to
the bed. Happy to give her control over the situation. She had only taken
control a couple times before, but both had been extra spectacular. Her passion
and ardor were unsurpassed. He helped by pushing himself up, lying crosswise on
the bed while she crawled over the top of him, laying her deliciously naked
body directly on top of his. Then the heat cooled just slightly as she slowed
their kiss. Her teeth pulling at his upper lip while he suckled her lower one.
Her hands slid into his damp locks and her fingers curled into them, tugging
until he tilted his head up to give her open access to his throat.
“Say it again.” She pleaded, running her tongue on the underside of his jaw
bone on her way to swirl her tongue in his ear. He groaned as the pink tip sank
in and her heated breath filled the antihelix. She trailed to the lobe and
nipped before sucking again. An involuntary shudder cascaded down his spine.
“Severus, say it again.”
“I love you,” he rasped, grasping her chin and pulling her face to his. He
brushed his mouth to hers. “I’m in love with you,” he said into her open mouth.
She smiled against his maw before suckling his bottom lip into her mouth. When
she released it she answered him.
“I love you.” The warmth that flooded him was almost stifling. Everything felt
so…real, so perfect, it was right. Loving her, having her love him back.
She slowly sat up, raking her nails lightly over his chest, flicking his
nipples as she skimmed past them. She rubbed his sex across hers, lubricating
him, before grasping his cock in her hot little hand and positioning herself
above him. She mounted him slowly, her eyes rolling back in her head with the
pleasure of it, lower lip caught in her pearly white teeth. He gritted his jaw,
letting her set the pace. When he bottomed out, she moaned and slumped forward
a bit, palms to his chest to support herself.
“You feel so bloody amazing,” she whispered. “I was so scared. So scared I had
ruined it all.” She whimpered when his hips jerked without his consent.
“Never, I’m here for as long as you want me.”
“Good, because I want you forever,” she breathed, and then started to grind
against him. Her words were not missed, but quickly shoved aside as he grasped
her hips to help set the rhythm. Her cries of ecstasy and joy exultant as she
threw her head back, messy curls caressing his thighs, and rode him with wild
abandon. She was stunning. She was his.
Snape’s hips jammed up to meet hers. “Uunh,” she cried out, her body stiffening
slightly. She was close. He released one hip and caught a nipple in his fingers
tugged. “Oh, fuck.” He upped the pace, bucking into her again and again while
she slammed down on him. Her fragrant scent of arousal filling his senses.
“Come for me, Hermione,” he demanded, tugging again, the other nipple this
time.
“Fuuuuck,” she cried. “Severus!”
Her orgasm rocked through him as she lost her rhythm to it and instead of
slamming down, she ground her hips as he gyrated little hops. She whimpered as
sensations became too much. Jerking and twitching, her pussy milked him for all
he was worth. His bollocks tightened and then he was there, pouring himself
into her. “Hermione,” he breathed and his orgasm erupted out of him.
She collapsed on top of him, panting. Her unruly mane covering them like a
blanket. His hands sank into her hair and he pulled her face to his to kiss her
long and slow and sweet. She melted against him, her fingers caressing the
stubble at his jaw.
***** Chapter Eighteen *****
                               Chapter_Eighteen
===============================================================================
“He’s nuts!” Lizzie laughed, sitting between Harry and Ron on an over-stuffed
couch in the Gryffindor commons room.
“Hagrid is batty.” Hermione laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as Harry
and Ron glared at her, protective of their over-sized friend.
“I mean this in a good way, guys!” Lizzie elbowed Harry in the ribs before
swatting Ron on the shoulder. “I love the guy, but this…monster fetish…sheesh!”
Harry snorted. “Okay, you’ve got me there!”
“Hey guys!” Ginny clambered through the portrait hole as the quartet of friends
were sniggering and telling Lizzie more Hagrid stories a few minutes later.
“Whatcha up to?”
“Just reminiscing about all the crazy animal stunts Hagrid has pulled over the
last eight years,” Harry told her, pulling her down in his lap and kissing her
deeply.
“Oi!” Ron gagged. “C’mon, you two. That’s bloody disgusting.”
“Sorry, mate.” Harry smirked at him, looking away from Ginny for a fraction of
a second. “I haven’t seen her all day.” He turned back to his girlfriend
eagerly. She grinned and proceeded to give everyone in the common room a show.
Ron pointedly turned his face away while Lizzie watched with sparkling eyes for
a moment before catching Hermione grinning from her wing backed chair, a
knowing look in her eyes.
“How must it feel to be so in love, you can’t even keep your hands off each
other in the middle of the common room with an audience of fifteen plus?” She
joked to Hermione who sniggered.
“Better than being in love and not being able to show any public displays of
affection,” she returned, before blushing furiously at the realization of what
she said.
Ginny came up for air with a squeak. “In love?” she squealed, practically
throwing herself into the chair next to Hermione, leaving Harry looking utterly
bewildered and a bit put out.
Lizzie’s eyebrows rose and she gave the two girls a look. “Have you told him,
Hermione?” she asked, leaning forward enthusiastically, putting both elbows on
her knees and placing her chin in her hands, grinning.
Black and red-headed boys exchanged slightly horrified looks.
Hermione hid her face in her hands. “Stop!” Her face was as red as Ginny’s
hair. “Oh, my God. Please let the floor swallow me whole.”
A few outsiders were peeping in on their conversation and Lizzie sent a glare
at a group of sixth year boys. “Bugger off!” she told them, which made Ron
snort. The boys rolled their eyes and went back to their game of Exploding
Snap.
“Picking up on our British slang there, eh, Lizzie?” She instantly knew Ron was
trying to change the subject. He was still very uncomfortable every time the
topic of Snape came up.
“Didn’t answer Lizzie’s question, Hermione!” Ginny prodded, lowering her voice
and poking Hermione on the shoulder. She was oblivious to Ron’s attempt out of
the conversation. If possible, Hermione’s blush deepened.
“Yes,” she finally whispered.
“And?!” Ginny squawked.
“Well, it was sort of an ‘in the heat of the moment’ thing, and after the
initial shock – and me thinking I had thoroughly botched the whole damn thing –
he said it back.” She felt it was prudent to leave out the details of that day
almost a fortnight ago. “He’s told me every day, since.”
“Ah!!!!” Lizzie almost fell off the couch. Harry covered a smile with his hand,
while Ginny looked dumbfounded. Ron abruptly stood and strode though the
portrait hole without a word or a backwards glance.
Hermione’s face drained of color while the other three gaped after him. He’d
been doing so much better the last couple of weeks – but this was probably to
be expected from Ron. He always wore his heart on his sleeve.
“How could I have been so callous?” The brunette scolded herself, dropping her
face into her splayed palm.
“He has to get over it, Hermione,” Ginny insisted. “You’ve done nothing wrong.
How would you have reacted if he was the one spouting he was in love?”
“I would have told him I was happy for him.” The curly haired girl replied
quietly. “At least I hope I would have.”
“You would have,” Harry said firmly.
“I’d better go apologize.” Hermione pushed herself to stand.
“No.” Lizzie stood quickly, holding her hands up. “Let me talk to him for you.”
Hermione nodded. “It might be better if it comes from you. I gotta get back
down to my room to put some school work together for later tonight, anyway.
I’ll walk with you for a bit.”
Lizzie grabbed her heavy cloak and they said good-bye to Ginny and Harry and
exited through the portrait hole.
“Room of requirement?” Ginny raised her eyebrows suggestively. Harry nodded,
but a faraway look was sprawled over his face.
“What’s the matter, love.” Ginny sunk back onto his lap, wrapping her arms
around his neck and dropping a kiss on his forehead.
He dropped his voice so it was barely discernable over the din of the common
room. “Snape. In love. With Hermione,” he looked up at her, his eyes soft. “I
would have never guessed…but. Ginny, god, he deserves it.”
Ginny smiled warmly and touched her forehead to his, squeezing his shoulders
tightly. “He does. So does she. None of us have had it very easy, you know?”
He nodded and kissed the bridge of her nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a
moment. When he opened them, Ginny was startled to see tears glistening. “No,
none of us have. But I think he’s had it the worst.”
===============================================================================
“Where do you think he went?” Lizzie asked
“Probably either the owlery or the pitch,” Hermione answered automatically. “He
likes the birds, and has been known to go there when upset. But of course the
pitch…” She trailed off. Lizzie nodded.
“I’ll check the pitch first.” She gave her friend a small smile. “Do not fret
about this. I’ll get him to calm down. “
“Lizzie,” Hermione whispered, stopping. “I’m heartbroken for him. I don’t know
if him and I will ever be okay again.”
“Oh, honey,” she replied, hugging the girl fast and fierce. She pulled away,
holding Hermione’s shoulders. “It’s going to be all right. He just…he just
needs to fall in love himself.” Hermione nodded, and the two girls continued
their walk to the Head corridor on the third floor.
“How do you feel about Susan Bones?” Lizzie asked tentatively after a short
bought of silence.
“She a doll,” Hermione answered automatically. “Just the sweetest thing. So
sad, though. She has no family left. She had a court appointed guardian last
year while she was still underage. Now that she’s of age, she inherited her
family estate.”
“She’s mad about Ron.” Lizzie told her after a brief hesitation. “Hannah said
she’s had a crush on him for the last couple years.”
That stopped Hermione in her tracks, brown eyes finding green in a mix of
excitement and trepidation. “That’s…good.”
Lizzie cocked her head. “You don’t like that idea?”
“No.” Hermione shook her head quickly. “I just…why do I feel jealous?”
Lizzie looked at her, exasperated. “Well, I get it. I do, but you have to keep
that tidbit to yourself. You’ve moved on, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, it’s probably just a little residual possessiveness is all.”
Hermione nodded, looking very thoughtful. “I think they’d be brilliant
together,” she finally said.
“Me, too,” Lizzie’s eyes sparkled impishly. “Care to play matchmaker with me?”
Hermione’s eyes burned with mischievousness. “I think that’s a splendid idea,
Elizabeth Williams.”
“Me, too, Hermione Granger.”
They made plans to meet up during their free period after lunch the next day
and parted at the top of the grand staircase on the third floor.
Lizzie continued through the castle and out to the pitch. It was getting fairly
close to curfew, so she knew she needed to move quickly. Hermione was right,
Ron was on the pitch, sitting below the right goal post on the closer end of
the field.
“Ron,” she said softly. He jumped a bit and looked up at her, his eyes
darkening with malice.
“I don’t want you here,” he muttered.
“I know,” she murmured, and knelt in the snow beside him. “But I think you need
to hear something.”
“What?” He ground out, not looking at her, while he packed clumps of white
powder in his hands angrily.
“Aren’t you freezing?” she asked him, distracted for a moment. The wind was
whipping her cloak everywhere and she stuck her hands under her arms trying to
bring them warmth.
“I’m all right, I cast a warming charm,” he muttered. He pointed his wand at
her and muttered the incantation. She immediately felt a flow of hot air
surround her and sighed.
“Oh, my goodness,” she breathed, feeling better almost instantly. “I have to
remember that one.”
“Okay, listen.” She continued after a moment of silence, Ron still not looking
at her while he packed another snow ball together. He had a little pile of ten
or so done. “I know you’re hurt about Hermione, but if you were so hung up on
her, why would you date me?”
His eyes flew up to hers in surprise. “I – I…I guess I don’t know.”
“Don’t know, or aren’t willing to admit that you’re upset she’s found someone
new and you haven’t?”
He grunted, dropping his eyes again. “I guess it’s probably the second.”
“Mmhm,” she said. She touched his shoulder lightly and he looked at her
cautiously. “What if I told you I knew someone who really liked you?”
He searched her eyes for a moment. Then, taking her by complete surprise,
hauled her into his arms. He pressed his lips to hers in a move Lizzie would
have never anticipated. She gave a little squawk of surprise and he used the
opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. Just let him kiss you, and then
tell him what you were going to tell him.While she didn’t not participate, she
ended the kiss as quickly as she could. She pulled away from him and smiled
gently, cupping the side of his face with her hand.
“Ron, you don’t want me, either,” she told him softly. “We have no heat.”
His eyes searched hers and then his shoulders dropped. “I know, it’s just that
– ”
But she was sidetracked by a shock of silver hair blinking quickly out of her
line of view caught her attention. “Draco?” she whispered, horror cascading
over her.
“Malfoy?” Ron craned his head around to look. They could just make his figure
out as it stormed back to the castle, platinum hair reflecting the moonlight.
“Ron,” Lizzie said, hurriedly rising to her feet. “Ron, I’m sorry. But I have
to go. I will find you in a bit. Please go back to the castle and stay warm. If
I can’t make it back to Gryffindor before curfew, I’ll find you in the
morning.”
“What..?” He trailed off, and then his gaze flipped to Malfoy’s retreating
figure. “Oh.” He stated flatly. “I get it. Okay, tomorrow, then. Probably.” He
didn’t say it unkindly, but was still a bit hurt. He knew Lizzie was right, he
didn’t want her. He thought he had, until the relief that flooded him when she
broke it off. Yes, he played it up like he was hurt, but he had thought she was
choosing Malfoy over him. She was really like having another little sister. He
watched her sprint off the field; apparently, she had regrets about breaking
things off with Malfoy, though. He tilted his head back against the goal post.
Why was he so unlucky in the relationship department?
===============================================================================
Lizzie felt guilty as she sprinted off the field, chasing after Malfoy when her
friend was feeling down on himself. But if Draco had seen that kiss, she had to
talk to him before he had time to simmer. When she got within hearing range,
she called out to him.
“Draco!”
He spun, glaring at her, but kept walking backwards and way from her. “What?”
he said coldly.
So…that’s a yes, he saw. She picked up her pace. “Please, wait!”
“I don’t think so.” He turned and continued to stalk away from her. He didn’t
want to listen to her excuses. He was disappointed. They’d been walking to a
couple classes together again and he’d even met with her and Granger on
Saturday in the library this past weekend to study. While they hadn’t had that
talk she eluded to at the Quidditch match, they seemed to be back in each
other’s good graces. Until he caught her snogging Weasley on the pitch. I’m not
doing this again.
“Draco,” she gasped, holding a stitch in her side as she tried to catch up. He
was so much taller, and she had started out so far behind. “Please!”
Guiltily, he came to a stop. A few second later, she literally crashed into
him, looking down at her booted feet instead of up where she was going. He
caught her shoulders and kept them both from toppling into the snow. “Watch
it,” he growled at her.
She sucked in huge, gulping breaths and held up a finger indicating she needed
a moment before bending over and resting her hands on her knees to help her
overcome her over exertion. He crossed his arms and took a couple of steps away
from her.
“Do…you…know how…to turn off….a war...ming…charm?” she asked. Sweat trickled
down her temples and neck. He snorted.
“Not out here, you don’t.” He relented, hardly even mad at her anymore. Now he
was trying not to laugh at her. “You’ll freeze on the spot.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her the rest of the way into the castle. Once
inside he countered her warming charm and she instantly breathed a sigh of
relief, her body cooling immediately. “Oh, my goodness. Thank you!” She fanned
herself with a hand.
“What was so important?” he said dryly.
“You saw Ron kissing me.” She stated, he raised his eyebrows.
“That’s none of my business,” he leered.
“But it is! Draco, you have to know – ” He broke her off.
“I have to know what exactly?” He growled at her. She took a step back, eyes
widening, hand settling over her still racing heart.
Fuck. He scared her again. Why did he keep doing that?
“I’m sorry,” he grumbled. “Just, say what you’re going to say so I can go to
bed.”
“You have to know that it’s you I want.”
His heart literally stopped. Then kicked up in high gear, but his brain didn’t
compute with it. If she wanted him, why was she kissing Weasley.
“What the fuck, Lizzie? Are you serious?” he demanded. “You sure have a funny
way of showing it.”
“No!” she exclaimed, then stopped, both sets of finger tips raising to rub her
temples. “He kissed me, and not because he even likes me. He’s hurt that
Hermione’s in love with – ” She stopped abruptly, wide eyed and slapped a hand
over her mouth.
Well. That peaked his interest. “In love with who?” he sneered. The Gryffindor
princess was in love…what great gossip! He almost started laughing.
“I…can’t tell you that,” she whispered, looking absolutely terrified and
horrified with herself at the same time.
His eyes softened, even as warning bells went off in his head. Big secret
alert! “Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly. “None of my business. You were
kissing Ron because…?”
“Right. Actually, no. I wasn’t kissing Ron. He kissed me, I just didn’t stop
him because he needed to realize there is exactly zero romantic spark between
us and it seemed like the best way to get the point across.”
He snorted and turned to walk away from her. What a load of bullshit.
“Draco!”
“You are so full of shit, Lizzie.” He spun back to her, all defenses gone, a
turmoil of emotions clouding his eyes.
“No!” She insisted, reaching out for him. He pushed her hands away. “He agreed
with me after I stopped the kiss! Then I saw you…were you followingme?”
“No!” But he shifted his eyes away from her and she knew he was lying.
“Don’t lie to me, Malfoy!” She stomped her foot and crossed her arms angrily.
“Why were you following me?”
“Because I was worried, okay?!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Muggle-
borns are being nabbed every few days and disappearing without a trace. I
wanted to make sure you were okay!”
She froze, her heart fluttering in her chest. “Oh, Draco!” she whispered before
she launched herself at him.
He caught her, surprised. She grabbed his face in her hands and dragged his
mouth to hers urgently. He froze in shock and then succumbed greedily, opening
his mouth to her questing tongue. She was initiating the deeper kiss this time.
He rumbled low in his throat and pulled her tighter to him, wrapping his arms
securely around her petite form as hers slid back into his hair. He pulled away
after what seemed like hours.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, nuzzling her throat while holding her
tight to him. “We’ll go somewhere private and we can talk this out.”
“Yes,” she whispered back.
He slid a hand down her arm and laced his fingers through hers, pulling them
away from the entrance hall. Neither saw the glum Ron standing in the entryway.
“Figures,” he muttered, watching them walk away.
===============================================================================
“I know,” Draco said, dragging his hands through his hair. It stood up in messy
points and Lizzie had to stop herself from finger combing them away. “I do know
what I did. I watched it in a pensive and it was awful. I didn’t mean it. I-
I lost control.” He broke off at her look of incredulity and immediately
defended himself. “I know it’s no excuse, but it’s all I have. Lizzie, I
promise. It will never happen again.”
“It can’t, Draco,” she said softly. “We have to go at my pace.” She paused for
a moment and then whispered, her face tinging a delicate pink. “I’m a virgin.”
He looked surprised for just a moment and then gave a curt nod, accepting her
terms, accepting responsibility for her needs. “I think I knew that. It won’t,
I promise. I’ll be gentle with you.”
She breathed a sigh. “I’m giving you my trust, Draco.”
“Yes.”
“Now it’s my turn to apologize,” she said after a pause.
“For what?”
“For not listening to myself and for worrying what other people said and what I
thought other people wanted. I should have only been worried about you and me.”
He raised his eyebrows, contemplating her statement. Finally, he replied. “I
appreciate your apology and I accept it. That trust goes both ways, Lizzie. If
you’re worried about something or uncomfortable about something, you have to
talk to me about it.”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Which leads me to a question.”
“Ask.” He sat back in the chair he had commandeered in the library and crossed
a foot over his knee. They were back in a dark corner, only their wands glowing
next to each other on the table they sat beside.
“If this gets serious – and I don’t mean ‘will you marry me’ serious – but
serious enough to last beyond the end of the school year, how are your parents
going to react to me?” She didn’t look at him and his stomach tightened. He
really hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“If it gets that serious, Lizzie, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,”
he said gently. “That’s the best I can give you.”
“Alright, but I still want you to tell me what I could potentially expect,” she
pleaded.
“They won’t approve.” He wasn’t about to sugar coat it. “I have a duty to marry
a pure blood witch,” he sighed.
“My options are actually quite limited, and most unsavory in my eyes…” He
trailed off. “I still haven’t decided if I’m going to follow my duty or my own
path. I guess it depends on how my dad is once he gets out of Azkaban. How
reasonable my parents are together when it comes to discussing the future of
the Malfoy name and estate. I will not be looked kindly on for breaking the
bloodline. I’d be considered a blood traitor. I’m going to get grief from
classmates just for dating you, but I don’t care. I’m not willing to not see
where this goes.
All I do know is that I don’t want to be associated with a family who uses the
term ‘Mudblood’ anymore. Blood…is blood. Magic is in the soul – no matter the
parentage. It took a long time for me to realize that – to come to terms with
it. But I have received more kindness, affection, and second chances from half
and half’s, blood traitors, and Muggle-borns than I ever have from someone of
pure blood status.”
She searched his face, reading the sincerity in every line. “Okay. I’m willing
to take things as they come.”
He gave a long sigh in relief and held his hand out to her. She took it slowly
and wrapped her fingers through his. “Official, then?” he asked her. “We’re
official?”
“Yes,” she smiled brilliantly at him. “I’m ready to move forward a step.”
He leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth. “In that case…” He smiled at
her. “Can I take you to the ball on Saturday?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
***** Chapter Nineteen *****
                               Chapter_Nineteen
===============================================================================
The celebration Yule ball was being held for all Hogwarts attendees, families,
and alumni to celebrate the completion of repairs and end of the suppression
felt under Voldemort’s regime on the Saturday before Christmas. It was a chance
for everyone to come together as one and attempt to put the past where it
belonged. It was a bittersweet day for Hermione for one reason only – she
couldn’t attend on the arm of the only person she wanted to. Therefore, she was
attending alone, and she knew it would be wildly speculated on – she would be
the only member of the Golden Trio with no date.
Lizzie and Hermione had planted the seed in Ron’s head about Susan Bones – and
he had decided to pursue it. He’d been happier and more at ease the last few
days then she had seen him in a long time, which lightened her heart
perceptibly.
She sighed as she looked at herself in the fogged mirror over her vanity in her
private bath. Even though she was sad she would not be able to attend with
Severus, he was still going to be there. She was hoping that they would at
least be able to find a way to sneak in a dance. And…she was dressing for him,
which at least made the preparation fun.
“Her-my-oh-knee!!” Ginny’s sing-song voice came as she heard her chamber door
creek open.
“Bathroom!” Hermione called back, wrapping a towel firmly around her hair.
She pulled open the bedroom door to find both girls almost ready for the dance
– just a few touches of makeup and accessories left to accomplish. Ginny was in
a true purple high-low halter robe-gown that crisscrossed in the back and
sported a belt that was covered in beads and crystals (which also covered the
straps of the halter and cascaded over the tops of her breasts). The chiffon
material was ruched over the bust with a pretty teardrop cut out right in the
middle of her cleavage – subtle but sexy. Under the belt, the same flowy
material spilled to her knees in delicate folds that dropped to just above her
knee before circling back and touching the floor in a short train. She wore a
pair of flat, crystal sandals that caught and reflected light at every angle.
Her hair spilled over her shoulders, loose, in a riot of styled curls. She wore
a pair of crystal teardrops in her ears and a diamond bracelet Harry had given
her for her seventeenth birthday.
Lizzie looked absolutely stunning in a Muggle gown – she was sure Draco
wouldn’t know what to think of it. It was an ice blue sleeveless and backless
dress with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice was fitted to her slight curves
and beaded with clear crystals. But this is where the ordinariness of it ended.
The under layer was made of lace and sprawled out to just above the floor in a
beautiful pattern of embroidered fabric studded with more tiny crystals. Over
this was a chiffon layer that swirled with every movement. She had simple pearl
earrings in her ears with no other jewelry. Her hair was pulled back in a halo
braid with curls pinned up in the center of it. A few tendrils had escaped to
frame her lovely face.
Hermione stared at her friends, opened mouth. “You look amazing!”
“Thanks!” The girls answered together before smiling at each other.
“Your turn!” Ginny insisted. “Go get your knickers on and come back!”
Hermione turned back to the bathroom and slipped on a pair of black lace boy
shorts with a black silk strapless bra. She donned a pair of black lace
stockings that reached her thighs and used a sticking charm to hold them in
place. Pulling the towel out of her hair, she reentered her room, using it to
scrunch more water out of her soaked tendrils. The girls were setting up an
array of makeup and products on her dresser with their backs to her.
She crossed to the door to lock it, when it opened unexpectedly.
“Yeep!” She squealed, attempting to cover herself as much as possible with the
small hair towel, as Harry opened the door to her room.
He met her startled eyes as both Ginny and Lizzie whirled around to see what
the commotion was. “Harry! Close the door!” Hermione snapped, as her friend of
over eight years stood gawping at her in her underthings.
“R-right!” He exclaimed, and the door slammed shut.
Lizzie and Ginny burst into a round of uncontrollable giggles as Hermione
pulled her bathrobe out of her wardrobe. Once it was secure, she sent Ginny to
the bathroom to hide (so Harry didn’t see her before the dance) and reopened
the door.
He didn’t meet her eyes as he scurried past her into the room. “What do you
need, Harry?” she asked him as he stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot,
gaze glued to the floor.
“McGonagall asked me to double check with you that the decorations were
completed to your satisfactory, Lizzie,” he said, still not looking at anyone.
Lizzie had headed the decorating committee and Professor McGonagall had been
too swamped with paperwork for the student’s trip home for the holidays to
supervise.
“Yes.” Lizzie answered, trying to hold back a fresh wave of giggles.
“Everything is good, Harry!”
His eyes darted to hers, then over to Hermione’s who was standing with her arms
crossed, one toe lightly tapping the floor. His cheeks and the tips of his ears
were red.
“I’m saying this, because I know that sometimes girls need to hear things like
this,” he said quickly. “And I know my loving girlfriend agrees!” He raised his
voice to make sure Ginny could hear him through the door. “Snape is one lucky
man, Hermione.”
Hermione’s eyes widened before a blush flushed across her face. “Enough!” she
muttered. While she was secretly pleased, she was also quite mortified that her
‘brother’ had walked in on her in her skivvies. Her face was beat red. “Is
there anything else?”
“Yes, one thing.” He cleared his throat. “Can I talk to you alone, ‘Mione?”
“Sure, step into the hall?”
He nodded and Lizzie went to retrieve Ginny while they stepped out into the
corridor.
“What’s up?”
“This.” She barely heard him, but watched him fumbling in his pocket. He pulled
out a velvet ring case and popped it open, revealing a stunning diamond and
garnet ring set in platinum or white gold. “Muffliato,” he said hastily,
pointing his wand at her door so Ginny and Lizzie couldn’t overhear.
Hermione’s throat closed and her eyes flew to her best friend’s face. “You’re
going to propose?” She breathed. “Harry!” She wrapped him in a tight hug.
“When?”
“Tonight.” He cleared his throat. “The ring was my mum’s. Do you think she’ll
like it?”
“She’ll love it!” Hermione assured him. “Oh, she’ll love it, Harry. How could
she not?”
“I’m nervous.”
“Why? You love her, you know she loves you. Does anyone else know?”
“I asked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for her hand.” He smiled at her, looking
devastatingly handsome in his black dress robes that were quite similar to the
green ones he had worn in fourth year.
“And they said yes?” “After making me promise the wedding wouldn’t be until
after Ginny graduates. Ron knows, too.”
“Of course he does! Where are you going to do it?”
“In front of everyone.”
This made Hermione pause. “That doesn’t sound like you, Harry. No wonder you’re
nervous.”
“It’s not me.” He shrugged. “But it is Ginny. I know she’d love for all her
family and friends to be there. It’s a special occasion. We’ll be dressed up.
It will be an amazing memory, so I’m willing to shove my discomfort in the
background for her happiness.”
Hermione accepted this explanation with no hesitation. Of course, Harry would
do anything to make Ginny’s dreams come true. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,”
she whispered, touching his face gently with her finger tips. “You deserve a
lifetime of peace and happiness.”
Harry gave her a crooked smile. “Keep it a secret?”
“I’d take it to the grave with me.”
Harry snorted before leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,
Hermione.”
“Just let me know if you need me to help in any way.” Hermione grinned at her
best friend as he tucked the box back in his pocket.
“You better go get ready! You don’t have much time left, only about an hour.”
“Crap! Okay. I’ll see you at the feast.”
By the time Hermione entered her chambers, Ginny and Lizzie were completely
ready to go. Hermione had a Prefects meeting in the early afternoon to organize
the holiday departure the next day, which was why the other two had decided to
start without her.
“Do you step into your dress or does it go over your head?” Lizzie got straight
to business.
“Step in.”
“Sit.”
Thirty minutes later, Hermione didn’t even recognize herself. Lizzie was truly
magical with her wand when it came to hair. She hadn’t even used any
Sleekeazy’s. Hermione’s usually thick, tight, and frizzy curls were relaxed and
loose, leaving her hair so long it almost reached her hips. There was no trace
of fizz or poof, it was sleek and shiny. Ginny had made up her face lightly,
giving her a natural look with a touch of smoky eye.
“You’re wizards, both of you!” She breathed, looking at herself in the vanity
mirror. “I don’t even look like me.”
The girls laughed.
“Witches, not wizards! Let’s get you in your dress.” Lizzie gestured for
Hermione to stand.
Hermione agreed and her friends held her dress as she stepped into it before
zipping it up the back for her.
“Oh, Hermione!” Ginny gasped. “He’s not going to know what hit him!”
Lizzie was grinning. Hermione’s dress was quite mature, as it was her mother’s
from a couple years back when she and her father had gone to Paris for their
twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. She had worn the gown to the opera. Hermione
had to transfigure it a bit in order to make it fit, but not much. The dress
was off the shoulder with sheer lace sleeves that came to a point at her wrist.
The lace made up a sweetheart neck line and covered her bust completely and
circled her back just above the bra line. Then, the material turned into a
patterned silk that fit her hourglass figure like a glove to the hips. Here,
the fabric flared to the floor straight in the front and gathered in the back
to spill out in a small train. On one side, there was a slit that came to mid-
thigh. She slipped into a pair of strappy, black stiletto heels that she
charmed to be much more comfortable.
The color of the dress was a deep, blood red. “It’s not too much?”
“There’s one thing I think we should change,” Lizzie said slowly after a moment
of gazing at her friend. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes!” Hermione answered with a smile.
A quick twirl of her wand, and the dress turned a deep, dark Slytherin green.
One more flick and a touch of silver thread wound its way through all the lace,
making the sleeves and bodice shimmer. All three girls gasped. “Oh, Lizzie!”
Tears swam in her eyes, but she blinked them back quickly. “It’s perfect. There
had been something off about it from the beginning that I just couldn’t put my
finger on. This was it! It was the wrong color.”
“I take back that he’s not going to know what hit him,” Ginny said with an evil
smirk. “He’s going to have a hard time keeping his hands off you.”
Hermione laughed. “I promised him I’d go see him before going to the Hall,” she
said. “I left the earrings and bracelet I need down there on accident, anyway.”
“We’ll see you in the Hall.” Ginny winked at her friend and the two girls left
to find their dates.
Five minutes later, she opened the door to his office, relieved to find him not
in it. She wanted to put her jewelry on before showing off for him. She closed
her door gently behind her and plucked the onyx tear drop earrings that had
belonged to her mum out of the small jewelry box along with the matching
bracelet. She had her black beaded clutch already prepared with lip gloss and
tissues and slung it over her shoulder.
“Hermione?” She heard Severus call.
“I’ll be out in a moment!” she called back. Then turned to give herself one
more once over in the mirror. She didn’t think she could look any more perfect.
She opened her door.
Severus stood waiting for her, in formal wizard robes of all black with a dark
green, silk cravat at his throat. When he saw her, she watched his face go
carefully blank, but this reaction did not disappoint her. She knew that he
only adopted that look when emotion was overwhelming. She gave him a soft smile
and crossed the room, watching him swallow hard.
“You look dashing!” she told him, placing a hand on his bicep. She barely had
to prop herself up to kiss him with the addition of her four inch heels. He
returned the chaste kiss automatically, then took her hand and stepped back,
gesturing for her to turn.
She gave him a dazzling smile and did an assisted pirouette, making sure her
leg slipped out of the slit so he could see the lace stockings and high shoes.
“Bloody. Hell.” He choked out, eyes widening as they trailed up her stilettoed
and laced leg. “You’re sure we have to attend this asinine thing tonight?” He
pulled her to him, encircling her waist with his large hands and capturing her
lips in a searing kiss. Hermione had to fight to keep her composure. She gave a
breathy laugh and used both palms on his chest to push back.
“Don’t muse my makeup,” she chided sweetly. “And, yes. We must go. We are two
people who will very much be in the spotlight tonight.”
“You are absolutely breathtaking, Hermione Granger,” he murmured against her
throat.
===============================================================================
Hermione could almost not believe her luck when she realized she had been
seated next to Severus at the head table. She threw an elated grin over her
shoulder and, even though he did not answer her smile, his eyes glimmered.
“Miss Granger.” He nodded his head politely and pulled her chair out for her.
She felt like swooning - it was almost as if they were on a real date.
“Thank you, Professor!” She responded, smoothing her dress over her bum as she
sat. He took up his place next to her and turned to speak to McGonagall to his
right.
Harry was seated in the middle of the table with Ginny to his right and
Kingsley to his left. Next to Kingsley was Ron and Susan. Hermione sat next to
Ginny, Severus next to her. She realized the probable reason they had sat
Severus and her together was because they were the only two Order of Merlin,
First Class recipients who didn’t have dates. Neville and Luna were on the
other side of Ron and Susan, then teachers surrounded them all to each side.
Below the head dais was a slightly shorter raised platform which held ministry
personal and Order of Merlin, Second and Third Class recipients. Round tables
dotted the Hall throughout, holding families, students, and alumni.
There was a succession of speeches while they dined. Kingsley discussed the
reason for the event, Minerva talked about the completion of the restoration of
the school. A few people had been invited to memorialize the fallen; a few more
talked about how magical communities were being put back to right. Finally,
Harry was asked to speak.
He looked horrified, and Hermione realized he must not have been prepared to
give a speech. She caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic, but encouraging
smile. He took a deep breath and moved to the podium.
“I wasn’t aware that I would be talking tonight.” He started, and a ghost of a
chuckle rippled across the Great Hall. “Being this is the first time I’ve stood
up in front of a crowd since the end of the war, I wish I had something
prepared, but I will do my best.
“First, I need to talk about a few people without whom victory would not have
been possible: Albus Dumbledore – a mentor, friend, father figure, and
brilliant wizard. His years of dedication to this cause made it possible for us
to move forward with the information that was needed to put an end to
Voldemort. He is missed dearly, and will be remembered forever.
“Hermione Granger – please stand Hermione.” She did awkwardly, her face
instantly flooding with embarrassed color, she appreciated the attention just
about as much as Harry did. “Without this witch, none of us would be here
today. She’s a bloody swot, but she’s my bloody swot.” It was said with such
affection that Hermione had to bite back a sob of laughter as the rest of the
crowd chortled. “She kept me focused, cooled my temper, kept Ron and I fed to
the best of her ability, and was always one step ahead of everyone else. We
would have failed before we had even begun if it hadn’t been for her and her
blasted beaded bag of wonder and incessant planning and preparing.”
Hermione was fiercely blinking back tears, trying to keep a humble smile on her
face. She failed. A single tear spilled over and she moved to swipe it with her
hand, but a small touch to her hip made her look down, Severus was holding a
handkerchief out to her, eyes smiling at her encouragingly even as the rest of
his face remained impassive. She took it gratefully, nodding at him. She turned
her eyes back to her best friend who was grinning at her. “I love you,
Hermione. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me – for us.” He gestured at
the crowd of people who broke into polite applause. Hermione gratefully took
her seat and buried her face into the swatch of cotton her lover had given her.
Under the table, she felt a gentle hand smooth over her knee, she couldn’t have
been more thankful for the comfort.
“Ron Weasley.” Harry gestured for Ron to stand and he did with a grin and a
wave. “Ron has been my best friend since the day I stepped on the Hogwarts
Express, almost nine years ago. His unwavering friendship, trust, and courage
built me up on days I thought I’d never get through. While he could sometimes
be a stubborn git-” more laughter “-in the end he always knew he was where he
was supposed to be.” The subtle hint to Ron’s desertion and imminent return was
not lost on the ginger, who gave a stoic smile of thanks to his friend before
reclaiming his seat.
“There are so many people who deserve my gratitude – Kingsley Shacklebolt for
his heavy involvement with the Order. The entire Weasley family for protection,
love, and strength. Neville Longbottom for courage and determination in face of
certain death. For all those who stood and fought with us in this very room –
on these very grounds – and came out victorious.” Applause erupted and Harry
stifled a grin. Hermione was utterly impressed with his composure and the
sincerity of his words. She would have been a babbling mess without a prepared
speech.
“We also need to mention the man who kept the students at this school as safe
as he possibly could last year, Severus Snape.” Harry gestured to Snape, and
Hermione turned adoring eyes on her beloved. She almost laughed when he looked
utterly appalled at all attention being on him, he obviously had zero intention
of standing.
“I know you don’t like to hear it, Professor. I know that your selflessness is
something you prefer to keep hidden.” Here, Snape scowled at her friend and
Hermione had to bite the inside of her lips to stop herself from laughing
aloud. “Your sacrifices and secrets most likely won this war for our side. I
just want to thank you for my life. For the lives of my friends and their
families. For the lives of all in this room.”
Green eyes held black across the small raised dais. After a long moment of
silence, and an internal struggled that was palpable to Hermione, Snape gave a
slight, graceful nod of his head. That was enough for Harry, who lead the
applause that started smattering across the room.
“For Merlin’s sake!” Snape growled under his breath. “Twice in one year is more
than sufficient.”
Keeping her eyes forward, Hermione snorted. She laced her fingers through his
hand on her thigh, thankful for the draping table covers, and squeezed. “You
deserve this, love,” she murmured, knowing only he would be able to hear over
the applause.
“I don’t want it.” He breathed back.
“I know.” She squeezed his hand again, willing him to relax. The applause was
dying down as Harry had started to speak again.
“The last person I want to thank is Ginny.” His voice was laced with nerves and
Hermione realized he was going to do it now – right this moment. Her hand
tightened almost painfully in Severus’s and her heart leapt into her throat.
Severus looked at her, questioningly, but she didn’t take her eyes off Harry,
who was reaching a hand out for Ginny to join him next to the podium.
The beautiful redhead hesitantly stood and walked to meet him, taking his hand
with hers. “Ginny, you are everything to me. You…you are the reason I was
strong enough to fight this enemy. What we have is the reason it needed to be
fought and won. For good, for love, for family.” He dropped to a knee and
Hermione let out a strangled sob of happiness as she watched Ginny’s face flood
with realization as to what Harry was doing. “Ginerva Weasley, I love you more
than anything in this world. I want to be your family. Would you do me the
honor of being my bride?” He smoothly popped open the black velvet case where
the beautiful diamond and garnet ring twinkled in the star-strewn candle light
of the enchanted ceiling.
The hand that was not captured by Harry’s flew to Ginny’s mouth as an audible
sob of surprise escaped her. Her gaze never broke from his as she gave a
frantic nod, seemingly unable to speak.
“Yes?” Harry whispered.
“As if she’d say anything else,” Hermione murmured, fingers still entwined with
Severus’s, eyes brimming with tears of joy. She was unaware of the intent gaze
of the man beside her, eyes searching her face with longing.
“Yes!” Ginny exalted, pulling the dark-haired Chosen One to his feet and
flinging herself into his arms. The applause was deafening.
===============================================================================
A dance floor was cleared with a few fancy flicks of wands and a band sprang up
in the far corner of the room, music instantly filling the room. Many people
started milling around, many more swarmed the dance floor. Harry and Ginny were
surrounded by throngs of people wishing to congratulate them. Hermione sat,
sipping a glass of sweet, red wine. Content to be inconspicuously beside the
man she was so in love with in this public setting. They had exchanged polite
conversation that was a bit impersonal due to the people who surrounded them.
Apparently, they gave off an air of inapproachability, because very few people
attempted to engage them in conversation and no one had asked either of them to
dance.
“You do realize the only reason you haven’t been asked to dance by the throngs
of young men is because you are seated next to me, don’t you, Miss Granger?” He
teased her lightly.
“I could care less about dancing with any of these boys, Professor,” she
answered with a smirk. He gave a small snort of appreciation at her use of the
word ‘boys.’ They were seated side-by-side, a respectable distance between
them. Snape had one ankle propped up on the opposite knee and Hermione’s legs
were crossed, black lace stocking visible through the slit of her gown. She
felt his eyes roaming her legs and pointed her toe enticingly.
“I cannot wait to fuck you with those stockings on,” he purred seductively,
leaning just slightly closer to her, after taking a moment to make sure no one
was close enough to hear them.
Hermione’s mouth went dry just as her knickers were flooded. She made a
strangled noise in the back of her throat and he laughed aloud at her obvious
desire to do just as he suggested. She’d even be okay with doing it right there
in the middle of the ball.
“Severus!” Minerva McGonagall strode up to them. “And Miss Granger! I’m
surprised at you.”
Hermione looked up, bewildered. “What on Earth have I done?” she asked.
“Well, Miss Wallflower and Mr. Anti-Social. I think it’s high time our guests
see both of you war-heroes on the dance floor!”
Hermione wrinkled her nose and Snape grumbled incoherently. “There isn’t really
anyone I want to dance with, Professor. Ron and Harry are being manipulated by
their date and fiancé. I don’t want to be felt up by classmates who hold no
interest for me or strangers,” Hermione all but whined.
McGonagall looked shocked by Hermione’s admission, then narrowed her eyes
suspiciously. “This is certainly not like you, Miss Granger,” she huffed.
“You’ve always known your duties and followed through with them well.”
Snape took the opportunity to get his lover on the dance floor by interrupting
smoothly. “Miss Granger, perhaps you wouldn’t mind dancing with me? Appease
Professor McGonagall and save me from hordes of unsavory female companionship,
as well.” Hermione looked at him, surprised, as he held out a hand. Severus was
glad he was able to surprise her, it made their interaction seemed that much
more casual. McGonagall made a small, pleased noise of approval in the back of
her throat, watching Hermione expectantly.
“W-why, yes, P-professor,” she stammered, taking his hand. The electricity
between them was almost palpable, she hoped the Headmistress didn’t notice.
“I’d be honored.”
“I take it I don’t fall into the category of being felt up by a fellow
classmate or stranger?” He chuckled darkly once they were out of Minerva’s
hearing range.
She flushed at his faux grave expression. “Don’t be silly.”
He led her to the dance floor just as the tempo slowed and a waltz started to
play. “Do you know how to dance, Hermione?” he murmured low, bending down so
his breath caressed her cheek.
“Do I know how to dance?” She looked up at him, appalled. “What kind of
question is that! Don’t you remember the last Yule Ball? Of course I know how
to dance! Do you?”
“Yes. Please let me lead.” His eyes smoldered like lit coal, a glint of
amusement in them. She tutted her outrage at the insinuation she would try to
take control, but it was all in jest. He knew her too well.
Severus pulled her hand to his shoulder and surrounded her slim figure to rest
his large hand on the small of her back; he gripped his other hand with hers
and pulled it to his chest. She felt a bit dizzy and breathless from his
nearness, but they were off. After a few steps, she relaxed and smiled up at
him – pure joy in her eyes. He was gliding her effortlessly around the dance
floor. She felt like Cinderella, positively floating on air, her eyes locked
with his.
He was fairly certain this was the most erotic thing he’d ever done – dancing
with the woman he was in love with. The joy and heat in her eyes turned him on
more than anything else she could have done. She just looked so damned happy,
which made him feel powerful and masculine. Unconsciously, he pulled her
closer, which made her give a shuddering sigh.
The rest of the room all but melted away. It felt as if they were in their own
little bubble and he was struggling to remember to keep their engagement
appropriate for a student and a teacher. He didn’t protest when the hand on his
shoulder slowly slid to the nape of his neck, playing with the leather cord he
had used to tie his hair back. She didn’t complain or try and stop him when his
hand slid down further, resting more on her bum than the more appropriate small
of her back. Neither noticed that they had somehow melded so close together
their hip bones were touching.
Which is why, when a very disturbed Minerva McGonagall discretely hissed into
his ear, he all but dropped her like a hot cauldron. “I wish to speak with you
both privately, in my office. Immediately! Finish your dance and do not draw
any attention to yourselves. And for Heaven’s sake, put your hands back where
they belong!”
Both quickly complied with her instructions as she slipped away from them as
quickly as she had appeared. Hermione’s eyes were wide with shock and Severus’s
face seemed to drain of what little color he had.
===============================================================================
Hermione and Severus sat in two floral patterned, wing-backed chairs opposite
of McGonagall’s desk. The woman in questions studied them with a serious, tight
expression. She had opened her mouth to speak no less than a half of dozen
times, however, no words had yet escaped. Hermione was twisting her skirt in
her hands, looking anywhere but at the two people in her presence. Severus was
leaning away from her in his chair, ankle up on the opposite knee and his thumb
and forefinger stroking his chin, he held Minerva’s eyes in a cool disregard,
as if he had no idea why he was there.
Finally, the Headmistress closed her eyes, a pained expression pinching her
delicate features. “Please tell me I’m crazy,” she breathed.
“Minerva,” Severus said in a clipped tone. “You have never been crazy.”
“Please tell me I’m mistaken, Severus.” She begged them. “Hermione, please.”
Hermione’s eyes flew and were caught by her favorite Professor. Her lips
started to tremble, she was positively terrified.
“Please, Professor McGonagall,” she whispered. “Everything is fine. No one is
doing anything they don’t want to be doing.”
“Be straight with me.” The elderly witch demanded, eyes flashing to Snape.
“What in Merlin’s name is going on between you two?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Severus answered crisply.
“I am not a fool, Professor Snape!”
“We’re in love!” Hermione blurted, then slapped her palm over her mouth, eyes
widening in horror. Severus looked at her in an odd combination of
exasperation, love, and fury and she flinched slightly. Minerva’s face drained
of all color.
“You’re in love with whom, Miss Granger?”
“With him, with Severus.” She reached for his hand, raising her chin in
stubborn determination. She was relieved when he took it and squeezed. It
looked like he was still trying to figure out exactly what to say. “We know
that this is highly unorthodox and most unexpected. I realize we should not
have started a relationship while I was still a student here, but it just sort
of … happened.”
The room echoed with the silence.
“Severus!” Minerva looked at him in complete shock, her Scottish brogue
thickening perceptibly. “Please tell me you are not sleepingwith astudent!”
Hermione flinched visibly as Severus straightened in his chair. “Hermione and I
did not intentionally start this relationship. As she said, it just happened.”
He made no attempt to deny her accusation.
“Oh, my sweet Circe.” Minerva looked as if she was going to be ill.
“I can fix this right now.” He continued and Hermione looked at him wildly.
What is he scheming! Her mind raced. “I will have a formal letter of
resignation on your desk by morning.”
“You will not!” Hermione pulled her hand away from his and leapt to her feet.
She faced him angrily, pointing a finger in protest. “You will not give up your
career for me!”
“That is where you are wrong, love,” he said steadily, his head tipping back
slightly to maintain eye contact with her. “I would give up my life for you. A
career is nothing. I can build a new career.”
Hermione’s anger deflated like a balloon stuck with a pin. “Severus,” she
breathed, completely caught off guard with his emotional declaration. Tears
welled in her eyes as she slipped her fingers into his hair and pressed her
lips to his in a sweet, tender kiss. He responded in kind, one hand reaching
out to grasp her hip.
“Ahem!”
Hermione’s eyes flew open wide when she remembered exactly where they were and
she whirled. Behind her, Severus stood, settling one hand on each of her hips.
They both looked at their friend. Minerva was also standing, but the severe
look she had been giving them moment before was nowhere to be found, instead
her face was full of awe.
“You…you’re truly involved?”
“Yes.” They answered together with no hesitation.
“It’s serious?”
“Yes.”
The older witch placed a thumb and forefinger on her brow and rubbed, as if
trying to scrub her mind clean.
“Hermione, you will drop Potions.”
“W-what?” The young witch was flabbergasted.
“You will drop Potions and self-study for the remainder of the year for your
N.E.W.T.s. I’m sure Severus will assist you if needed. Severus, you will submit
a formal statement to the Board of Governors explaining your situation. If they
ask for your resignation, I will accept it. I have my suspicions, however, that
they will look on this relationship favorably being who the both of you are.”
“You’re not going fire me?” Severus sounded dazed.
“Or expel me?” Hermione was struggling with her shock.
“I am not.” Minerva looked at them critically. “How long?”
“Since this summer.” Severus was unwilling to discount all their time spent
together though the summer; they both knew they had fallen in love during his
recovery, even if neither spoke about it.
Hermione tilted her head back and gave him a small smile, he dropped a kiss to
her forehead, eyes reverent with their love.
“Wonders never cease.” Minerva shook her head, unable to tear her eyes away
from the couple.
“Congratulations, my boy.” Came a familiar, low voice from above their heads.
Three pairs of eyes focused on the portrait of Dumbledore behind the desk. “If
there is anyone in this world who deserves happiness, Severus, it is you.”
***** Chapter Twenty *****
                                Chapter_Twenty
===============================================================================
“Mm.” Lizzie breathed against his ear as Draco trailed his open mouth along her
collar bone.
“This dress is exquisite.” He nipped the column of her throat relishing her
groan of appreciation and the feel of her fingers digging into his hips. “Have
I told you how amazing you look tonight?”
“Only about a dozen times.” She hummed, nudging his chin with her nose before
angling her head to capture his lips in a hot kiss.
“Mm.” He pulled back just slightly. “Only a dozen more to go, then.”
She gave a light chuckle before taking his bottom lip with her teeth and
tugging gently. “Fuck, Lizzie.” He covered her mouth with his again, pulling
her questing tongue into his mouth so it swirled with his in an erotic tango.
His hands slid up her torso, his thumbs brushing against the side swell of her
breast. Her breath hitched in a needy whimper and she arched into him. Taking
that as a sign she wanted more, he gently palmed her breast over the top of her
dress. She pulled back a bit as a hiss forced its way between her teeth.
“This is okay?” Draco asked her gently, not wanting any miscommunication
between them.
“More,” she begged softly, and he groaned, bringing his other hand up to paw
her evenly. He flicked his thumbs over nipples that were growing hard.
“Draacoo!” She whimpered, head falling back. He took the opportunity to run
open mouthed kisses along her jaw, nipping gently.
They had snuck off to the library, which was rightly deserted. Deep in the
stacks just outside the restricted section, they felt secluded enough to be
open with each other and had spent the better part of the last hour talking.
The kissing had come after, and it was exquisite.
He pushed her into a small, two-person table tucked in the shadows, encircling
her waist to lift her onto the flat surface. She spread her legs so he could
stand between them, but her full skirts didn’t allow for any intimate access.
He nipped up her slender, creamy throat and sucked the sensitive cartilage of
earlobe between his kiss-swollen lips, all the while dipping a hand down the
front of her dress. When she froze against him, he knew he’d pushed too far and
immediately took a step back. He rested his forehead against hers and placed
both hands gently around her waist again.
“Too fast?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he replied firmly.
“Thank you, Draco.” She met his eyes with a soft smile and he stifled a groan,
her lips were puffy from their kisses, her pupils dilated with lust. He
squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth – forcing his mind to think of
decidedly unsexy things. Fifteen seconds later, he was feeling much more in
control.
“Okay.” He cleared his throat and flopped down into one of the chairs at the
table. He needed to change the subject. “So, I have a question for you.”
“Hmm?” Lizzie slid off the table and settled into the chair opposite him,
reaching one hand across the flat surface. He took her fingers, lacing them
with his.
“Granger and Snape…yeah?”
She didn’t have to answer him. Her eyes popped open comically wide and he
snorted. “Holy. Shit. I’m right, aren’t I?”
She said nothing, face freezing into a mask of impassibility.
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to answer me, but I saw them on the dance floor
earlier. I also saw McGonagall hissing at them. It correlates well with your
almost slipup the other night. Oh, and he was groping her bum.” He smirked at
her, one eyebrow cocked.
Lizzie swallowed audibly and dropped her gaze from his face, thoughts running
frantically through her mind. Finally, she answered. “It’s not my place to say
anything. You’ll have to think what you think and that’s all I have to say on
the subject.” It was said in such a way he knew he should drop the subject, but
he was too drunk on the knowledge to desist.
“Fucking Merlin’s saggy butt cheeks!” He roared with laughter and Lizzie sat
back, pulling her hand from his, shocked with his reaction. “That frigid swot
and Snape!” He threw his head back as mirth engulfed him completely. “It’s
almost too good! When I think of it, they’re bloody perfect for each other,
aren’t they? She’s in love with him? Gods, I can’t imagine anyone in love with
Snape. He’s just so…mean. Is he in love with her, too? No – I’m sure not. I
don’t think that man loves anything or anyone, including himself.”
Lizzie was watching him, her face carefully blank; his unrestrained laughter
had her heart fluttering even as his words made her angry. She bit her tongue
to keep herself in check.
“You’re really not going to confirm this?” He watched her carefully, he could
see the mix of anger and hilarity in her eyes. “You’re not denying, either,
though.”
“It’s really none of our business, Draco. Do you know how much trouble they’d
get in if it were true?” She was proud of paying the doubt card. She didn’t say
they were or weren’t together, but chastened him all the same. “I also think
it’s unkind of you to call Hermione frigid – she’s the sweetest, warmest person
I know at this school. She cares about everyone…and didn’t you tell me Snape is
your Godfather? You think so little of him? You don’t think he loves you?”
Draco’s roaring flame of amusement died to embers at her words. Damn blonde
beauty was right – he was being unnecessarily cruel to people that were good to
him just for his own sadistic pleasure. “You’re right, Lizzie. I apologize.
That wasn’t kind of me.” He sighed, this girl was too good for him. “I know
Snape loves me, he’s been nothing but wonderful to me my entire life. Granger
has been most accepting of me this year, as well.”
Lizzie nodded, satisfied. “It’s best you keep your observations to yourself,
yeah?”
“What observations?” He gave her a coy grin. She nodded in return.
===============================================================================
Severus handed Hermione a crystal tumbler with a finger of firewhiskey in it.
She took it gratefully, eyes staring blankly into the fire roaring in his
hearth. He slumped down in the leather wingback chair opposite of her with his
own glass, legs stretched out in front of him with his ankles crossed, one
shoulder pressed into the wing of the chair. After a moment of quiet
contemplation, he threw the burning liquid back. It seared down his esophagus
before hitting his stomach with a delicious spread of warmth. He closed his
eyes and pressed the cool glass to his forehead.
“I’ll leave the school,” Hermione said after a few more minutes of silence. “I
can take N.E.W.T.s this Spring without remaining at Hogwarts. I’m good enough
of a student, I don’t need to attend classes.”
Anger engulfed him. “Like hell you will!” He growled at her. She shrank back
into the expanse of the chair, startled with his vehement reaction.
“Severus, be serious!” She scolded. “This is your career we’re discussing!”
“I told you, I don’t care about my career.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t bluffing.
I’m a Potions Master, I can get employment anywhere.”
“Hogwarts is your home!”
Silence. He reached for the bottle of firewhiskey and poured himself another
shot. He slammed it back as quickly as the first and was startled when she held
her empty glass out for a refill. He eyed her warily for a moment before
leaning forward and dropping another dollop in her glass. She downed it just as
quickly, and he watched her with subtle bemusement. She hadn’t even pulled a
face.
“You’re familiar with the taste of firewhiskey, Miss Granger?” he drawled,
humor lacing his voice.
“Don’t change the subject, Professor.” She rolled her eyes at him, he didn’t
miss the emphasis on ‘Professor.’
“I’m not,” he said evasively.
“You are.” Her voice was soft, kind. She stood and set her glass on the coffee
table before rounding it and taking his glass away from him. He watched her
through narrowed and guarded eyes. She hiked her skirts and straddled his lap,
one knee on the outside of each of his thighs. Her hands slid over his
shoulders and she rested her forehead to his temple, pressing a kiss to the
crest his cheek bone. He sighed deeply through his generous nose and slipped
his large hands around her silk-clad torso, eyes sliding shut at her tender
ministrations.
“Hermione,” he said at last. “If I have to leave Hogwarts, it would not be the
end of the world for me. There’s been a lot of pain and heartache inside these
walls for me. I have other options – especially with my war-hero status.” He
spit the last words out in deep sarcasm. “You’re in the home stretch of your
education. Not only is the completion of your N.E.W.T.s important to you, they
were important to your folks – and – they’re important to me. You will not
leave this school on my account.” His last sentence was said in such a tone
that brooked no argument even as his hands skimmed seductively up the arch in
her spine.
Her breath hitched. “Okay,” she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes against his
cheek in soft butterfly kisses. She pressed herself against his chest as her
fingers slid up his neck into his hair, tugging the leather cord from his
masculine plait and pulling the tendrils loose. “I’ll finish the year; you’ll
find a new job, but only if the Board of Directors insists you resign.”
“Mm.” He agreed, sinking his teeth gently into the soft tissue at the apex of
her neck and collar bone while dragging the zipper of her dress down
maddeningly slowly. Her hum of approval at the sensitive skin below his ear
roared through is senses like mountain torrents.
“I’m going to miss you over break,” she whispered into his ear while his hands
crept beneath the susurrating silk of her dress to cup her beautiful bum. He
froze, his heart clenching. She wasn’t staying in the castle?
He gripped her waist and pulled her back. “What do you mean?”
She looked at him, lust and confusion making her eyes unfocused. “Huh?” She
leaned forward, attempting to cover his mouth with her own.
“Wait, Hermione, stop.” He pushed at her hips, forcing her to stand. If he kept
her close, he’d never get an answer.
“Stop?”
He almost laughed at her offended tone, but he was too upset. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “I told you I was going to the Weasely’s for
Christmas.”
“You most certainly did not!” He argued, a mix of fear, anger, and sadness
rising alarmedly into his chest. He didn’t want her out of this castle. “You’re
not going!”
She stepped back and crossed her arms around her middle, this forced her
breasts up to swell over the top of the dress, which distracted him
momentarily. “What do you mean I’m ‘not going?’” she demanded.
“Stay with me.” He softened his tone quickly, he didn’t want to fight with her.
He wanted to peel her out of that provocative dress slowly and deliciously and
made love to her until her toes curled and she begged him to stop.
His change in mood registered immediately and need pooled in her womb. “The
Weasely’s are expecting me,” she whispered. “I can’t back out now. How about I
come back on the twenty-seventh. I’ll only be gone for two days. I’ll apparate
back to Hogsmeade, you can meet me. We’re planning on going to Diagon Alley for
Boxing Day.”
He growled, fear now the dominant emotion. “I will agree to this only if I meet
you in Diagon Alley the day after tomorrow. I don’t want you out in that crowd
without me.”
She sensed his fear and her heart melted. “I would love you to meet us in
Diagon Alley. I’ll owl you the time and place.” She reached up to snake one arm
around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers. “There’s not one other person
in this world I’d rather be with on Boxing Day. I am just sad we don’t get to
spend Christmas together,” she said against his lips. He sealed their mouths
together, effectively ending their conversation as he finished pulling the
zipper down over her bum. She pulled away and helped him pull the tight lace
sleeves off her arms and slip the dress down her perfect hourglass figure. He
groaned aloud as he revealed the black silk strapless bra and lacey boy shorts.
The knickers clung to her rounded hips and flat belly in all the right ways.
The stockings ended mid-thigh, and the effect on his prick was instantaneous
when she stepped out of her skirts and he realized she was still wearing her
high, strappy shoes; it went from half-mast to full salute in less than a
second.
“You’re going to be the death of me, witch,” he said affectionately. Her
fingers reached to deftly remove his cravat. He took over, pulling it out of
the way as she quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt (his outer robes had been
removed when they had entered his rooms). They both hummed their appreciation
when her cool hands slid up over his heated chest to his toned deltoids,
pushing the garment off his shoulders. His wrists were caught in the cuffs and
she giggled as she helped him undo the cufflinks. He used a bit of wandless
magic to send them to his dresser. A low rumble escaped his throat as she used
his momentary distraction to capture his belt, tugging urgently with one hand
while the other smoothed over his bulging placket. “Hermione,” he grunted.
“Fuck.”
She purred her agreement while pulling the belt through the loops on his pants,
letting it fall to the floor with little care. She moved quickly back to his
fly, undoing it with unwavering confidence. “Minx!” he huffed as she shoved
both his slacks and undergarments over his delicious bum before he pulled her
with him, back into the chair.
She gave a small “Oompf!” of surprise before rocking her lace-clad slit against
his cock for a couple beats as he neatly unhooked her bra. She whispered her
approval as one set of fingers nipped and rolled a delicate peek. “Ah!”
Hermione pulled away from him, sliding down his torso and onto the floor. She
removed his dress boots and socks and pulled his pants off the rest of the way
before her focus honed in on his raging hard-on. She looked up at him with eyes
so dark they looked like ground coffee beans in the flickering flames of the
fire. He would never tire of that look – maddening desire and love – even if
she gave it to him for the next two-hundred years. One slender-fingered hand
encircled the base of his glans as she walked forward on her knees to settle
between his legs. Her breasts and tamed mass of curls brushed his upper thighs
as her clever tongue darted out to capture the drop of precum at the tip of his
flared head. He grunted and slipped one hand into her hair even as her tongue
danced down his length to his bollocks. She nuzzled her nose in the wrinkled
skin, breathing in the scent of his all-male musk and sex before lathing one
bollock generously with hot saliva. He gritted his teeth as a sharp exhale
escaped through his beak.
“Fuck!” he muttered appreciatively. “Gods, love, don’t stop.” He guided her
hand back to his straining cock and wrapped his much larger hand over hers,
showing her what he wanted. She buzzed her acquiescence against his scrotum,
turning her attentions to the opposite teste, and followed his lead. After a
moment, she pulled back and used her own saliva to wet her hand before moving
it back to pump his shaft more effectively before returning her attentions to
his balls. His head fell back in shocked appreciation at this new approach of
hers. She’s been fucking reading, I’ll put money on it.After a few more
minutes, she swirled her tongue back up over his member before sucking the tip
between taut lips. His hips bucked wildly and he tugged her hair with both
hands, she let go of his cock with a wet pop and smirked up at him, obviously
very proud of herself.
“Looking awfully pleased with yourself, young lady.” He ground out with a leer.
He didn’t let his grasp of her hair go as he pulled her to her feet while
standing himself. She gasped with surprise at his forcefulness as he roughly
slammed his mouth to hers, eliciting a glorious sound from her throat.
“I’m not holding back, tonight. I want to push our experiences,” he muttered
against her lips. “If you don’t like something, tell me to stop. I will stop
immediately, I promise you. Do you understand?”
“Yes!” She gasped out before diving back in, mouth open and as needy as a
newborn hatchling. He drove his tongue into her mouth, tasting her teeth and
cheeks. He grabbed one side of her knickers and ripped them with little effort.
She groaned, but he had the other side ripped and the scrap of fabric off her
before he she could finish her lament of approval.
Her knees buckled out from underneath her, but he caught her in a bruising grip
by the hips and backed her into the bed. “On your hands and knees, arse in the
air.” Her heated gaze never left his as she pushed herself onto the bed. It
only flicked away as she rolled, then her face reappeared over her shoulder,
eyes smoldering with need. Her hair was everywhere, cascading over her
shoulders, trailing over her back, skimming her breasts. He growled at the
provocative picture she made, as his palm cracked down on one firm buttock; her
eyes widened imperceptibly.
“Ah!” she whimpered, surprised, but she arched her back. “Again!” She panted.
He smacked the other cheek before kneading both with his hands. She arched
again. He gave four more sharp cracks on her backside to her surprised growls
of delight. “Severus!” she exclaimed, head falling into her arms. “Gods, yes!”
He scooped his hands around her knees and flipped her to her back, shoving her
legs up and apart. She bowed off the bed and cried out, hooking her hands
around the back of her knees to hold her them in place. She made the most
stunning picture of debauchery: young and beautiful, riots of chestnut curls,
neck arched, eyes closed, mouth open in a silent hallelujah of sensation,
stockinged legs ending in sexy heels, breasts barred – he was mindless with his
desire for her and she squirmed with her need. He wasted no time, slipping two
long fingers into her sopping channel and curling his fingers against her g-
spot.
“Unngh!” She croaked, voice low and throaty. “Please!” She exhaled audibly.
“What do you want?” He taunted her, a sneer of lust clouding his features.
“More! Suck on my clit!”
He obliged with great pleasure, her juices coating his lips and chin instantly
while his fingers continued their sadistic torture. He felt her legs start to
tremble, her hips rocking into his ministrations. “Come for me, Hermione,” he
demanded, his baritone rumbling through her core like thunder. She gave a high-
pitched keen that suddenly dropped an octave and tore out of her belly. Her
orgasm ripped through her like an avalanche, dragging her along in its wake.
His finger movements slowed as he lapped up her release like a starving man at
a banquet.
The aftershocks of her climax caused her to tremble and shake, but did not
prevent her from lacing her fingers into his hair and pulling him up. He
trailed his mouth over her stomach and through the valley of her breasts,
pausing to worship the mountain peaks on each side before covering her lips
with his in a desperate, deep, and debilitating kiss. She had thought she was
mindless before, but it was no comparison to how she felt with the weight of
his body and feel of his lips on hers; she could taste herself on his tongue.
His warm muscle laved against hers, instantaneously reigniting the need in her
belly. “I want you inside me, love,” she purred, dragging her teeth over his
stubbled jaw.
He caught one leg by the knee and pulled it over his shoulder while sliding his
pulsing cock into her cunt without hesitation. She mewled in delight and tilted
her hips to meet his thrust, loving the angle he had her in. A few strokes and
he readjusted, pulling both legs up as he pushed himself to his knees to give
himself more leverage even as the position allowed him to slide deeper into her
pulsing core.
He set a vicious pace, and she met him thrust for thrust. Her gasps of delight
drowned out by his growls of pleasure. “Faster!” she begged.
He whipped his hips, back straining, splitting her over and over again, jolting
her entire body with each brutal thrust. She sobbed with her pleasure, meeting
each stroke with a tilt of her hips and a gasp of his name. The coil inside of
her winding so tight she thought she couldn’t bear it a moment longer, then it
burst like a fireball and scorched through her veins like fiendfyre.
His name fell from her lips in an almost silent prayer of thanks even as her
pulsing muscles ripped his seed from his bollocks to coat her inner walls.
“Hermione!” He choked, her name falling reverently from his lips as he found
her kiss-swollen mouth with his own. She wound her arms around his shoulders
and held him tightly to her while he spent himself in her warmth, wordlessly
letting him know just how much she wanted him, accepted him, and loved him.
Later, they lay spent in each other’s arms, silently watching the other, eyes
speaking without words. She trailed feather light fingers across the planes of
his face as he swirled circles with his thumb on her hip. A light, silken sheet
pulled to their waists kept the chill from permeating their bubble, their legs
tangled together for nearness. “I love you,” he murmured, dropping a gentle
kiss to the bridge of her nose. She snuggled closer to him, eyes fluttering
shut in pleasure from the tender touch as her lips curled in a satisfied smile
of contentment.
“I love you,” she whispered back. “Happy Christmas, Severus.” She nuzzled his
jaw with her nose before pressing a chaste kiss to the throbbing pulse in his
throat. She let her hand fall to his chest and burrowed in more closely, her
head resting in the nook between his collar bone and shoulder.
“Happy Christmas, love.” It was the happiest one he’d ever had, and they hadn’t
even exchanged gifts.
***** Chapter Twenty-One *****
Chapter Notes
     I am terribly sad to say that we have arrived. Ahead is some tough
     stuff, guys. Explicit non-consensual sexual content of a minor2
     (Hermione) in this chapter (not terribly awful in this chapter, but
     the next one might be unsavory for some). This was forewarned. Tags:
     Abduction, binding, slapping, spitting, non-con fingering, unwanted
     orgasm.
                              Chapter_Twenty-One
===============================================================================
 
“You’ll cover for me?” Ginny whispered, giggling into Hermione’s ear.
“Of course, I will! Jump his freaking bones!” Hermione’s eyes danced with
amusement. “Just meet me back here in about an hour and a half.” Ginny’s smile
was dazzling as she hugged her friend.
“Snape will be here, soon?” The redhead gave her a momentary look of concern,
glancing around the shop.
“Professor Snape is here.” Hermione’s eyes sparkled with happiness, nodding to
the dark man in the entry way of the bookstore. Ginny flipped around and nodded
a hello to the intimidating teacher.
“Thank you again!” She exclaimed and took off out of Flourish and Blotts before
rounding the corner to the apparition point.
Severus raised an eyebrow at the Weasley girl aa she bolted past him before
turning to Hermione. “Do I want to know what that was all about?”
Hermione chuckled as her eyes continued to dance with merriment. “She’s got
serious plans to get some shag time with Harr – ”
Severus broke her off with a disgruntled growl, face dissolving from its usual
impassiveness into a mask of horror, eyebrows shooting into his hairline. “I
did not want to know that!” He sputtered.
The curly brunette burst into gales of giggles as he scowled at her. “The
look…oh, Gods…the look on your face was so perfect.” She clutched her sides as
her full-bodied humor shimmered through the room. A few people turned to look
at her, her happiness drawing smiles and sparking a smattering of contagious
snorts around them. It also garnished some inquisitive stares as the two were
recognized. Severus’s face softened and his eyes warmed with her mirth, his
discomfort at the turn in conversation was worth this reaction.
He cleared his throat and thrust his chin forward, indicating they find a more
secluded spot in the back of the stacks. She wiped a trickled of moisture from
her eyes from her chortles before following him into the shadows. She, too,
realized they had been noticed.
Once they were out of the line of curious stares and whispers, he pushed her
into a bookcase and kissed her lips passionately. “I missed you,” he declared,
nuzzling her neck with his nose before pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. He
stepped back almost as quickly as he had jumped her, knowing it wouldn’t do for
them to be caught by the other patrons.
Her eyes had darkened perceptibly, but she remained in control of her
faculties, just barely. “I missed you, too, Severus.”
“I have an appointment I need to keep, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind coming
with me?” His voice was controlled, his expression guarded. Hm. What is he up
to? She watched him carefully for a moment.
“Yes, I’m fine with that. Where else am I supposed to go? It’s not like you’ll
leave me alone.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, a half-smile tugging one corner
of her mouth.
“Indeed,” he agreed with a roguish grin. Her heart literally came to a complete
stop at the expression. That smile hardly ever crossed his face, but when it
did…oh Gods, when it did…it instantly left her a mess. Her breath shortened
into little gasps and her eyes dilated, only a thin ring of the warm chocolate
visible around the blown-wide pupil. Her reaction just made the grin all the
more pronounced.
“Bloody hell,” she whispered. “Stop looking at me like that or we’ll have to go
find a bathroom stall.” Her voice came out breathless and husky and the grin
instantly morphed into a leer of desire. He made to reach for her, but she
quickly stepped back and shook her head fiercely. He turned his neck over his
shoulder, where her gaze was directed. Two women, a lovely blonde and a pretty
witch with raven hair, who looked to be in their late twenties or early
thirties, were whispering to each other and glancing at him. He grit his teeth.
Damn did he hate being out in public these days. He didn’t understand these
types of women. They were impeccably dressed and quite attractive. However,
everything about them screamed of desperation.
“Are you Severus Snape?” The dark-haired witch called out.
“No.” His reply was blunt and he turned his attention back to Hermione, who
looked at him with wide eyes.
“You are!” It was the blonde who spoke this time, her voice tinkled like wind
chimes. Severus hated wind chimes. He much preferred the soft, husky tones of
the surprised brunette by his side. Both women actually strutted up to him,
much to his mix of horror and grotesque amusement.
“Ladies,” he said politely, inclining his head. “I apologize, but I cannot talk
now. I am late for an appointment.”
Both faces dropped. “That’s okay,” the blue-eyed, blonde replied after a beat.
“We just wanted to give you this.” She handed him a slip of parchment and he
took it, glancing down at it curiously. For Merlin’s sake! He rolled his eyes
and tried not to sound cutting when he replied.
“I cannot accept this.” He pressed the parchment containing floo call
information back at her, firmly pressing it into the witch’s hands when she
made to refuse. “I am extremely happily involved with someone and will not be
disrespectful of her.”
Hermione’s gasp of surprise behind him almost made laughter bubble out of his
throat, but the look on the faces of the women in front of him went sour.
“Isn’t she a student? Hermione Granger, right?” The raven-haired witch accused
hotly. “A little young for you, no?”
Severus forced a mask of steel over his features and pulled hard on the reins
of his anger. “I never said this was the woman I was with,” he replied shortly.
“It is absolutely none of your business, witch. Now, please excuse us.”
He stepped back and guided Hermione by the small of her back to pass the women
in question before brushing past them himself. Both women looked disgruntled,
but did not pursue him any further.
Once outside Flourish and Blotts, he took the lead, keeping Hermione in his
peripheral vision. He slowed his pace when he noticed her expression turn from
surprise to concern, brow furrowed. He could almost hear the gears grinding
away in that bushy-headed brain of hers. Glancing around, he pulled them into a
narrow, concealed alley next to the Quidditch Supply Shop. “Out with it.”
She didn’t even pretend to not know what he was talking about. “Does that
happen a lot?”
“What? Women giving me their contact information?”
She nodded, eyes on their feet. Her shoulders were slightly rounded forward and
one arm crossed over her stomach, knuckles white as she grasped the opposite
side of her torso.
She was feeling insecure. He had to nip that in the bum immediately. “Hermione,
look at me.” She glanced up and met his eyes briefly before dropping them
again. “Hermione.” His voice was firm, but not unkind. He gently took her chin
between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up to meet his eyes.
“There is no one else I want. Not now, not ever. You are it for me.” His words
were laced with sincerity; she realized how silly she was being. For Merlin’s
sake, he had told Minerva McGonagall he was in love with her!
She heaved out a sigh – a mixed breath of a sob or laugh broke out of her lungs
and she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as he pulled her into a warm
embrace. “I don’t know what came over me. They were just so beautiful and,
well, so much closer to your age. And…and I just…” She trailed off. His arms
squeezed her a little more tightly.
“I know what you ‘just.’ You’re wrong.” She nodded against his robes and
squeezed him back. “Good. Now, we must be going. You dressed how I asked?”
He pulled her back into the flow of people – it was insanely busy in Diagon
Alley on this clear but cold Boxing Day. “I did, semi-formal. All though you
have me very confused as to why.”
“You’ll see.” His tone was evasive.
“Hmm.” She agreed.
Ten minutes later they stood outside a small jewelry shop which looked very
much closed to her. “Severus, they’re closed. What are we doing here, anyhow?”
“I need to pick up a watch that has been repaired for me.” His voice sounded
odd and she glanced up, curiously. “They’re closed to casual shoppers today;
appointments only.” He knocked firmly on the glass-fronted door. It opened on
its own, thrusting a gust of warm air at them. He took her by the hand and
pulled her into the store.
“Ah, Severus.” An elderly man smiled from the counter. “And this must be Miss
Granger?”
“It is. Good afternoon.” Hermione glanced at him. Again, confusion flooded her
body.
“What’s going on?” She whispered, tucking herself next to him. He gently
reached up and plucked her hat off her riotous curls before pulling her scarf
from around her neck.
“May I have your coat?” They took of their outer layers and hung them on an
ornate cloak rack by the door under the watchful, twinkling eyes of the shop-
keeper. Then, Severus lead her to the counter. “My watch is ready?”
“Yes.” The man, whose name tag read David, smiled at him. “I will get it from
the back.”
When he left, Severus turned to Hermione and pulled her left hand into both of
his, bringing it up to press a tender kiss to her knuckles. Then he started a
speech that left her heart galloping like a flock of hippogriffs in her chest.
“I just want you to understand that I have waited many years to find you. I had
given up hope, and I am in no rush, but I need you to know how serious I am.”
He swallowed hard as he watched her eyes widen and her full lips part in
realization. He smirked, he knew she would catch on quickly.
“I have never in my life had the chance to fully feel the way you make me feel.
I am not a sentimental or emotional man. I’m not the easiest man in the world
to get along with – I know this. I know we will fight, because we are both
stubborn and have volatile tempers. I know there will be bad days, but there
isn’t anyone else that I would rather have those bad days with. I want to take
care of you, and I want to let you take care of me. I feel like a completed
puzzle when you are around – we just fit together.
“I want to go to bed every night with you by my side. I want to wake up in the
mornings with your head on my shoulder. When you’re ready, I want to give you
children. I will not rush you, and you do not have to answer right now if you
are unsure – I will not be upset. We haven’t talked about this at all.” Here he
dropped to a knee, continuing to firmly hold her hand in his, his heart racing
as he watched her eyes fill with amazed tears. “Marry me?”
Her breaths came in staccatoed gasps of shock, her whole body trembling. A tear
slipped down her cheek as she reached to brush the fingers of her right hand
over his forehead, sweeping a lock of slippery, ink-colored hair from his eyes.
Their gazes didn’t break, but for the first time ever he couldn’t read her at
all. He had already told himself he would not use legilimency. He did not want
to know what she was thinking at this very moment. Not when he had sprung this
on her so suddenly, with no precursor conversation, in their brief (albeit
intense) history together.
“We can be engaged for however long you’d like. There is no rush to the alter.
I just want to –” He hurried to make a case, fearing she was going to say no
when the silence had stretched longer than he was comfortable.
“Shh.” She touched his mouth with her thumb, brushing his lower lip. “My answer
is yes.”
He didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until it forced its way out
of his lungs, his whole body relaxed as she leaned forward and pressed her lips
to his with tender affection. He slipped his hands into her hair, cupping her
head lovingly as he pulled himself to stand, never breaking their kiss. She
wrapped his arms around his waist and clung to him ferociously. When he pulled
away, he was embarrassed to find tears dampening his eyes and tried to turn his
head to discretely wipe them away.
“Severus.” She hummed with expressive devotion, she – herself – brushed the
moisture from under one eye. “I love you.” He kissed her again, pressing her
against his body with one hand between her shoulder blades and the other at the
small of her back. After, he just held her to him, cheek resting on top of her
head, the arm that had touched her upper back was now circled firmly around her
shoulders, the other around her waist.
“I love you, too, Hermione.” He said after another moment. Then he cleared the
emotion from his throat with a soft cough. “Now, for your ring.” He pulled back
and gestured to the case where David was now standing, his eyes full of warmth
at their obvious happiness. “Choose what you like, cost is not a factor.” He
chuckled at her astonishment and, after lacing her fingers with his, he pulled
her to the counter.
An hour later, after a bit of an argument, she had chosen a beautiful diamond
setting. A half carat, brilliant stone set in the top of a swirl of white gold,
flanked on each side with more diamonds - alternating brilliant and baguette
cut. The matching wedding band was just a thin piece of matching gold that
would be soldered to the engagement ring just before they wed. Her protest of
cost (neither Severus or David would tell her what the actual price was) fell
on deaf ears. The moment she had put this ring on her finger he had seen her
eyes light up like a Muggle Christmas tree – he knew before she did that it was
the one.
He asked her to get her winter things on and wait at the door while he paid for
her ring (and his watch, because he had not lied about that), before he also
dressed to return into the winter weather. He offered his arm with a warm
smile, love reflecting in his eyes. She took it and waved to David over her
shoulder, they both expressed their thanks.
“You were surprised?” He murmured a few minutes later as they took seats in the
small café where Ginny was to meet them. He ordered two hot chocolates and some
biscuits.
“Surprised doesn’t begin to cover it.” Her eyes glowed with happiness, he felt
humbled he had put it there. She glanced down at her ring finger where the
diamonds twinkled back in low lights. “I’m so happy, Severus,” she whispered,
reaching to take his hand.
“Me, too, love. Me, too.” He covered their joint hands with his other and
squeezed before regretfully pulling away. They still needed to be cautious in
public until hearing from the Board of Directors. “I know it was very sudden,
you’re quite sure –”
“I could never be more positive.” She broke him off, a steady, sure smile on
her face. He nodded, his smile soft.
Suddenly, the room grew eerily quiet just before ear-piercing screams filled
the air. Both Hermione and Severus were on their feet at once, wands raised,
eyes alert, feet shoulder-width apart and their knees bent. They had
automatically gone back to back to protect each other, instinct not over
shadowing their love for each other. Seven or eight dark cloaked and silver-
masked figures stood in various positions around the café. Patrons were bolting
for the doors, some dove under tables, others stood in the same posture as them
– wands out, ready for battle.
“Hermione,” Severus breathed, not moving his lips. “Do not wait for me. If you
can get out of here, run like hell hounds are chasing you. Disapparate back to
Hogwarts. I will find you, I swear.”
“I will not leave you,” she stated stubbornly.
“Hermione, please.” His voice was laced with panic and fear. It brought her up
short as he reached back with his non-wand hand and squeezed her hip. “Promise
me!”
“I promise,” she said grudgingly. She wasn’t about to argue with him. “I love
you.” It was said with an edge of desperation – and it was heard.
“Awww…the Mudblood is in love with her professor!” The cackling voice was
distorted through the mask.
“I guess those rumors flying around at the elite Christmas parties were true.”
Said another figure, voice equally unnatural.
Severus’s heart flew to his throat. Rumors? Who else knew?
“You thought we were hunting her before, Professor?” The first voice was
speaking again – it was so twisted and odd that one could not even distinguish
if it was male or female. “When we killed mummy and daddy Granger and left our
nice little note? You were very wrong… Once we found out she had taken up with
the biggest blood traitor of all…tsk tsk. You signed her death certificate,
Snape.”
Snape grit his teeth as Hermione pushed herself more tightly into him, her
heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear with her pulse beating her ear
drums. She observed other patrons had understood they were not being targeted –
just the famous couple by the window. Good, everyone get to safety. Someone
bring help…please.Very few remained in the room…three, maybe four. They were
staying, wands raised – poised to fight, to help. She was grateful.
Neither one of them dignified the cruel banter with a reply. Without saying a
word, both started a silent attack. One Death Eater was slammed into wall with
Hermione’s forceful Expelliarmus,another crumbled to the ground with Severus’s
Stupefy.Then all hell broke loose.
Careful to maintain her shield as she sent hexes and curses one after another
at the remaining five or so dark figures, she fought with every ounce of fury
she had. How dare they. How dare this special day be ruined because of these
sick, twisted people who couldn’t let ridiculous prejudices go. How dare life
be so unbelievably unfair. She was so tired…exhausted. She didn’t want to fight
anymore. She shot a stupefy but the Death Eater she aimed it at dropped in time
and was missed. The rebounding spell hit a wizard on their side. She swore
spectacularly. Then her heart froze as the warm mass that was Severus at her
back collapsed.
“Severus!” she screamed. She whirled in a circle, keeping her wand outstretched
as she straddled his body to protect him. She realized he had been four on one
– odds set hard against him. Fear gripped her whole body, making her tremble
with exertion.
“Stop!” She was sobbing. “Please, stop!”
Laughter erupted from all sides and the panic choked her. She heard a whispered
“Avada Kedavra” and braced herself to know no more, but it did not hit her. It
hit the only other patron still attempting to fight. “No!” She was horrified as
she watched the young woman collapse, a surprised sort of determination still
on her face even though her eyes were lifeless.
“I-I will go with you! I won’t fight anymore.” She was pleading with them and
she didn’t care. She could feel the rise and fall of Severus’s breaths at her
ankles. He had to live or she would die inside.
“Throw your wand to me, Mudblood.” She didn’t know who said it, it came from
behind her. She threw her wand over her shoulder with no hesitation. “Please
don’t kill him.” She sunk into a crouch over his body, trying to shield him,
knowing it was useless. If they wanted him dead, he would be dead. She couldn’t
save him.
“Oh, sweetheart.” The voice came from her right and was exceedingly cruel. “You
have no leverage. There’s no use in begging. Certainly you see that?”
“Of course I do,” she whispered. “I have to try.”
“You’re in luck, Mudblood.” It was the very first voice again, she figured he
or she must be their leader. “Our orders were to make sure he lives…you, on the
other hand…eh.” She saw black clad shoulders shrug belligerently.
Throughout the conversation, Hermione slowly slipped her new engagement ring
off her finger and slid it into the breast pocket of his frock coat. She was
grateful she was not seen. She knew what was in store for her would be
unbearable, she refused to give them the leverage of her engagement. At the
conclusion of the conversation, she carded her hand through Severus’s hair, a
litany of prayers pouring through her mind as she tried to keep her eyes
focused on the five Death Eaters who surrounded her in a loose circle about
three meters away. She silently told him how much she loved him, that she would
figure out a way to come back to him; she begged him to be strong.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She raised both hands quickly, making sure they saw they were empty. “Just
saying goodbye,” she stated quietly.
“Stand!” Hermione complied immediately. “Take three steps away from him.” She
followed the orders.
Hermione was grabbed roughly from behind and her terror escaped her throat
without her permission. Her elbows were forced together behind her back and she
whimpered as pain shot through her pectorals. Another hand slammed into the
side of her face and the room spun alarmingly, blood filling her mouth even as
she felt her lip split.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Mudblood.” That first voice was in her ear and nausea
bloomed through her belly, creeping its way into her heart. “When we’re through
with you, you’re going to wish we had killed you. Before we’re done with you,
you will be begging to die. Instead…instead we’re going to break you to pieces.
Then…” There was a dramatic pause. “Then we’re going to return you so destroyed
that it will break him.”
She ignored their words, forced back her fear, and looked the person straight
in the face. She raised her chin defiantly even as the blood dribbled down her
jaw. A menacing chuckled filled her ears.
I hope Ginny is running late. It was the last thing she thought before
debilitating pain crashed through the back of her skull and she knew no more.
===============================================================================
                                        
She woke with a soft moan of anguish, her head pounding. Although she was
having trouble remembering why, anxiety filled her body. She slowly attempted
to unfurl her cramped extremities.
Where am I?!Her breath started coming in fast, hiccupping gulps; the oxygen not
getting to her fingers and toes which were agonizingly cold and tingling. She
realized she was bound and twisted painfully. Eyes flying open wide, her
disorientation continued as she attempted to peer into the darkness that
flooded her corneas. She could see nothing. Using her shoulders and knees to
press into a low kneeling position, she winced as the tough skin surrounding
her patella was pinched painfully into the damp, concrete floor. “Hello?” she
whispered. Her throat felt like sand paper and she swallowed hard trying to
clear it.
She felt a trickle of liquid over her lips and her tongue flicked out and
tasted the metallic tinge of blood. I’m bleeding? Her heart started to thrum in
her ears as adrenaline surged through her veins. Oh, my head.She groaned as her
chin fell to her heaving chest. The sound of heavy booted footsteps came from
above and she startled hard, attempting to curl into herself. The rough ropes
knotting her elbows and wrists behind her back and to her ankles allowed no
such movements. There was another layer around her elbows, she distractedly
realized this pushed her breasts out as if on a serving platter. She made a
pitiful puff of pain as she pulled and her right shoulder stretched
uncomfortably. It was then that she realized she was completely naked. A sob
broke free and her body started to tremor violently. True and unrelenting fear
coursed through her body.
A door creaked and a small shaft of blue light dimmed through her surrounding,
lighting unfamiliar and terrifying objects. Those heavy boots started on the
stairs and she recoiled with a small squeak, frantically searching for
someplace to hide. She closed her eyes when she realized it was futile and
sucked in a deep breath to hold, trying to calm her frantic mind.
“Isn’t she a hot piece of arse?” A deep, gravelly voice came from behind her.
“Look at those perfect, heart-shaped globes.” She froze, back going ramrod
straight while her shoulders hunched in attempts to cover her nakedness. Her
breath whooshed out of her in a rush of panic and she squeezed her eyes tighter
– willing this to be a bad dream. But it wasn’t – the attacked at the café was
coming back to her. Severus. Everything came flooding back with crystal clear
clarity.
“Hmm. For filth, she certainly has a viscerally appealing body.” It was a
softer tenor that responded, oddly familiar in its lilt. “Poor Severus, to lose
such a pet would be devastating.” Both men chuckled together. Two? She swore
she hadn’t heard two people enter. Her breathing hitched to a more rapid pace
and sudden, rough hands came under her arms pulling her up awkwardly against
his chest, making her thighs fall open, exposing her most intimate of places.
Another terrified yelp broke through her restraint as tears pricked behind her
eyelids. The ropes dug in painfully in this graceless position.
“She’s going to make the boys go mad. How long do you think it will take to
break her?” the gruffer voice questioned dumbly. “I hope I get my turn. Look at
that slit, it’s fucking gorgeous. And her tits! Mmm.”
Hermione’s lips pursed tightly closed and whimpered a sound of pain out her
nose as a rough, long nailed hand slapped her nipple with a sharp crack.A
rolling chortle of breath fingered out over her breasts. A soft, surprisingly
gentle, hand curled at her throat and another at her thigh. The second man. She
opened coffee flecked with amber colored eyes and stared, mouth gaping in
surprised horror, into the ice grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. When did he get out
of Azkaban?“Doncha ya wiggle like that, witch, or I’ll give you something to
wiggle on.” One of the rough hands that supported her to his chest slid down
her arse, pinching it roughly. She whimpered frantically, attempting to pull
away as the soft hand on her thigh rose higher. Her stomach clenched in
revulsion, she sucked in a breath, returning her gaze to Malfoy.
“Please,” she whispered. Draco had said they changed. Draco had said they were
going to start over and move on. That they were on the side of the light. As
she searched his face she realized that either Draco had lied or he never
realized his father’s true intentions. Fear coursed through her veins for
Lizzie.
“Tsk, tsk, Miss Granger.” The white-blond-haired man’s face twisted into a
severely cruel leer. “You will receive no help from me.”
Tears filled her eyes even as anger filled her heart. She pulled in another
breath, letting her mouth fill with as much saliva as she could manage before
daring to spit at him – hard. It hit Malfoy just below the left eye. She didn’t
even have time to take a breath before the open-handed blow snapped her neck
back. She cried out in terrified agony as the blow made her head reel all the
worse – the room tilted alarmingly, but her sound was squeezed off as the hand
at her throat tightened restrictively. She thrashed against her binds,
desperate for life-giving oxygen. Seconds ticked by, she felt her eyes bulge.
She met Malfoy’s eyes with pleading tears. “Boss wants her alive.” The gruff,
thick voice came from behind her and the pressure on her larynx disappeared.
She choked sobbing breaths into her bruised esophagus. I don’t understand,she
wept internally, trying to force the tears that prickled her eyes to stay put.
“Well, well, well … Miss Granger.” Malfoy’s silky voice sounded as one hand
returned to her thigh. His voice was laced with satisfied amusement. “What have
we here?” Hermione turned her face away from his gaze, ashamed, as a crimson
blushed its way up her torso, breasts, and across her high cheek bones. One of
his perfectly manicured fingers delved into the soft, slippery flesh of her
sex. The sob that broke from her chest was defeated as he flicked her clitoris
and her body betrayed her with a shiver. “Perhaps you are happy to see me?”
Her lips tightened into a thin, hard line and she pushed her mind outside of
her body, trying to be clinical. She wasn’t a fool – her body was not betraying
her, it was responding to the stimuli. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want
it, that it wasn’t welcome. She couldn’t fight her physical response, but she
had to control her emotional one.
“Stop.” She said coldly as two long fingers slipped into her vagina.
“Oh…I do not think I will, my dear. Humiliation for...humiliation? You will not
spit at another person while you are with us, do you understand?”
Her stomach rolled with sick. She tried to detach herself from the sensation.
She hated he was being gentle. Her humiliation would be an orgasm she didn’t
want. This is not happening. Her thoughts were racing even as he enticed heat
to swirl through her core. His other hand gripped her face. “I said do you
understand?” Her eyes popped open at the menace in his tone. She glared at him
as her breath hitched in her throat.
“Yes.” She spat the word at him and pushed a groan down. She would not give him
the satisfaction. She gagged as she felt the erection of the man behind her
press into her bum. The coil of heat in her belly was almost unbearable, she
fought it relentlessly. “St-stop!” Her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes
shut, shame filling her as her climax spread through her body. She did not
groan, but a shuddering breath escaped her as her body convulsed with her
release. It was not the same, of course, the pleasure. Instead of making her
feel warm and sated and loved, it made her recoil into herself – sickened and
humiliated. Just what he had wanted. She was failing and it had barely even
started. She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled. It helped calm her a
bit.
===============================================================================
Harry held Ginny while the girl sobbed hysterically. He, himself, was fighting
tremulous emotion. She was gone. Hermione had been taken. There had been so
much destruction. Four dead bodies – all patrons of the café – and Snape. Snape
was still unconscious. There were no witnesses left from the battle, save him.
None of the attackers had been left behind. One witness from before the
fighting started said there had been seven of them.
They sat in a private waiting room at St. Mungo’s with most of the Weasley
family, all wore the same devastated look. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a few
Aurors were also present.
They all looked up when Snape’s voice could be heard raging from down the hall.
“Get me the fuck out of these restraints!” he bellowed. Harry, Ron, and Ginny
were out of the waiting room in a shot, only to be stopped by two large
security wizards just meters away from his room. More people piled behind them.
“Where is Hermione?” His voice was a combination of dangerous and hopefully
pleading.
“Sir.” A calm, but firm voice came. “You were hit with three high level
Stunning Spells. You cannot get up.”
“Where is my fiancée?!” The growl was frightening, but brought the trio up
short with astonishment.
“Fiancée?!” Ron whispered in agonized disgust as horrified and shocked gasps
chorused behind them.
“Not. Now. Ronald.” Ginny ground out through gritted teeth, all the while
exchanging a sorrowful look with her own fiancé. He curled his hand into hers
and lost his battle with his tears.
Fifteen minutes later, Shacklebolt entered Snape’s hospital room with the
aurors at his side, allowing Harry to be present. He watched with a heavy heart
as the stone-masked Snape gave a monotone account of what happened in Diagon
Alley until he had blacked out. Fear gripped Harry harder than any he had ever
known. No one has been found. They’ve all just disappeared without a trace. A
trail of bodies in their wake. Snape looks utterly lifeless. His eyes have no
light in them. He’s already given her up for dead.He took a shuddering breath,
never taking his eyes off his professor’s face. When the Minister and aurors
left, he stayed. Staring at the man who had loved his mother. Staring at the
man who was in love with his would-be sister.
Finally, he spoke. “She’s not going to die.”
Cold, black eyes met his, his skepticism was tangible in the air. “She’s not,”
Harry repeated determinedly. “Hermione is a survivor, she’ll figure out a way.
She’s strong.”
It was silent for many minutes before the stoic, powerful wizard in front of
him opened his mouth and said two sentences that broke Harry’s heart. “So was
your mother.” His deep, usually silky baritone was devoid of all emotion.
“Everyone I love dies.”
***** Chapter Twenty-Two *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Non-Con Sexual Situation. Tags: Restraints, suspension,
     spanking, use of tawse, blow job, mind control (imperius), torture
     (cruciatus), 3 plus, vaginal intercourse, fingering, breast play,
     abuse, cutting.
                              Chapter_Twenty-Two
                         Ten_Days_Later_-_January_1999
===============================================================================
Hermione pumped the cock in front of her with seemingly delighted fervor,
alternating between using her hand and her mouth while the masked wizard above
her groaned in enjoyment. Without looking closely at the witch, one would think
she was having the time of her life. Upon further inspection, they would see
the blank expression in her eyes and the jerkiness of her movements. The
Imperius Curse was working at its finest. In the very back of Hermione's mind
the words fight this tumbled over and over again. Finally, she won and her eyes
slid back into focus. She sat back on her haunches and closed her mouth with a
determined click of her teeth.
"She fought it again." The voice behind her was annoyed.
"I could care less, she's more fun when she's fighting us off, anyway."
"Last time I took her, she didn't fight." The first man sounded bored. "She's
getting clever. We must be more so. Crucio!" She had expected this, but the
screams came anyway. When the curse was lifted, she was laying on her side on
the cold floor, curled into the fetal position, panting. She squeezed her eyes
shut, but the tears just cascaded from underneath them.
"Perhaps it’s not cleverness. Perhaps we've broken our dirty toy. Should we
teach her a lesson? What do you think, sweetheart? Do you need us to teach you
a lesson?" The second voice was laced with cruel mirth and she couldn't
suppress the shudder that spasmed down her spine.
She was hauled roughly to her feet. There was a muttered charm and her hands
shot above her towards the ceiling. She groaned loudly as the forced movement
stretched her damaged shoulder. The ribs that she was sure were cracked pulled
and the pain was stifling. Her arms continued to rise until she was just barely
on the tips of her toes. Her body immediately began to shake with the exertion
of pain.
"What do you want, sweetheart? The tawse? The cane?" She didn't answer, just
pressed her lips together tightly. Her bum and thighs were so broken, it
wouldn't matter what they used. Both hurt too much, just different flavors of
pain. She hated that she knew what they felt like.
"I like the tawse. Covers more ground and the slap is satisfying. You like it,
too, don’t you sweetheart?"
She shuddered even as her arms started to go numb. She pushed herself out of
her mind, seeking out her private refuge. She detached herself from her own
body to endure their torture.
CRACK!
Two straps of thick, hot pain bloomed across one hip and pulled her from her
seeking. It was getting harder and harder to distance herself from her
tormentors. Her head fell forward with a groan of agony.
CRACK!
The other hip. Tears slipped unbidden down her face to drip off the point of
her chin, she slumped against her restraints and another wail of agony rippled
through her as the pull on her shoulders and battered torso screamed at her.
She sought for her solace more urgently.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
One after another fell: across her battered bum, across her broken and bleeding
thighs, flamed a new path across her low back. Nausea bloomed through her body
as the agony became overwhelming, all encompassing, intolerable. She knew what
people meant when they said “living nightmare” now. She was living in her own
personal hell. There was a long pause and then hands were on her. This was
worse. She would take the torture and the pain gladly over their touches.
Most of the men that had invaded her body and senses over the last ten days had
been rough, mean, disgustingly nasty. They took their pleasure without worrying
about hers. She was grateful for their callousness. Nothing damaged her more
than gentle touches that enticed memories of Severus. Nothing broke her down
further than men she didn't want coaxing climax after climax from her own body.
These two were the best at it – or the worst – depending on perspective. The
worst for her, it couldn’t get any more awful. She called them Thing One and
Thing Two in her mind. She hadn't seen a single face outside of Malfoy that
very first day. She knew if she survived this, those silver masks and distorted
voices would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
She grunted as a palm grazed across a nipple, effectively erecting it, making
it ache. No, no, no! The sobs began. Her control was lessening every day. They
were doing exactly what was promised – breaking her. She was clinging to a
ledge with only her finger tips.
"Stop." Her voice was no longer in her command. Another set of hands slid to
the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, teasing it to a hard ball of
need. She felt her womb quicken in traitorous betrayal. As the length of an
erection press against her bum, the sobs came harder. She didn't know how much
more violation she could take. A blindfold encircled her face and her cries
broke in increased apprehension. This just meant they were going to use their
mouths. It was even worse than gentle hands.
She wasn't wrong. After the biting lick of the double strapped tawse, their
caresses were almost more unbearable. A hot mouth encircled one taught nipple
as a heavy cock invaded her from behind. She groaned from the discomfort, her
channel was exceeding sore and felt raw. One hand of the man behind her
continued to tease her clit and she felt herself barreling towards an orgasm
she didn't want. "Stop!" Her voice was scratchy and rough. "Don't come inside
me," she begged. The men laughed. She knew there was no point in begging. There
was no point in expressing anything, but in her heart, she knew when she was no
longer talking, no longer fighting, she would be truly broken.
"We'll come anywhere we fucking please. You’re our dirty little sweetheart,
aren’t you? You like us to come in your sopping pussy."
Another sob broke from her chest as she was forced to orgasm. The grunts and
groans of pleasure from behind her signaled her rapist had also spilled his
pleasure. Gods, no. No, no, no! The man in front of her released her bonds. As
she had no feeling in her extremities, she flopped limply into his arms.
"Such a good little sweetheart, don't you think?"
"The best. Shame we'll have to return her soon."
"I think we've broken her in well."
"One more ride, my friend?"
"Don't mind if I do. How about you, sweetheart? One more ride for old times’
sake?"
He forced her onto her hands and knees and took her from behind. She couldn’t
support herself on her arms, so she lay her upper body on the cold floor. Every
thrust of him into her made the pain radiate throughout her body, charring her
from the inside out. She forced her body into rigid indifference. He compelled
two climaxes from her before ejaculating his disgusting self into her core. She
had made no noises that time, she had even held in the gasps of pain. She did
not struggle, merely remained completely impassive, as if she could care less
what was happening to her. When he was through, he removed her blindfold and
released her. She forced herself to her feet, and after a few false starts due
to the crippling agony that was her own body, she crossed the small, cold cell
to the cot she had been permitted. She rolled onto it and faced the wall,
turning her back to them while wrapping her arms around herself tightly.
"I think there's only one thing left to do." She barely heard him.
"Just reopen that scar line by line, then Malfoy can complete her memory
modification."
A small part of her mind twitched alarmingly. What scar…oh, NO! She whipped
around, eyes wide with renewed horror. She forced herself into the far corner
of the bed, curling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her
knees. It was the only position in which she was fully obstructed from their
ogling.
"Ah. Still with us then, sweetheart?"
She didn't look at either man.
"Grab her!"
She would have run if only there was somewhere to run.
She was forced to the cot on her back, her left forearm pulled roughly away
from her body. She was sure she felt her wrist snap and white-hot pain shot
through her fingers. She managed to keep the strangled sob at bay. A third man
entered the room and helped hold her down as a silver knife, exactly like the
one which had done this horrible act the first time, was produced. Then the
agony started again as her Mudblood scar was opened fresh, more deeply than the
first time. The blood poured down her arm, soaking the thin, paper-like sheet
beneath her. Her screams were not human. By the time the "L" had been reached,
she passed out. They weren't kind enough to continue without her, waiting for
her to be conscious before starting again.
When it was done, they left her alone. She didn't move from her back. Tears ran
freely down her temples into her ratted, unwashed hair. Her breath came in
hiccupping gasps as she focused on the intense pain in her arm, focused on the
steady drip of blood as it pooled, warm and sticky, around her extremity. It
meant she was alive. For now.
Her legs were cocked at an odd angle. Her right arm rested lightly across her
stomach. Her left, which burned with searing flames, lay out in the position
they had held her down for the cutting. Her head was turned back to the wall,
eyes staring – unseeing – as the rain continued to fall from her eyes.
"Well, my little Lioness." The silky tones of Lucius Malfoy curled through the
room. She didn't even flinch. "Are you ready to go home?"
A surreal feeling of panic and peace slipped through her being, but she didn't
move. "Stand, sweetheart. Now."
She didn't know if she could.
"I said now, filth!"
She tentatively rolled, sliding her feet to the floor. She had to use both
hands to push herself off, which triggered a cascade of stings, pinches, and
pulls all over her body. It felt as if she was being attacked by an entire
beehive. Blood dripped along her wrist, running in rivulets across her palm and
down finger tips where it beaded and dropped to make soft plopping noises on
the floor beneath her. Once on her feet, the room pitched horrifically. She
sucked in a deep breath and tried to push through the sickening haze.
"Look at me, Mudblood."
Her eyes met his. He raised his wand before speaking gently. "I've been working
on a new memory charm. This one erases names and faces, but does not take your
memories. You will be able to remember everything that has happened to you."
Her shocked dismay must have shown on her face, because he chuckled. "You just
won't be able to remember I was involved." With those words, he twirled and
jabbed his wand, pointing it at her forehead, she flinched as if he intended to
strike her. "Obliviate et facies nomina!" After a moment, she realized she was
alone in the room. She looked around in confusion, wondering why she was
standing in the middle of it.
The door creaked and a masked and cloaked and masked figure entered. "Stupefy!"
She crumpled to the ground, mercifully unaware for the first time in ten days.
===============================================================================
                                Six Days Prior
===============================================================================
"Severus, this is utterly ridiculous," Minerva snapped. "You cannot hole
yourself up in here for the rest of your life. Kingsley has requested your
help. I have arranged Horace to take over your classes until she is found and
you feel able to return. Go to the ministry. Find her!"
"She's dead, Minerva. There's nothing to find."
"Severus. She is not dead." The headmistress pursed her lips in frustration.
"You must have faith in her strength. That girl loves you.She is counting on
you!"
Startled dark eyes met bespectacled ones. "She's counting on me?
"Of course she is!"
For the first time in four days, a fire lit in Snape's belly. What was he
doing? Wallowing in self-pity? Was he really doing this to himself while the
witch he loved was most likely being tortured, hoping to be rescued?
He met Minerva's gaze again and the elderly witched nodded with a grim look of
satisfaction on her face as she saw a fierce anger burn into being in the young
man's eyes. "Go!"
Six days later, he was hopelessly beyond frustrated. It seemed no one knew
anything. At the end of a very long day, he sat with two Weasley's, a Potter,
and Miss Williams in his office, relaying news – or the lack there of – from
his day at the ministry.
Lizzie Williams seemed oddly distracted, eyes full of fear and a faraway look.
Miss Weasley had a hard look of determination on her face. Potter and Mr.
Weasley looked as terrible as he felt. The aching devastation he carried in his
gut was just shy of being debilitating. They all startled jerkily when the head
of Kingsley Shacklebolt erupted in his fire grate.
"Miss Granger has been found." His rich, accented baritone was cool, clinical.
Snape felt his blood rush hot as both girls broke into sobs behind him. "Is she
alive?" He barely whispered the sentence.
"Just barely." Came the reluctant reply. "She was taken to St. Mungo's post
haste. Meet us there." He disappeared.
"You must return to your dormitories."
"Like hell, we will!" Potter and Williams snapped at the same time. Snape
growled in frustration, reaching up to pull on his hair. "I cannot take you
with this time. I must go alone." His gaze bore into Potter, begging him to
understand.
After a moment, the boy nodded. "You will make arrangements for us to come in
the morning?"
The man's shoulders slumped in relief. He had not been up for a fight. "I will,
I swear." With those words, he scooped up a handful of floo powder and called
out "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries" and was gone.
***** Chapter Twenty-Three *****
                             Chapter_Twenty-Three
===============================================================================
“You’re Miss Granger’s fiancé?” The healer raised a surprised eyebrow,
instantly recognizing the spy and hero from the war. That was almost twice her
patient’s age. And if she wasn’t mistaken, her teacher?
“I am. Can I see her?” Snape was maintaining his control just barely. He
glanced at the petite, dirty blonde-haired Healer up and down as if to assess
her worth.
“I’m Healer Nox. Feel free to call me Laura, if you prefer.” She reached out
her hand. Snape looked at it a moment and then met her unremarkable brown eyes.
Hermione’s are much prettier. The Healer dropped her hand when it became
obvious he wasn’t going to shake it and cleared her throat. “Please follow me.”
Snape and Kingsley followed the middle-aged healer to a secluded waiting room
where she beckoned them to sit. “Miss Granger is… Well, I’m sorry to say she
has been through a most horrific ordeal.”
The knuckles of his hands whitened as he clutched the arms of the uncomfortable
plastic chair. “What…exactly…do you mean?” His voice was low and menacing.
She glanced at the Minister and back to Snape. “Are you sure you want him
present?” she asked cautiously.
“Yes,” Snape replied. “He is a good friend to both me and my fiancée.” He waved
his hand, dismissing her concerns. If this statement surprised Kingsley, he did
not let on.
“I am going to list Miss Granger’s injuries. I want you to realize that she is
stable. We are treating everything as quickly as we can. None of her injuries
were life threatening or permanently disfiguring with the exception of one on
her forearm.”
“I could care less what she looks like,” Snape brushed these comments away.
“Tell me.”
The Healer dropped her gaze for a moment, collecting herself. She followed the
news, the reports. She was well aware this man was exceptionally brave and
well-guarded. Still, saying these things aloud. Hearing what somebody – likely
many somebodies – had done to the woman he planned to marry... Her stomach
turned.
She took a steadying breath and started. “Miss Granger was repeatedly sexually
assaulted over the period of the last ten days.” She kept her tone calm, cool,
and slightly detached. She ignored his grunt of surprise. “She was diagnosed
with internal vaginal bruising and lacerations and two second-degree labial
tears. She was sodomized and had a third-degree rectal tear.” She watched
Snape’s face drain of all color and he buried his face in one hand. The
Minister blinked, a look of horror crossing his face. She remained persistent,
wishing to complete her unsavory task so their torment could end.
“Her attackers carved the word ‘Mudblood’ into her left forearm. It was quite
deep, but she fortunately did not sustain any damage to her tendons. It will
scar, but she reported she had already had this scar – that they had reopened
the old wound.
“She is experiencing malnutrition and dehydration and reports weight loss. Her
right shoulder tendons and muscles were horribly strained – a very bad sprain,
I would call it. Because of this, she is experiencing slight nerve damage in
her shoulder plexus and will have limited use of this extremity until it’s
fully healed which will take a few days. She had three fractured ribs on her
left side, two on her right along with heavy bruising. Both wrists were
fractured; digits four and five on her right hand were broken. Her left
cheekbone was fractured and she had a hairline fracture at the base of her
skull.
“She was riddled with abrasions and lacerations over almost every inch of her
body – it’s obvious she was beaten. She reports use of BDSM instruments: canes,
paddles, riding crops, tawse, and the like. Most of the abuse from these
ministrations was concentrated across her buttocks and the backs of her thighs.
It is obvious she was suspended by her wrists for long periods of time.”
Through her report, Snape’s face hardened more and more. A fire lit in his eyes
that made her a little breathless with fear. Here, however, he made a strangled
sound and stood, striding to the small window that overlooked the street. She
paused momentarily, letting him come to terms with what she had told him thus
far. His hands were clasped behind his back tightly, knuckles white with the
exertion. His shoulders were squared and his back ramrod straight. She could
see the tension trembling through him, his anguish rolled off him in waves.
She took a deep breath and continued. “She reported being put under the
Cruciatus and Imperius Curses. A memory charm was detected, but we have been
unsuccessful in breaking it.” She took a deep breath, grateful she was able to
control herself. She had never in her life seen such a horrible case of sexual
torture.
After a few minutes, Laura felt compelled to speak more. “Mr. Snape?” He
reluctantly turned and met her eyes. The pain she saw there made her heart
stutter. “She has asked for nothing but you since she arrived. Demanding to
know that you are alive and unharmed. She remembers everything. Her immediate
concern was not for herself, but for the fact she had to leave you behind in
the middle of that café, unconscious – not knowing your fate. She was
absolutely terrified for your well-being. She reported the same story you gave
almost word for word, but was able to tell us what happened after you were
stunned.
“By all rights, Miss Granger would have every excuse to be a shell of a human
being. I have never in my life seen such devotion and determination in this
type of victim. She blew me away with the clinical calm she has over what she
has been through. She insisted on giving me a full account of what happened in
the café to relay to the aurors. She is the definition of a soldier - an elite
soldier.”
Snape felt a lump rise in his throat. Even through his pain and fury, pride
bubbled in his chest. Yes, she was a fighter. Her strength was unparalleled.
Just as Harry had declared; just as Minerva had insisted.
He cleared his throat and gave a short, grateful nod. “How are her injuries
being treated?”
“Most of them have been healed quickly and with relative ease. All fractures
were sealed and she has been given a dose of Skelegrow. I do recommend she
wears a wrist brace on her left for a few days, that one was a little more
severe. All lacerations and abrasions were healed immediately with magic and
treated with an external potion cream; most look weeks old. Her more intimate
injuries were healed in the same way. The more severe contusions should be gone
within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, the lesser bruises within the
next four to eight hours.
“The carving on her arm will continue to need treatment through the end of the
week and will fade to a pink scar. Right now, it has been closed, but is still
quite angry looking. It was being bandaged when I was summoned to meet you.
“She has been given potions to prevent infection, potions to treat possible
sexually transmitted diseases, a potion to prevent sepsis due to the rectal
tear, a hydration potion, a vitamix potion, pain potion, and a blood
replenishing potion – her arm was cut today and she lost quite a bit. We can
teach her a glamour if she wishes to conceal the scar.
“We were unfortunately unable to obtain any physical evidence, it had all been
charmed away.
“Her emotional state…” She trailed off, wanting to word this just right. “To be
honest, her emotional state is unbelievably stable in light of what she has
experience. I would recommend counseling for it to be monitored for at least
the next six months.”
Snape closed his eyes in relief. Of course that brilliant brain of hers held
on. Why did I ever doubt her? He opened his eyes again and pinned the Healer
with a significant stare. He had only one word. “Pregnancy?”
Laura blanched just a bit and his heart sank. “It would be too soon to detect a
pregnancy if it has already been established. Miss Granger reports she had been
using a daily ovum blocking charm for your intimacies. However, with no wand
she was, of course, unable to use it. I have explained her options to her, she
has not made a decision.”
“And those options are?”
“A termination potion if she’s pregnant and does not wish to carry the child.”
Snape couldn’t help the jerk of his head. She would never terminate a
pregnancy, it was in her nature to protect the weak. He knew her too well.
“Surely there’s something she could take now to prevent a pregnancy.”
“We have a potion she could take to prevent implantation as long as it has not
yet occurred. It would not affect an already established pregnancy. She’s more
informed on her monthly cycle than any other teenager I have ever met. She
reports being on day fifteen of her cycle and that her normal ovulation pattern
is day eighteen. I am afraid that pregnancy is a very real risk.”
She watched this larger than life man slump forward, back side resting against
the windowsill. Both of his large, slender fingered hands covered his face in
seeming exhaustion. The Minister had not spoken a word or made a movement
during their entire conversation. After a few beats of time, Snape looked up at
her. “Can I see her?”
“She’s awaiting you anxiously.”
“Severus, I will return in the morning to get her statement. I cannot imagine
speaking with her tonight.” Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice sounded very
controlled, but his look of abhorrence was not able to be hidden. “Please make
sure she rests. I fear our questions will be very difficult tomorrow; she is
the only witness in these crimes. If there was any way I could spare you both,
you know I would. We need her testimony, Severus.”
Snape gave a wordless nod of his head. He understood. He knew she would as
well.
Healer Nox stood. “This way, Mr. Snape.”
Panic crawled through him as he followed the woman down the hall. For the first
time in his life, he felt unsure of what to say, how to react. They paused
outside a closed door and he watched the Healer’s shoulders lift and drop in a
deep sigh. “Mr. Snape?” She whispered. “Can I give you a few words of advice?”
She turned to look at him.
Irritation crawled up Snape’s back, but in the back of his mind something
niggled at him, urging him to listen to the witch. He gave a brief nod.
“Let her set the tone, don’t try and force anything on her. Treat her the same
way you always would. Don’t act like she’s fragile or broken. She just needs
you right now, not the version who is devastated by something out of your
control. She needs the version of you she loves.”
Snape’s lips parted in surprise, but he was grateful for her words of advice.
Laura turned back and knocked gently on the door. “Come in!” Hermione’s voice
sounded scratchy with lingering pain.
Another quick whisper over her shoulder. “I forgot to tell you her vocal chords
are raw, they will heal quickly enough.” Then she opened the door. “Miss
Granger, there is someone here to see you.”
Hermione’s eyes immediately found Severus’s. A strangled sound broke from her
throat and she pushed herself to sit all the way up in bed, reaching for him –
both arms outstretched like a child begging to be picked up into their parent’s
arms. “Severus!” Relief, love, anguish, and longing were just some of the
emotions that crossed her face. After the briefest of pauses to take her in –
She’s really alive! – he crossed the room in large steps, pulling her to him,
up onto her knees; he tried to remind himself to be gentle, but he was so
relieved.
Her face pressed into the side his neck as her fingers dug into his head, one
at his temple, the other around the base of his skull. “Oh, Gods. I thought you
were dead.” She sobbed into his neck, pressing soft kisses there. “They
wouldn’t tell me what happened to you!”
He didn’t trust his voice, just pulled her more firmly against him. His hands
touched her – her hair, her shoulders, her spine. He needed to make sure she
was truly there. They moved to cup her cheeks and he pulled her away from him
gently. Her face looked much the same, save a light shadow of a bruise along
her jaw. She was freshly showered, curly hair still damp. She smelled heavenly.
She moved to kiss him, but he held her in place firmly, needing to drink in her
lovely features. Her eyes were bursting with knowing, her face lovely, her hair
wild. Her grateful, sweet expression clouded with doubt when he held her back
from kissing him a second time, pain slicing the light in her eyes. “Can you
still love me? After what they did?” The whisper was broken. He jerked, her
question taking him off guard and shocking his heart. A growl left his chest
even as tears sprung to his eyes.
“What a question, you stupid girl!” Then his mouth was on hers. She sighed into
him, melting into his embrace. He pulled back and started covering her face
with love. “I was in agony without you, Hermione. Agony. I thought I had lost
you forever.” He brushed kisses along her jaw, across her cheekbones. Another
to the bridge of her nose, the sensitive spot between her eyebrows. More to her
eyelids – kissing away tears – another to her temple. He worshiped her face
with gentle, loving caresses of his lips, his fingers stroking the contours of
her delicate features. Her hands gripped his wrists and she leaned into his
ministrations, needing the affection. Finally, he rested his forehead against
her and sighed. Obsidian eyes staring into the perfect shade of brown.
Two hours and a shouting match with a couple Mediwitches later, both Severus
and Hermione were snuggled together in the enlarged hospital bed. Hermione was
refusing the sleeping potion and Severus was just so thrilled to be holding her
again that he was letting her get her way.
The bed was tilted in a semi-seated position, Hermione was curled into his
side. Her left hand was lacing and unlacing the fingers of his right, their
other arms tucked under each other. She rested her head on the apex of his
shoulder and chest and he leaned a cheek against the top of her head. They had
not talked over-much, and had only exchanged a half dozen kisses or so. Touch
seemed to be what she needed more than anything. He would give her what she
needed.
“I hear that busy brain of yours, pet,” he murmured. “Please tell me what’s on
your mind.”
“I will shortly. I’m still working on it,” she replied. He felt her small smile
even though he could not see her face.
There was another five-minute lapse of silence where the hand not being played
with hers trailed light touches up and down her spine. He pressed a gentle kiss
to her forehead. Finally, she sucked in a deep breath and he knew she was
preparing to talk.
She pulled back and motioned for him to get comfortable, indicating she wanted
them to be able to see each other’s face. He turned to his side, sliding one
hand gently over her hip, caressing soothing circles onto it with the pad of
his thumb.
“I have to ask you to do something for me. Something that will be really hard.”
He searched her face for a long minute before he replied. “If it’s within my
power, it shall be so.”
She nodded, releasing a long, shaky breath. She met his eyes with a fierce
determination. “I need you to give me doubt.”
He looked confused and her eyes dropped. A moment later a tear dropped off her
chin. He tilted her chin up, wiping the tear; concern lined his face.
“Hermione?” He needed her to elaborate.
“I…well. I’m sure you’ve thought this already, but…” she took another breath.
“I could be pregnant.” Her voice was so small, so low, her eyes so full of
mixed emotions it put a pin in the bubble of his anger.
“You could be,” he acknowledged.
She gave a stiff nod and sniffled. Another tear tracked down her cheek. “I
might not be, though. I typically ovulate on my eighteenth day. Sometimes on my
seventeenth. But…Severus.” Her voice was agonized. “If I am I…I couldn’t…” She
swallowed hard. “I just couldn’t…” She couldn’t even say the word. She wouldn’t
be able to terminate the pregnancy, it was just not in her nature. She knew
that he knew what she was trying to say. She repeated her opening line, and he
finally understood what she was asking of him. “I need you to give me doubt,
Severus.”
His eyes closed to hide his pain and anger from her. Pain for her torment,
anger for her tormentors. He disguised the gesture by leaning forward to press
a kiss to her forehead in tender affection. She wanted him to give her doubt as
to the parentage of her potential child. To claim the child as his own and
never contest its paternity. He answered cautiously, but with assurance.
“Tomorrow, love. Let’s give you one more day to heal.”
Her eyes searched his for a moment before she nodded. She pressed a chaste kiss
to his lips in silent thanks and curled into him again. They continued with
their silence, content to just bask in being with each other. A short while
later she spoke again.
“You will be with me during my interview tomorrow?”
“If you want me there.”
“I do.” She sighed, sliding her palm over his chest lightly. “You will hear
everything, though. Are you sure…?”
“I am.”
“Tell me what happened here?”
“I can’t, not yet. I am ashamed of myself.”
She pulled back, her face flooding with surprised concern. “What do you mean?”
“I am ashamed with how I behaved. I shut down. The pain of your loss was too
great.”
“Oh, love,” she whispered, tracing his brow gently with the backs of her
fingertips. “You are allowed to be sad. You are allowed to try and protect your
heart. You are allowed to fear. Has no one ever told you this?”
Her words of forgiveness could not have been more perfect. He captured her
gentle fingers in his hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you.”
“Do you have my ring?” she murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw. “I want
it back.”
The first real smile to cross his face in days pulled one from his sweet witch.
“I do.” He untangled himself from her, sliding out of the bed. “I kept it on me
the entire time. I’m intrigued to find out how you got it into my breast
pocket.”
“I got them talking,” she answered, watching him dig in the pocket of his frock
coat. He returned to the bed and took her left hand, sliding the ring to its
home. It would stay there until the day she died.
===============================================================================
“Are you ready, Miss Granger?”
“I am.”
She watched as the Auror – Banks was his surname – set his wand to record
before taking a deep breath and starting. “I was unconscious when we arrived.
When I woke, I was in a four-walled room with a two-way mirror next to the
door. The walls were white, the floor tiled. There was a cot, a sink, and a
toilet. Much like a Muggle prison cell. I was given no clothing. The cot had a
pillow and a small blanket. You have an account of my injuries?” The auror
nodded.
“There were fourteen men. Three were what I would consider elderly – sixty
plus. Grey hair. All between five foot nine and six feet tall. One had a tattoo
of a wand on his left bicep. Seven men were between thirty-five and forty-five
years old. Two were under five-foot-seven. Three were between five-foot-seven
and six-feet. Two of these men had tattoos. The first had black hair and a
skull and cross bone on his left pectoral. The second had dirty blonde hair and
an iron cross with the words “Illegitimi non carborundum” in a crest
surrounding the bottom between his shoulder blades. Two were six-foot to six-
three. One of these men had a large birth mark across his left inner thigh, he
had red hair.” She continued her descriptions. Severus marveled at her calm and
detailed recollection.
“You never saw a face?”
“Not a single face. All voices were distorted, the same as in the café.”
“Did all the men have a dark mark?”
“No. Six did not.”
“They all sexually assaulted you?”
Here she paused, swallowing back bile. She took a sip of the water that had
been placed in front of her, sucked in a deep breath, and answered. “They did.”
Severus swore. She flinched. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, gently touching the side
of her face.
“It’s okay.” She reached up and snatched his hand, squeezing it gently.
“Are you positive about the number? About your recount?”
“I am.”
“How did you escape?”
“I didn’t. They let me go.”
Both men gaped at her.
“Why?” The auror was looked at her with an expression of awe.
“When I got them talking at the café, one of them told me what their plan was.
I played into it.”
“How?” Severus seemed cautiously proud. She glanced at him and gave him a sad
smile.
“They told me that they were going to break me. He said to me: ‘When we’re
through with you, you’re going to wish we had killed you. Before we’re done
with you, you will be begging to die. Instead, we’re going to break you to
pieces. Then we’re going to return you so destroyed that it will break him.’
Him, of course, being you. So, I let them think they broke me.”
“How?” he asked again, his voice was strangled.
“For the first few days I fought like hell. I attempted to steal wands. I
rarely stopped making noise. I raged. I screamed. I threatened. I hit, and
scratched, and bit, and spit. I didn’t sleep. I told them they’d never break
me. After my ‘period of courage.’” She used her fingers to make air quotes. “I
let myself act like I was breaking down. If I was alone, I stayed silent. My
fighting became weak, more halfhearted. I didn’t talk as much. I stopped
screaming while they assaulted me and cried more. I slept. By day eight, I
stopped resisting. Of course, I didn’t participate by any means – I just didn’t
do anything. I barely said anything. I stopped eating the food they brought me.
I stopped trying to clean myself up. Day nine I asked to die; I begged to die.
Day ten I barely said anything. The only reaction they got out of me on day ten
was when they told me they were going to cut my arm open again. My reaction was
shock more than anything. I wish I had controlled that better.
“Of course I couldn’t control the pain, so controlling my reactions to it was
exceedingly difficult. I figured this helped me. It was genuine. I chose ten
days because it was believable. I have a reputation for being exceedingly
stubborn, but I could have held out another ten if it had been needed. I’m
grateful it wasn’t. They think they did their worst; they think they did what
they promised. They did not. They played right into my hands. Where I could not
prevent the things they did to me, they did not control me. I controlled them.”
Banks flicked his glance to Severus, eyebrows having disappeared into his
hairline. “She’s terrifying.”
He wasn’t joking, but this statement caused one of those real, rare, devilish
grins to cross the face of the man she loved. His reply was one infamous word.
“Indeed.” Hermione actually had to bite back a true laugh. She cleared her
throat instead. She didn’t want Banks to think she was cold hearted or insane.
“Don’t get me wrong, please.” Her eyes pleaded with the man as he turned his
attention back to her. “You need to know that I have been deeply affected by
this. It was quite literally the nightmare of my life. I will never be the same
person again.” She felt Severus’s hand slip onto her thigh and squeeze gently
beneath the table, his smile had disappeared. “However, I am clinical enough to
realize the opportunity I had. So many Muggle-borns have already died because
of these men. So many of my kind murdered. Children. Oh Gods -” Sobs threatened
to overtake her and she had to pause for a moment. She brought her elbows to
the table and dropped her crumbling face into her hands. Severus’s hand
tightened on her leg again with encouragement.
When she was in control of her emotions, she raised her face and started again.
“I knew that I had to make the best of my situation and gather the information
I could. I had been given a guarantee that I would come out of this ordeal
alive. I didn’t have to fear for my life, therefore, I could be strong. I could
bring back as much knowledge as possible to help bring these fuckers down.” Her
eyes flashed and she paused for a long moment. Then, she turned her head and
looked straight into her fiancé’s eyes, her face filled with deep pride. “I won
their game.”
***** Chapter Twenty-Four *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                             Chapter_Twenty-Four
===============================================================================
He had taken her back to Spinner’s End when she was released from the hospital
after lunch. He was embarrassed of the state of the place, not having been back
there since summer. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust. She just
smiled at him, eyes twinkling as he made his half-hearted apologies. She asked
to borrow his wand and a few quick cleaning spells later, she had the placed
cleaned up and presentable. He watched her move around in this space where he
grew up and marveled at the rightness of it. She had entered the sitting room
and gasped in delight at the floor to ceiling book shelves that dominated the
room, piled with stacks upon stacks of thick tomes.
“Come,” he said, after letting her trail her fingers over their spines for a
solid ten minutes. “Your friends will be here, soon. They are most anxious to
see you. Let’s run to the corner mart and buy some biscuits, then we’ll come
back and set some tea.” She took his offered hand and they left in
companionable silence. He didn’t comment as she looked longingly over her
shoulder at the books.
He had gone back to Minerva and filled her in when Hermione had slept the night
before. He had gotten her to take the Dreamless Sleep in the wee hours of the
morning. Minerva had been a wreck. He informed her of his intention to take at
least the next three weeks off and keep her with him. As term had only been
back in session since the fourth (and it was now the sixth) he had requested
her friends to arrive through the floo at four o’clock (when classes let out
for the day) to visit with her before returning to the school in time for the
evening meal. He suggested they bring her school books so she could work from
his home while she recovered. The headmistress had agreed on this course of
action.
Approximately a half hour later, the fireplace in the sitting room glowed
bright green and Harry Potter popped into his sitting room. Severus had to push
back his discomfort of having his personal space invaded by his students, but
he was attempting to get use to the fact that these young adults were going to
be a part of his life. Probably for the rest of it.
He had transfigured the two wing back chairs that accompanied the lone
davenport into couches so there was enough space for all of them to sit and
visit. Hermione had made a lovely smelling Earl Grey tea and arranged chocolate
chip and sugar biscuits on a plain white serving plate and had them and his
ebony colored tea set ready on the coffee table.
Harry stepped out of the fireplace and right into Hermione’s arms. Wrapping her
in a fierce hug with a shout of exclamation. She buried her face in his
shoulder and squeezed him back. Severus had to bite down the taste of jealousy.
He had nothing to be jealous about – this boy was her adopted family. Ginny
followed Harry, carting Hermione’s trunk with her clothing and school work. Ron
and Lizzie came after. He was surprised when Draco Malfoy also came through the
floo, but understood when he took Lizzie’s hand and pulled her to him
protectively.
“Draco.” He nodded at his Godson with an approving smile. Miss Williams was a
good match for the lad.
“Godfather.” Draco returned the greeting.
Hermione was engulfed in a four-way hug between Potter and the two Weasley
children. A mix of tears and laughter sounding from their tête-à-tête. Lizzie
stood back with a wistful smile on her face. Severus recognized the look of one
who was part of the group, but still a bit of an outsider. His witch realized
her other friend was there and immediately took the girls’ discomfort away.
 
“Lizzie!” She pulled out of the arms of the other three to wrap the little
blonde in a warm hug. Lizzie returned the gesture with fierce warmth.
 
“You’re okay?” Lizzie whispered.
 
“I’m okay.” Hermione answered, then amended, “I’ll be okay.” Then she did
something that surprised everyone in the room. “Draco! Thank you for coming!”
she said before enveloping him in a hug right around his middle. Draco looked
absolutely horrified for a moment, gaze darting around the room wildly as if to
say, “I didn’t do it!” Potter and Weasley looked surprised, Severus raised an
eyebrow at him, Ginny gave him a smirk, but Lizzie was smiling. He tentatively
gave her a squeeze back before taking her shoulders and pulling her away
gently.
 
“Glad to see you back with us, Granger. Lizzie was upset.”
 
Hermione gave him a satisfied smirk and Severus had to use a hand to wipe the
smile off his face. She had done that to purposely make the poor kid
uncomfortable.
 
“Sit, sit.” Hermione gestured to the couches. Ginny, Ron, and Harry plopped on
one, Lizzie and Draco the other. Severus sat back in the corner of the third,
crossing his left foot over his right knee and sprawling one arm long the back.
Hermione was being a perfect hostess, pouring tea and passing plates. When
everyone was served, she surprised him by sitting right next to him. Hip to
hip. He watched Draco’s eyes widen slightly as she leaned into his side and
offered him a bite of a cookie. He smiled down at her gently and declined.
 
“So…” Draco started when the awkward silence dragged on too long, catching
Snape’s eyes. “My dad is going to lose his ever-loving mind when he hears about
you two.”
 
Ron snorted. “My mum was besides herself…with happiness,” he grumbled. “She’s
already planning your wedding, Hermione. As much as Ginny and Harry’s.”
 
“Oh, no!” Hermione sat bolt upright. “Does everyone know?”
 
Snape watched her carefully, gaging her reaction. When five heads nodded at her
she blanched slightly. “What a mess. I so wanted to be the one to tell your mum
and dad, Ginny and Ron. They’re like second parents to me.”
 
Severus watched Ron glance away, a telltale flush riding up the younger man’s
neck. Harry broke in quickly, realizing the same thing. “Well, she thinks you
and Professor Snape will want to get married quickly. Being that Ginny and I
are waiting until the summer after next, she’s anxious to get started.”
 
Severus was doing his best not to panic. He did not want to rush Hermione into
things. He promised her a long engagement, whatever she wanted.
 
“I’ve always wanted a summer wedding.” Hermione mused. “What do you think,
Severus? July? August?”
 
His heart stopped and he looked at her with undisguised surprise. “Are you
sure, pet? I told you there’s no rush.”
 
“There’s also no reason to wait, right?” She smiled at him and his heart
restarted.
 
“As they say, it is the bride’s day,” he answered softly, raising a hand to
brush a stray curl of her temple. “Whatever you want, you shall have.”
 
Both of the girls on the other couches sighed appreciatively and he looked up,
disgruntled. He had forgotten for a moment that they had an audience.
 
“July, then, I think. Do you think your mum will really help me, Gin?”
 
The redheaded girl grinned wickedly. “Yes, I’m sure. So will I! It’ll be good
practice.”
 
“Something small,” Hermione told her. “Just family and close friends. I don’t
want a big hoopla.”
 
“A hand fasting?” Ginny suggested. The three young men were starting to look as
decidedly uncomfortable as Severus felt. Talking about weddings – his wedding –
with all these student present was very off-putting.
 
“Oh, hand fastings are so beautiful!” Lizzie squealed. “So Earthy and rich in
romantic tradition.”
 
“I think that would be perfect!” Hermione agreed. “Severus,” she turned to him
and he raised an eyebrow warily. “You don’t mind being married barefoot, do
you?”
 
That brought him up short. “What?”
 
“It’s for connection to the Earth,” she explained. “Everyone who attends a hand
fasting must be barefoot during the ceremony. I know you’re very tight laced
when it comes to your wardrobe, but you would do this for me, yes?” She
fluttered her lashes a little and he felt his cheeks grow a bit warm.
 
Bloody hell.Her flirting and casual behavior was making him ache for her. He
wished they were alone. He sat up straight and pretended that they were. “I
meant it, love. Whatever you want.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Will you excuse me?”
 
She smirked at him, knowing just how uncomfortable he was, and nodded. “Of
course.”
 
“He okay?” Harry asked, watching Snape’s shadow disappear into the kitchen.
 
“Harry,” Hermione said softly. “He’s an exceptionally private person. You have
absolutely no idea what this conversation just did to him. He handled it very
well.”
 
“I can’t believe you’re marrying him.”
 
The words came and her heart sank. “Ron,” she said softly. “He makes me happy.”
 
It was silent for along moment and then he sighed. “I know. I just…well. Well,
it’s Snape. It’s just weird, you know?”
 
She surprised everyone in the room by busting out laughing. Deep, and long, and
straight from her belly. Her friends all looked at her with bemused expressions
and soon they were all giggling.
 
“What in the bloody hell is so funny?” Snape called from the kitchen, sounding
slightly paranoid. This just caused their laughter to deepen. Even Draco was
chuckling.
 
“Nothing!” Hermione finally called back before lowering her voice to talk to
her friends. “If any one of you had told me a year ago that I would be engaged
to Severus Snape I would have hexed you to hell in back. Now I couldn’t
possibly live without him.”
 
Ginny and Lizzie chorused an “Aww!” while Draco looked surprised, Ron a bit
green and Harry nodded with a smile.
 
“I’m happy for you, Hermione.”
 
“Did he get you a ring?” Ginny asked, eyes suddenly flying to her friend’s left
hand. “He did! Let me see!”
 
Lizzie and Ginny both piled on the couch on either side of Hermione and the
three boys started to cautiously chatter at one another. Before long, Snape was
letting them know it was time to go. Hermione hugged them all (Draco offered a
hand to her, not even remotely comfortable enough to endure another Granger
squeeze) and she shook it with a laugh. Draco flooed away first, followed by
Lizzie and Ginny. When it was just Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Severus, there was
a long pause.
 
“You’re really okay, Hermione?” Harry whispered, his eyes were shiny with
unshed tears. Hermione gave him a sad smile and a slight nod.
 
“I’m not going to lie to you guys. I’m feeling pretty fucked up.” Severus’s
hands grasped her shoulders in comfort, his heat at her back was calming. “I’m
going to be okay, though. I have you three. It’s all I need.”
 
Ron grit his teeth against his fury at what had happened to his friend. “We’ll
find them, ‘Mione. We’ll kill them all.” Harry nodded; Severus’s arms curled
around her collar bones in a backwards hug, drawing her into him.
 
“No.” The word was definite, final. “They will get what is coming, but it will
not be at the price of any of your souls. Do you understand me?” Harry and Ron
nodded. Severus made a noise of noncommittal.
 
“I love you guys.” She disentangled herself from her fiancé and pulled them
into a hug before pushing them to the fire. “I’ll see you guys soon. I’ll owl.”
They each kissed her on the cheek and disappeared into the brazier.
 
She sighed with weariness and turned into his waiting arms. He pulled her close
and propped his chin against her head. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Not
really.”
 
“Tired?” It was still early, but both knew they had something to do before
sleeping tonight.
 
“I am,” she answered. “I need a shower.” She pulled away from him and crouched
to her trunk, popping it open. “Oh, thank Merlin.” He watched her lovingly
caress her wand and was instantly curious about it.
 
“What’s it made out of?” he asked and she smiled up at him.
 
“Vine, dragon heartstring. Ten and three-quarter inches. Here.” She handed it
out to him and he took it, immediately feeling warmth flood his fingers. His
lips parted in surprise. He gave it a twirl and shot gold sparks out of it. It
felt as good as his own wand.
 
“It knows I love you,” she said simply. He smirked at her. “What about yours?”
 
“Blackthorn, thunderbird tail feather. Fourteen inches.*” He slid it out from
his sleeve and handed to her. She had already held it earlier today and had
been hesitant of its power. It did not recognize her as its owner, but had
seemed to recognize her as someone to trust. It had allowed the basic cleaning
charms to be performed to her satisfaction.
 
“I was very surprised that it responded to you.” He told her after a moment of
studying her own wand. They traded them back and she continued to paw through
her things, pulling out a pair of lounge pants, a long-sleeved tee, a zip up
jumper, and some comfortable undergarments. “A few people have attempted to use
it in the past with no luck. It must recognize who you are to me.”
 
Hermione’s face flushed with pleasure. “It’s obviously a quite powerful wand,
it vibrated through my whole body when you gave it to me the first time. I
think if I had taken it from you without your permission it would not have
worked for me at all. Blackthorn is quite difficult to control, from what I’ve
read of wand-lore. Ron stole a wand made of blackthorn from the snatchers he
was captured by when he first left us. Harry used it after his holly and
phoenix feather wand was broken at Christmas last year. It was very
temperamental; it did not work well for him.”
 
She stopped when she realized her was looking at her with deep affection.
“What?” she said shyly.
 
“You’re brilliant. I never thought I would find a witch that I could talk to
like I do you.”
 
The blush that bloomed through her cheeks was breathtaking. “Come, let’s shower
together.” He reached a hand to her and, after securing her garments in one
arm, she took it. Her face set itself with a mix of nervousness and
determination. He only loved her more for it.
 
He cast an impervious charm on her bandaged left arm and she removed the wrist
brace. He had to clench his jaw at the fading bruises and light lines that were
scattered over her lovely body as he gently undressed her and then himself. He
beckoned for her to get into the shower while he finished disrobing. He knew
the next hour would be paramount in helping her heal and he was determined to
take it agonizingly slow.
 
They washed each other with soap and flannels and hands; slowly and tenderly
exchanging chaste kisses and soothing words. When they were cleaned, he leaned
back against the cool tile wall and pulled her so her back was to his front,
letting the heat of the water rush over their bodies, and just held her for a
long time, waiting for her to be ready to move to the next step.
 
She turned the water off and pulled the curtain open a little while later,
handing him a large, fluffy towel before starting to dry herself off. As he
watched her, his hunger grew. He tampered down his need for her. He was
determined to make everything about her tonight. He had to. When they were dry,
he led her to his room. The queen-sized bed was covered in dark navy bedding
with white sheets. He indicated she should put her things on the dresser and
left her to crawl into the bed. He lay on his back, one arm cocked beneath his
head, the other reaching out for her as she turned to face him. She took a
deep, calming breath and crossed the room to him.
 
He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You are going to have
complete control, love,” he said quietly. “Tell me what you want, I will do it.
I will not frighten you.” She nodded, her eyes softening in thanks.
 
“I want you to cover me with your body and kiss me for a while.” It was
something that would not trigger any bad memories. The one thing that was a
blessing the last ten days was no one had attempted to kiss her mouth in any
way. This was strictly Severus’s domain. He rolled to her slowly, gently
pressing his legs against her and covering her with his warmth. He held most of
his weight on one forearm while using his other hand to caress her face. He
dropped light, chaste kisses across her lips, drawing them out slowly and
sweetly, carefully giving her time to adjust to each movement and sensation.
Her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders and she lightly scratched his
skin over his scapulas. He sighed in appreciation. Gods, he had missed her –
missed this.
 
She opened to him, a small whimper in the back of her throat and Severus gently
sucked her lower lip into his mouth, swirling his tongue against the plump
surface. She gave a small gasp of joy before arching into him, seeking his
tongue with hers. The muscles slid languidly over each other, the kiss was slow
and hot, warming them deliciously. He pulled back after a significant amount of
time and she immediately gave the next directive. “Put your hands and mouth on
me,” she murmured.
 
He trailed open mouth kisses to her jaw, down her neck and across her collar
bone as one hand carved a gentle trail up her hip, over her rib cage to where
her lovely breast was. He palmed her nipple and squeezed gently. She squirmed
again, breathless. He paid equal attention to her breasts, mouthing them with
reverence, pulling her nipples into the tropical heat of his maw. Making her
want it. He had grown painfully hard with his need for her, but would not be
asking for anything in return.
 
“Please, come inside me,” she whispered when she couldn’t stand the wait
anymore.
 
“What position, love?”
 
Her eyes rolled back in her head as he grazed his stubbled chin over the flat
expanse of her stomach on his way to her center. He lapped at a hip bone and
spread his palm over her womanhood, gently parting her with nimble fingers.
 
“Missionary,” she answered. “Slow. Kiss me again.”
 
He gently urged her thighs apart and slid himself into position between them.
He hitched one leg onto each of his hips and coated himself in her excitement
before pushing himself to the entrance of her body. She was watching him with
heavy lidded eyes, her breaths were slow and calm. She nodded once and he
gently, excruciatingly slowly, pushed into her inch by blissful inch until they
were joined completely.
 
“Mmm.” Her voice rumbled in her throat and ended with a small gasp as he
bottomed out side her heat. “Oh. I missed you.” Her voice trembled with tears
and he covered her mouth to help stem the flow before pulling back and brushing
his nose against hers.
 
“I’ve missed you, too, love.” He pushed forward with tender ease and she gave a
small gasp of pleasure. “Can I bring you, sweetheart?”
 
“No!” Her eyes flew wide, pleading, tears spilling over her lower lashes and he
froze in panic as her body started trembling violently.
 
“What, Hermione? Tell me.”
 
“Don’t call me sweetheart. Please. Never again.” He closed his eyes tightly and
gritted his teeth even as he nodded.
 
“Never again, I’m sorry.” He was. So sorry.
 
“Kiss me,” she whispered through her tears as he pushed into her again,
continuing the slow, torturous pace. He covered her mouth with his and
proceeded to love her tenderly. The trembling subsided slowly and small, sweet
sex noises erupted from her throat from time to time.
 
“You can go faster,” she said after a short while. Her arms were holding him to
her, her hips meeting his gentle thrusts. It was exquisite. He had never felt
so connected to her. He sped up a bit and her head tipped back with pleasure,
exposing her neck. He nipped the tendon gently and brushed his nose at her
pulse point.
 
“Faster!” She demanded again, he complied. He was so close, he wanted to take
her over the edge with him.
 
“You feel so amazing, love.” His voice rumbled in her ear, bringing her closer
to her climax. She gave a little sob. “Tell me you’re okay.” He begged. “I’m so
good, love. So good.” She promised him. “I’m going to come.”
 
“Yes. Come for me, Hermione.” He agreed. “Let me bring you.” He angled himself
slightly differently and felt her arch her back, allowing his pelvic bone to
graze her clitoris. She gasped, her legs tightening around his lower back,
hands digging into his shoulders. “There!” It was an exclamation. “Don’t stop!
There! Oh, thank you!” She sobbed with her release, pressing her forehead to
his. His tears mixed with hers as he spilled himself inside her. When they
calmed, he rolled them, keeping himself buried within her, but bringing her on
top of him so she wasn’t crushed beneath him. She lay, spent, her head tucked
into his neck. She planted soft kisses to his collar bone, and he stroked her
hair.
 
“I love you, pet,” he murmured.
 
She nodded against him. “I love you, too. It was perfect. Thank you.”
 
“You’re welcome, love.” He held her head to his chest so she wouldn’t see the
tears falling freely from his eyes.
Chapter End Notes
     *The wood and core of Snape’s wand is not known. I researched for
     over an hour before making this decision. I hope it does not upset
     anyone. Blackthorn Properties: Blackthorn wands, which is a very
     unusual wand wood, has the reputation - in Garrick Ollivander's
     opinion well-merited - of being best suited to a warrior. These wands
     appear to need to pass through danger or hardship with their owners
     to become truly bonded. Given this condition, the blackthorn wand
     will become as loyal and faithful a servant as one could wish.
     Thunderbird Tail Feather core: Powerful, but difficult to master. Can
     sense danger and cast curses on their own. Length: 14” is the length
     of Severus Snape’s prop wand in the movies that you can buy from
     numerous vendors.
***** Chapter Twenty-Five *****
                              Chapter_Twenty-Five
                               January_9th,_1999
===============================================================================
Severus’s thirty-ninth birthday came and went with little pomp and
circumstance. Not that he minded – he’d never been very big on birthdays. He
had, however, been very surprised and pleased that Hermione had even
remembered, let alone the fact that she did her best to make the day special.
She woke him with a simple breakfast in bed, which they had shared in
comfortable companionship. Then they took a lazy shower together, soft caresses
and care the main goal of the endeavor. They spent the rest of the morning in
his study, snuggled on the davenport, going through the latest potions journal.
She begged off lunch, insisting she needed to rest and he had watched her go
with concerned eyes, though he couldn’t disagree with her need for sleep.
After a light lunch and a couple of hours putting around in his basement lab,
he had gone to join her. He hadn’t intended to sleep, but after only a few
moments, he succumbed to the pull of oblivion only to wake to the smell of some
sort of confectionary deliciousness wafting through his house. His house. He
hadn’t even known the oven still worked. 
He found her in the kitchen, drizzling glaze on a lemon poppy seed cake. She
met his stunned expression with a shy smile. “One of the house elves at
Hogwarts told me it’s your favorite,” she whispered, eyes shining. He just
shook his head with a crooked smirk. 
“You’re spoiling me,” he told her. 
“You deserve to be spoiled.” 
They ordered Chinese take away, which he picked up, and had another quiet
evening. They settled back into the study after eating. Severus sat in one of
the large wing-backed chairs by the fire reading; Hermione at his desk, school
work sprawled. He watched her covertly from across the room as the hours ticked
by. Two hours into her work, she kept nodding off even though it was only about
nine o’clock. 
“To bed, pet.” He insisted the third time her head bobbed. 
“Mm,” she protested. “I haven’t given you your present.” He was floored. 
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Hermione.” 
“Nonsense. I’ve had it since before Christmas – because you wouldn’t let me
give you a Christmas present.” She disappeared upstairs for a moment and came
back with a wrapped box that would appeal to any Slytherin and a nervous
expression. 
Inside was a beautifully carved Cherrywood box that was hinged and locked.
After she handed him a brass key, he opened it to find an antique set of Potion
knives ranging from sharpened stone and obsidian to silver, steel, and gold.
The handles were carved ebony with intricate patterns. He was deeply moved and
fought a tightness in his chest for several minutes before her question pulled
him into a response. “Do you like them?” Her tone was anxious. 
“They’re too much.” He shook his head in wonder. They were positively
exquisite. He couldn’t imagine what they had cost. 
“Don’t worry about that,” she murmured. “Do you like them?” 
“I love them. I don’t think I have ever received such a thoughtful gift.” Truth
was, he hadn’t received a real gift since he was a young child, and those had
been few and far between. 
Her pleasure in his response was palpable. “I saw them and just knew I had to
get them for you. There’s a detailed history of them buried under the padding.
They’re just fascinating. They belonged to a – ” 
He broke her off with a firm kiss on her still moving lips. “They’re perfect,”
he insisted, knowing her mouth was running because she had been nervous he
wouldn’t like them. “Let’s go to bed, love.” 
He didn’t miss the audible swallow she gave or the way her eyes darted away
from him. Her face drained of all color and he realized what she thought he
meant. “Hermione.” He set the box of knives on the coffee table and tilted her
face back to look her in the eye. “Hermione, no,” he said softly. “I do not
expect anything from you. Please don’t be worried, swee…pet.” He just barely
caught himself and she flinched slightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured,
sidetracked. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I will not pressure you, I will
not ask for anything from you. When you are ready, just let me know. Until
then, I don’t want you to worry. I’m a grown man. I love you. I will be
patient.”
Her eyes flooded with a mix of relief and regret and she nodded her
understanding. “Thank you.”
===============================================================================
                              January_22nd,_1999
===============================================================================
Somehow, she had known it would come to this, but that hadn’t stop the
overwhelming feeling of deep panic and failure that swirled through her body.
She held the little stick she had been able to sneak the last time she and
Severus had picked groceries up at the convenient store together in disbelief.
Her period did not come on day twenty-nine as it should have. When it didn’t
show up on day thirty, she tested with her wand the first time. After the tip
had turned gold three days in a row, she knew she needed a muggle test before
she would truly believe it. The pink plus sign taunted her.
She was pregnant. The little white plastic stick she had just peed on let her
be sure. Her entire body started to shake in denial as nausea clawed up her
throat. She chucked the test in the waste paper basket and just made it to the
toilet in time. Her stomach expelled the little bit of water and bile it held
(because, of course, Hermione being Hermione, she followed the directions to a
tee and used her first urination of the day).
If she was honest with herself, she had known it would end this way. She had
just prayed she was wrong. She retched again, gagging and sputtering. Large,
cool hands were suddenly in her hair pulling it back from her face as another
dry heave wracked her body. She spat and coughed multiple times before wiping
her mouth on the sleeve of her robe. When she was sure they wouldn’t continue,
she sat back against him. He conjured a glass of water wandlessly and she took
a few moments to rinse her mouth and spit the water into the toilet before
draining the glass in a few deep gulps. He smoothed sweat from her brow before
bunching her hair to one side as she slumped back again.
She sat in stunned silence for a few heartbeats. For the first time since the
previous summer, she wished he wasn’t with her. She felt humiliated, dirty,
tainted. To see the look in his eyes on this morning would be horrible. She had
begged him to help her with this possibility and she just knew he would feel
obligated to follow through. She was terrified this would destroy them.
His fingers continued to smooth her hair, the other hand ran lightly over her
shoulder. She knew he was just waiting for her to say it. She took a deep
breath.
“I’m pregnant.” Her tone was dead and clipped, it sounded defeated. When had
she become so weak?
Both hands stilled for a tick of time before continuing their ministrations.
“I’ve always wanted to be a father.” There was no hesitancy in his response.
Her eyes filled with tears as his arms wrapped around her from behind, settling
her back more deeply into his arms. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she
whispered. “What if it’s obvious that it’s not yours?”
“I will love the child anyway, because it will be yours.” He made it sound so
simple.
And maybe it was that simple, but the declaration of unconditional love for a
child that might not even be his pulled sobs out of her in waves. She tried to
pull away from him as they tore through her body, but he tightened his hold on
her and let her cry. She didn’t know how long they sat there on the cold
bathroom tile, his arms supporting her – it felt like a lifetime. She cried for
herself and the horrors she had endured. She cried for Severus and the pain
that life kept inflicting on him at every turn. She cried for the unborn child
in her womb and the circumstances surrounding its existence. She cried because
two things in her recent life that should have been so incredibly joyous had
been stripped of that happiness. She cried for the unfairness of it.
While she cried, she waited for him to change his mind, to tell her he couldn’t
stay. To tell her she was disgusting and damaged and impure. To tell her he
could never love a child that may have been fathered by a rapist. But he just
continued to hold her more tightly and rock her gently as he rested his chin on
the top of her head, murmuring soothing, undecipherable words of comfort.
When she lay spent in his arms, he finally spoke. “The conception of this child
does not matter to me.” He told her in his deep, resonating voice that was balm
to her wounds. “What matters to me is that you and I are together. That we love
each other and we will love this child. We will raise the child to be kind, and
intelligent, and good. We will never let the child know what their true origin
might be.” 
He tilted her chin up and waited until her eyes hesitantly met his. They
shimmered with pain and residual tears and horrors he’d never understand
completely and it brought his fury to the surface. He held it in as tightly as
he could. “I am this child’s father, Hermione. I am. No one will ever tell us
anything different.” She gave a small gasp as his hands slid around her middle,
cupping the nonexistent swell of her tummy in his palms and contracting his
fingers there lightly, possessively. “This baby is mine. You…you are mine. No
one will ever take that away from me – ever again. Do you understand? I love
you, and we will be fine. I promise.” His face was severe, determined. It
demanded her surrender to him even as it compelled her love for him to
strengthen. Only the very best of men could say what he had just said to her,
and she knew this. Their eyes held for a very long time before she gave a
short, jerky nod. He pulled her to him by the nape of her neck and kissed her
fiercely. 
The tears came again, but this time with relief and peace. 
===============================================================================
Severus coaxed her back into bed in relative silence and control. He was able
to keep the anger out of his eyes, the vehemence off of his face, but he was
sick with it. As soon as she was settled and starting to doze again, he slipped
out of their bed and through the house. The rage was making every muscle in his
body quiver like a bowl of Jell-O sitting on top of washing machine set to the
spin cycle. He was able to descend two flights of stairs, sealing and silencing
the basement door behind him. He was in control enough to cast a silencing
spell on the ceiling and vents of the small, dank room before his anguish and
heartache overtook him.
The roar that came out of him would have made a class of first years wet their
pants as a collective. It reverberated back to him, bouncing off surfaces and
the damp stone of the walls. Then he started smashing things. Vials of
completed potions were shattered, cauldrons smashed and dented, ingredients
toppled, notes flying. He turned over his work desk, shattering an old
photograph of his mother and himself from when he was very young. He seriously
considered starting the room on fire. The rage and fear was consuming him,
being burned alive would probably not be any different, right? The howls that
left him grew in intensity until his vocal chords felt raw and shredded.
He crossed the room and threw a punch into the cement blocks of the wall. It
felt so good that he let it slam into the stone over and over again until his
knuckles were broken and the skin surrounding them mashed to a bloody pulp. He
didn’t feel pain; instead, the sensation helped ground his whirling thoughts
and calm his roiling stomach.
His words had been very pretty and just what she needed – he knew this. His
obsessive desire to protect her in any way he could had somehow dragged out a
sensitive, intuitive side of himself that was able to say all the right things
at all the right times. And it wasn’t as if he had lied to her; far from it. He
was more deeply in love with her than he cared to admit. Her strength through
these horrors had only endeared her to him more. He would love the child
because it would be a part of her even if it wasn’t a part of him – but it
could be his. He held onto that thought like a life line. It could be mine.
So rooted were his feelings for her, he had the need to avenge her honor like a
dark vigilante hell bent on revenge for all the wrong doings of the world. So
excruciatingly painful was his guilt of not protecting her the way she had
needed him to the first time that he could barely breathe due to the weight of
it pressing on his chest.
He knew he was being foolish, she did not blame him. What happened was not his
fault. However, he couldn’t seem to help but blame himself. How had he survived
almost twenty years as a spy and double agent only to fail the woman he loved
within months of the beginning their relationship?
As much as she insisted she was okay, as much as she put on a brave face and
continued to participate in the day to day with admiral courage, he knew she
was cracked. Not as broken as the men who taken her had wanted her to be, but
broken nonetheless. The fire in her eyes was a bit duller, the passion of her
mind had quieted, the bounce in her step and her endless energy was no longer
overflowing. He knew it would come back as she healed, (and he was determined
she would heal, he wouldn’t let her drown) but it broke his heart to watch her
barely existing as she was.
The news of the pregnancy was not unexpected, but devastating in its own right.
On top of all the other horrors her young life had held, it would now include
an unwanted teenage pregnancy and motherhood before her time. Things that would
change her path in life drastically. He vowed to do whatever she needed of him
to make it easier.
He came back to himself and surveyed the damage of the room. It was well and
truly destroyed, but his mind and emotions were back in his own control. He
looked at his mutilated hand with indifferent scrutiny before pulling his wand
out of his pocket and muttering the incantations to set it right before turning
his attention to fixing his lab.
***** Chapter Twenty-Six *****
                              Chapter_Twenty-Six
                                February 1999
                              6-9 Weeks Gestation
===============================================================================
It was a late Sunday afternoon when they returned to Hogwarts. Severus kept his
arm around Hermione’s shoulders protectively as they walked through the huge
double-doored entrance. Her friends were waiting, watching for them
expectantly. As soon as they were spotted, whispers of others broke out around
them. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Lizzie surrounded the couple from all sides,
sending glares to anyone who stared. It didn’t stop the comments from reaching
her ears.
“…what she could possibly see in him...”
“It’s gross, he’s twenty years older than her…”
“They were together when she was kidnapped…”
“…heard they’re engaged?”
“…tortured, raped…”
Hermione kept her chin up and eyes forward, but sank a little closer to
Severus, who pulled her tightly to his side. He ignored everyone. The group
closed in more tightly and they hurried her from the hall.
Her friends left them outside the Potions classroom, promising they would see
her at breakfast the next day. Once they were settled, their things put away,
and the rooms glowing merrily with fires that did little to warm her, he sat
opposite her in the wing backed chairs at the hearth.
“I want to floo to Minerva’s office and discuss the letter I received from the
Board. We need to tell her about your condition.” Hermione gave a curt nod,
staring blankly into the jumping, crackling flames. “I would like Madam Pomfrey
to check you out, Hermione. We really shouldn’t go to the Hospital unless we
don’t have a choice.”
She glanced at him, then back to the fire. “That’s fine.” Her voice was soft.
He cleared his throat and sat forward in his chair, resting is forearms on his
knees and dropping his head into his hands to card his fingers through his
hair. “Let’s not tell anyone else you’re pregnant until you’re past the three-
month mark. Longer, if you want. Your robes will hide your condition well into
your fifth month. Pregnancies can be fickle before a woman hits twelve weeks.”
“Whatever you say.” She shrugged and continued to stare into the fire.
“Hermione?” Her demeanor had changed since she had confirmed her pregnancy. The
last two weeks of January had been filled with lots of emotion – mostly
saddened disbelief. She avoided all pregnancy talk and shut him down quickly if
he attempted to broach the subject. Thus far, she wasn’t having any outward
signs of pregnancy other than a bit more fatigue. He prayed she was one of the
lucky witches who didn’t deal with sickness. It was still too early to be
certain how her first trimester would go, however. Her body was just starting
to figure out it had a visitor.
“Yes?” She tilted her face towards him again and he attempted to give her a
small smile.
“You’re okay?”
She shrugged again. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Do you want me to set up an appointment with the psychologist your healer
recommended?”
“No.”
He sighed, but relented. Standing, he pinched some floo powder and tossed it in
the grate. “Headmistress’s Office!” he said loudly, sticking his head into the
fire place.
“Severus!” Minerva’s voice could be heard.
“Can we come through, Minerva? Hermione and I have some things we need to
discuss with you.”
“Of course!”
He reached for Hermione’s hand, but she avoided taking it. He frowned, watching
her toss floo into the brazier and step in calling out her destination. He
followed quickly.
“Sit, sit.” The Headmistress indicated the chairs facing her desk and they
obliged. Hermione crossed her legs and tilted her head, looking anywhere but at
the two of them. Minerva exchanged a concerned glance with him, raising an
eyebrow in question, he shook his head minutely.
“I received a letter from the Board of Directors,” Severus started. “They are
putting me on probation and will reassess at the end of the year. In the
meantime, I am not allowed have Hermione in my formal classroom, I am not
allowed to grade any work she does for her self-study, and I am not allowed to
supervise any of her N.E.W.T. sessions. I wrote Horace Slughorn, and he has
agreed to stop bi-weekly to grade her work. I believe the end went something
along the lines of, ‘While this is highly unorthodox, yours and Miss Granger’s
war status is highly valued. You have always been an exceptional teacher with
good moral standards. As you and Miss Granger are engaged to be married, we
anticipate your questionable interactions with your female students will not
happen again in the future.’”
Hermione let out a dry laugh, and he glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.
“They’re right, you’re it for me.” Her face clouded and she looked away. His
stomach clenched, he would give anything to know what she was thinking, but
didn’t dare use Legilimens. She’d gotten very angry with him the last time and
didn’t speak to him for two days. It grew quite quiet.
“We have some news,” He started after a long, uncomfortable pause.
“Oh, I do hope it’s something happy, Merlin knows you both need it.” Minerva
said. Severus closed his eyes in attempts to keep his voice even. The woman had
no idea, he would not snap at her.
“It should be, but it’s not.” He heard Hermione mutter dejectedly. He reached
out to her and took her hand, squeezing it gently, she did not return the
affection. The Scottish woman looked between them, worry once again etching her
features.
“What’s that?”
Hermione finally looked at her Head of House. “I’m pregnant,” she stated
bluntly, eyebrows raised and chin thrust out in challenge.
Minerva sat back in her chair, a look of horror crossing her face, hand coming
up to cover her mouth in shock. Severus wanted to strangle the woman for her
crassness. Did no one have a poker face?
“Severus…?” The older woman implored.
“We wanted you to be aware for obvious reasons. We do not want anyone to know
until after she reaches the twelve-week mark,” he explained. “She may become
ill. She’s already struggling with fatigue.”
“How far along is she?” Hermione didn’t miss the fact they were talking about
her like she wasn’t there. She stopped herself from snorting. She really wasn’t
there, though. Not mentally. Not emotionally.
There was a long pause. “Six weeks.”
“Oh, my.”
“Yes, yes.” Hermione snarled sarcastically, pulling her hand away from
Severus’s and standing. “We all know what this means. There’s no reason to say
it aloud. Merlin knows I can’t stop thinking about it.”
She turned away, crossing her arms around herself before stomping angrily to a
far window. They watched her press her face against the sill, looking out at
the frozen grounds. Severus cast a Muffliato so he and Minerva could talk
freely. He would let her pout, she deserved it.
“She’s going to keep the child?” The Headmistress asked, alarmed.
“Yes.” He crossed his leg over one knee.
“Oh, my.”
“Indeed.”
“You will raise the child with her?”
“Obviously.”
“Severus, enough of the one word answers. How are you doing? This cannot be
easy for you!” She was scolding him, he glared at her.
“How the fuck do you think I’m doing, Minerva?” he snarled. “My fiancé of six
weeks was kidnapped, tortured, and raped. She shows up at the hospital with a
range of appalling injuries and stories, but somehow kept her mind intact and
her strength at full force. All this only to find out she’s potentially going
to birth the child of a rapist at nineteen years old. Her heart is too big to
terminate. I knew from the moment they told me she was raped that this was a
possibility – and so did she. She begged me to be intimate with her the day
after she was raped and tortured so she could have doubt of the child’s
paternity.” His voice cracked and he felt disgusted with himself.
Minerva’s eyes widened in horrified shock. “And you did, because you love her.
You told her you would raise the child with her, because she’s everything to
you.” Minerva understood, even if she didn’t particularly agree with the
situation. “I don’t understand why she didn’t wait and terminate if she fell
pregnant, however.” Severus snorted with derision. “She told me, that if she
were to actually be pregnant that, ‘It’s not the child’s fault. I will not end
an innocent life.’” He made air quotes, a mix of frustration and immense pride
in his voice. “She won’t end an innocent life, but it’s destroying her! Her
emotional and mental state has disintegrated the last two weeks. I … I don’t
know what to do for her.” He glanced at the girl in question who was still
staring out the window, face unreadable, and sighed heavily. “Merlin, help me.
I don’t know what to do. I’m as heartbroken as she.” He dropped his face into
his hands.
“You’ll be there for her, and she will get better.” She paused, watching him
scrub his face with his hands. “You’re going to have her see Poppy for prenatal
care?” Minerva changed the subject, sensing Severus would not be able to talk
about it further. She was right, he was grateful for the topic change.
“Yes.” He answered. “She is not even going to tell her friends of her
condition.”
The headmistress raised her eyebrows in surprise, but did not comment on the
decision. “I will go with you to Poppy. Come.”
He removed the Muffliato and called for Hermione to join them.
===============================================================================
“Oh, Gods, Draco,” Lizzie whimpered, clutching his hair in her fingers as he
laved attention up the side of her neck to just below the sensitive juncture of
her earlobe. He tightened his fingers on her hips and pushed his growing
erection into her stomach.
They had officially been together going on a month and a half. The fall out
with their friends had not been nearly as bad as they had initially thought.
Hermione had said “Finally!” and Ginny and Harry had smiled and told her they
were happy for her. Ron, being a couple weeks into his new relationship with
Susan Bones when she finally told him had given her a slightly sad look, but
shrugged and told her he’d kill him if he hurt her. She took that as a good
sign.
Draco’s friends had laughed their asses off at him, told him they had known all
along the two would end up together and asked when they would get to actually
meet her and start getting to know her. He had smiled sheepishly at her when
telling her their reaction, assuring her they were, in fact, being genuine.
Because of the nightmare with Hermione, Lizzie and Draco had been spending
their free time with her friends. Now that the brunette was back at school and
somewhat settled, they finally had the opportunity to make plans with his
friends. They were planning on having lunch at the Three Broomsticks with them
that weekend as it was the next Hogsmeade visit. She was excited.
Her thoughts were pushed out of her mind as his hand slid up under her shirt,
across her ribcage to cup her breast, she groaned loudly against his lips.
Thank Heavens they had warded and silenced their hiding spot, which was an
abandoned classroom on the fifth level.
“Take it off,” she said against his lips. He froze a moment before pulling back
to stare at her wide-eyed.
“Yeah?” he asked cautiously, eyes burning.
“Yes,” she replied, and punctuated her affirmation by pulling her jumper up and
off, leaving her in a silky white balconette bra and her skirt, knee socks, and
shoes. Gods, but she was tiny. Her muscles were toned from Quidditch, her
stomach shadowing a four pack, her arms lean and long and graceful. He groaned
and pulled her back in, hands running up her bare back. Goosebumps exploded
over her entire body even as fire trailed in wake of his touch. He left her
mouth to trail soft kisses down her neck as she tugged at his jumper. He pulled
back again and whipped the offensive garment out of the way. They stared at
each other, eyes blazing. He watched her drop her eyes to take him in. His
alabaster skin glowed, a few beauty marks marring its creamy perfection
deliciously. He was lean and long, muscles sinewy from Quidditch and workouts.
Stunning. He was about to move back in, when she pulled her wand out of her
skirt. Pointing it at their jumpers she muttered a Transfiguration incantation
and he watched as they turned into a large nest of blankets which she directed
into the furthest, darkest corner of the room. She hopped off the desk and took
his hand, walking backwards with a coy smile and lust darkened eyes.
He swallowed loudly and followed without asking any questions. He watched her
settle herself down into the squishy mass of quilts on her bum and leaned back
on her elbows. “Bloody hell,” he groaned at the provocative picture of his very
fit girlfriend in a partial uniform, gorgeous bra, and golden blonde tresses
spilling everywhere. He dropped to his knees and crawled onto the blankets,
impressed with how thick and comfortable they were on the stone floor. He
caught her mouth, nipping her bottom lip before gently sucking it into his
mouth. Using his body, he guided her onto her back, covering her body partially
with his. They kissed deeply for a few minutes, breathing growing more ragged,
touches more urgent. He cupped her breast over her bra and she gasped,
thrusting herself up, into his hand more fully.
“I want you to put your hands on me.” She murmured around another searing kiss.
She gently pushed him up until they were both sitting and he watched her,
unable to speak with the emotion clouding his thoughts. She reached behind
herself and unclasped her bra. He growled as the flimsy fabric slipped down her
arms and she set it to the side. Her breast were small, but pert and lovely,
rosy peaks topping creamy, porcelain mounds.
She reached and took his hand, guiding it to her breast. Her eyes closed as he
brushed one nipple, watching it harden and lengthen under his ministrations.
“Can I kiss them?” he asked gently, pulling himself closer to her and dropping
a soft kiss to her collar bone. He sucked and nipped there and then moved down
her shoulder. Her head tilted back, a soft mewl escaping her throat. He sunk
one hand into her hair, tangling his fingers there to tilt her chin back
farther to give his lips better access to her throat; his other gently played
with one breast, causing her breath to hitch and more delicious sounds erupted
from her voice box.
“Yes,” she hissed. Inside, he was pumping his fists up into the air in
celebration. He guided her legs apart and settled himself between them,
pressing his trouser clad hips into her skirt and knicker covered sex. Watching
her to make sure he wasn’t pushing too far, he gently rolled his hips into
hers. Her eyes clouded and she gasped at the sensation of their cores meeting
and whimpered when his tongue sought one nipple gently.
“Oh my god.” She arched her back and rolled her hips instinctively and relished
the visceral sound he made.
He pulled back and blew cool breath over the nipple he had just teased,
watching it harden further in the dim light. Her hips rolled again and he met
her thrust with one of his own, grinding into her. Her hands snaked around him
to clutch at his shoulders and upper back as he turned his attention to her
other nipple.
She was grinding back and he knew when she found that sweet spot because she
hissed another, “Yes!” He moved his attention back to her neck and she peppered
one of his shoulders with nips and kisses, soothing with her tongue in their
wake.
“Gods, Lizzie,” he muttered against her neck. “You’re so beautiful.”
“This feels so amazing, Draco,” she breathed before she caught his mouth with
hers, plunging her tongue to mate with his. Their movements grew more
desperate, her pants mixing with his short, staccatoed grunts.
The heat of her core burned through their clothing and his mouth never left
hers. He alternated stroking her face and hair or her breasts. “I
think…Dracooo,” she groaned. Her body was shaking. “Come for me, Lizzie. Fall
apart, I got you.”
“Unghh!” It was soft shriek of surprised pleasure and pulled Draco over the
edge. He snarled loudly into her neck as he lost himself in his boxer-briefs.
He collapsed on top of her, holding some weight off on his forearms. He caught
her lips again, kissing her gently while they came down from their high.
When they were both breathing normally, he rolled off her. He slid his wand out
of his pocket and cast a silent, discreet Scourgifyto his nether region. After
a moment, she rolled to snuggle up next to him. He brought his arm around her
dropped a kiss to the top of her head. His chest was tight and full, he was
struggling with an unfamiliar emotion as she drew whimsical patterns over his
smooth chest with her index finger.
“That was wonderful,” she murmured after a long minute. He squeezed her gently
as she tilted her head up to look him in the face. Startled to see the intense
emotions in his expression. She pushed herself up to look at him better and he
tilted an eyebrow up, trying to be cocky.
“What’s the matter?” she whispered. “Was that…was that okay?” She suddenly felt
so unsure. He was not a virgin, she knew that. Maybe that had been ridiculously
boring for him. She felt tears prick her eyes – it had meant everything to her.
She had never done anything like it before. She reached for her bra as he
deciphered her mood change.
“Hey,” he sat up quickly and pulled her into an embrace, smoothing his palms
down her spine. “Lizzie, that was so hot. Amazing. I’m sorry, I’m just feeling
a little…odd.” He could not wrap his brain around the emotions he was
experiencing; he was in awe of her, protective of her, overwhelmed by her
presence. He wanted her again, all the way. Wanted to bury himself inside her
to be as close as possible. He pulled back and dropped a kiss to the bridge of
her nose. “You’re gorgeous. Sexy as hell,” he assured her. “I feel so dazed.
I’ve never felt like this before.”
She stared at him in surprise, his voice was thick, the emotion evident in his
eyes. Then she realized what was happening. It had been barreling towards this
from the beginning of the school year. Her heart started thudding. She’d been
waiting for the right moment. She cupped his face with one hand and he turned
to press kisses to her fingers before nuzzling his face into her palm. “I love
you, Draco,” she whispered, kissing him lightly on the lips.
His astonishment was evident, but it was mixed with a longing. Then his eyes
cleared and she knew he figured out what he was feeling. “I…” he broke off,
still grasping at the realization. His breath hitched. “You knew what I was
feeling, and I couldn’t put words to it.” He shook his head, a full, stunning
smile breaking his face, joy lit his eyes. “I love you, too, Lizzie.” He pulled
her to him tightly and pressed kisses to her face before sealing his mouth
against hers.
===============================================================================
He watched her, leaning against the doorjamb of the loo. She hadn’t moved since
they had gotten back from seeing Poppy. Hadn’t touched her dinner. His concern
was growing. Madam Pomfrey had done a complete physical on the her and declared
her and the child growing in her womb healthy, but in need of a few pounds. No
kidding. Between the death of her parents and her abduction, she had lost more
than twenty. She had been thin to begin with. He sighed and crossed the room.
“Come to bed.” She jumped as he settled a hand on her shoulder, her face tilted
up to look at him.
“Okay,” she agreed sullenly. He watched her disappear into the bathroom, his
gut twisting. He put himself to bed and pointed his wand to lower the fire and
put out the candles. She reappeared a few minutes later in a long-sleeved tee
and flannel pajama pants. He cocked his head in surprise. She usually slept in
a tank and shorts. He had always just slept in his boxers, but a few days prior
she had requested he wear shorts or pajama pants to bed. He obliged without
question.
She walked up to him on his side of the bed and leaned to give him a chaste
kiss. She smoothed her fingers over his brow. “I’m going to sleep in my room
tonight,” she said softly. He sat up abruptly.
“What?” he demanded, surprise colored his deep voice.
“I…I just,” she broke off and took a deep breath. “I just can’t…” she stopped.
“Hermione, don’t do this.” He grit his teeth, reigning in anger and hurt, and
reached for her hand. She let him take it, wrapping her other arm around
herself. “Come on, love. We’ve shared a bed for months. It will be okay. I
won’t touch you, if that’s what you’d prefer. We can put a pillow between us.”
She wouldn’t look at him and he realized she was trembling. “I guess that would
be okay.”
“What’s going on, love?” He tried to pull her to him, but she resisted his
efforts. He gave a more forceful tug and she relented, letting him pull her
into his lap. “I feel like you’re trying to push me away.”
Her eyes met his and he was frustrated to see more tears. He wanted to take her
pain away. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I just feel so … overwhelmed. I’m
nervous about tomorrow.”
“You’re safe here. It’s not going to be easy, I’m sure the Hogwarts Rumor Mill
is working triple time, but we’ll get through this. Together, okay?”
Her face smoothed for the first time all day and a very small smile broke
through. “Okay,” she murmured.
“There’s my good girl.” He gave her a tentative smirk and she let a sigh,
snuggling her head into his neck. He cupped her head and dropped a kiss into
her wild curls.
“Come, now. Over you go.” He helped her off his lap and watched her round the
bed, crawling onto her side. He was about to roll over and bring her to him
when she slid a pillow into the middle of the bed, avoiding his gaze. For the
first time since they had started sharing a bed, she turned her back to him and
buried herself under the blankets.
He was frozen with his arm outstretched, but decided to give her the space she
felt she needed. He shifted and lay down on his back, resting one arm over his
stomach, the other tucked behind his head.
“Goodnight, Severus.” Her voice was soft, and he could hear a hint of apology
in it. Yes, he’d give her space if that’s what she needed.
“Goodnight, my love.”
***** Chapter Twenty-Seven *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                             Chapter_Twenty-Seven
===============================================================================
The stares were awful, and they came at all hours of the day. She couldn’t walk
down any hall, up any flight of stairs, or sneak through any passageway without
people actually turning so their eyes could follow where she was going. The
whispers were just as bad. She would approach a group of students to ask a
question or give a directive and all conversation would cease. No one would
look at her face – Circe forbid anyone look her in the eye.
She wasn’t sure what part of their knowledge was worse. The fact that she was
engaged to the formidable Potions professor (not because she was ashamed or
embarrassed, simply because it was private, and both she and Severus relished
their privacy) or the part where she had been abducted and raped by every Death
Eater who had escaped ministry persecution and then some. By mid-June, she was
sure it would be the fact she would be almost seven months pregnant and didn’t
know who the father was.
Breakfast had been an unmitigated disaster. She literally could have heard a
pin drop when she walked through the doors of the Great Hall. Severus had left
her at the top of the dungeon steps and made his way to the staff entrance at
the back of the Hall. She agreed that was for the best. It was perhaps kinder
to staff and students for them not to be seen together at all hours of the day.
She wasn’t sure what she was doing with him at the moment. Half of her wanted
him next to her every second of the day, the other half didn’t even want to be
able to look at him. She was an awful mix of desperate for him and disgusted
with him. It felt like her mind wasn’t her own.
Harry, Ginny, Ron, Susan, Seamus, Dean, Luna, Neville, Lavender, Paravati, and
Lizzie had swooped down on her the moment she entered and started chattering
quickly about everything and nothing. This did not stop anyone from noticing
she had entered. The sudden ceasing of meal time din reached her ears anyway.
It didn’t stop her from seeing the wide eyes, some people even standing to get
a better look at her. Severus was already at the head table, watching her
protectively over the newspaper he was reading. Ginny slung her arm around her
waist and Lizzie took her hand on the other side and they simultaneously guided
and pulled her to the end of the Gryffindor table. Her friends surrounded her
on all sides. Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini gave her encouraging nods from across
the room. The noise did not resume when they were seated, her friends piling
food on her plate that she would never eat. It wasn’t until Professor
McGonagall stood and told everyone to get back at it or they would be late to
their first classes did the normal chatter pick up. She swore her name was
being hissed from every corner of the room.
Her face was blazing and she was struggling to keep tears at bay. Her friends
were being lovely, pretending everything was normal, but she wanted nothing to
do with them. They were making plans for a game of fanged frisbee in the snow
between end of classes and start of dinner and were trying to encourage her to
come. She made an excuse about being tired and having so much work to catch up
on. “Next time,” she promised. They let it go.
The days blended together. She answered questions only if she was called out.
Twice in as many days she had actually told a professor, “I’m sorry, I don’t
know.” This happened to wild whispers from her peers and overly concerned
glances from her professors.
At night she studied, trying to catch up, striving for the perfection she knew
she was capable of, but she was so bloody exhausted she could barely keep her
eyes open by the time dinner hit. She was struggling with staying on task with
her revising schedule for N.E.W.T.s and by Thursday evening Severus had woken
her at her desk and put her to bed three of four nights.
Friday morning dawned earlier than usual for her, she woke feeling out of
sorts. Thinking she had to pee – she always had to pee these days, having to
stop between almost every class – she jumped out of bed only to have a wave of
vertigo sweep over her so hard she almost hit the floor. Cursing she stumbled
to the bathroom, waking Severus.
“What’s the matter?” His voice was thick with sleep.
“Sorry, hafta pee,” she muttered, softly clicking the door behind herself. Then
her stomach rolled and she was on her knees throwing up outstandingly into the
toilet. She vomited so hard, petechiae* (pe – tee – kee – I) bloomed across her
cheeks. She had barely anything left in her stomach from supper the night
before and tasted mostly bile. Her body started to tremor violently as she
heaved dryly. She didn’t even notice when the door creaked open or that Severus
had entered until he was pulling her hair back with one hand, rubbing her back
gently with the other. She continued to dry heave about a dozen more times,
tears and snot streaming down her face with the effort. She sputtered and spit
and groaned as wave after wave of nausea hit, but she had nothing left. When
her stomach finally calmed, she collapsed, her muscles trembling with the
exertion.
Grim faced and aching for her, Severus pulled her into his arms, trying to warm
her cool limbs and sooth away her shaking. He handed her a wad of tissues which
she used to clean her face and she pulled in slow, controlled breaths. He was
glad he had brought his wand with and conjured her a glass of water. She rinsed
and spit into the toilet before taking a few tentative sips, then, much to
their dismay, she was back on her knees, losing the little water she had taken
in and dry heaving again.
He stood and started the tub, making the water hot before tapping the floor
with his wand. The cold tile bloomed deliciously warm under her knees as she
braced herself at the toilet, continuing to sputter. He helped her stand once
her body calmed again and she had cleared her face a second time. He grasped
her around the elbows, supporting her when her knees buckled, before stripping
her out of her pajamas. She was too weak to protest, but he said nothing when
she attempted to cover her nakedness with her arms. His dismay at her decimated
frame was barely kept at bay. He could count ribs and her hip bones jutted out
painfully. When he helped her into the tub, he could see each knot of her back
bone, he had to choke back tears. She bloody had to start eating more, but now
with morning sickness starting, he feared her nutritional health would only
continue to deteriorate.
She sank into the tub with a deep, guttural moan of pleasure, turning to her
side to hide against the edge and resting her face on the lip. “Thank you,” she
whispered, then gagged horrifically. He grabbed a garbage can for her to spit
into as a sob broke through the gagging. “What’s happening?” Her voice was
desperate.
“Oh, love.” He sighed and sat down next to the bath, resting his back against
the white porcelain. “I think you can welcome the joys of morning sickness.”
“The pregnancy –” She gagged again before swallowing audibly and taking a deep
breath. She tried to open her mouth to talk and all that she could manage was
another gag. “Oh my God,” she moaned miserably after a few more large, calming
breaths. He smoothed a damp curl from her cheek and wiped a tear from under her
eye.
“I’m sorry, love. I’ll talk to Poppy and find an anti-nausea potion that’s safe
for pregnancy.”
“Crackers,” she whispered in a pleading voice. “Saltines. And juice. Orange
juice, please. Not pumpkin.” She was taking shallow breaths, punctuated by hard
swallows trying to control the roil of her stomach.
“On it.” His answer was blunt and he stood, exiting the bathroom. “Pepper!” he
called for a house elf he liked in particular. Hermione heard him give her
specific orders and actually felt a small smile tug one corner of her mouth
before another roll of her stomach had her dry heaving into the garbage can,
saliva flooding her mouth, which she spit.
The crackers did help, but the orange juice tasted awful to her palate even
though her mind still craved it. Severus dumped the cup down the drain, rinsed
it, and filled it with cold water from the tap. “Will you chill it, please?”
she whispered when he made to hand it to her. He tapped it with his wand and
held it to her lips, letting her sip carefully. “Oh, thank you,” she breathed,
grateful for the coolness to wash away the aftertaste of dry, salty crackers
and bile.
“Sit up, love,” he urged her, kneeling at the side of the tub. He transfigured
a flannel into a small, plastic water pitcher and set about washing her hair.
Her little throat noises of pleasure were doing things to him he was trying
hard not to contemplate and he focused on the task at hand.
When he finished, she thanked him again. At this point, the gratitude was
making him quite uncomfortable. “I’ll get your robe,” he told her, leaving her
to dry off in privacy. When he came back she had her hair wrapped in a towel
with another secured toga style around her body. She didn’t meet his eyes as he
handed her the garment.
“I’ll let you have the bathroom,” she told him, not unkindly.
“You’re feeling better?” He knew he sounded worried. The flash in her eyes made
him uncomfortable. Why didn’t she want his concern?
“I am. Hopefully that’s it for today.”
But as the days passed, the hope proved to be fruitless. The morning sickness,
or all freaking day sickness, as it were, only continued to get worse. She was
pretty sure she vomited more in the last seven days than she had in her
collective lifespan. All in all, she felt like death warmed over, looked like
it, too.
===============================================================================
It was the make-out session of his life. Not that Ron hadn’t ever had any great
make-out sessions, but none of them had felt quite like this. Lavender…well. He
shuddered mentally as Susan’s fingers dug into his shoulders, her body
adjusting under his. He stifled a groan as her thigh ghosted over his hard on.
Lavender was something he tried not to think about. He’ll never know what he
was thinking while he had been with her. He shouldn’t think ill of the dead,
though. Hermione had been a great kisser, but never into it enough for his
taste. It had been like she was fulfilling a job description. Lizzie…well, even
though he had wanted Lizzie to be more, he imagined kissing Lizzie was what
kissing Ginny would be like. He grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” Susan breathed, planting a few chaste kisses at the corner of
his mouth before returning to seal her lips soundly over his, tracing the seam
of his maw with her pert, little tongue.
“Just thought of something stupid,” he muttered, pulling away after another
intense, tongue-filled smooch. He nudged her chin with his nose so he could nip
at her neck. She gave a satisfied little hmm in the back of her throat that
increased the excitement, her nails ran down his back over his jumper.
They were in Hermione’s Head Girl room (a place he, Harry, and Lizzie took
turns using for their make out sessions and romps with Hermione being absent
and or hardly ever utilizing the room herself.
Which is why, when the girl in question bolted into her room fifteen minutes
later, making a beeline for the bathroom without noticing her friends on the
bed, he and Susan almost toppled to the floor. They quickly started to right
their clothing before they realized what was happening.
“I think she’s throwing up!” Susan whispered, horrified. Sure enough, the
unmistakable sounds of sick echoed around the room, the door to the loo wide
open.
“Oi! Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, dashing in to check on his friend. He watched in
dismay as the poor girl was sick two more times before spitting, wiping her
face with toilet tissue, flushing, and flopping onto her hip in exhaustion. She
looked up at him, dazedly realizing he and Susan were staring at her in a mix
of confusion and concern.
“Do you need to go to the hospital wing?” Susan asked, eyes wide.
“Blimey, I’ve never seen anyone throw up that hard in my life.” Ron was awed.
“I have four brothers who got bloody trashed over the hols, too.”
This made Hermione give a little squeak of hysterical laughter that had
boyfriend and girlfriend exchanging worried looks.
“Hey!” Ginny’s voice came from the doorway. “’Mione in here? I thought I saw
her running through the hall.”
“I got her here!” Ron called out. “She’s sick.”
“Should I get Professor Snape?”
He watched Hermione shake her head violently before she gagged and drove
herself back up on her knees to dry heave over the loo. “She says no, but I
think that’s a good idea.”
Susan was wetting a flannel and kindly pressed it to Hermione’s forehead after
the heaving stopped. She watched the girl take steady, calming breaths,
swallowing loudly between each. She didn’t miss the protective hand the curly-
haired brunette had curled to her lower abdomen. Ron left the loo to give the
girls some privacy when Susan told him she would help Hermione until Snape
arrived.
“Hermione?” The lovely redhead asked softly. “Are you pregnant?”
Wide, startled, and terrified brown and amber eyes met blue. “Oh, honey.” Susan
plopped down next to the girl she had known of for eight years, but was just
starting to really get to know. She threw an arm around her shoulders and
pulled her in. “When are you due?”
Hermione stiffened and pulled away from the girl, effectively ending the
attempted connection. “September. Listen. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Does anyone know?”
“Yes. Severus, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor McGonagall.”
“You haven’t told Ron or Harry?”
“NO!” Susan jumped at her vehemence. “I’m…I’m not ready. It’s too early yet.”
Susan nodded hesitantly.
“I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
“Hermione!” It was Harry. He skidded to a stop at the bathroom door and watched
as Hermione pulled herself to her feet and brushed her teeth. “You all right?
Ginny said you’re sick.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him quietly. She wasn’t looking anyone in the eye. “I’m
going to head back to the dungeons, guys. I’m tired. Maybe I have a little
stomach bug.”
“I’ll escort you.” Severus’s deep, thundering baritone came from the doorway
and she looked up. Her friends were watching the interaction closely and she
attempted to smile at him, but it looked more like a grimace of pain.
“’Mione,” Ginny said, sounding artificially bright. “We’re going to Hogsmeade
this weekend. Lizzie has a date with Draco and his friends, but you should come
with us, Luna, and Neville. We’ll go to Honeydukes and pick up some of that
caramel nougat you like so much.”
Hermione’s stomach twisted violently at the thought and she covered her mouth
with her hand, trying to stave off another gagging episode. She looked wildly
at Severus, imploring him to get her out of there quickly. He wasn’t any help
at the moment. He was watching her interact with her friends.
“Thanks Ginny, but I’m going to stay in this weekend. I’m so behind in Runes
and Arithmancy. I haven’t been feeling well.”
“Oh, come off it, Hermione,” Ron teased, trying to lighten the mood as he slung
an arm over her shoulder. “You being behind still means you’re at least a week
ahead.” His comment was met by chuckles, which abruptly cut off when she lifted
her chin and glared at him, ducking out from under his arm. Harry reached for
her, but she side stepped him to avoid the familiar touch.
“I’m actually behind,” she snapped. “Truly behind. Life hasn’t exactly been
easy for me at the moment, Ronald!” Her words were sharp and Ron and Harry
flinched, being forcibly reminded of the Hermione wearing Slytherin’s locket on
a day with no food. She caught their jerky movements and instantly felt bad.
Severus raised an eyebrow at her. Anger was good. Anger was better than no
emotions. He was disappointed when it fizzled as quickly as it had come. “I’m
sorry.” Her voice dropped into a monotone and her eyes fell to the floor, her
arms wrapping around herself as she avoided a hug from Ginny. “I can’t come – I
really don’t want to. I’m…I’m just not there yet.”
The boys nodded at her, and Ginny looked hurt. She crossed the room and brushed
past Severus. He let her go a few paces ahead, turning back the small group of
her closest friends. “Please keep trying.” He all but begged them. The quartet
stared after their teacher in silent shock. They were pretty sure they’d never
heard the man say please. However, the desperation in his voice said so much
more.
===============================================================================
“I made an appointment for you with Dr. Jenkins.” He lifted one eyebrow when
her head whipped around so she could glare daggers at him. “That’s the most
reaction I’ve gotten out of you in days,” he told her stoically, brushing off
her ire flippantly.
“I’m not going.”
“You are. Monday. Six o’clock. I will escort you myself and stay in the waiting
room during your session. You will continue with him until you have returned to
some semblance of yourself.”
“Whatever.” Hermione turned back to her Arithmancy texts and notes, no
infliction or tone in her voice. Severus felt his shoulders drop.
“Have you tried the lozenges Poppy sent for you?” He attempted again to engage
her in conversation.
“They smell terrible.” She muttered. He closed his eyes briefly, praying for
strength. He would not be angry with her, he would not. She was being so God-
damned exasperating, but he could not upset her worse. She was just too
fragile.
“I’m still researching anti-nausea potions. There are two that should be okay,
I’m just looking up correlations with pregnancies.”
“Okay.” The answer was brief, uncaring.
“I’ll leave you at it, then.” He turned to leave her room, where she did all
her studying. She had put herself to bed the night before – in her own bed. She
had never even come in to say goodnight to him, he had just found her passed
out under the covers around midnight when he had come to bring her to bed. He
paused in the doorway. “You’re sleeping in here again?”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t look up, but he saw her shoulders tense.
“Come say goodnight at least?” he requested, softening his voice. He didn’t
keep out the longing, her attempts to break away from him were starting to
scare him. He missed her; he missed her mind, her laughter, and the way she
felt in his arms.
“Sure.” The answer was laced with noncommittal.
He sighed and walked back to her, settling his hands on her shoulders gently.
She jerked at his touch and he pulled away as if she had burned him. They
didn’t say anything. He stared at the back of her head, not seeing her stare
blankly at the wall, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Goodnight,
Severus,” she finally said in a tight voice.
He left without a word, the door closing with a soft click behind him. She was
angry with herself. She wasn’t sure what was making her do it. If she kept
pushing like this, he would break. She wasn’t a stupid girl. He wouldn’t put up
with her being like this much longer. She had to figure out how to pull herself
together, or he would leave. Was that what she wanted?
She just felt so…at war with herself. The logical part of her mind knew she was
depressed, that she needed help to get through this. She was fighting a losing
battle; she couldn’t continue to fight her demons alone. She was pushing away
everyone she loved and didn’t know how to stop.
She wanted her mother, more than anything. Jean Granger had a way of being able
to wrap her arms protectively around her daughter and make everything okay
again, no matter how bad it had gotten. She would never have that again. Her
hand dropped to her still-flat stomach. There was a little hard ball, now, if
she lay on her belly. Outside of the fatigued and overwhelming nausea and
vomiting, there were no real signs she was carrying a life inside of her. She
wished she had someone she could talk to about pregnancy. The longing for her
mother pinged again and she gave up studying as a bad job.
She stripped to her knickers and crawled into the lonely, cold four-poster bed.
She knew it was hurting Severus that she couldn’t be by him, but she just
couldn’t stand it. She felt filthy, soiled, tainted. Used by disgusting men and
hung out dry, left for dead on the stoop of hospital. Muddy – dirty. A dirty
Mudblood. A sob forced its way out of her chest. She didn’t want him to touch
her, to soil himself. He was too good for her.
She didn’t know he was standing on the other side of the door, listening to her
sob with tears pooled in his own eyes.
===============================================================================
Lizzie wasn’t sure if she had ever laughed so hard in her entire life. Theodore
Nott was a bloody riot and a half and was only egged on by Blaise and Draco.
The three had been exchanging childhood horror stories all evening. Some were
downright appalling, and she wasn’t always sure if she should be laughing or
crying – such as the time Theo’s father told him his dog ran away after having
killed it himself for chewing up a pair of his favorite slippers. The way he
told the stories, though, made her feel like he just wanted everyone to laugh.
Almost as if it would take away the tension that was his life growing up as the
son of a Death Eater.
Draco’s angry parent stories were nowhere near as bad as Theo’s (as apparently
his parents did love each other and their son), and Blaise had grown up without
a father. All three were only children and were fascinated with her explanation
of having to go to bed early because of sharing a room with a younger sibling
or fighting over who got the biggest piece of meat because there was only one
for each person at every meal. She had a hard time coming to terms with what
must’ve been a lonely upbringing.
“But we weren’t alone,” Theo insisted after taking a swig off his third tankard
of butterbeer. They had finished lunch an hour before. “We had each other. We
were tutored together,” he explained when Lizzie raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Draco said. “Blaise and Theo would floo to the Manor every day during
the week to study. Blimey, we got up to such shenanigans. That poor tutor. What
was her name?” All three boys were laughing and Lizzie couldn’t help but grin
as they reminisced.
“I don’t remember,” Blaise said. “Do you remember when we were six, though? And
Theo hadn’t had any accidental magic yet?”
Draco guffawed and choked a bit on a sip of butterbeer while Theo gave a look
of mock indignation. “Now…guys. I don’t think Lizzie needs to hear this one…”
“Oh, Lizzie most certainly does,” Lizzie quipped, her grin turning to chuckles
as the other two boys laughed harder.
“We convinced him to climb up on top of the Garden shed off the East orchard.
We had snuck away from that blasted tutor…what the hell was her name, you
guys?” Draco could barely breathe between the words and the laughter, they were
starting to get stares from other tables at The Three Broomsticks and Madam
Rosmerta shot them a warning look, although even she was smiling.
Both the other boys shrugged still chortling merrily.
“Anyway, anyway,” Blaise continued. “We convinced him to climb up the garden
shed and then insisted he could fly. We stood underneath him telling him to
jump.”
“I was bloody scared out of my mind!” Theo recalled as tears started streaming
down his cheeks. “But, they were my mates, yeah? So I freaking jumped!”
“Just as the tutor – guys…gonna drive me barmy, what is her bloody name?! –
comes running up waving her arms like a crazy person screaming ‘Don’t do it,
Theo! You’re gonna die!’ but Theo had already jumped.”
“I freaking heard her, too. So, here I’m already jumping and now I’m one
hundred percent sure I’m going to die. I screamed all the way down.” All three
boys were hysterical and Lizzie was laughing just because of their reactions to
each other.
“What happened?” She insisted when no one continued. “Obviously you didn’t
die!” More laughter before Theo was able to choke out an answer.
“I bounced!”
“Like one of those Muggle rubber balls…boing, boing, boing,” Draco used his
finger in the air to demonstrate the leap frog pattern his young friend had
taken once hitting the ground from the top of the garden shed and they all
dissolved into a riot of giggles again. Lizzie was swiping tears from her eyes
at their antics.
It took many more minutes for them all to calm and if any of them said “boing,
boing, boing” they were off again in a riot. Finally, after a smiling, but
frustrated Madam Rosmerta told them to stuff it or get out, they calmed enough
to wipe their eyes and clear their throats.
“I gotta use the loo,” Draco said once they were sipping their beers and giving
each other smirks behind their mugs. “I’ll be right back.” He leaned in and
kissed Lizzie on the forehead then shot a warning look at his friends. “Be.
Nice. Do not scare her away or I’ll kill you.” He said pointedly.
The other two boys shared an innocent glance as if to say “Who? Us?” Before
nodding.
The moment Draco was gone, they pounced on her. “Dear sweet Circe, what have
you done to him?” Blaise asked, grinning. “He’s never been this happy, ever.
It’s refreshing to see.”
“I think he’s in lo-oo-ove with you, Miss America,” Theo teased, stretching the
‘o’ in love out to three syllables.
Lizzie felt her face go bright red, but her eyes sparkled. All those brothers
meant she was quite used to being teased relentlessly. “I sure hope so. I feel
the same way.”
Both boys started making smoochy noises at each other. “Draco’s in lo-ove,
Draco’s in lo-ove.” They chanted before she waved at them to stop, grinning.
“Well, Miss America, welcome to the club, then.” Theo raised his drink and
motioned for the other two at the table to do the same.
“What club?” Lizzie laughed, raising her glass. She was confused.
“The People Who Love Draco Club, of course,” Blaise said it like it was the
most obvious thing in the world. “Now that you’re a member, you’re probably
stuck for life. He’s hard to get over, that one. No matter how upset he makes
you.”
Lizzie silently agreed from her personal experience back in October. “I can see
that,” she conceded. “I take it if you’re initiating me to this club, you
approve?”
“You bet your beautiful eyes we do,” Blaise winked at her flirtatiously and she
felt color rise in her cheeks again.
“And as one of us,” Theo continued. “Know that you can always come to us if you
need help. Us Slytherins stick by our own, and you, Miss America, are now an
honorary Slytherin…being you’re dating the Prince and all.”
They clinked their glasses with smiles and laughter and more banter. She would
toast to that. She couldn’t be more grateful that Draco had these friends in
his corner, they seemed like really great guys.
Chapter End Notes
     *With this chapter I officially broke 100,000 words and 200 typed
     Word Document pages! I’ve never written anything this long before!
     O.O
     *Petechia – plural petechiae – small red or purple spots on the skin
     caused by a minor bleed from broken capillary blood vessels. (This
     happened to me with my third pregnancy – it is a very real thing.)
     *If anyone reading this thinks I'm going overboard with the pregnancy
     symptoms I'm going to say - welcome to my world of real life horror
     shows for pregnancy. I was violently ill will all four of my
     pregnancies. My daughter's was by far the worst, and I was
     hospitalized overnight twice for fluids. I lost 35 pounds with her my
     first trimester, I couldn't keep ANYTHING down for WEEKS. I'm not
     over-exaggerating.
***** Chapter Twenty-Eight *****
                             Chapter_Twenty-Eight
                                  March 1999
                             10-11 Weeks Gestation
===============================================================================
The first week of her psychiatry appointment had been silent. As had the
second. She was sitting in her third. It was fifteen minutes from the end and
she still hadn’t said a word.
“How’s your morning sickness?” The petite, dark-blonde haired man asked,
tapping a pen lightly against a notebook. A notebook that was filled with
little notes that Hermione figured were probably doodles, being she had barely
said five words total since she started these sessions.
Dr. Jenkins was a Muggle with a witch for a daughter. He was part of a Ministry
program that was recruiting Muggles “in the know” to help in areas of expertise
the wizarding world was sorely lacking – such as psychology and help for people
with mental health issues.
“How far along are you, now? Ten weeks?”
Hermione stared pointedly at the clock above the doctor’s head. Ten minutes and
she could get the flying fuck out of there. Although she was slightly impressed
that the man had at least read the questionnaire that Severus had mostly filled
out for her. He was right - ten weeks. Today. March first. Thirty weeks to go.
Then a lifetime of servitude to a child she didn’t want. Guilt washed through
her at those thoughts and she found her hand clutching her stomach
apologetically. I didn’t mean it. She thought frantically. I will love you, so
much. I swear it.
Dr. Jenkins watched the broken, young girl pat her abdomen lightly, a frown
marring her gaunt, but pretty features. “You do know it’s not too late,
Hermione. You could still terminate the pregnancy.”
The girl’s head lifted rebelliously and there was a spark of defiant
determination in her eyes he had not yet seen in the last two sessions. A good
sign. “No one would blame you.”
Hermione’s dark eyes glittered with anger.
“You want the child?” The man was not surprised, he had been told by the fiancé
(the very intimidating fiancé) that there was a chance the child could be his.
Dr. Jenkins was positive Hermione’s love for him was genuine, even with the
reports of her pushing away from the poor professor. He had politely suggested
therapy for Snape as well, to which the dark-haired man had growled something
unintelligible and menacing and the doctor had desisted.
He was surprised when an affirmative nod came from the girl, before she dropped
her eyes back to her flat stomach. A start. Finally. One question answered.
“Do you have hope for a girl or a boy?”
Dark eyes met his again, they were soft this time. She wanted to talk about the
baby. She regarded him for a moment before looking away yet again. “Let’s talk
about something else. How is your revising going? My notes say you feel behind,
but that you’re an excellent student. You have made up all your missed work
from your month away and are on time with your assignments again?”
More silence. “How is your relationship with your fiancé? Are you still
struggling with intimacies?”
Hermione would have laughed aloud if she hadn’t felt like bursting into tears.
Intimacies. What intimacies? She hadn’t touched him, not even a brush of the
hand, for three weeks. The last time he had put his hands on her, she had
flinched away from him, not wanting him to touch her disgusting body. He had
not even held her hair back as she vomited. Granted she was vomiting daily. All
day. Every day. Madam Pomfrey said that should clear up in the next few weeks.
Gods, she hoped so. She brushed those thoughts away to get back on track. She
knew it was her fault he wasn’t touching her. She knew she had pushed him so
hard he had given in and gave her the space she had been demanding through her
silent actions.
“Times up!” She declared, hopping up and fleeing the office the moment the
second hand turned the clock over to seven. She burst through the door straight
to the fireplace where she scooped a handful of floo powder and tossed it in
the grate, calling out, “Severus Snape’s Office, Hogwarts!”
Severus had stood when she burst into the waiting room at almost a dead sprint,
staring after her dark curls with longing. He turned his haunted eyes on the
psychiatrist hopefully. The man was also staring after Hermione, then he looked
to the professor.
“She gave me a little bit today. More than last week.” He tried to reassure her
fiancé. “She loves the child she’s carrying.”
A small look of relief flooded Severus’s face. “Did she say that?”
“She didn’t have to. I told her it was not too late to terminate, I thought she
was going to murder me with her eyes.” He paused for a moment, taking in the
very small smirk and flicker of light that crossed Snape’s face. “I asked her
if she wanted the child, she nodded. She protects it, covering her womb with
her hand. Have you noticed this?”
Snape gave a curt nod. “I have.”
“Is she still avoiding your touch?”
“Yes, but I have to admit I haven’t been trying.”
“How long?” Dr. Jenkins inquired. Snape crossed his arms over his chest,
tilting his head slightly as he pretended to think about it, trying to downplay
just how desperately he missed and craved the physical connection they had
shared. “A couple days before her first session. I put my hands on her
shoulders and she ripped away from me like I had shocked her.”
The doctor noted his specificity and decided to let him play his game. “Does
she let her friends touch her?”
“I can ask them, but I don’t believe so. Madame Pomfrey does at her weekly
check – that’s the school Mediwitch. Muggles called them nurses.” He watched
the doctor nod thoughtfully.
“I want you to start trying again,” he told Snape. “Little things. Brush her
fingers if you eat together, touch her face when you tell her good night. Try
and hug her.”
“And if she continues to refuse?”
“Keep trying. She needs the human connection. Don’t be overbearing.” He had to
stifle a laugh when the man glowered at him. He feared it would be difficult
for the dark-haired war hero not to be overbearing. “I believe she feels
unworthy of touch. It’s common in victims of sexual assault. I have another
young woman right now who describes feeling dirty, unlovable, unclean,
disgusting and a multitude of other self-depreciating adjectives.” He watched
the severe planes of Severus Snape’s face carefully, but saw no flicker or
trace of what the man was feeling. He had to admit it, Snape was very good at
hiding his emotions. “I will see you both next week?” He finally asked after
the silence stretched longer than was comfortable.
Snape nodded and strode to the fire to follow his fiancé.
===============================================================================
“I wrote my mother and told her about you,” Draco said softly, playing with
Lizzie’s fingers. They were camped out in the abandoned Head Girl room after
Ginny had whispered in Lizzie’s ear at lunch that it would be free that night,
knowing of the blonde girls plans. They were propped on the bed. Draco’s back
against the headboard, Lizzie sitting between his legs, back against his chest.
He dropped a soft kiss behind one ear.
“Yeah? What did she say?” Lizzie said dreamily. She had been surprised when he
had asked her if they could just cuddle and talk for a while. The word ‘cuddle’
from Draco’s mouth felt like a bit of an oxymoron, but she wasn’t one to
refuse. She loved to cuddle. She had a picnic basket that the kitchen house
elves had helped her with sitting on the coffee table by the roaring fire. He
didn’t know, but she was planning for them to stay the night.
“She would like to meet you,” he told her. She stiffened.
“Is that a good idea? What about your father?”
“My mother will handle my father. She always does.” Draco’s tone was tight and
he laced his fingers with hers, squeezing tight. She squeezed back. “She
invited you to stay with us for the Easter holidays.”
Lizzie tilted her head up to gauge his seriousness. “Do you want me to?”
He looked bewildered. “Why wouldn’t I? Any extra minutes with you just makes my
days all the better.”
“Aw,” she teased him, planting a sloppy kiss on his jaw. “That’s the sweetest
thing ever!”
Draco grimaced at being called sweet, rolling his eyes. “You seem to drag it
out of me, witch,” he muttered gruffly before dropping a chaste kiss on her
lips. She snuggled into his embrace more deeply. “Will you come?”
“I’ll write my folks and make sure it’s okay. If they say yes, I will be happy
to spend Easter with you.”
He loved that answer, squeezing her again and making her breath whoosh out of
her lungs. “Draco!” she laughed before he kissed her again, more deeply this
time.
“Hungry?” he asked her breathlessly after an unspecified amount of time.
Somehow, she had ended up on top of him. Their kissing was getting out of hand
and the evening was young. She was getting more adventurous in their physical
pursuits, but Draco’s control was getting put to harder and harder tests.
Double-entendre intended.
“Not for food,” she whispered, nipping at his chest while rolling her hips. He
growled and slapped a hand up to his forehead.
“Lizzie…” he said. “Let’s eat. I need help taking my mind off this or I’m going
to push too far.” He had made a point of being overly honest with her about his
wants and desires. He wasn’t trying to push her or make her uncomfortable, but
he needed her to know that he was actively restraining himself and doing his
best not to scare her.
She paused in her ministrations and sat up, smiling at his grunt of want as her
knicker-covered quim dug into his trouser-clad erection. “I don’t want you to
take your mind off it,” she said cautiously. She nervously started to play with
the ends of her hair over one shoulder. “I’m ready.”
Draco’s mouth went dry even as his dick gave an excite leap from its confined
place in his pants and under her bum. He sat up with her still on his lap,
wrapping his arms around her waist. His grey eyes sparkled like dew in the
morning sun. “You’re sure?”
“I am. I checked with Hermione, she won’t be coming here tonight. We have the
room to ourselves.” She paused, watching him with serious, cautious eyes,
worried she was being presumptuous. “You’ll stay with me?”
“Yes, absolutely,” he declared adamantly, claiming her mouth gently.
“Contraception? Should I do the charm?” “No, I got potion from Madam Pomfrey a
few days ago. I’m good until next month.” He grinned at her, realizing she had
been planning this for a while. He pulled her back in and they kissed for a
long time, eventually ending up with Draco’s hips nestled in the cradle of her
thighs and Lizzie on her back, head cushioned by fluffy pillows. She had tried
to remove his shirt a few times, but he had stopped her. Insisting they were
going to go very, very slow.
He only started undressing her when she was writhing with need beneath him, her
hips rolling and legs shifting with pent up frustration. He sat back and peeled
his jumper off before rolling her top up and off her as well. He turned his
attention to her neck, softly toying with her nipples under the lacey expanse
of a navy-blue bra with one hand. He teased them to a painful point, enjoying
her gasps and grunts of pleasure as her hips continued to roll. “Draco,
please.”
His brain zinged triumphantly with her needy pleas and whimpers. He was so
ungodly hard it was borderline painful, but he wasn’t second in his class for
nothing. After she had told him she was a virgin, he went on the hunt. Reading
every book and magazine article on how to make the first time for a girl
special – and not painful. That’s what he was most concerned about. He wanted
it to be pleasurable for her. All his sources eventually came back to the same
three things. One, make sure the witch was relaxed and enjoying herself. Check.
Two, make sure the witch was … for lack of a better word … primed. Ample
foreplay and an orgasm or two before penetration. He was well on his way
through the first part and already had plans to get her off twice before taking
any pleasure for himself. Three, stay calm, start slow, build in intensity. He
could do this.
Slowly her bra came off, he lavished attention on her soft, perky tits.
Stroking her stomach and rib cage, dipping his fingers into the waistband of
her skirt to pet the top of her downy, soft pubic hair. She was starting to
grind her teeth with frustration when Draco took pity on her. He divested
himself of his trousers and socks, then unzipped her skirt, sliding it down her
legs. He left her knickers in place for the moment, needing that final barrier
to help himself stay in control. He was an eighteen-year-old, hot blooded male
after all. He skimmed his fingers up her legs and the insides of her thighs.
Her whole body was trembling with desire. For him. She was so bloody gorgeous
and he told her so. She gave an embarrassed chuckle as he sealed his mouth to
hers again, kissing her deep and slow while one hand slipped beneath the
elastic of her knickers into her silky heat.
She was drenched and he groaned against her lips as her hips bucked, wildly
seeking the friction she desperately need. He bypassed her hotwire button and
slipped two fingers into her dripping sheath. They slid in with ease due to her
over preparedness. She ripped her mouth away from him, dropping her forehead to
his shoulder and pressing damp, chaste kisses to his throat between gasps of
pleasure. He slid his fingers back out and encircled the bundle of nerves at
the apex of her thighs. She was so ready and wanton that she exploded before he
made two full circles, crying out his name against his shoulder. He made a
guttural sound in his throat before moving to the next part of his plan. He was
a bit nervous about this maneuver as he had never had the desire to do it
before this stunning, intelligent, sweet girl entered his life.
He rid himself of his boxer-briefs before rolling her panties down her legs and
tossing them on the floor. They stared at each other, drinking in the other.
Neither overly shy, but also not overly confident. She sat up and reached for
his face with one hand, he nuzzled her fingers before gently pushing her back
into her nest of pillows and sliding between her thighs. Adjusting her legs
over each shoulder as she looked at him with heavy lidded curiosity.
“You don’t have to do that, Draco!” she exclaimed in a voice thick with desire
when she realized his intentions, but he just chuckled softly, his breath
ghosting across her sex.
“I want to. This part is a first for me. We’ll both have firsts tonight. Relax,
love,” he insisted. Her eyes softened and she let her head fall back as he
gently kissed her damp mound. She smelled amazing, her arousal was musky and
sweet, reminding him of an over-ripe honey dew melon. Tentatively he flicked
his tongue out and growled. Holy fuck. He had never tasted anything like her.
Tangy and sweet with a hint of salt. Pure Lizzie – and he was absolutely head
over heels in love with this girl.
No longer worried about the taste, he nuzzled in harder, seeking her clit. He
flicked his tongue across it light and fast and the spiral inside of her went
from just barely coiled to clenched tight. She whimpered a mix of utter
distress and enjoyment, her fingers came down to grasp his short locks.
“Draco!” Lizzie’s whine was delicious. “Oh, Gods!” Her hips bucked. Her touch
made him growl and he latched on to her nub of pleasure like he would to her
nipple and pushed her over the edge with a loud shout of ecstasy, having to
hold her hips in place firmly with his hands in order to ride the waves with
her. “Unghhhh! Ah!” She cried out. “Oh, shit.” Her body jerked hard as he
chuckled at her vulgarities.
Her aftershocks and grunts and the jerk of her hips were mesmerizing as he
continued to tease her nub and lick up her release. He felt extraordinarily
powerful and masculine. He had never known a woman could taste so unbelievably
scrumptious. Very, very slowly, he crawled up onto his knees and slid his steel
wrapped in velvet, dark red cock over her sex, coating himself in her juices.
Her eyes flew wide at this new, extremely intimate caress and their gazes
locked. “You’re still sure?” he murmured.
“I don’t think I could ever be more positive.” Her voice was husky and sated.
“You feel so amazing.” She tentatively rolled her hips and they groaned
together. He knew after all the foreplay he might not last long. They had all
night, though. She had seen to that. If she didn’t orgasm this time, she would
again. He positioned himself at her entrance, and as he slowly pushed into her,
he kissed her. Sharing the taste of herself as they became one.
Her breath hitched as he filled her, slow, gentle, and sweet. She had been
braced for pain or discomfort, but he had gotten her so ready, made her so
relaxed, that there was none. Just a stretch and fill that was so sublime she
felt delirious with it. They both let out a shaky breath when he was buried in
her. “Oh, fuck, Lizzie.” His forehead was resting on hers and she had her arms
around his shoulders, nails digging into his upper back.
“I know,” she whispered, breath hitching in her throat. It was an emotional
experience for both of them. He covered her mouth, kissing her gently, brushing
her lips over and over with his while clinging to every ounce of his control to
give her a time to adjust. When she gave a tentative thrust of her hips, he
couldn’t stop the rumble that left him.
Then he was moving. He reached down to hike one leg around his hip, granting
him deeper access. She gasped and made little sex noises in her throat, driving
him bloody barmy. “Can I go faster?” he begged, trying to keep a steady, but
gentle rhythm. She nodded mutely, fixing her mouth to the hallow above his
collar bone to suckle and he let go a bit.
“Ah!” She cried out, throwing her head back with the change of pace. “Oh, Gods.
Draco. Oh. Oh. OH!” He felt himself bottom out against her cervix, but her
sounds were all in the affirmative, so he didn’t slow, didn’t stop. He was
barreling towards his orgasm, but grit his teeth, trying to hold out for her to
have one more. It took much focus to slide one hand underneath her, pressing
her back to arch a little more so his pelvic bone would hit her clit. Her grunt
the first time it caught and her immediate understanding thrilled him, she
opened her legs wider, dug her heels in, and arched so he’d hit it every time.
Her noises became more desperate and she started to tremble.
“Lizzie…” He could barely think, let alone talk. He fought the tightening in
his bollocks with everything he had. He was going to explode like a popped
pastry can. He grit his teeth and forced his thoughts elsewhere for a moment.
Once again in control for a few more beats he started talking. “You feel so
good, sweetheart. So fucking good.” She grunted an incoherent agreement, he
chuckled lightly and gasped in a breath. “I want you to come again. For me.
Please, Lizzie? So bloody amazing. Let’s try and come together. I’m so close,
are you close, baby?”
Another nonsensical groan of affirmation. He rolled the short thrusts into a
grind and her eyes rolled back in her head, eyelashes fluttering, her mouth
dropped open in a silent crow of delight and he felt her muscles explode around
him as a long, low moan erupted from her. He pushed her completely over the
edge by slamming into her, lengthening and deepening his drives and he was
behind her in a few short thrusts, crying out her name and pounding out his
release before collapsing into her arms, rolling them slightly to his hip so he
wouldn’t crush her into the mattress. They were both shaking and covered in a
thin sheen of perspiration. He kissed her hard and fast, then pressing more to
her cheeks and the dip between her eyes before returning to her mouth for a
slow, deep, Earth shattering exchange. He poured everything he was feeling into
that kiss, all the emotions that were surging through the synapses of his body
and she returned it with equal fervor. When they had to stop to breath he
rested his forehead in her disarray of golden locks. “I love you,” he whispered
with conviction, lips grazing her ear. “You are amazing. That was…it was bloody
fantastic. Absolutely wonderful.”
Her blush was sweet, her eyes down cast. She looked up to meet his gaze and her
blush deepened. “It was perfect,” she murmured, kissing him lightly. “I love
you, too.”
***** Chapter Twenty-Nine *****
Chapter Notes
     I have only three pre-written chapters left and then you'll have to
     wait as I fumble through writing the rest of the story. I will post
     one per day until Monday when you'll get Chapter 31. I'm working on
     Chapter 32, but struggling.
     Make sure you follow for updates. I am also on AFF and FFN if you
     prefer one of those forums or AOO. LissaDream on all of them. xLissa
                              Chapter_Twenty-Nine
                                Mid-Late March
                             12-13 Weeks Gestation
===============================================================================
“Neville, hitch my leg up, yes. Ooo, yes. Just like that.” Luna’s sweet,
lackadaisical voice could be heard ringing clear down the second-floor hidden
passageway. It was just shy of curfew. Bloody hell. They really couldn’t have
found a better spot? Snape grimaced. The last pairing in this castle he wanted
to catch going at it were Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. He stopped
outside the passageway and cleared his throat.
A frightened squawk came from Longbottom and he had to stifle a bubble of
hysterical laughter. Best way to kill that kid’s hard-on was to have his most
feared professor catch him trying to round second base. “Please step from
behind the tapestry…immediately.” He drawled in a lazy, deep rumble.
“Luna! Luna, no!” Longbottom could be heard. “He doesn’t mean…put your - !"
“Oh, hullo, Professor Snape.” Lovegood had done as asked, presented herself
immediately. Without putting her clothing back on. Frozen in surprise, it took
Snape a moment to look away from the tiny, bare breasted girl. Grimacing, he
did a one-eighty and put his back to the pixie.
“Miss Lovegood, I would very much prefer it if you would
put…your…shirt…back…on.” He said through gritted teeth, he could feel heat and
color creeping up his neck. Sweet mother of all things magical. The girl was
completely uninhibited. Always had been. He resigned himself to being more
elaborate in his instructions in the future if he ever had the unfortunate
happenstance of catching her again.
“Luna! I tried to tell you!” There was a small squeak from the girl as
Longbottom grasped her arm and pulled.
“I’m sorry, Professor Snape.” He heard a rustle of the curtain. “Luna
just…well. She’s just Luna.”
“Indeed, Mr. Longbottom.”
“I do apologize if my nudity made you uncomfortable, Professor Snape.”
“We shall not speak of it again, Miss Lovegood.” Came the dry answer. Neville
was grinning at Luna, trying to not bust out laughing.
A few moments later, he had two students standing in front of him, fully
clothed this time. “Ten points from Gryffindor, fifteen from Ravenclaw.”
Lovegood cocked her head at him questioningly. “Why do I lose an extra five,
Professor?”
Snape held back a snort. This had been nothing if not entertaining. “For
indecent…exposure…Miss Lovegood. If you two don’t take yourselves back to
your…separate…common rooms immediately, it will be another five…each…for missed
curfew. Do…I make myself…clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Longbottom answered promptly, taking the little blonde chit’s hand
and pulling her along.
Neither noticed the smirk he gave the two as they disappeared. That was the
most amusing thing he had come across in weeks.
===============================================================================
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Ginny snapped at her friend, frustrated
beyond belief. She glanced at Snape who was sitting behind his desk while Ginny
tapped loudly again on Hermione’s bedroom door. “Hermione, can you hear me?”
Three more loud knocks. “You have got to stop holing yourself up in here. Have
you even seen the outside these last two months? There are no bloody windows
down here.”
She was met with more silence. She saw Snape drop his head into one hand, the
other penning something in blood red ink across some poor, unfortunate souls’
essay. She absently wondered what year he was marking, seventh years had an
essay due the day before. She refocused on the task at hand. Three more pounds.
“I’m not leaving. I will sit out here all freaking night if I have to, you
ungrateful swot.” She saw Snape’s head snap up in surprise and she threw a wink
at him. She thought a small smile tugged the corner of his mouth before he
turned back to his work. It was saying a lot about his patience that he had
allowed her to carry on thus for almost the last thirty minutes.
There was a tentative knock at the door and both Ginny and Snape looked up to
see Lizzie and Susan peering into the room cautiously. Snape gestured them in
halfheartedly as if saying, “Be my guest.”
“Has she said anything?” Lizzie whispered. Ginny shook her head. “Let me try.”
The blonde took a step up to the door and knocked gently. “Hermione, it’s
Lizzie. Can I come in?” Nothing. Another knock. “Hermione, c’mon. We miss you.”
A soft, tentative voice sounded from behind the two girls. “Do you mind if I
try?” Susan whispered. Ginny and Lizzie stepped out of the way.
Susan didn’t knock, just started talking. The three other people in the room
were barely able to breathe when they heard her words. “Hermione? It’s Susan.
Can I come in?” She knew she wouldn’t get a reply, so she continued, not even
stopping for a breath. “Hermione. I know what you’re going through.” They heard
a snort from inside, but it didn’t throw the redhead off. “I was raped during
the war, he took my virginity. Let me in, we can talk. Maybe we can help each
other feel better.”
Snape stood abruptly, eyes flashing with surprise, hands shaking at his sides
as Lizzie and Ginny both tucked up behind Susan protectively. The three
exchanged, shocked looks at this unexpected display of candor. “I know it
really helped me to talk about it. I saw a Muggle psychologist for a while. He
helped me process my feelings. Are you seeing a psychologist?” Susan continued
to talk to Hermione through the door like no one else was listening.
“It happened here, at Hogwarts. On the battle ground. It was Nott Senior, I
pulled off his mask while I tried to fight him off me. He disarmed me. Broke my
wand. I was out by Hagrid’s hut, just at the edge of the forest. I was fighting
with Cho and Marietta. They ran off to get help. I blamed them for a long
time.”
More silence, tears were starting to stream down Lizzie’s face and Ginny looked
about ready to fly into a rage. “He dragged me into the forest, tied me to a
tree. Ripped my robes. Bit me. I still have teeth marks on my shoulder and left
breast.” Snape sat down heavily in his chair, eyes sliding shut, nostrils
flaring with rage, but he let her continue. Hope flooded him. Maybe the
realization she was not alone in her experiences would help.
Susan’s voice was calm, unemotional without being detached; just matter of fact
and clinical. “I begged him not to and he used the Cruciatus on me. I’ve never
felt anything like that and I hope I never do again.” She paused and they all
looked up as they heard something crash from inside the room. “Are you okay,
honey?” Susan was concerned. “Can I come in? We can talk. You can tell me
anything, I won’t judge you.”
No other sounds came. She took a deep breath, her voice was starting to
tremble, her face flushed pink. “His breath stank and it was obvious he hadn’t
showered in days. He kissed me, bit my lip. Slapped me across the face when I
started to cry. My nose bled.” Her voice was shaking more now. Ginny laced her
fingers through one of her hands, Lizzie the other. The pretty girl squeezed
both and gave them a small smile of thanks. “He used some sort of charm to tie
my knees to my wrists. Sliced my shirt and bra off. Mauled me.
“When he put himself inside me, I threw up from the pain. He hit me again
before vanishing it, but then covered my nose and mouth, not letting me breath.
I thought I was going to die. I felt like I was being ripped to shreds down
there. Turned out I had been. It took three magical repairs to put things
right.” A strangled sound of fury left her Potions professor and she felt a
flame of heat rip up her face. “I’m sorry, Miss Bones. I am merely angry that I
cannot raise him from the dead so I can kill him for you.” Came the calm,
baritone voice. This made Susan relax again.
“He got me pregnant,” Susan said, her voice was clear, but unbearably soft. “I
wasn’t as strong as you, though. I terminated the pregnancy. He or she would be
just a few weeks old right now, so I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I second
guess myself sometimes, but what’s done is done. I can’t change it.”
Snape was floored. Did the girl know Hermione was pregnant? Ginny and Lizzie
exchanged bewildered looks and their eyes met Snape’s. Both girls paled at his
expression. “She’s pregnant?” Ginny whispered. “Oh, Gods. She’s been so
tired…and all the throwing up! How did I miss this? I’m an awful friend.” She
turned back to the door and started pounding again. “Hermione! Please let us
in. Please!” She was crying openly, angry blotches appearing under her
freckles.
The four people in the room froze as they hear a lock unlatch. The door cracked
open and Hermione’s tear streaked, gaunt face appeared. “Only Susan,” she
whispered. Ginny looked ready to protest and Lizzie let out a strangled sob,
but Snape…Snape was elated, grateful. He wanted to give Susan Bones the moon.
“Only Susan,” he agreed firmly, telling the other two girls with his eyes to
leave. Hermione did not meet his gaze, but opened the door wider to let in the
blue-eyed redhead. When she disappeared inside, the door was closed, the lock
sliding home.
“Ladies,” Snape said warningly to Ginny and Lizzie before they left. “You will
keep the pregnancy between those in this room until Hermione is ready to share
with Potter and Mr. Weasley. She must be the one to tell them.”
The girls nodded. Lizzie opened her mouth to ask a question before thinking
better of it and simply walking away. Ginny stared at him a long time, meeting
his eyes unflinchingly. She must have found what she needed, because she gave
him a small smile and a nod before following the Hufflepuff.
===============================================================================
Snape watched her the next few days, carefully continuing to integrate his
instructions from Dr. Jenkins from two weeks prior. A brush of his fingers when
he handed her a bottle of ink. A gentle touch on her face when he checked on
her before he went to sleep. He followed her into the bathroom a few times to
hold her hair back when the pregnancy sickness overtook her. Each time she
jumped or shied away from his touch, but he didn’t miss the longing in her
eyes. The need for human contact.
After Susan Bones had disappeared into her room for more than three hours the
Tuesday after her last psychiatry meeting, she had seemed different. A bit
lighter, more needy of company. He was getting her to exchange pleasantries
almost daily. It got even better as Susan would visit with her after classes
ended each day for an hour or more. After the Hufflepuff left, Hemione would
leave her door wide open while she worked. He was surprised to find it unlocked
while she slept. She wasn’t avoiding being in his presence. He had been able to
encourage her to eat a bit more than normal in the evenings, as he had been
ordering their dinner into his chambers every night for the last month. Evening
meals seemed to be the only ones she was keeping down, so the fact she was
putting more away heartened him.
He had finally broken down and contacted a Healer specializing in prenatal care
at St. Mungo’s and had gotten an approval on an anti-nausea potion. He was
planning on presenting it to her tonight along with two others the Healer had
helped him with. He was prepared – even wished – for a fight. It would be
something other than painful politeness. “I brewed you a mood stabilizer.” A
pale green vial was plunked down in front of her. “I spoke with a Healer
specializing in prenatal care and without going in depth, told her you have
been depressed. She recommended this concoction. I ran it past Dr. Jenkins, he
agreed it was an excellent idea. I also have an approved anti-nausea potion and
a vitamin potion you will be taking every day until you’re at a healthy
weight.” He added the next two vials to the first.
A frown pulled heavy at the corners of her plump lips as she stared at the
potions. “I don’t want them.”
Hands came down heavy on her shoulders and she jumped and squawked in protest,
leaping off her chair and away from him. She glared at him through narrowed
eyes. “You’re being ridiculous,” he growled at her, looming over her
authoritatively. He would have regretted the tearful look she gave him if she
hadn’t cried almost every day for the last two months. He would have felt bad
for treating her unkindly if he thought there was anything else he could do at
this point. Yes, she had made some progress over the last few days, but not
enough. He was simply unwilling to continue on like this. She had to choose to
get better. She had to choose him as he was choosing her.
“You will take these. You must.” He snatched the mood stabilizer up and plucked
the cork from it, thrusting it into her face. “So help me God, Hermione Jean
Granger, if you do not take this willingly I will force it down your throat.”
She took a purposeful step away from him and the reaction he had been seeking
with those specific words set a thrill through him. “I choose what I put in my
body! No one else does. I choose what I do and do not do. I do!” She stamped
her foot and watched an eyebrow disappear into his hairline.
“You choose everything, Hermione. Always. I will never take your choices away
from you, but I will be damned if I stand by and continue to let you make all
the wrong ones. You won’t help your nausea with the lozenges Poppy procured for
you. You won’t schedule yourself a short nap before dinner so you can work a
little later at night as I suggested a month ago. You are literally wasting
away to skin and bones, and you’re going to decline an anti-nausea potion? Who
are you? Not the logical young woman I’ve come to know and love!
“You refused to terminate the pregnancy, and I respected that decision. I knew
the woman who made that decision. You are not taking care of yourself – which
means you are endangering the child you insisted on keeping. The child I know
you love even if you can’t say it aloud. You won’t even talk at your psychiatry
appointments – don’t look at me like that – of course I know you’re not talking
to him. You signed a paper giving him permission to tell me everything.” Her
outraged gasp only goaded him. “It is not my fault if you didn’t read what you
were signing, pet. It doesn’t matter, though, even if you hadn’t signed it you
practically scream it at me every time I remind you of your appointment. Just
because I’m not poking in your mind doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes hear.” Her
glare turned into a glower of disapproval, her arms were crossed tightly over
her chest and she was all but snarling at him in contempt. He recorked the vial
and set it down.
“You’ve stopped spending time with your friends. You do nothing but attend
class and sit in your room.” His breath shuddered through him. “Hermione...” He
had to grit his teeth and clear his throat in attempt to keep the worst of his
emotion and pain from her, but let some slip through. “You’re pushing me away
and I don’t know what to do to bring you back to me. I’m terrified I’m going to
lose you.” He wasn’t meeting her gaze. “Hermione, I will fight through hell for
you, but I need you to give me something. Anything. I miss you.” The words were
foreign to him, but they ripped through the air with a forceful need and he
grasped her shoulders. She knew how rare it was for him to say something like
that and her eyes widened in surprise, pain slicing through them – but the pain
sparked something deep in her core.
Bloody hell, she was sick of crying. But here she was again, on the verge of
tears. Her self-depreciation, depression, and overall feelings of unworthiness
made her say what she did next. Made her throw out her own darkest fear;
smashing his face in it in a daring challenge. “Then leave,” she whispered. He
closed his eyes tightly, his heart sinking. Where was his witch? Why could he
not help pull her out of this? Why was she shutting him down? “You’re going to
eventually, anyway.” She attempted to jerk away from him, but he wouldn’t let
her, his fingers dug painfully into her shoulders and she gasped as the tears
splashed hotly over her cheeks.
His eyes finally settled on hers and the heat in them was stifling. “Have I
given the impression I’m going anywhere?”
A small flicker of guilt crossed her face. No. He hadn’t. Not once. He had done
nothing but try and make things good for her since she was let go. He had done
everything she asked, had even done things she hadn’t asked for. She was trying
to find the girl who had hunted and destroyed horcruxes. The one who had fought
in the Battle of Hogwarts. She was trying to find the young woman who seduced a
twenty year her senior professor (and a bloody terrifying one to boot), the one
who had fallen in love with him and had been so happy mere weeks ago. She was
trying desperately to find the girl who had played a horror filled game with
her abductors and won. She was desperate for the girl who had asked her fiancé
to sleep with her to give her doubt about who her potential child’s father
could be. She tried to find the brazen woman who had the strength to make love
the very day after she had been brutally raped. She just couldn’t. She didn’t
know where that person had gone.
The one that was left was turning into a shell. She had lost over a stone. Her
clothing hung off of her. Her face was gaunt. She had no appetite. No ambition.
She was barely making it through classes. Looking at this man she loved, seeing
his pain and concern tore at her. And even though she still felt broken, that
heat in her core sparked an ember to life in the pit of her stomach. She
searched his eyes, his question still hanging in the air. He caught his breath
and watched a glow return to those beautiful brown orbs for the first time in
weeks. “No,” she murmured. “No, you haven’t given me the impression that you’re
going anywhere.”
“I’m not.” He insisted. “I don’t want to. I’m here with you.” He searched her
face for a long time, lingering over the sharp angle of her cheekbones, the
bruises under her eyes. “I love you. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”
A shuddering breath shattered the silence as she tried to accept his statement.
Finally, she nodded and held out her hand. “I’ll take the potions.”
She saw and felt the tension seep out of his body, she hadn’t realized how
stressed he was. She watched him as he let go of her to recollect the vial,
removing the cork once again. She realized he had lost weight as well, weight
he couldn’t afford to lose. He had just begun to look healthy again after the
war, and it was all fading again. It was her fault. She straightened her back
and squared her shoulders as he handed her the potion. She threw it back and
grimaced at the bitter aftertaste. “How often must I take it?”
“Weekly.” The relief in his eyes was palpable and the guilty feeling grew. He
handed her the next and the next which she downed in quick succession. The
anti-nausea medication was instant. A deep calm swept through her abdomen and
her stomach muscles relaxed for the first time in well over a month.
“It shouldn’t take long for them to help you feel better.” He was watching her
face, watching the relief flood her features. He knew the anti-nausea potion
was instantaneous. She could take one dose every day. It lasted twelve hours.
The vitamin potion was specifically geared for prenatal needs. He already
noticed the color seeping into her cheeks as her body absorbed nutrients it
hadn’t been getting in much too long.
“I will take it without question. You’re right, I need to step up. I’m sorry
I’ve been wallowing.” It sounded a bit forced, and he winced.
“Hermione…” He considered her carefully and slowly opened his arms to her. She
hadn’t allowed him to hold her in so long. She hadn’t kissed him in much
longer. He missed being tender with her, missed being intimate so much. He
missed her affection towards him. He may have only had it for a short time, but
once he had become accustomed to it, he had never wanted to be without it
again.
She looked up at him and gave a curt nod, walking in to his arms, wrapping her
own around his waist. He curled one arm around her head, sinking his fingers
into her hair, and the other around her shoulders and dropped his face into her
hair breathing in the scent of lavender and vanilla he had come to love so
much. Oh, Gods. He felt his muscles start to tremble with relief, anguish
seeping from him in waves. He swallowed hard, barely letting himself believe
this was really happening. He had his witch in his arms again. He felt like
sobbing.
“You have more excuses than I care to admit to wallow, but you have not been
the Hermione Granger I know.” He told her gently when he felt he could talk
safely. He squeezed her tightly. “Accept the help that is being given to you.
Allow yourself to heal. Stop punishing yourself. You are blameless in this. You
did nothing wrong. So many people are scared for you. They’re all waiting on
the sidelines to help in any way they can.”
He felt her nod against his chest and she squeezed him more tightly. “I’ve
missed you,” she breathed after a moment. She was sure the mood stabilizer was
working. She felt more emotionally open than she had in far too long. “So much.
I feel so unworthy of you…so…dirty.”
His words caught in his throat as his mind whirred, trying to figure out how to
address her fears. Fucking doctor hadn’t told him how to respond to this type
of declaration. “Don’t let yourself feel that way.” He said finally, tilting
her head up. He dropped a tentative, chaste kiss on her lips and felt her melt
into him. The joy of it was extremely overwhelming. It seemed she was just as
starved for his touch as he was for hers by the way she was pushing herself
deeper into him. “You will always be the purest thing I hold in my arms. I love
you, pet. So much.” Instead of answering him, she looped her arms around his
neck and pulled herself onto her tip toes to kiss him again. He groaned when he
felt the insistent tapping of her tongue on his lips and he met her tongue with
his own enthusiastically.
She clutched at the nape of his neck, digging her nails in deliciously. He
tapped down on his racing libido, the hallow ache in his gut that had been
craving her touch and love for far too long. The feeling of waking after a
terrible dream was seeping in and if he didn’t control the situation he would
do something he would regret. He gently cupped her face with both hands and
slowly ended the kiss. “Stay by me tonight. Let me hold you. Just hold you.”
She searched his eyes and nodded slowly.
“Yes,” she agreed, her eyes welled again. “I’m so sorry for all I’ve done. You
deserve so much better than me.”
“No!” He pulled her to his chest again, careful not to overwhelm her. “No. You
have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.” He felt her nod against him again. He
took her shoulders and pushed her away, guiding her to the settee in his
office. He used his wand to stroke the fire that was burning low, building the
flame and heat until the room felt better. He sat and pulled her down into his
lap.
“Tell me you understand that what has happened to you is not your fault.”
She looked away. “I know it’s not my fault, but I just - ”
“No. Tell me that it’s not your fault.”
She set her jaw determinedly. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s right.” He continued. “Say – ‘I am loved.’”
“I am loved.”
“Tell me who loves you.”
“You do.” She was getting choked up again. Saying these things aloud was almost
making her believe it.
“Yes. I do. Who else?”
“Harry.”
“He’s your brother. He loves you very much. Who else?”
“Ron and Ginny.”
“All the Weasley’s. Molly has been writing me daily. Who else?”
“Lizzie.”
“She’s been a nightmare and a right thorn in my side trying to help you. I’d
say she loves you more than even you know. Who else?”
“My parents.”
“Yes. Even though they’re gone, their love is inside you. Anyone else?”
“No?”
“Yes. Minerva. Poppy. All your professors. You’ve been a favorite for years.”
This pulled a smirk out of her even as tears slid gently down her face.
“Who else loves you, Hermione?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you love yourself?”
A very long pause, then a quiet answer. “Not as much as I used to.”
Severus nodded. He suspected as much. “We’ll work on that. There’s one more
person.”
“Oh?”
“Do you know?”
“I don’t.”
“The child you’re carrying.”
She gasped in surprise, a hand coming to flutter over the very slight swell of
her lower abdomen. She turned watery, hopeful eyes on him. “Do you think so?”
The longing was heartbreaking. “Do you think they could love me?”
“How could they not? You’re Hermione Granger.”
***** Chapter Thirty *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                Chapter_Thirty
===============================================================================

 “Welcome, Prime Minister.” Minerva indicated for Kingsley to have a seat.
“Brandy?”
“Thank you, Headmistress, I would love some.” He inclined his head politely as
he took a seat. “I found myself with an unprecedented free hour this afternoon
and very much wanted to come check in on the lovely Miss Granger.”
Minerva’s lips twitched into a frown. She knew Kingsley was truly concerned as
he had a very large soft spot for the Golden Trio. She was also aware that said
trio looked up to Kingsley with great respect. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt
anything to give the man an honest update as long as he promised to keep his
silence.
“You are aware that Miss Granger is involved with Severus?” She handled him a
crystal tumbler with dark amber liquid.
Kingsley let a sly smile cross his face and nodded, taking a sip from the
tumbler. “Yes, since the girl was abducted. I also sit on the board for this
school, so I am very well aware. His letter to the board was extraordinarily
uncharacteristic of him. I believe the words such as ‘second chances at a good
life’ and ‘will step down from my post gladly if that is your decision’ were
thrown out there. He is smitten, no?”
“Smitten doesn’t begin to cover it. Those two are bloody well meant for each
other. All’s one has to do is see them together to know it.” She let out a
happy little chuckle as she sipped on her own glass. “Who would have ever
though it?”
There was a pregnant pause, then she continued. “Pleasant news aside, she’s
been struggling. Reports are she is attending classes and completing her work
to her normal caliber. However, she spends most evenings locked in her room.
Severus said she is not spending time with her friends and that she has
distanced herself from him. He been taking her to see a Muggle psychiatrist
Monday evenings.”
Kingsley looked surprised. “What changed? She had seemed so stable. Shaken,
yes. And of course you expect some emotional trauma after what she endured, but
so drastic?”
“The poor thing has found herself with child. Severus feels this has caused a
mental snap.”
The Minister froze in shock, hands clenching into fists. “She’s pregnant?”
“I’m afraid so.” Her Scottish brogue was more pronounced with this statement.
“How far along?”
“Oh, I do suppose she’s right around the twelve-week mark at this point.”
“The child could be her one of her attackers.” Kingsley stood in a flourish of
robes.
“Well, yes.” Minerva’s voice was hesitant and guarded. His excitement was very
appalling to her.
“We most procure a DNA charm result immediately. Do you realize what this could
mean for our investigation? If we can get justoneof these bastards under our
thumbs, we could put an end to this madness!”
Minerva’s face drained of color. “You mustn’t,” she insisted. “The poor girl is
terrified.”
“She will understand, she is strong.”
“Minister…Kingsley. I implore you,” Minerva whispered, standing. “You cannot
ask this of her. She and Severus were…well. Please excuse my divulgence of too
much information, sir, but they were intimate immediately following her release
from the hospital.”
Kingsley froze in surprise at such private information, not understanding where
the Headmistress was going with this. “So?”
“They only were so because Miss Granger expressed the desire to have doubt of
the child’s paternity so as to help her and Severus raise the babe as their
own. They are getting married.”
Kingsley slowly sat back down, considering her words very carefully. Finally,
he spoke. “Who is giving her prenatal care? I suspect Madam Pomfrey?”
“You suspect correctly.”
“Then we have Madam perform the test to see if the child is Severus’s. If it
is, we tell them and take a weight off of their shoulders. If it is not, they
never have to know, but we then have a magical signature to go off of.”
Minerva’s lips tightened in a straight line. “When is it you wish to do this?”
“Immediately.”
===============================================================================
“You wished to see me, Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked quietly. Poppy Pomfrey
looked up from her desk with a tender smile, it broadened when she saw the
tall, dark Potions Master standing protectively behind the girl.
“Yes, my dear. I would like to move your check to today.” She said in a no-
nonsense tone. “I’m afraid I will have to be out of the building tomorrow.”
Severus rose a lone, suspicious brow. Her tone sounded evasive to him, but he
decided to say nothing. One day early on her check wouldn’t hurt anything..
A few moments later, Hermione was laid comfortably on a cot at the far end of
the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was tsk-tsking disapprovingly as she took the
girl’s vitals and cast a diagnostic. “You have lost more weight, my dear. You
must not. You are going severely hurt yourself and the child.”
“I know, Madam,” Hermione answered softly. “Severus has found an anti-nausea
medication that is quite wonderful. I was able to eat an almost normal supper
last night and was actually quite starved for breakfast this morning. I will
need to take it slow, as my stomach has shrunk. Things should start going in
the right direction, now.”
Poppy watched a tender smile be exchanged with the formidable Severus Snape and
felt a tingle of relief spread through her. Something had finally changed for
the better. “You seem much better today, Miss Granger.”
“I feel much better today, Madam Pomfrey.” The reply was said with such
heartfelt relief that Poppy felt tears prickle her eyes.
“What else has changed?”
“I made a connection with someone else who has had a similar experience,” the
curly-haired brunette answered softly. Severus reached and took her hand with
his, his thumb brushing her knuckled softly. “And Severus has also brewed a
mood stabilizer and nutrient potion that was recommended by an Obstetrician
Healer.”
“Oh, my dear,” Poppy smiled and patted the girl’s leg affectionately. “It does
sound like you are on the road to recovery. You must still see your
psychologist.”
“I will.”
“I have a few tests I’d like to run today. And if you’d like to, I should be
able to find and amplify the child’s heartbeat.”
Severus’s eyes widened in alarm while excitement flooded Hermione’s features.
“Really?” she exclaimed. “I would like that very much!”
“First some diagnostics to make sure the child is growing well with no
complications.” And a quick paternity test. I do hope Severus doesn’t realize
what I’m doing.But the large man was distracted and didn’t pay attention to her
fancy wandwork or her muttered incantations until it was too late.
“Poppy!” he exclaimed harshly, and the elder witches face flushed in regret and
embarrassment. That was, until the resulting glow made them both pause in
shock.
“Do it again.” His whisper was hoarse, his voice constricted.
“What’s the matter?” Hermione was alarmed. She sat up, her arms cradling her
middle protectively. “Is everything okay?”
“One moment, love.” Severus reassured, sitting next to her on the bed and
sliding an arm around her shoulders.
Poppy repeated the test which took a few moments. The light glowed again and
the emotion that overtook Severus’s face almost made the elder witch burst into
tears. “It’s mine?” It was an almost hysterical question said so incredibly
softly, she read his lips more than she heard his words.
“What’s happening?” Hermione sounded terrified, watching the light wink out of
existence. When no one spoke, her voice got a little shriller. “Please! What is
going on?”
When Poppy realized Severus couldn’t speak, she happily took the liberty. “The
child is perfectly healthy. I am also very happy to inform you that Severus is
most definitely its father.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped and tears overflowed her eyes instantly, she turned her
face to Severus who was staring at her in disbelief. “Do you promise?” Her face
turned back to Poppy as a strangled sob left her. Happiness, relief, shock, and
unadulterated joy filled the girl’s features, returning her to the semblance of
the strong young women she had always been. “The child is Severus’s? Do you
promise?” When Poppy nodded, weeping at her joy, she threw herself into
Severus’s arms, peppering his face with kisses murmuring, “It’s ours, the child
is ours!” over and over again in quiet exultation.
Severus was unable to speak, he just pulled her in tight after a beat and
buried his face in her wild, bushy curls, taking slow, shuddering breaths as he
fought the need to weep openly.
Poppy gave them a few moments, only returning to them when she heard their soft
whispered exchange quiet. They were sitting on the bed together, Hermione in
his lap, pressed into his chest, her arms around his waist, his arms around her
back. They made a lovely sight for her sore, old eyes.
“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” she asked the couple warmly.
“Oh, yes!” Hermione exclaimed. “Please.”
“Please sit up on your bum, you can lay back against Severus,” Poppy requested.
“I’ll need you to lift your shirt. The girl did as was asked. “I will touch the
tip of my wand to your abdomen.” Hermione nodded, eyes wide with anticipation,
one hand gripped in Severus’s. “Prenatal cordis pulsatio.”
A low, thrumming whoosh-whoosh, whoosh-whoosh, whoosh-whoosh filled the air and
another happy, tearful smile split the young girls face. She glanced up at her
fiancé, eyes shining. “That’s incredible,” she whispered. Severus dropped a
silent kiss to the top of her head. They listened to the strong, beautiful sign
of life for a couple minutes.
“There’s one more test I can perform today, if you would like me to?”
Hermione’s eyes met hers. “What is it?”
“Would you like to know the child’s gender?”
“Oh!” She paused and her teeth came out to worry her bottom lip. “Severus?” She
looked up at him, giving him as much say as she had.
“I will leave that up to you, my love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her
brow before raising their joint hands to brush her cheek.
“Um…” More lip worrying before for she answered. “You know what…”
===============================================================================
“I got your note, ’Mione,” Harry called, tapping on the door to the Head Girl
suite. “I let everyone else know. Ginny’s with me. Can we come in?”
“Yes!” Came the reply. Ginny and Harry exchanged a surprised look. Their
friend’s voice sounded almost normal. Even a little excited. Rolling her eyes
as Harry’s hesitancy, Ginny grabbed the knob and pushed the heavy door open.
She was surprised to see Hermione and Snape snuggled into the loveseat by the
fire. The room had been rearranged, and there was a cluster of overstuffed
chairs and a couch by the fire as well, waiting for the gathering of people.
Headmistress McGonagall was next to arrive, to Harry and Ginny’s surprise. Ron
and Susan, and Lizzie and Draco came next. Snape used a bit of wandless magic
to lock the door behind them while everyone exchanged greetings and got
comfortable. There was a tea service with cakes and biscuits laid out on the
coffee table and Hermione waved her hand at it indicating for everyone to help
themselves.
Once everyone was settled with their cups and plates, Severus started talking.
“It’s been a rough couple of months.” It was something of an understatement,
but the people around the room nodded encouragingly. “But things are turning
around.”
Hermione smiled at him softly and sat up to the edge of the loveseat. “I want
to thank you all for being so supportive. I know I’ve been very difficult to be
around…” She couldn’t help the grin that crossed her face when her friends
started protesting and telling her that she had every reason, and that they
loved her. She tried to speak again, but they became insistent.
“Oi, you morons,” Draco’s exasperated drawl came from where he was cozied up in
a large chair with Lizzie squeezed in next to him. “Let the bushy-haired swot
talk.”
His words were met with icy glares from her friends and Hermione felt a bubble
of laughter climb her throat and erupt. Eight pairs of eyes looked at her in
surprise and the laughter grew and it felt wonderful. She felt wonderful. More
wonderful than she had felt in much too long. She had slept – truly slept – in
her wizards arms last night, she had a full belly of breakfast, she had been
told her biggest fear no longer existed. Life was truly, magically turning in
the right direction. Now she had to just tell her friends the good news.
She was finally able to get her giggles under control and warmth flooded
through her when Severus slid a warm hand over her thigh, his face bright with
their joy.
“You look different, today Hermione,” Lizzie whispered. “You’re feeling
better?”
“Everything has changed,” Hermione said softly. “I want to thank you all for
sticking by me. For trying to be here for me when I just kept pushing you away.
You’re all true friends – yes, even you Draco. Don’t think I missed the
chocolate cauldrons and caramel nougat you left for me or the attempts to get
me to see Lizzie. Thank you for trying to help.”
Draco looked decidedly uncomfortable, especially when Ron and Harry gave him
appraising looks.
“I was dealing with some news that made me struggle greatly. Today, though.
Today I found out the best thing.”
Susan immediately started grinning, she sat up eyes sparkling. “It’s Professor
Snape’s?” she asked in her soft, melodic tones.
Hermione’s face crumpled into a mix of extreme joy and overwhelming emotion.
Minerva, Ginny, and Lizzie gasped and Hermione grinned with sparkly, watery
eyes.
The boys were confused. “Care to enlighten us?” Came Draco’s lazy request.
“I found out a little over two months ago I am pregnant.”
Ron and Harry were horrified, Draco’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I…I didn’t
handle it well. Which I suppose is quite obvious in hindsight. But today we
found out the child is Severus’s. It’s taken a lot of the pain away.”
Lizzie, Ginny, and Susan stood and Hermione leapt to her feet to meet the girls
in a squealing mass of hugs in the middle of the circle. Minerva watched as
Snape leaned back into the couch, one ankle coming up to cross over the
opposite knee, one arm stretched out on the back of the couch. His face was
guarded, watching the male portion of the Golden Trio. Her gaze moved to the
young men in question, Harry was a mix of shock and bemusement as he watched
the girls, Ron was a mix of horrified and … was that sadness? Maybe a
little…resignation? Then it flickered, and a small grin started to cross his
face.
“I’m gonna be an uncle?” he said to the room in a strong, loud voice, standing.
The grin grew larger. Her gaze flickered back to Snape who seemed to have a mix
of surprise, relief, and disgust on his face.
Everyone stopped and looked at him, Hermione’s eyes found his and she let out a
choked sob of relief before throwing herself at him. He caught her and gave a
little twirl, before Harry joined the hug from the other side, encasing her in
their affection. They pulled back and kissed her cheeks before hugging her
again. The three murmured quietly together while everyone else chattered
amongst themselves.
Snape started when Draco sat next to him on the love seat and held out his
hand. “Congratulations,” the young blond man said politely. “I know you always
wanted children.”
“She hasn’t told anyone the best part yet,” Severus said, taking Draco’s hand
in his.
“Oh!” Hermione squeaked when she heard him. “I forgot!”
“What?” Almost everyone answered.
“It’s a girl!”
Chapter End Notes
     AN: Snarky author is grinning and saying "You're WELCOME!"
***** Thirty-One *****
Chapter Notes
     Okay everyone! This is it for daily updates. From this point on, I
     have to update as I go along. I am part way through writing chapter
     32, though, so hopefully by the end of the week at the latest. Thank
     you for all who's checked this out, followed it through now. Special
     thanks to those who kudo. Even more gratefulness to those who
     comment! Lots and lots of love! xLissaDream
                              Chapter_Thirty-One
===============================================================================
My Dearest Hermione,
Hello, darling! I have been thinking about you constantly for weeks and weeks.
Severus has been maintaining good communication with Arthur and me and we were
ever so pleased to hear you are doing better.
I have also heard the absolutely lovely news that you are expecting a little
darling early this coming Fall. I wanted to extend an offer of communication
with you – if you have any questions or concerns regarding your pregnancy,
please write. I do have quite a bit of experience even if it’s been seventeen
years since the last one. Bill and Fleur are expecting a daughter in May, as
well. I’m sure she would welcome correspondence from you as you go through
pregnancy together. You know I’ve been itching for grandchildren for years,
now, and I do so hope you’ll think of me as an honorary Grandmother for your
little princess. It will be wonderful for these two babes to grow together as
cousins. Even though they’ll not related by blood, you are like a daughter and
sister to all of us. Family is family, regardless of genetics.
Now to broach a delicate subject. I know you and Severus have discussed
marriage this summer, but I thought that perhaps the impending arrival of your
wee one might inspire you both to wed at a sooner time. Perhaps over the Easter
holidays? Just say the word, darling, and I will pop over to Hogsmeade this
weekend and we can talk about what you would like. I will put everything
together and we’ll have you and Severus married before you can say boo.
I look forward to your return owl. Love, Molly (and Arthur)
Hermione read the letter twice, trying to stem the tears pooling in her eyes
from making an escape, she knew she had a watery smile on her face. She sat at
the breakfast table with her friends, eating a full breakfast as she had every
morning for the last week. Her brain worked quickly. This weekend (the
twentieth and twenty-first of March) was the last weekend before break. If she
kept their ceremony on the traditional Saturday they could wed the twenty-
seventh, the third, or the tenth. Being she’d be traveling after classes on the
twenty-sixth, the twenty-seventh was unappealing – and really, really soon.
Only about ten days away. The third was the day before Easter…also not ideal
for people who wanted to spend time with their families. That left April tenth.
April tenth as her wedding date and anniversary for the rest of her life. She
felt a slow, soft smile slip across her face. It felt right. April tenth. She
glanced up and met Severus’s eyes across the Great Hall, he was watching her
with his head cocked and an eyebrow raised. She mouthed “Talk later,” across
the great room and he gave a nod before turning back to the Daily Prophet.
===============================================================================
“Bloody hell,” Severus heaved a sigh as he closed his office door behind him.
“Hey, love!” Hermione’s voice came from her room where she was working at her
desk. “Don’t forget, six o’clock with Dr. Jenkin’s.”
“How could I forget,” he muttered to himself as he flopped uncharacteristically
into his leather desk chair. She’d been most anxious to get to her next
session. Dr. Jenkins said she had literally spouted an ocean full at her last
session. This session he was insistent Severus join them – he was not bloody
well looking forward to it at all.
“Hey, you alright?” He looked up to find Hermione in the doorway to her room,
shoulder propped against the jamb, arms folded across her chest.
“It’s been…a…trying day,” he said slowly, summoning his bottle of firewhiskey
and a tumbler wandlessly. “I’m exhausted.”
“Mm,” she responded sympathetically. “Wanna talk about it?” She crossed the
room slowly until she was standing behind him. Tentatively, she dropped her
hands onto his shoulder and dug her thumbs in. His muscles were like rocks.
“Not particularly.” He let out a long, low moan of pleasure as her clever
fingers worked his over-tense neck and shoulders, his head falling to his chest
to allow for better access. The moan did something to Hermione that been absent
for weeks – made her want him. She bit her lip and swallowed, her fingers
freezing for a moment before she deliberately dug back into his deltoids.
Another low grunt left his throat and she gave a little hum in the back of her
own. I’m not ready yet, I know I’m not. Dr. Jenkins and I discussed this in
length last week.
Yes, but he said that it was okay you weren’t ready then – that you would know
when you were ready and to trust your instincts.
But what if my instincts are wrong and I panic halfway through? He has to be
dying, he’s been so patient with me. Starting and making him stop would be
horribly cruel.
“I hear that brain of yours, Hermione.” A soft chuckle came followed by another
low groan as she found and worked on a deep knot.
What if I just pleasure him? It would be a…start?She pulled a hair tie off her
wrist and used her fingers to gather his hair up and off his neck.
“What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?” he growled incredulously. “I
will not walk about sporting a man-bun.”
She sputtered a laugh before answering him softly. “I’m just getting it out of
the way for a minute, don’t fret. I won’t make you leave this office with your
hair up. I promise.” Fastening the tie, she moved her hands back to his
shoulders and continued to massage deeply. She loved how he was turning into a
pliable block of clay under her hands, the tension seeping out of him.
Hesitantly, she leaned forward and ghosted a kiss over the back on his neck,
letting her tongue trailed out to dampen the skin. She felt his surprise even
as she relished his taste – musk and man…her man. Her hands slid around his
shoulders to cross over his chest as she dropped her head and let her teeth
graze the sensitive skin behind his ear, catching the lobe and pulling gently
as warm breath blew from her nose and made him shiver.
He stayed quite still as she paid loving homage down the strong tendons on his
neck to suckle at the pulse point, she saw his fists tighten in his lap,
knuckles going white under the pointed cuffs of his frock coat. She smoothed
her hands down his chest as she nuzzled her nose against his jaw, pressing more
kisses to the sensitive underside, his stubble was rough against her sensitive
lips. She started to circle him, one hand staying on his chest as the other
trailed over the back of his shoulders, another shock of pleasure shot threw
him and he trembled. She met his eyes. They were guarded, but his pupils were
blown wide with desire; it made her breath catch. She slipped her hands up his
neck to thread into the hair that was pulled taut at the nape of his neck and
slowly met his lips with hers in a chaste, sweet kiss. One of Severus’s hands
shot up and laced around her delicate wrist as he opened his mouth to her and
breathed in her taste and scent, giving her control of the kiss with a groan of
heated desire.
“Hermione…” He breathed as she slipped onto his lap. She could feel he was
already rock hard through their layers of clothing.
“Shh.” She hushed, giving him another deep kiss. “I want to take care of you.”
He grunted, his continued shock evident.
“Will you let me?”
He pulled back and studied her face carefully for a moment, then let out a nod.
“Take it at your own pace,” he murmured. She slipped off his lap and kneeled at
his feet. The sight almost made him come in his pants. It had been so
incredibly long, he knew he would be down and out for the count minutes after
she started. She raised shaking fingers to his belt and he watched her through
heavy lidded eyes as she slid the leather through the buckle before undoing the
buttoned fly. At her prodding, he raised his hips so she could slide his pants
and knickers down his back side.
His cock sprang free ferociously. Red and angry looking, pliant velvet over a
rod of oak. She looked at it for a long minute and he started to feel nervous
she was going to panic, but then she met his eyes and he was floored to see the
lust in them. She leaned forward slowly and raised a finger to swirl the
pearlescent drop of precum around the frenulum. He gritted his teeth, his hands
grasping the armrests of his chair so hard he thought he might splinter the
wood. Then she raised her eyes to his again and touched the finger covered in
his seed to her lips, her tongue darted out to taste and her eyes closed in
apparent pleasure.
The breath left him in a whoosh as she growled, sitting up on her knees she
wasted no time taking him deeply into her mouth. He hit the back of her throat
unexpectedly and his head fell back in pure bliss, his hips thrusting of their
own accord. She did not gag, only tried to take him more deeply, her tongue
swirling insistently. She was a solid three-quarters of the way down his
length, he wasn’t sure she’d ever put that much down her throat before and he
could not help the visceral snarl that erupted out of him. He wanted to lace
his fingers into her wild curls and fuck her mouth. It took every ounce of will
power not to, and his fear of busting the armrests on the chair returned. She
pulled him out of her throat and grasped the base of his dick. Shocking him,
she spit forcefully and pumped his length, a mewl of delight leaving her body.
“Fuck, love!” His head rolled on the back of the chair fitfully as her tongue
danced and swirled around the mushroom shaped tip of his prick while her petite
hand pumped and squeezed insistently. His bollocks rose high and tight as she
reclaimed him with her mouth and applied delicious suction while continuing to
pepper her tongue in light, creative circles and swirls.
“I’m going to come, Hermione.” He warned her through gritted teeth. Her hand
fell away and she pushed him deeper into her tropical maw, the suction of her
lips strengthening, her insistent tongue still pulsing against his meat. His
hips jerked at the first spurt of hot, creamy liquid made its escape. She
hummed her approval maddingly, swallowing around his manhood. She continued to
suck and swallow as his body convulsed with pleasure. She consistently plied
his erection with lascivious attention to the point where he had to grasp her
by her elbows and drag her away so his body could calm.
He pulled her roughly into his lap, taking her mouth hotly with his. He ignored
the bitter taste of his own release as he shoved his hands up under her shirt,
gliding his fingers across the silky-smooth expanse of lower back. “What can I
do for you?” he begged her, catching her bottom lip with his teeth before
sucking it into his mouth. He grazed her tongue with his teeth as she moaned,
the sound reverberating through his brain.
“I don’t know,” she whispered when he left her mouth to blaze a trail of
scorching fire across her jaw and down her neck. She arched into him,
whimpering, presenting her beautiful breasts. He cupped one over the fabric of
her top and bra and felt a nipple stiffing beneath the insistent swipe of his
thumb. She gasped and her hips rocked before her body started trembling
violently. He noticed immediately and froze, tilting his head up to look at
her, heated desire mixed with fear filled her eyes. Her hands were clenched on
his shoulders and her breaths were coming in quick succession. “I – I don’t
think I’m quite ready for anything yet, Severus,” she whispered thickly. “I’m
so sorry.”
Sadness filled him, not for him, but for her. She had given him so much
pleasure, he just wanted to return the favor – the affection. “That’s okay,
love,” he murmured, pulling her to him in a tight embrace. He ran one hand over
her forehead to smooth away unruly tendrils of curls before pressing a kiss
there and tucking her head into his neck. “You were brilliant at helping me
relax,” he chuckled, trying to ease the tension. It seemed to help as he felt
her shoulders shake with a silent laugh and she pressed a sweet buss to his
neck.
“The neck massage or the prick massage?” She snorted a laugh against him. After
the initial shock of the vulgar words coming from that sweet mouth he ground
out a bark of laughter. “Both.”
She pulled back, her eyes shining with pride. “I know it wasn’t exactly what
you may have had in mind, but I’m so happy to be getting back on track. I miss
you so much,” she whispered. His expression became serious and he reached to
brush a gentle touch over her cheek.
“It was perfect. I will take what you’re willing to give. I will give whatever
you’re ready for,” he told her firmly. “Just keep talking to me.” She nodded
and they sat quietly for a moment before he continued. “Looked like you got a
letter this morning, care to share?”
“Oh!” Her eyes lit up and she slid off his lap. “Yes, just give me a sec, I
need to use the loo!”
He watched her disappear into her room and heard the bathroom door click shut,
so he took the free moment to put his slacks back right. “Pepper?” he called to
his house elf. She popped into existence with a loud crack!
“What is Pepper doing for sir…and miss?” She tacked on as Hermione reentered
the room.
“If we could get some supper brought in a bit early, Pepper?” Severus asked
kindly. “We have an appointment tonight.”
“Yes, sir. Pepper is happy to oblige.” “Pepper?” Hermione asked tentatively.
Severus was surprise, she rarely would ask the house elves for anything, still
vehemently against their positions in magical society. “I was wondering…oh. Um,
by any chance would you be able to, uh, make me some tuna macaroni and cheese?”
She glanced at Severus awkwardly, and he raised his eyebrows at her. “My mum
used to make it with cream of chicken soup…” She trailed off, her cheeks
pinking. “Pepper, I’m sorry. Don’t worry – ”
The elf broke her off. “I is happy to be getting Miss what she wants, I is!
Miss has lost too much weight with her baby sick! Miss is having cravings for
the wee one, yes? All Miss ever has to do is call for Pepper. Pepper will serve
young Miss happily! Pepper loves babies, Miss!” Another loud crack! and the elf
disappeared without waiting for a response.
Hermione looked flabbergasted and Severus had to hold back a snort of laughter.
“How did she know I’m pregnant?”
Severus looked at her, bemused. “Are you daft, witch? You’ve been vomiting and
requesting saltines for the last six weeks. She’s been scolding me hotly for
just as long for letting you lose too much weight. You’ll never be rid of her,
now. She’ll want to wait on you hand and foot. Tuna mac…really? That sounds
positively disgusting.”
She wrinkled her nose, but chortled. “I liked it as a kid, but haven’t had it
in years. It’s been all I can think about since lunch – I feel like I’m going
nuts!”
There was another crack!that came from Severus’s private quarters and they knew
the elf was setting up their meal. He stood and reached a hand out for her and
she laced her fingers through his. The elf Disapparated before they entered the
room and Hermione’s mouth watered at the plate of cheesy, creamy, pasta
goodness that was at her place. Severus was relieved that he had been served a
roast with potatoes and vegetables. There was a small loaf of crusty French
bread on the table. She let go of his hand and quickly plopped into her seat,
immediately picking up her fork and taking a rather large bite. The moan that
left her was primal and made Severus exhausted cock twitch approvingly even as
he laughed at her.
She gave him a playful glower, but continued to dig in with gusto. He poured
himself a glass of wine and tapped his wand to her goblet to chill her pumpkin
juice before settling across from her to start his own meal.
“Your letter?” he asked after a few bites of beef.
She swallowed thickly and took a sip of juice before answering him. “It was
from Molly!” she exclaimed with a smile. “Do you wish to read it?”
“Just tell me about it.” He shrugged and took a bite of steamed carrots and
hummed in approval. He was starving – he forgot what a great appetite inducer
sex could be.
She paused for a moment, a soft, secretive smile crossing her face which
brought Severus up short. He raised an eyebrow in question, chewing another
bite of the roast. “She’s wondering if we would like to get married over the
Easter holidays, being we’re in the family way.”
His quick inhalation of breath caused a coughing fit as he aspirated a small
piece of the meat. He reached for his goblet quickly, sputtering all the while.
“Are you okay?” Hermione asked anxiously, rising to her feet. He waved her off
and she sat, hesitantly. He motioned to her to continue with her meal as he
calmed himself and sipped carefully on his wine. Well, apparently shewas ready
to marry in less than three weeks…but was he? He shook his head trying to clear
his thoughts while giving little coughs to dispel the lingering ache of
breathing food into his lungs.
When he asked her to marry him, he had been positive she would want to wait
until she had completed a mastery apprenticeship. She had talked about going on
to University. He figured they’d have time. Yes, things had changed
drastically. Yes, she was pregnant – with his child. They were going to be
parents. Why was he even thinking about this? Of course they should get married
as soon as possible.
“When?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“You don’t want to?” she whispered, suddenly looking very unsure of herself. He
cursed flamboyantly in his head.
“Of course I do, Hermione.” He reached across the table and splayed out his
hand, asking for hers without words. She set down her fork and slipped her hand
into his, smoothing her fingers across his wrist. “I was just surprised, is
all.”
She studied him for a moment before giving a slow nod before pulling her hand
away so she could continue eating. “I was thinking the tenth. Molly offered to
put things together, but that will give me some time to be able to be a part of
the preparations. We would keep it small, there isn’t much time. My parents had
a small account put aside towards my wedding. It’s not much, but should cover
the costs,” she still wasn’t looking at him and he noticed she was playing with
her food.
“Hermione.” She looked at him then, swallowing at the warning note in his
voice. “I promise you, I wish to marry. I would have never asked you if I was
not serious about my intentions. I am not that kind of man.”
He saw her eyes well with tears and mentally continued to curse himself for his
callousness. “I know that, but so much has changed. You didn’t sign up for a
broken woman and a child before you’d even been with her a year. I would not
fault you if you had changed your mind. I know…I know I’m not the same person I
was when you proposed. I don’t know if I’ll ever get that person back.” She
lifted her chin, and even as it trembled, he saw her determination. “We don’t
have to marry this Spring, we can wait as long as you want. It’s okay if you’ve
changed your mind, I would understand.”
He growled and she flinched, her gaze dropped hastily. He stood and stalked
over to her, pulling her to her feet and grasping her shoulders. “Nothing will
make me change my mind! I told you when I proposed to you – willingly, without
coercion, without even having an inkling of an idea that you might say yes –
that I have waited my whole life for you. Do I wish the circumstances were
different? I do. I know you do, too. And, no, you’re not the same person – but
neither am I. I thought I lost you, Hermione. Another woman I loved – dead,
because of me. You will come out on top of this, I know you will.
These reasons do not mean I’m going to change my mind. You’re carrying my
child! I intend to make you my wife. You are going to cause me to lose my
patience with you if you continue to insist that I’m with you out of some
warped sense of responsibility. You are not an obligation, you are the woman
I’m in love with.” He grasped her chin and forced her eyes to his. “Do you love
me, Hermione?” Her eyes widened in surprise at the question and she nodded
frantically. “Do you wish to marry me?”
“Yes.” It was a whisper.
“I feel the same, please stop doubting yourself.” She heaved a great sigh and
leaned into him.
“I’m sorry I keep doing this,” she murmured as her arms slid around his waist.
He kept his at his sides. His prickly personality and frustration with her
self-depreciation kept him from returning her embrace. Moments ago they were at
peace with each other. This should have been a happy conversation. “I’m working
on it. I know it will get better.”
He let out a long breath, mentally counting to ten. He had to remember she had
been through something terrible. He had to remember she was pregnant and very,
very hormonal. He had to remember that no matter how mature she was, how
responsible she was, how determined she was; had to remember that no matter
what she had seen and done in her life, she was still quite young. He finally
slipped his arms around her, returning the embrace.
“You will, we’ll get there together.”
***** Chapter Thirty-Two *****
Chapter Notes
     I am sorry this took longer than I wanted. It was a bitch to write. I
     have never pieced together a chapter like this one. I wrote the
     beginning and the end first, then attempted to fill in the middle. It
     was excruciating. I hope the fact that it's nearly twice as long as
     my normal chapters makes up for the extra long wait! Thank my Beta's
     - they helped pull me through. SnowBlind12 (check her stories!) and
     DevilsDaughter13. Lots of love - Lissa
     PS: Does anyone know what's up with AFF? I can get to the site, but I
     can't navigate, and it won't let me post. :(
See the end of the chapter for more notes
===============================================================================
                               Chapter Thirty-Two
===============================================================================
"Come again?" Hermione's eyes were large, she couldn't believe that Dr. Jenkins
actually wanted her to answer that questions with Severus in the room.
"Do you blame Professor Snape for being abducted?"
"That's…ridiculous." She sputtered indignantly. "He fought with me – for me.
Why would I blame him?"
Dr. Jenkins turned his attention to Snape. "Do you blame yourself for
Hermione's abduction?"
Hermione's eyes flicked to her fiancé's dear face. No. He couldn't blame
himself. Could he? But the doctor's question was met with dead silence and
narrowed, glittering malevolently, obsidian eyes. She reached for his hand, but
he flinched away from her; his dark eyes flickering to hers. The guilt there
left her breathless. "No." She sat up straight and turned her whole body
towards him. "How could you possibly believe that?"
More silence. Hermione felt tears war with rage in her center. "Severus," she
whispered. "You fought with me. We were outnumbered. You were hit with four
stunners! This is not your fault."
His gaze turned away from her and fixed pointedly at the clock above Dr.
Jenkins' left shoulder. He sighed deeply when he realized he had another thirty
minutes of this utter rubbish.
"Don't." Her voice was flat. "Don't shut down. You've just dragged me out of my
desolation. Don't disappear into your own. Talk to us – to me!"
"I will talk to you, when we are home." That brought her up short.
"That doesn't help us here," she insisted. "You've been telling me I have to
talk to Dr. Jenkins for weeks. Now I am. He's requested you join me so you can
help me work through things. I need you to do this with me."
He glared at her, slowly crossing his arms over his chest and returning his
gaze to the mantel clock.
"Severus." He did not like the tone she was taking with him. She had no right
to talk to him like that. All patronizing and disappointed.
"I told you I didn't want to do this." He glared accusingly at the doctor who
held his gaze without flinching, much to Severus' astonishment.
After a short pause, Jenkins dipped his head. "You did. I disagreed. I think
that for you and Hermione to have a successful future, both together and as
parents, you need to discuss what happened. I would also like to delve into
your pasts – with your large parts in the war and your childhoods."
Severus bristled and stood abruptly. "I will be in the waiting room." He
informed them dismissively before taking his leave without a backwards glance.
The door clicked softly behind them and Dr. Jenkins met Hermione's tearful gaze
with a raised eyebrow.
"You have to realize that his part in the war was exceedingly difficult. If it
was not for Severus Snape, there is a real possibility the light would have
fallen. He…well. I don't even know where to begin."
"The beginning is always a good place to start…"
So, she spent the following half hour giving Dr. Jenkins a loose briefing on
everything she knew Severus Snape had a part of during the first and second
Wizarding Wars. Her information was second hand, of course (as he never spoke
about the wars with her directly). She barely got everything out before their
time was up and Dr. Jenkins stood.
"You've given me much to think about, Hermione. I will see you next week."
She gave him a weak nod and let herself out. Severus was waiting at the
fireplace, back ramrod straight, shoulders thrown back – intimidating. He was
hiding his discomfort behind a wall of intimidation…with her.
"Don't." She pleaded, stopping a few meters away from him.
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Don't what?" He doesn't even realize he's
doing it, it has been second nature to him for so long.
"Don't be Professor Snape with me." His mask of indifference turned wooden in
surprise and, with relief, she watched his shoulders fall.
She closed the distance between them then and took his hand, pulling it to her
face and pressing a kiss into his palm. "I know how difficult these sessions
are. There are horrors in both our lives that are…difficult to discuss. Let's
do this for each other – for our daughter. We deserve to give our family the
best chance possible. Promise you'll try."
He studied her impassively for a long time. So long, Dr. Jenkins exited his
office into the waiting room, keys rattling at he locked up for the night.
Severus muttered a quick Notice Me Not charm as the man's head snapped up,
looking around wildly. Of course, they were not seen. A few moments later, they
were plunged into darkness as Jenkins disappeared out the firm's door.
"I promise to think about trying."
She didn't feel she could ask for more than that.
===============================================================================
                              Saturday March 20th
===============================================================================
"Have fun today," Severus encouraged her tenderly, watching her pull on her
woolen hat and mittens. Hermione gave him a soft smile before crossing the room
to where he was seated behind his desk to press a chaste kiss to his hard
mouth.
"I will," she promised, bending her head to kiss him a second time. His hands
slid around her hips and he hesitantly deepened the kiss, nibbling the inside
of her bottom lip before coaxing her tongue out to play for too brief a moment.
When he pulled back, he was wickedly pleased to find her eyes still closed and
a dreamy expression on her face. When she blinked her eyes open only a second
later, his knowing, heated look made the blood rush to her face. "Stop." She
poked his shoulder gently with a half quirk of her pretty pink pout.
"Stop…what…exactly…Miss Granger?" He raised one dark brow, the heated look
smoldering as a smirk bloomed across his features. He deliberately let his
baritone rumble deep, his speech pattern falling into the one he used to
intimidate his classroom students. Her breath came to a complete stop and a
laugh rumbled from his chest. He reached up and snatched her chin between his
thumb and forefinger with a gruff gentleness, pulling her maw back to his
before dominating her with a searing kiss. She moaned against his mouth and let
him guide her until she was straddling his lap, her mitten-clad hands gripping
his shoulders. "Stop that?" He fought to control his breathlessness as he broke
their lip lock, her forehead fell to press into his neck.
"Yesss." She hissed the word, feeling like a pile of gelatin on a summer day –
melted and gooey. "Yes, if you keep that up, I'll never meet my friends in ti –
"
The rap on the door made her jump and she glanced quickly at his desk clock.
"Oh, I'm late!" she exclaimed, glaring as a deep chuckle escaped him. "This is
your fault!" she accused. "You can come in! I'm ready. Was just saying good-
bye!"
As soon as she had said "You can come in!" the door popped open to reveal Ginny
and Lizzie and Susan standing in it. Ginny made a face as she watched Hermione
climb off Severus' lap and Lizzie snickered indulgently.
"Have a good day, Professor Snape!" Susan said kindly and he gave the three
girls a dismissive wave while watching Hermione's flushed cheeks deepen to a
cherry red.
"Be safe, Hermione," he told her sternly. "Please." She reached and gave one
shoulder a squeeze.
"I promise."
"He's always so sweet?" Ginny asked once they were on the path between the
school and the small wizarding town.
"What?" Hermione felt distracted. She was nervous! She was actually going to be
sitting down to tell her ex-boyfriend's mother what she wanted for her wedding
to her school teacher. Could life get more odd?
"He's quite sweet with you," Ginny repeated without blinking an eye. "Is he
always so?"
"Oh," Hermione gave a secretive smile when she noticed Lizzie and Susan
watching her as closely as Ginny. "Yes and no. I mean, he's been extra gentle
in his nature as of late, but I know he's becoming frustrated with me. You know
his personality, he's very rough around the edges." She paused as her friends
nodded. "He's patient with me, though. More patient then he is in class. Before
Christmas, I would have told you he can be a total arse and that we butt heads
and argue a lot – which we did; and I know we'll continue to do so when things
get more back to normal. But…I do love him. He is so good to me – treats me
well."
"That's all? He treats you well?" Susan cocked her head. "I've seen the way he
looks at you when he thinks no one else is paying attention, Hermione. He
adores you. He looks at you like a starving man at a bakery window."
If her cheeks weren't already ruddy with the wet cold of Great Britain's March,
she knew she would have blushed.
"There's a serious heat between you," she continued, her eyes twinkling
devilishly.
"Hot for teacher!" Lizzie busted out laughing, her giggles echoing off their
surroundings. Hermione snorted when the other two looked confused.
"Muggle rock song," she said with a grin and a shrug. "And yes. I'll give it to
you. The air quite crackles with electricity when we're alone."
"Even when you're not alone, did you know Draco saw him squeeze your bum at the
Yule Ball?"
Hermione's mouth popped open in a surprised O. "I didn't, woops!" Her reply was
sheepish, her eyes lowered. Heat fused through her body at the remembrance of
what had happened after the Yule Ball.
"Is the sex good?" Ginny's lack of propriety made Hermione halt in her tracks.
"I'm sorry!" she rushed on at the stricken look on her friend's face.
"Hermione, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"It's…it's okay." She realized her friend was mostly likely apologizing about
the careless sex quip in light of her currently tragedies – and could she blame
her? Didn't teenagers talk about sex? "That's not what I was upset about," she
cleared her throat, taking in the three girls. "I'm not upset at all, you just
startled me with that question. I know it's normal for girlfriends to talk
about their sex lives, but I just…can't. He would be horrified. Suffice it to
say I am quite satisfied." Or would be if I could get back on the proverbial
saddle.
Ginny gave a quick nod, Lizzie hid a smile behind her hand.
They walked in silence for a bit before Lizzie spoke up. "Well, I don't think
Draco would mind if I bragged to my girlfriends." She broke the tension and the
other three girls gave her sideways glances and grins. "My sex life is
unbelievable." Susan snorted, half amused, half disgusted. She still didn't
like Malfoy even though she begrudgingly agreed he was different.
"You had sex with Malfoy?" Hermione's voice was surprised and a little sad. She
and Lizzie had spent many hours discussing their crushes and desires when it
came to the men in their lives earlier in the school year, but she had been so
out of touch with all her friends for so long now. Lizzie had lost her
virginity, and she hadn't been there to support her!
Lizzie must have noticed the sadness in her voice because she reached out and
took Hermione's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "Yes, and I'll tell you lot all
about it later in greater detail, when we have more time."
"Ron and I aren't there yet," Susan said with a flip of her ginger braid. "I'd
like to take it slow, he's been very understanding."
"As he should be." Hermione said softly. "He was never pushy, and he really
cares about you, Sue."
"This is my brother we're talking about." Ginny's face was a mask of morbid
curiosity and revulsion.
"What about you and Harry?" Lizzie smirked knowingly, throwing her arm over
Ginny's shoulder and pulling in. It was a bit of an awkward movement with Ginny
being quite a bit taller than her, both girls giggled as they stumbled.
Hermione felt a stab of jealousy at how close the two girls had become over the
last few months. Susan hesitantly linked her arm with Hermione's and gave the
brunette a tentative smile. Warmth flooded Hermione's chest and she returned
the smile, squeezing Susan's arm in thanks.
"We are making good progress," Ginny grinned with a laugh. "It's kinda fun
figuring this all out together. I ordered a couple books and we've been playing
around."
Hermione started to snicker in earnest while Lizzie looked intrigued. "Care to
share those books?" she said with a lilting laugh. "I could definitely use some
tricks up my sleeve. Draco is a bit more experienced then I am, it'd be fun to
surprise him."
Torrents of giggles ensued from all four girls as the crested the hill and made
their way onto Hogsmeade's streets. "We're gonna be late, we should move a bit
faster," Ginny stated once her chortles were under control.
They hurried the remaining yards to The Three Broomsticks, immediately spotting
Molly Weasley in a back-corner booth. "Over here!" The matronly woman cried out
with a big smile and wave. "Here, girls!"
Two hours later all was tentatively decided. Hermione would be staying at the
Burrow with everyone for the two weeks of break, something to which Severus had
tentatively agreed as long as she promised not to venture out alone. The
ceremony would be small and intimate. Draco would be Severus' best man and the
only people he had requested to invite were the Malfoy's. As much as Hermione
loathed Lucius Malfoy, she didn't feel she could deny him this only request.
Ginny was going to be Hermione's maid of honor, Harry and Ron were going to
give her away – as they were the only family she had left. It would be an
outdoor hand-fasting at sunset followed with a picnic dinner and cake and there
would be music and dancing. Molly promised to set up a ceremonial site and
would have a tent with heating charms for the meal and celebration after.
"Are you sure about the lemon cake, Hermione? That's a bit of an odd choice for
a wedding."
Hermione gave Molly a gentle smile, thinking about the cake she had made her
fiancé for his birthday. He'd eaten the whole thing within just a few days,
Hermione only having a piece that first night. "I'm positive. It's Severus'
favorite, and he already has handed this whole thing over to me. I want him to
have a few things that make it feel special and about him."
Molly grinned broadly and covered Hermione's hand with her own, giving it a
soft squeeze. "You're a thoughtful child."
"Now, mum?" Ginny's tone had changed and Hermione glanced at her friend with a
quizzical look.
"Okay, Ginny, now," Molly chortled.
"Now we get to go have some fun!" Ginny stood quickly and pulled Hermione to
her feet.
"Fun?" The curly haired brunette was bewildered, but allowed herself to be
pushed into her outer-things and pulled out of the bar and down the street, the
rest of the party trailing behind them with secretive smirks.
"Ready?" Ginny said, bouncing on the balls of her feet while Susan and Lizzie
giggled and Molly grinned tolerantly.
"For wha - ?"
"Dress shopping, of course!" The auburn-haired witch took her friend's
shoulders and turned her to face a shop with a beautiful mannequin in the
window wearing a pretty, poufy, white, gauzy dress. Hermione's heart almost
stopped.
"Everthine's." The name of the shop came out soft and wistful. "I never even
though about a dress." She turned to her friends and surrogate mother with wide
eyes. "I'm picking out a wedding dress!" It was an elated whisper said with
such emotion Molly's eyes filled with tears.
"Yes, dear," she told the young woman with tenderness.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in her first gown. A form fitting silk that
clearly showed off the slight swell of her belly. It was vetoed immediately.
Next, a princess gown that made Hermione feel like she was drowning in taffeta
and ribbons. Molly beamed and encouraged her to put it in the maybe pile, but
Hermione was dead set against it and told the attendant to make it disappear.
Fifteen dresses and an hour and a half later, she stood staring at herself in
the mirror with all three friends and Molly, none of them had been able to say
a word when she had stepped out in this particular dress. The bodice was a bit
risky – a nude tulle stitched with rich ivory lace leaving gaps in the fabric
to show skin along her rib cage and upper belly. It had a plunging sweetheart
neckline and she knew she'd have to perfect the lifting charm her attendant had
used to put the girls in just the right spot. The lace trailed past the empire
waistline in points down each hip where the material turned to chiffon and
flowed to the floor. The right leg had a slit that went up almost entirely to
her navel, but modestly was preserved with a lace underlay that peeked through
the part. Where the front of the dress was elegantly sexy, the back was
downright provocative. The covering over her breasts swept up in cap sleeves
that topped each shoulder before spilling down the back sides of her rib cage,
leaving her back bare in a low dipped V. More lace trailed over the top of her
bum before also turning into chiffon that waterfalled down her legs to a very
short train. It was earthy and beautiful and reminded her just slightly of her
Yule ball gown that had received such a heated reaction from her wizard. The
barely-there evidence of her pregnancy was sheathed in the chiffon and not even
remotely noticeable.
"It's not…too sexy?" Hermione asked tentatively, terrified to be told the dress
wasn't appropriate.
"Heaven's, no," Lizzie exclaimed, the first to be able to pull her jaw from the
floor and answer her bedazzled friend.
"I can see by the look in your eyes this is it, Hermione. The professor will
adore it, you look stunning," Susan said with heartfelt sincerity.
"Molly?" Hermione whispered, looking at the woman in question in the mirror.
They locked eyes and Hermione was startled to see tears, even more so when her
own eyes started to prickle.
"You look like perfection itself, my dear." Molly's smile was watery, and she
raised a fist to her mouth to cover her gentle cough of emotion. She had hoped
for so long this young woman would be her daughter someday, her emotions were
bittersweet. She would keep her in her family no matter what it took.
Once gleaning her mother's approval, Ginny spoke up. "It's not too sexy,
'Mione. It's exactly sexy enough. He's not going to know what hit him."
===============================================================================
                               Monday March 22nd
===============================================================================
"I told you during our last session I would not discuss this."
"But you also said you'd discuss it with me privately and you've skirted the
issue all damn week, Severus. We need to talk about this! I will not have it
hanging over our heads. We are getting married in just over two weeks!"
"Don't be preposterous. This changes nothing. We will marry and we will be
perfectly fine!"
"Preposterous!" Hermione's voice was incredulous. "You think I'm being silly!?
Nuh-uh. You're the one who thinks my abduction was your fault! How many times
have you insisted over and over again that it wasn't my fault? That I was
blameless. I believed you – I still believe you, but I will not stand here and
let you blame yourself. It was no more your fault than mine. We were
surrounded, outnumbered, out-wanded. I thought – " She broke off and sucked in
a huge gasp of air, her tummy rolling with nerves and a turmoil of emotions. "I
thought they killed you. When you fell at my back. You hit the ground with a
thud that was…my heart stopped." She clutched her hand to her chest, fighting
back tears, breaths coming in hiccupping heaves of hurt. "I stopped fighting.
They asked me to give up my wand, and I did so willingly. I would go through it
all again if it meant saving your life, but that does not mean it was my fault.
You taught me that. You made me see that. What do I have to do to make you see
that the people to blame are the men who took me? The ones who hurt me are the
ones we must fight against. We must fight against them, not each other. We
cannot let them win!"
She stared at his unmoving profile. His jaw was set with deep tension.
"I will not air my grievances in front of some Muggle quack pot!" He exploded
out after a few moments. "I am not talking to him about our personal lives,
Hermione! I will not stand for this drivel!" For the second time in as many
session, she watched him jerkily stand to his feet and stride out of the
office, slamming the door behind him.
Her face colored with embarrassment and she flipped a look at Dr. Jenkins after
watching him go with open-mouthed horror. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. I think…I
think it's best to cut this one short, yeah?"
The doctor, instead of looking insulted or infuriated simply looked bemused, it
made her pause. "I believe that Severus is embarrassed about discussing his
past with me. His lack of knowledge of the - Muggle you call it, right? – the
Muggle world is probably a bit frightening to him. I am Muggle through and
through and therefore am not someone to trust. My science is not exact, and
while I know he's an intellectual, I would surmise he is not well versed in the
art of psychology."
"That's rubbish," she snapped. "His father was a Muggle. I know it's just his
personality. He doesn't trust many, he's a very private person."
"How many years has he been out of connection with the Muggle world, Hermione?"
This gave her pause. "At least…well, at least twenty."
"And many things have changed in the last twenty years, have they not?" he
prodded continually.
"I suppose they have, yes."
"I think he is uncomfortable with the situation he finds himself in and I think
he blames himself for many, many things. I think it starts back with his
friendship to Lily Potter née Evans and the poor choices he made as a young
adult and snowballs through the first and second of your wars. He has seen and
had to do many terrible things. He gave up happiness and the chance at a life
over and over again until it escalated out of control. I do not think he
expected to survive the war, my dear." He paused to let his words sink in.
"When it was all over, both his Masters – yes, his Masters, Hermione. Voldemort
and Dumbledore were his Masters. He took their direction for years. What they
did not control of his life he controlled behind a mask of unfeeling and
loathing for self-protection. When it was over, his Masters were dead and you
were there. For some reason, he left the mask off and let you in – only you, it
seems. He grew more and more comfortable in this role, only putting his
disguise on when he felt threatened, am I right?"
Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. How had she not seen this? "If he would
talk to us, I would bet his relationship with his parents was not good. I
suspect an abusive home, abuse from his father – if not from both of his
parents." Hermione covered her mouth when a saddened gasp was not able to be
stifled. "I suspect his friendship with Lily was the first thing that felt pure
and good in this world for him. When she fell in love with his enemy, he felt
betrayed and fled to his friends who led him to Voldemort. I am just
speculating, Hermione, because you do not know these things for sure, and he
has not opened up to me. These are my suspicions, though. There is deep seated
guilt and self-loathing in that man. He blames himself for many things that
were simply out of his control, such as your abduction. Just promise me you
will continue to prod him to come. We will continue to work diligently to
unravel you both and help you both heal.
"In most cases such as this, I would feel remised not to warn my client that
you are marrying someone you do not know and should think long and hard before
moving forward." When Hermione's face drained of all color, he cleared his
throat. "In most cases, that is. For you and your professor…something tells me
no matter where our sessions lead us, the two of you are quite suited and will
always find a way to work through your difference and quarrels. You've been
through so much already and neither has been willing to walk away. It seems to
me that your love for each other is larger than life."
===============================================================================
She finished her session with Dr. Jenkins even though she wanted to rush after
Severus. She was glad she did, because the rage that had ignited in her belly
when he stormed out the second time after promising to try the last time had
time to die down. She understood the pain and fear of not wanting to share. Had
she not gone through it for weeks and weeks before she was finally able to open
up?
She flooed through and, when straightening to her full height in their
quarters, found him sitting silent and still as stone in the dark leather
wingback chairs. A crystal tumbler of amber liquid in one hand. He didn't meet
her eyes as she brushed the soot of her traveling cloak before removing it to
hang on the rack. She felt his eyes on her, even if he wasn't moving.
She turned to look at him, and this time he met her eyes. The pain in his
almost took her breath away. "Severus," she murmured, taking a step and
reaching one hand out to him. He broke their look and flicked his eyes to the
fire, watching it consume the logs in the hearth. She crossed to him and, even
though he gave a slight protest, climbed into his lap, settling her bum
comfortably in the crease between his knees. She took the tumbler of alcohol
and set it on the table, all the while holding his guarded gaze. Then she
slowly wrapped one arm around his shoulders, using her free arm she guided his
head to her breast and held him to her, pressing a kiss to his oily hair.
Severus was confused and bit alarmed at being treated like a small child
needing to be held in his mother's arms, but his mental turmoil was such he
didn't resist. After a moment, he succumbed to her warmth and buried his face
in the valley between her breast as his arms encircled her waist tightly. She
said nothing to him, just held his head, gently stroking his hair and
occasionally pressing more kisses to the top of his head.
The words started to bloom out of him before he could stop them. "I do not
blame myself as much as I am angry with myself. Why I thought that I alone
could protect you in the madness of Diagon Alley the day after Christmas, I
will never know. We should have never been out. I am livid with myself for not
seeing that ahead of time and insisting you stay with me at the castle. I would
have taken your resentment willingly, if I could have saved you from what you
had to endure.
"I feel guilt at what they took from you and sadness for what you have lost.
They smothered your fire, Hermione, and your fire is what brought me back to
life. Watching you these weeks has shattered me, and I had only just begun to
rebuild, myself. I had only just started to let myself hope for things I never
thought I would achieve. A wife, a family, a home…love. These concepts were
things I had told myself I would never, ever have even though I wanted them
desperately." She said nothing, just held him a little more tightly.
"When I…when I woke in my hospital bed back in June to find you sleeping in the
chair next to me, my world tilted on its axis. I couldn't understand what you
were doing there, which is why I raged at you – you remember?" She gave a
noncommittal grunt in her throat.
"How could you forget?" He smirked into her cleavage and tightened his arms,
smoothing his palms down her back. "The nurse that witnessed my rage gave me a
right scolding after you fled. She told me that you had sat by my bedside
almost every day for a month. She told me you read to me from the paper and
that you sang to me, but mostly that you had just sat with me, holding my hand
and talking. Tell me what had been happening since the war.
"I couldn't understand why you would do something like that and I admit I was
ashamed of the way I had gone off on you. I was positive I would not see you
again until we had returned to Hogwarts, but you came back the next day. I
think I fell in love with you then, you know? You walked through the door in
your skin-tight jeans and that white peasant top. Your hair was wild and bushy,
your stance defensive and guarded, but your face." Here he pulled back and
cupped her face in her hands. Her eyes were shinning with unshed tears of
surprise at his detailed recollection. "Gods, Hermione, your face. Brilliant
determination mixed with an emotion I couldn't place. I can place it now – you
loved me then, too, didn't you?"
She let out a shuddering breath as a tear slipped down her cheek and nodded.
"I'd been infatuated with you for years," she whispered. "I knew you were not
what you seemed. I just knew everyone was wrong. It became harder to defend
you, though. Especially…well, especially after Dumbledore. I regret that I
stopped defending you. I stopped trying to make other people believe you were
good." He flinched slightly and she trailed her fingers up his arms and
entwined them with his. "It felt wrong, in my heart of hearts I knew it wasn't
what it had seemed, but all the proof…well. You know where all the proof
pointed." He nodded.
"When I…when Harry told us about your memories. Oh, Severus." A small sob
escaped her and she pressed her forehead to his, releasing one of his hands to
cup her palm around his face, she pressed a kiss to his lips. "I was
devastated. For you, I was devastated for you. You had given up your whole life
to protect Harry because you loved his mother. I – I couldn't imagine a love
like that. My first instinct was to find you. I was determined to see you get a
proper burial – one with the dignity and respect you had deserved. To find you
alive…oh my God. I never expected – never dreamed – you could have survived.
When I saw you there, my heart stopped. When it restarted I knew then. I had
always respected you, I had always admired you. I had never taken your nasty
comments and put downs to heart, they just seemed a coping mechanism to me.
While some of them were hurtful and demeaning, I worked very hard to not take
them personally, to watch you and continue to respect who you were. But when I
saw you alive, knowing your whole story, that is when I realized I could love
you. I never in a million years dreamed you would let me in, let alone love me
back."
"You didn't give me a choice!" He almost laughed. "You wouldn't stay away. When
I realized what was happening, I fought it."
"I know you did!" She did laugh. "I told myself you were just not use to being
on the receiving end of compassion and was determined to make you accept mine."
"You succeeded, up until that disastrous kiss."
"That kiss was wonderful," she whispered. "We were both too stubborn to see
what it really had been. We both thought we had forced ourselves on the other.
I had no intention of making a move until I had graduated, you know. I didn't
want to come off as some silly little school girl with a crush on her teacher."
"What made you change your mind?"
"You did, when you kissed me again. I wasn't going to tell you no, I could have
never told you no. The months that followed were…Severus. They were the best of
my life, even with the death of my parents, having you was everything.
Everything." He pulled her in closer and pressed his lips to hers gently.
She sighed when they parted and nestled her face into his neck before she
continued to speak. "When you fell at my back and I thought you were dead for
those agonizing seconds, I was determined to make them kill me. When I felt you
breathing at my feet, I was determined to survive as long as they let you
survive. And we did, we lived. We are living. Now…now we need to heal.
"We have to let Dr. Jenkins guide us, love. I know you're unfamiliar with this
science, but it's helping me. It helped Susan. It will only make us stronger. I
need you to be there with me. Pretend he's not there, talk to me, don't talk to
him. We have to do this to survive. I need you to survive. To be healthy, to be
whole. Will you? For me? Can you? For us?"
She felt the tension and fight drain out of him. "Yes," he breathed finally. "I
can. I will."
She pulled back and locked eyes with him. "Do you promise me?"
"I promise you."
He kissed her, fiercely and she felt a molten need for him after their
confessions. She wanted to be close to him, wanted him to touch her. Their
melding of mouths grew heated and she felt him swell beneath her bum quickly.
She buried her fingers in his hair and held on for dear life as her desperation
for him swept her up like a riptide. She gasped audibly when his lips left her
to seek her neck, massaging the corded tendons and muscles with his tongue. She
groaned and felt her body start to tremble with anticipation. There was no
fear, for the first time in months, there was no fear.
"Severus," she said desperately. "Gods!" she cried out when he bit her where
her neck met her shoulder. "Severus, I want you to put your hands on me," she
begged, squirming in his lap fitfully.
"Yes," he agreed fervently. He stood with seemingly no effort and crossed the
room to the large four-poster. Reverently he lay her back on the comforter and
stretched out on top of her. She welcomed him, opening her arms and legs,
sighing as his hips settled into the cradle of her thighs. His weight was
deliciously heavy and hot. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his
mouth back to hers, desire surging through her. Her hips rolled and he groaned,
deepening the kiss, splaying his hands up her rib cage and cupping a breast
through her clothing. She arched into him greedily, she was frantic for his
touch, all her worries and anxiety seemed to have melted away. Somehow, between
the kissing and the lazy touches, they found themselves undressed and, as his
fingers dipped into her sopping silt, a shuddering sigh slipped past trembling
lips.
His visceral groan as he gently pushed two fingers inside her was almost enough
to make her come undone. She felt a deep aching fill her chest as the emotions
of being touched by him again and not being afraid crashed over her. Her hips
thrust into his hand as she tilted her neck back to seek his eyes. Heated coal
burned into warm chocolate and he moved forward slowly to take and seal his
mouth to hers again.
"Can I put my mouth on you, love?" He begged quietly when they parted. His
thumb was swirling the bundle of nerves under her hood and her little sex
noises were driving him mad.
"Only if I can put my mouth on you, too," she answered softly. His grunt of
surprise made her lips curl up into a smirk which turned into a little whimper
of disappointment when his hand pulled away from her. He rolled onto his back,
his erection standing vertically from his body, thick and hot and proud. Her
mouth watered at the sight.
They had never done this before and he gave her that breath stealing, devilish
smile before calmly saying. "You'll have to sit on my face to make this work."
A nervous giggle left her, but she allowed him to guide her into place. The
slight swell of her abdomen pressed into his chest, but it wasn't too
uncomfortable, and was immediately forgotten at the contact of his mouth
pressed to her clit. "Fuck!" she hissed and his responding chuckle vibrated her
folds and only served to make her shudder.
He worked her for a moment, going slowly, letting her get use to the new
position and sensations. When a tentative hand reached for and encircled his
weeping prick, he let out a grunt that made her gasp. Then she let herself go,
engulfing him in her hot orifice, sucking hard and pulling him deep as one hand
pumped the base of his cock. His hips jerked and he gave a rumble of need.
He dipped his tongue into her and she keened around him, the vibrations pulling
his bollocks up tight and he fought his release, trying to time it with her
own. She surprised him by grinding her hips down onto him and he stifled a
laugh as his nose grazed her clit. The laugh turned into another hum of
pleasure when the sensation made her lips lock down harder and her suction
increase. Her tongue was deliciously out of control and his hips bucked lazily,
loving everything she was doing. When her legs started to tremble and her lower
body froze in delectable anticipation he stopped holding back. Then she was
quivering and humming with her release, the suction of her mouth around his
cock was almost painful as less than a second later he poured himself into her
mouth. He felt her swallowing around his cock, and her jerk and moan of
pleasure as he locked on to her clit to drag out her pleasure made him flex his
hips again. Her mouth came off him with a wet pop, but her hand was still
wrapped firmly around his dick as she trembled and jerked. Her face was press
to his hip, nose nuzzling his groin and she audibly gasped and shuddered and
tried to catch her breath as he lapped up her creamy, mouthwatering release.
Moments later, she was curled into him, their naked limbs entangled, their arms
wrapped passionately together, kissing almost desperately. "You're okay?" He
almost begged her, his veins were singing, blood rushed in his ears, his heart
pounding with abandoned joy. She was tearful, but assured him they were happy
tears.
"I am, I swear. That was wonderful, I've missed you so much." It was said
between a dozen soft, chaste kisses and gentle fingertip caresses. "I love
you," she whispered against his jaw. "So much, thank you. Thank you."
He just kissed her in reply.
===============================================================================
                               Friday March 26th
===============================================================================
"Severus, everyone is staring," she whispered self-consciously. "You're going
to ruin your reputation."
"I don't bloody well care at the moment, do I?" he said gruffly into her ear.
They were at the Hogsmeade train station where Hermione was going to boarding
the Hogwarts Express with her friends momentarily and he had suddenly gotten
quite touchy feely with her, one hand on her low back, the other holding her
hand as he moved to stand closer to her. Granted, this was going to be the
longest they'd been apart since her abduction, but students were not even
attempting to hide the fact that they were ogling the duo with interest.
"You're the feared Potions master, however will they continue to be afraid of
you if they see you feeling up your child bride?" she teased him with a grin on
her face and glint in her eyes.
His eyes narrowed a bit before he leaned his lips to her ear and his silky
baritone rumbled into her psyche. "Should we give them something to talk
about?" She could have orgasmed on the spot from his voice alone, but then his
lips were on hers. She squeaked with surprise, her eyes almost popping out of
her head. If they hadn't already been the center of attention, the laugh that
poured out of him when she pushed him away in shock solidified the fact that
every single eye was on them.
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water for a few seconds before
she shook her head with a hasty smile. "You have no idea what I'm going to have
to field on the damn train now, you git," she hissed, still teasing him. He
gave her a crooked smile and touched his fingers lightly to her cheek bone. She
actually heard a gaggle of sixth year Hufflepuffs sigh. She felt a blush bloom
through her face and ducked her head, letting a curtain of frizz shield her
face from the onlookers.
"I will see you Monday at your therapy session," he said quietly. "Enjoy your
time with your friends and ceremony preparations."
"I will miss you, so much." The look of adoration on her face made his chest
constrict.
"And I, you, pet. Please. Be safe." It was as close to begging as he would ever
get.
"I will go nowhere without asking you to meet me and at least two other people.
I swear."
"You best."
"I do. Kiss me good-bye." The train whistle blew just after the words left her
mouth. He dropped a chaste, sweet kiss to her lips and brushed her cheek again
before taking a step back from her and dropping the hand he had laced through
hers.
"I will not watch the train leave," he said softly. "That is entirely too
sappy."
She snorted a laugh even though her eyes were damp with moisture at their
imminent parting. "I agree." She said primly, tilting her chin up as her eyes
glittered with humor.
He ached to pull her into his arms and kiss her like he would never see her
again, but their interaction in front of the other students and staff were
already making him quite uncomfortable. Instead, he gave her a shallow bow,
took her hand placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, stepped back, and
Disapparated.
She stood where she was for a moment before Ginny and Lizzie appeared and
linked their arms through hers. "You'll see him in a few days," Lizzie insisted
as she guided her friend away. Hermione couldn't help looking back over her
shoulder at the spot where he disappeared. She was already on the verge of
panicking without him. They had spent at least a portion of every day together
for the last three months.
"I know," she whispered, her throat tight. "I'm okay."
Ginny let out a low chortle. "You look like you're going to burst into tears,"
she countered.
"I'm trying not to."
"Aw, honey." Lizzie wrapped her arm around her shoulders.
"I'll be okay. It's just weird being without him."
"I promise, mum and I are going to keep you so busy, you won't have time to
think," Ginny promised.
Chapter End Notes
     Wedding Dress
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     Couture-Sexy-Sheath-font-b-Wedding-b-font-Dress-font-b-Bodice-b-
     font.jpg
     Yule Ball Gown
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     Navy-Blue-font-b-Green-b-font-font-b-Mermaid-b-font-Lace-Evening.jpg
***** Chapter Thirty-Three *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: So, let's just be honest. RL has been kind of stupid. HOWEVER - I
     am in my last week of summer classes. I only have two tests, a
     discussion post and two response posts and I'm done. Thank goodness.
     I have a few weeks off before fall classes start. I'd like to say I
     hope to finish this story during that time....but I'm not quite that
     delusional. I do hope updates will come more frequently. Thank you to
     my Beta's DevilsDaughter13 and SnowBlind12 for their endless support
     and friendship. Love you girls!
===============================================================================
                              Chapter_Thirty-Three
                                 Malfoy Manor
===============================================================================
 
“It’ll be fine,” Hermione insisted, hugging her friend tightly. “I’ll see you
next Friday for dinner. I’m nervous, too.”
Draco rolled his eyes as Lizzie and Hermione squeezed each other tightly for a
moment before gently tugging on a lock of her hair.
“Everything is going to be fine, Liz,” he promised. “My mum is going to love
you.”
Lizzie pulled back from her friend and gently touched the girls’ face. “’Mione,
I’m so happy you’re back with us. I’ve missed you so much.”
Hermione took a moment to collect her emotions before giving her friend a
watery smile. “I missed you, too, but I’m back on track. Things will be fine.
You’re such a wonderful friend, I’m so lucky to have you.” She leaned in and
gave Lizzie a peck on the cheek before squeezing her hands and dropping them.
Draco raised an eyebrow with a teasing twinkle in his eye. “Any chance the next
snog could be on the lips? That’s quite a fantasy of mine…”
Both girls smacked him playfully on the shoulder before dissolving into
giggles. “What?” he said, feigning innocence behind a smirk. “No harm in a
fantasy, right?”
“Lizzie kissing me is a fantasy?” Hermione copied his move and raised an
eyebrow as a few people pushed past them getting in que to leave the train.
“Granger, c’mon.” He rolled his eyes. “There isn’t a bloke at school who
doesn’t think you’re hot. And of course, my Lizzie is drop dead gorgeous.”

Hermione snorted, then conspiratorially eyed up Lizzie, giving her a slight
wink as Draco was distracted when a firstie bumped into him. She let her voice
go all low and husky and reached out a hand to brush a lock of golden hair out
of her friends’ eyes. “Lizzie is gorgeous, I have to agree with you there,
Draco.” She let her fingers trace Lizzie’s cheek bone, both of them gazing at
each other before glancing at Draco and bursting into giggles. Poor Draco
looked like he was ready to cream his trousers.
“Maybe some time when we’re drunk, Malfoy,” Hermione grinned.
“Damn,” he hissed. “You totally had me going for a sec.” He gave both girls a
wolfish grin before hooking his arm through his girlfriend’s and giving
Hermione a two-fingered salute. “Don’t let my Father intimidate you next
Friday, Granger. He’s an arse. See you in a week.”
“Later, Malfoy. Bye, Lizzie.” She watched them get swept up in the crowd.
“That was nice advice, Draco,” Lizzie murmured. “Do you have anything for me?”
“Yeah,” he said, his nerves showing for the first time as he spotted his mother
in the throngs of people waiting to pick up their kids. “It doesn’t matter what
my father thinks of you.” He glanced at her, and she saw the serious concern in
his eyes. “I love you, and I’m not letting him get between us.”
Lizzie felt her heart stutter in her chest before it took off at a breakneck
speed while her tummy did a belly flop. “I love you, too,” she whispered.
“Thank you for telling me.” He brought them up short for a moment and grasped
the back of her neck to press a kiss to her forehead.
“Here’s my mum,” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers before pulling
away. There was a spindly house elf next to the beautiful, regal-looking woman
who immediately (and without a word) took a hold of both their trunks and
Disapparated with a resounding crack!Lizzie tried not to gawp after the thing.
“Draco, this must be Elizabeth” Narcissa Malfoy stuck out a perfectly manicured
hand, two rings glittering brilliantly in the late afternoon sun.
“Hello, Mum,” Draco said with a tender smile. “Yes, this is she.”
“Please,” Lizzie said with her signature blinding smile. “Call me Lizzie, Mrs.
Malfoy.” She slipped her tiny hand into the other woman’s and shook it firmly.
“I’m so happy to meet you.” She ducked her head, feeling a bit awkward and shy
in the shadow of this stunning woman.
“Lizzie it is. Please, feel free to call me Narcissa. Draco has told me so much
about you. You are just as beautiful as he described.” Narcissa tilted her head
to the side with a gentle smile as Lizzie felt her face flush red with
pleasure. “He’s warned you my husband will most likely talk out of his arse
tonight, yes?”
Draco snorted, letting a real grin settle on his face as he stuck his hands in
his pant pockets. “Nice way to put it, Mum.” He leaned and kissed Narcissa on
the cheek she presented for him.
“Let’s go get the unpleasantries over with, shall we?” Narcissa turned and
walked to the line in front of the large brazier used for floo travel from the
station.

Lizzie glanced at Draco, who quickly and firmly took her hand in his and
squeezed.
===============================================================================
“Here is your room, Lizzie.” Narcissa presented the girl. “The house elves will
have already settled your things. Please feel free to dress for dinner, which
will be on the table in thirty minutes.” She left with a motherly pat on the
cheek for Draco, who opened the guest room door for Lizzie and gestured her
inside.
“My room’s across the hall,” he told her with a sly grin. “My folks aren’t the
hoity-toity, no sex until marriage type. I was given the talk about magical
birth control for men when I was twelve and taught to use it before I have sex
every time until I get married. Separate rooms are just a show on my mother’s
behalf.”
Lizzie snorted as she entered the room and then gasped. It was huge, with
vaulted ceilings and elaborate design. Silk damask wallpaper in cream and gold
covered the walls to the white wainscoting and chair rail, glazed white crown
molding with corner sconces braced what could only be a silver paneled ceiling
where a huge crystal candle chandelier swayed in the middle and four smaller
near each corner of the room. There was a massive, white and ivory canopy bed
in the center of the room to the far wall with gauzy white drapery for privacy.
The furniture was antiqued cream inlaid with gold trim and white marble tops.
The floor was a deep, dark grey hardwood that offset the room beautifully. At
the opposite end of the room was an enormous white marble fireplace with gold
veins. On each side were grey, built in bookcases crammed with books and
crystal figurines.
“Oh my God, Draco,” Lizzie whispered, turning in a circle, her arms splayed
out, eyes cast up to the shimmering light fixtures.
Draco smirked. He might have changed, but he was still smug about his family’s
heritage and riches. “I’m glad you like it, wait ‘til you see the lav.”
She glanced at him with sparkling eyes before darting to the far door that
could only be the bathroom. “Holy shit!” she cried out and he started to laugh.
“This tub is like a five-person jacuzzi!” She popped back out, eyes smoldering
with a devilish grin on her face. “Tell me we can try that out tonight.”
With a low growl, Draco stalked toward her across the room, she didn’t even
pretend to be alarmed as she met him part way and allowed him to sweep her into
his arms, his mouth descending on hers hungrily. “Not now, Draco,” she managed
between kisses. “I – oomf!” She braced both hands on his chest and pushed back
with a tinkling giggle. “I have to dress for dinner!” She froze suddenly and
his ardor vanished at the blatant look of terror in her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” He was concerned.
“I’m scared, Draco,” she whispered, her eyes dropping as she started to tremble
slightly. “I want your parents to like me.”
Draco sighed and pulled her in tight. “My mum already does, I promise. My
father…Liz, my father just got out of prison. He’s still under house arrest.
He’s nothing to fear. I believe he’s learned his lesson. The mud we have to
drag this family out of is deep. He’s a pompous arse, but he’ll accept this or
he’ll lose me.”
Lizzie’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t be rash, he’s your father.”
“I’m not being rash, Lizzie.” He shook his head, his eyes earnest. “He might be
my father, but you’re my future.”
Lizzie’s face froze in shock and then crumpled with emotion. She leaned forward
and kissed him gently. “I feel the same way, Draco. That you’re my future.”
He let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding after she answered
his bold declaration, and after giving her one more tight squeeze, he stepped
back and let her go. “Freshen up, I’ll meet you in the hallway in fifteen
minutes.”
===============================================================================
Lucius Malfoy was amused with his Draco’s rebellion, but he honestly couldn’t
blame him for his dalliance when the wispy little beauty arrived at the table
on his son’s arm. She was stunning. All petite with fine bones and delicate
facial features. The utter epitome of the fairer sex, much like his Narcissa.
It wasn’t until she started speaking that he really found his son’s appeal to
the little Mudblood wench, however. She was bright, quick witted, more than
acceptable manners (especially being she was a Yank), and had a marvelous sense
of humor. It was really too bad her parentage tainted her so. He wondered if
his son had bedded her yet. He imagined bedding the wench himself. It was a
delectable thought that passed through his mind as he undressed her with his
eyes. He smirked when his son noticed and watched the lad’s face darken
perceptibly.
“Tell us about your parents, Elizabeth.” Narcissa was saying when he broke eye
contact with Draco and tuned back into the conversation.
“My mom stays home with my siblings.” The blonde chit answered with a dimpled
smile. Lucius felt his cock stir and bit back a chuckle as his mind continued
to race with images of debauching the girl. She’d be a damn sight more fun to
corrupt than the Granger girl had been, so much more beautiful and petite. He
forced himself to listen, giving her a politely bored look. “I have four
brothers and a baby sister.” Lucius felt his eyebrows raise and a sneer cross
his face. Great. A blonde, Mudblooded Weasley, as it were. It took an
unacceptable amount of force not to roll his eyes.
Narcissa, charming as ever, continued to look delighted. “Where do you fall in
that impressive lineup?”
“I’m the oldest,” Lizzie replied politely.
“Is your sister magical?” Lucius reached for his goblet of elfin wine ask he
asked his question. “Often times, magic will run through all female children
born to Muggle parents.”
Draco looked inordinately pleased with his question and he gave a slight nod
and twinkle of his eye to make the boy think he was trying.
Lizzie looked slightly surprised at this and he grimaced internally. Did she
not have the decency to explore her tainted history?
“Thus far, Sarah hasn’t shown any sort of magical capability.” She paused.
“However, she only just turned two, recently. My magic didn’t manifest until I
was almost five.”
“What did you make happen?” Narcissa’s eyes twinkled with merriment and Lucius
was taken aback by his wife’s sincerity of interest. Surely she did not approve
of this obvious gold-digging bint.
“I prevented my infant brother from getting hurt.” It was said very quietly,
almost fearfully. “We were at a park, and my mother became distracted by
another child who was lost. It was my fault, really. I thought I could push the
stroller to her, but was too little. I lost control and there was this little
hill that sloped to a pond. I didn’t cry or scream or anything, but when my
mother called out frantically and started to run, she scared me and I levitated
the stroller back to the path. It was seen by at least a dozen Muggles and the
Magical State Government had to be dispatched to perform Obliviates. My parents
were allowed to keep their knowledge to help protect me from further accidents,
such as it were. It was a very off-putting experience. I remember telling them
I didn’t want to be a witch.”
It was quiet for a few moments before he decided to continue to play the
gallant host. “I can only imagine it was a traumatic experience for such a
young child.”
That dimpled smile split her face again and his placket grew even more tight.
He clenched his teeth and gave a slight shrug as if to brush off her unspoken
thanks. She turned to Draco, her eyes glowing and he had to bite back a laugh.
The twit thought she was gaining his approval, Draco’s tight smile told him the
lad new better. Well, he did have a hand in raising the boy.
“And your father, what does he do?” Narcissa prompted as a change of course
magically appeared in front of them.
Lizzie was momentarily distracted by their main course, beautifully displayed
carvings of roast duck over a bed of steamed green and black beans drizzled
with a citrus pan sauce, sided with roasted and seasoned baby red potatoes. It
was Draco’s favorite, definitely not one of his. He was never a fan of duck. He
lifted his eyes back to the girl and observed as she watched Narcissa from
under lowered lashes, double checking what utensils to use and how to start
disassembling the meal into bite sized pieces. He was begrudgingly impressed
with her fortitude and determination.
After Narcissa had placed a bite of duck in her pretty mouth, Lizzie picked up
her utensils and started to prepare her own first bit with dignified grace
while answering the question posed to her. “My father is a classified military
personnel member. Even our family is not really allowed to know what he does.
He’s currently employed at the U.S. Embassy in London.”
“Do you live directly in the heart of London, then?” Lucius asked politely. He
knew her family was in a safe house. The moment he heard Draco was bringing her
home for break, he decided to do some digging. Mostly for his own curiosity,
partly because he’d love to tell his higher up where they could find a new
family to destroy. A dark chuckle curled through his mind.
“No, actually. My mom fell in love with a beautiful townhouse in the suburb of
Sutton, right near Horton County Park.” The stupid blonde girl answered with a
smile. “It’s quite a lovely area.”
“I’m sure it is.” Lucius murmured demurely, but he knew his son saw the
glittering malevolence in his eyes and watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple
bobbing.
===============================================================================
Once pudding was cleared Lizzie politely declared herself full to bursting and
complimented her formal hosts with a sincere smile and word of thanks. Draco’s
hand, which had sat on her knee for a large chunk of the evening, squeezed her
it tightly in approval.
Startling both Lizzie and his parents, Draco turned to his witch. “Love,” he
said softly, biting back a chuckle when Lucius’s head snapped up at the term of
endearment. “Can you head back to your room on your own? I would like to speak
with my parents privately for a few minutes. I’ll come find you after. We can
maybe take a stroll through the garden?”
“Of course,” she answered. She hesitated a moment and Draco knew what she was
unsure of. He took her hand and gestured her to rise to her feet. His parents
and himself followed suit, then he leaned in a gave her a gentle kiss on the
cheek. He saw his father’s eyes narrow in his peripheral vision and clenched
his teeth while trying to maintain the convincing smile on his face.
“Shall we retire to the drawing room?” Lucius directed and Narcissa lead the
way. Draco fell into step beside his father and behind his mother after seeing
Lizzie to the door and pointing her in the correct direction of the guest room.
“Tibby?” Narcissa called. The house elf cracked into existence and bowed low.
“What can I’s be getting for Madame?”
“Tea, please.” She answered simply before settling herself on a davenport.
Lucius sat next to her, Draco across from them in one of two Bank of England
chairs. An ornate sterling-silver tea service appeared on top of the mahogany
and granite coffee table with a soft pop and Narcissa, ever the lady of the
Manor, set to serving.
“I would like to know what you think of Elizabeth.” Draco knew he exuded a
confidence he barely felt, but his father had taught him that quite well.
“She’s delightful, darling,” Narcissa said, handing her son a cup and saucer.
“Beautiful, intelligent, extremely well-mannered for a Yank…” She trailed off
as her husband snorted and turned a questioning look at him.
“I just agree with your sentiment, my love,” he told her. “The ‘well-mannered
for a Yank’ was actually word for word with a thought that had crossed my mind.
And beautiful, yes. Very much so. Stunning is more like it.”
A tentative, slow smile cross Draco’s face. “You like her?”
“I do,” Narcissa nodded, but raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
“She’s lovely for a dalliance while at school, Draco,” Lucius answered, his
tone dismissive.
Draco’s face dropped and Narcissa hissed at Lucius who turned a stone-cold face
between the two. “Honestly, Draco. You know I have been negotiating betrothal
terms with the Greengrass’s for almost two years now. They feel you and Astoria
would be a good match and agree that, when she graduates in two years, you can
be wed immediately.”
Narcissa stopped breathing and turned wide eyes on her son. His face had lost
all color except for two spots of pink high on his cheek bones. “I thought we
were past this. I though the war had usurped the need for arranged marriages.”
“You are a pureblood heir, in need of a pureblood bride to carry on the Malfoy
name.”
“Lucius, we’ve discussed this…” Narcissa was cut off by a dark look from her
husband and she pursed her lips into a thin, white line.
“We have, yes, but I have made the final decision. Dally with your Mudblood all
you want, Draco. Do not expect us to accept her into this family as a daughter-
in-law.”
Draco hissed at the slur before silence settled into the room. It was so
wrought with tension you could feel the vibrations like you could see ripples
on a pond. “You will allow me to marry whom I choose.” Draco finally said in a
flat, dead voice. “And I choose Elizabeth.”
His mother blanched and his father stood with fierce anger emanating from his
whole body.
Draco stayed calm as the power of the three magical beings swirled in the air
as emotions rose. “I’m not saying I wish to propose to her now, we are both
young. I am not saying that I am one hundred percent certain, our relationship
is in its infancy. We might only be teenagers, but we’re not so immature that
we don’t know how we feel about each other. We have been dating since September
and spend almost all our free time and study time together. We are deeply
connected, I feel as if she’s my other half. I’m in love with her.”
Narcissa made a surprised sound in the back of her throat and grasped her
husband’s arm, attempting to pull him back into his seat. He refused her
guidance and stalked across the room to a large, ornately framed window, his
mind reeling. He would put an end to this nonsense once and for all.
“You will marry Astoria Greengrass two years from this next June.” His voice
was final, brooked no room for argument, but yet his son rose to his feet
angrily and defied away.
“I will not.”
Lucius whirled angrily as his wife rose to her feet and calmly pointed her wand
at her husband with blazing eyes, her hair crackling with her power. “Sit.
Down. Lucius.” She stated with barely contained fury. “Now.”
Both Malfoy men looked at the petite, pristine woman with open mouthed shock.
“I disagree with your choice of Astoria Greengrass for Draco, and I’ve been
telling you this for months upon months.” She started calmly, pouring herself
another cup of tea before wordlessly offering to pour more for her men. Both
declined as Lucius sunk back onto the davenport in the opposite corner from his
now calm wife. Her wand had been tucked away and she acted as if nothing
unusual had happened. Draco’s face brightened and he avoided his father’s gaze
purposefully. If he looked at the man, he’d gloat and he didn’t want to push
his luck. “I think she is a vapid girl with no backbone and Draco would be
bored to tears with her. Daphne would be a much better choice…”
Here Draco made a vehement sound of protest. Daphne Greengrass was a horror
show. She was manipulative and cunning and carried all her boyfriends’ bollocks
around in her purse until she cut them loose and ate them for dinner. Currently
she was leading Stephen Selwyn around and it was a disgusting sight to behold.
“…but I digress as his reaction is evidence enough for me that the rumors of
the girl are true. She’s a trollop who sleeps around and emasculates every man
she touches. I don’t want that for our son either.” She used her spoon to swirl
the milk into her tea before tapping it gently on the rim, setting it lightly
on the sauces, and taking a delicate sip. She paused a moment, took a second
sip and set it back down with a gentle clink before continuing. Her men were
still staring at her in silent awe.
“Draco is not saying that he knows right this moment that he wishes to marry
Miss Williams, just that he feels very strongly for her and could see it
leading down the aisle. Did I take your meaning correctly, darling?” She curled
a perfectly manicured eyebrow at her son. He gave an abrupt nod, but said
nothing.
“I propose a compromise,” Narcissa said after taking another controlled sip of
her tea. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Lucius started grinding
his teeth. Merlin help her, she was starting to despise the man. Ever since
Lucius had been released, she couldn’t help but feel him as a burden to her. He
was as manipulative and full of secrets as always. She had a sickening feeling
he was caught up in something that would only continue to bring their family
dishonor.
The end of the war had brought them so close together. They hadn’t wanted the
Dark Lord to prevail. They just wanted to survive in tact as a family unit. To
be able to love each other wholly without fear for each other. She had thought
they were all irrevocably changed, and her son most definitely was. Where she
wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Draco tying himself to a Muggle-born girl, she
couldn’t help but be proud of him. He had also written of a tentative
friendship with the Granger girl, which was wonderful being she was marrying
Severus (a whole other can of craziness to contemplate) and a cordial
relationship with the Potter and Weasley boys in his year. He was immersed in
his studies, getting the best marks in his entire academic career, and seemed
truly happy for the first time in many, many years. If this girl was helping
him with all this, she was determined to welcome her with open arms. Thus far,
Lizzie had made it easy. She was lovely, charming, intelligent, and the way her
son looked at the girl made Narcissa’s stomach flop. The fact that Miss
Williams returned that look made her heart sing with happiness for Draco.
Everyone deserved that kind of love and devotion.
Her husband had gone into Azkaban as a broken, changed man; he came out much
like his old self. Why? She would never be able to understand. She thought
Azkaban would have just reinforced his change of heart. This had been
disappointing for Narcissa, who had striven alongside Draco to change their
thoughts and put out a reformed front to society. They had participated in
restoring Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. They had attended charity fundraisers and had
donated generously. They had helped open an orphanage and were matching the
funding for it from the Ministry. Narcissa volunteered many hours there weekly.
In other words, they were actively trying to show the wizarding world that the
Malfoy’s knew what they had done in the past was wrong and wanted to change, to
be better.
“What is your compromise, ‘Cissa?” Lucius asked silkily. She shuddered at his
tone of voice, a combination of sucking up to her laced with a threat of
punishment if he didn’t like what she said. She knew he wouldn’t like what she
said. She squared her shoulders and stated her case anyway.
“Draco has five years to find a suitable match. Bloodlines will not be counted
in our qualifications, Lucius. In fact, marrying a half-blood or Muggle-born
witch will only play in our favor. I would prefer our son be able to marry for
love, if it is what he chooses.” Lucius narrowed his eyes dangerously, a sneer
slashed his handsome face. She turned to Draco and paused to take another sip
of her tea. “That is our side of things, the things we must take into account.
As for your side.
“We must have a chance to know her for at least six months before you propose.
She must be worthy of the Malfoy name; she will take a huge place in upper
society and must be able to handle the pressures. Therefore, she must be
intelligent, trustworthy, well-mannered or able to be trained as such, witty,
and pleasant on the eyes – not that you would choose someone who wasn’t.” She
realized her qualifications sounded vapid and shallow. Such was society life.
“She must be willing to put being a society wife above a career.”
Draco blanched at that last requirement. Lizzie was highly intelligent and
planned on taking an apprenticeship if she could get one. She had talked about
Arithmancy or Charms; she had even discussed wanting to be a Healer with him.
“You know that is important in a Malfoy wife, Draco. Do not be surprised.
Lizzie would have a solid ten years to pursue further education and start a
career, but that career would eventually have to be put on the sidelines to
take up her place as the Malfoy matriarch. I would happily share the duties
with her for as long as I can so she could continue to work part time, if she
so chose.”
“Narcissa, you are making it sound like you’re ready to welcome the chit into
the family with open arms!” Lucius’s face was turning an ugly shade of puce. It
had always been an unattractive color on him. She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t call her a chit, Father. Her name is Elizabeth!” Draco demanded through
gritted teeth. “She’s wonderful, and if you give her a chance, you’ll see
this.”
Lucius stood dismissively. “I will continue contracting a betrothal with the
Greengrass’s. She has six months to prove herself to your mother and myself. If
it is not a unanimous front, she goes and you do as you’re told.”
“I said five years, Lucius. They are children, Miss Williams is not even
eighteen years old, yet!” Narcissa snapped, losing her temper slightly.
“I am saying six months. Why let them date that long if we do not approve? It
doesn’t pay to let things drag out.”
“I will not let you both dictate my life. We don’t live in the Middle Ages
anymore.” Draco’s voice was eerily calm and both parents looked at him in
astonishment. The maturity and cool he was presenting was a very new
development, he knew that as well as everyone else. “It’s the twenty-first
century. I will not be a part of a marriage contract. I will choose my own
wife. One I see fit. One I think will do the Malfoy name proud. If you cannot
abide by that – have another child yourselves and disinherit me. Or don’t have
another child and I believe the Weasley’s will inherit…yes? They are our
closest living relatives, as it were? How lovely.” His eyes twinkled with
derision as his father visibly shuddered at the thought.
He stood and walked over to the French doors that lead to the hall. He ripped
one door open and froze. Without turning back to them he said in a low,
threatening voice. “Father, you will do nothing to hurt Lizzie. Nothing. If you
do, you will be out your heir. I am not bluffing.” He exited the room with
barely any noise, closing the door with a soft click on two dumbfounded faces.
Lizzie was waiting.
***** Chapter Thirty-Four *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm on a roll, I know this took a bit, but it is quite a long chapter
     again. I'm part way done with the next chapter. Hold on to your hats!
     Thank you all for your reviews and Kudos! It's nice to know someone
     is still with me! xxLissaDream
     Special thanks to my Betas SnowBlind12 and DevilsDaughter13
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                              Chapter_Thirty-Four
                               Monday March 29th
===============================================================================
"Where are we going to start today, Dr. Jenkins?" Hermione asked pleasantly as
she took at seat hip-to-hip with Severus on the overstuffed couch opposite of
the doctor's large, dark brown leather chair. She admired the brass nail heads
in the curling arms before meeting the man's eyes.
"No preamble?" Dr. Jenkins said with a smile. "How about telling me how your
week went. You both seems more comfortable today."
Hermione smiled and laced her fingers though her fiancé's. "We are more
comfortable. We had a long talk after our last session. It helped immensely."
The doctor looked at Severus with appraising eyes. "Very good, then. Severus,
are you planning on participating this session, or are you just sitting in? I
have no wish for you to leave again, we will go more slowly from here on out."
Severus made eye contact with Hermione and held her gaze while he answered. "I
will participate to the best of my ability and I do promise I will not leave
again. I do not promise I will answer every question." Her eyes glowed with
happiness and pride – he had taken her advice to talk to her instead of Jenkins
so he would be more relaxed.
"I find that a fair statement." He sat back more deeply in his chair and
flipped open a tablet, poising a ballpoint pen above the line paper. "I wish to
discuss your engagement tonight."
Both his patients looked at him with barely veiled surprise. "Whatever for?"
Hermione asked, confused.
"I wish to know the reasoning for moving your relationship forward as quickly
as you did. My understanding of the wizarding world is that you age normally
until about age fifty and then it's like time stands still for your body for
the next forty or so years before you start aging again. The lifespan is
between 130-150 years, correct?" When Hermione nodded he continued. "So why
rush?"
"That's a valid question, I just don't see how it pertains to our therapy
sessions," she replied, confusion evident.
"Humor me," he replied. "Severus, Hermione tells me you proposed on a bit of
whim – why is that?"
The Potions professor's face became contemplative. He wasn't ashamed or worried
about this topic of conversation, in fact he was almost relieved by it. Loving
Hermione and wanting to bind her to him was hardly something to be embarrassed
about, and a story he'd willingly tell. However, like Hermione, he was quite
mystified about the topic of choice. Shrugging, he smirked at his fiancée, who
looked back at him with one raised, beautifully arched eyebrow and a smirk of
her own. They hadn't discussed the brash nature of his proposal, he could tell
she was curious.
"It was Potter who brought it on, actually." Her other eyebrow rose as her eyes
widened in surprised, twinkling with mirth. Fuck, this was a lot easier when he
was pretending to talk to her. She was right. Why that surprised him, he wasn't
sure. He would probably need to get used to her being right a lot in the
future. Female intuition or something along those lines.
"Harry told you to propose?" she squeaked after a moment of silence.
"No, no. You misunderstand. Potter proposing to the Weasley girl – that's what
brought the idea to the forefront of my mind. I hadn't really contemplated it
seriously, but…" He paused, unjoining their hands and raising his fingers to
brush his upper lip in thought, trying to figure out just how to word things.
"Your reaction. The way your eyes shone, the tremble of your lips. I could see
your heart swelling for your friends after what he said. How she was the reason
he fought so hard and had the strength to endure, how he wanted to be her
family."
Hermione's eyes shone with tears at his lovely words as he continued. "I
realized in that moment, listening to him while watching you, that he was spot
on. I thought I had fought the war for a love I had lost – one that I never
really had; he made me see I fought the war for the love I was to find. You."
He had to clench his teeth to stave back the emotion when she started to
blubber. Gryffindors! he thought with loving sarcasm. Always the heart on the
sleeve. He cleared his throat. "Once I realized that, I didn't want to wait.
Granted, I thought it would be a few years before we bonded ourselves, but I
was more concerned for you to have the time you needed than for me to have more
time. I'm ready, but I am almost twenty years older than you."
Dr. Jenkins was looking at this man with new eyes. He hadn't really felt this
kind of emotion and sentiment was possible from Severus Snape. Apparently, he
had been dead wrong. "Hermione, tell Severus what went through your head."
"Oh, goodness." She laughed through her tears, snatching a tissue from the
coffee table and wiping her eyes. "You know, you're just a big old softy, you
git!" She muttered playfully, crushing the tissue in one hand. His eyes
crinkled with mirth even though a smile did not tilt his lips. "Well, I was
quite floored. Honestly, my whole mind went completely blank, and if you know
me – which you do – you realize what a feat that is!" He actually chuckled at
that statement as she giggled a bit maniacally. "After the blankness receded
(this was when you started getting a little nervous and rambling about being
engaged for however long and not rushing to the alter) all that flew through my
mind was yes. Yes, yes, YES! I wanted it all, I could picture everything you
said. Every word was what I wanted, and you were the only person I could see
myself with when I achieved those things."
It was Severus's turn to be surprised, all though he had much better control on
his emotions. He didn't speak, just reached out and brushed her cheek gently.
"Wonderful," Jenkins said calmly. "Tell me about what happened after."
"We picked out a ring," Severus answered. "Then left for the café."
Silence.
"Continue."
"We were waiting for Ginny," Hermione whispered. "Everything went quiet before
the screaming started."
"We reacted instinctively – back to back, wands out." Severus supplied.
"Hooded, masked men – Death Eaters – surrounded us. You asked me to run." It
was a whisper.
"You told me no, that you wouldn't leave me."
"I didn't want to."
"There we are," Jenkins said softly. "Right there."
They stared at each other, faces solemn. "I didn't have a choice," she said
softly, reaching for him. He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers,
his other hand coming to cover their joint ones.
"I know you didn't."
"I came back. I fought my way back. I'm still fighting my way back, but I'm
right here."
"You did, you are. I am grateful."
"I'll never leave you by choice."
"I know that now."
"Forgive me."
"Bloody hell, woman," he choked. "There's nothing to forgive."
"It wasn't your fault," she insisted.
"It wasn't my fault." Obsidian eyes slid shut in acceptance of that statement.
"It wasn't your fault," Jenkins agreed quietly.
===============================================================================
                                 Malfoy Manor
===============================================================================
She was trembling. Severus had his fingers entwined with hers as they stood at
the gates to Malfoy Manor, waiting for someone to fetch them through the wards.
This was a terrible idea. The girl had been tortured violently just inside
these walls. He took a deep breath and untangled their hands only to firmly
slide his arm around her shoulders and pull her tightly to his side.
He turned his face back to the Manor to see Draco and Miss Williams walking
towards them, both smiling invitingly. He forced a nod before tilting his
fiancée's chin up to meet his eyes. "You're alright?"
Hermione's lips trembled as she attempted to give him a brave smile. "Narcissa
has promised that the drawing room is warded so no one can enter. You will not
accidently end up there by any chance."
"Okay," she whispered, eyes bright with trust. He dropped a kiss to her
forehead.
"Thank you for doing this," he told her honestly. "It means a lot to me for you
all to get along. They're really the only friends I have left."
"Of course," she said sweetly, and tilted her head up for a kiss. He obliged
just as Draco and Miss Williams opened the gates.
"Hello sir, Hermione," Miss Williams greeted with a dimpled smile. Hermione
studied her friend carefully before allowing herself to be captured in a hug.
It had been a week since Lizzie joined the Malfoy household for break. The girl
looked haggard and overwhelmed.
"Are you okay?" Hermione whispered in her ear. Lizzie shook her head and
glanced at Draco who was shaking Severus's hand and exchanging salutations.
"We'll talk later," Lizzie answered evasively. They hooked arms and followed
behind their men as they made their way up to the impressive Manor house.
Hermione couldn't help but be awed by the architecture of the entry hall. The
arched doorways and gilded molding was stunning. There was a massive gold and
silver candlelit chandelier that towered over them in the middle of the space.
Two sweeping staircases led up to each wing of the house and intimidatingly
tall French doors beckoned to the floor level directly in front of them. Two
more doors on each side of the room led to what Hermione assumed were probably
smaller entertaining rooms. Perhaps a parlor and music room, if she knew
anything about Baroque design. The walls were lined with dark blue silk
wallpaper dotted with tiny silver shapes that were indiscernible from a
distance. The walls met darkly stained, eight-inch-tall baseboard of rich
mahogany before butting up against beautiful stone floors. She was fairly sure
the stone was slate. Everything was very Baroque-esque in style and time
period.
"Draco, your home is beautiful," Hermione murmured sincerely, eyes wandering
the stunning space.
"Wait until you see the rest of it," Lizzie muttered under her breath with a
small laugh. "This place is like a museum."
Draco let out a bark of a laugh before thanking Hermione and holding his arm
for Lizzie and gesturing to on the side rooms. "My mother would like to begin
with drinks and starters in the music room. Would you join us?"
"Lead the way," Severus directed, holding his arm out for Hermione as well.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy rose to their feet when the foursome entered the
room and Hermione started to tremble again. Everything felt…wrong. She forced
herself to breath.
"Oh, Severus!" Narcissa exclaimed, crossing the room to take one of his hands
in both of hers. "We are so happy to have you tonight."
"Thank you, Narcissa. It's a pleasure, of course."
"Miss Granger." The beautiful blonde woman turned to the obviously terrified
girl. "I do hope we can make you comfortable, my dear. I know the circumstances
the last time you were here was less than desirable."
Hermione held back a very unlady like snort, but Narcissa's warm hands and kind
face helped her feel more at ease. That was, until she heard Lucius greeting
Severus. She felt something in her brain click, and though she couldn't put her
finger on it, she immediately felt even more ill at ease. Fortunately, her
fight or flight kicked in and she was able to steel her nerves.
"Ah, Miss Granger, perhaps you are happy to see us?" Lucius said in a silky
drawl, taking in her kind smile. "I do hope we can make you feel at home."
Shivers ran up her spine that had nothing to do with pleasure. He took one of
her hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She had to force herself
not to pull her hand away and wipe it on her skirts with a growl of disgust.
This man still rubbed her every wrong way.
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. It's a pleasure. Thank you for inviting us into your
beautiful Manor." She forced herself to answer politely.
"Please sit. What can I get you all to drink?" Narcissa set to being a gracious
host. Glass of wine in hand (in which her husband-to-be leaned over, touched
lightly, and wandlessly turned into a deep red grape juice, much to her
delight), Hermione felt just comfortable enough to let her eyes wander through
the music room. The sitting area, where appetizers and beverages were arranged
in perfect detail, circled around a stunning red granite fireplace, above which
hung an intimidating portrait of what Hermione assumed to be Draco's
grandfather. The portrait had said not a word, but the way he glared between
the two young women, it was obvious he was unimpressed.
After a while of half listening to the conversation, Narcissa interrupted her
longing gaze at the stunning, slick black grand piano that took up a large
portion of the space. "Do you play, Hermione?" she asked the curly haired
brunette kindly.
"I do," she answered enthusiastically. "I don't get much chance to practice
during the school year, but I took lessons all through primary school and still
meet with my tutor in the summer, obviously not the last two summers, however.
I'm quite rusty, unfortunately."
"Oh, do play something for us," Lucius's eyes glinted with something she
couldn't define and it forced her posture to snap ramrod straight in defense.
"Oh, I shouldn't," she murmured demurely. "I wouldn't wish to humiliate myself
or Severus."
"Nonsense." Narcissa stood and reached to Hermione, indicating she'd like to
take her wine glass. She looked to Severus for guidance and he gave her a half
smile and nodded his encouragement.
"If you do humiliate yourself, Narcissa or I will attempt to play. Then there
will be humiliation exchanged for humiliation." Lucius gave a chuckle that made
Hermione look at him oddly. His voice…
"You never mentioned you played before, Hermione," Severus said softly,
interrupting her errant thought. "I'd love to hear you."
She took a deep breath and looked to Lizzie, the girl gave her a signature
grin, her blue eyes sparkling like sapphires.
"Alright then," Hermione stood, pulling confidence up from her toes. "Something
classical? Baroque? Modern?"
"One can never go wrong with a little Mozart…Beethoven…Debussy?" Lucius drawled
in a bored voice.
"Debussy, it is." She gave a small curtsey before crossing the room to sit at
the piano. Her fingers were trembling, but only slightly. This is something she
loved very much and the instrument was exquisite. She lowered herself to the
gleaming bench, smoothing the skirt of her robes under her bum. She tapped her
feet on each peddle to gauge their distance before effortlessly sliding open
the lid. "Claire de Lune would please everyone?" She asked with a polite smile
as she slid her fingers over the gleaming keys.
Lucius raised his eyebrows and turned a hesitantly impressed face to Narcissa
who nodded warmly at the girl. "Lovely choice."
And so, she played. The pianissimo introduction to the song was started with
hesitancy, but as her muscle memory took hold, the next set of chords flowed
confidently from her finger tips and she found herself engrossed in the third
movement of the Suite Bergamasque which she adored with passion. Soon, she was
completely lost, fingers flying through trills and runs before the song dipped
back into a ritard and decrescendo. Not until the last arpeggiated chord
sounded at the end of over five minutes did she come back to herself. She was
flushed with pleasure, her breath short with passion, her body thrumming with
its release of censor and talent. Her head snapped up as enthusiastic applause
came from the small grouping of people around her. She hadn't even noticed that
they had moved, but moved they had. All of them now surrounding the sleek
instrument. She met and held Severus's eyes, which glowed with pride and even a
bit of lust.
"'Rusty,' she said." Narcissa teased to the room at large. "Can you imagine
what she would sound like with practice and forethought?"
"Quite impressive." Lucius drawled and Hermione's eyes flew to his. She cringed
internally as she felt his eyes sweep her body, lingering on her breasts and
stomach before returning to her eyes. She quickly broke his gaze, looking to
Severus, but he was engrossed in a murmured conversation with Draco. She
suppressed a shiver of revulsion. What was it about this man? Outside of the
obvious, of course – the fight in the ministry, watching her be tortured by his
sadistic sister-in-law, giving Ginny the horcrux-infested diary, sneering at
her every time he saw her.
"The instrument is impressive," she said lovingly, strumming out a few more
chords before sighing. "I don't know if I've ever played on an instrument of
this quality."
"Is there anything you can't do, Granger?" Draco joked in a lazy voice.
"Yes," Hermione laughed, breaking the tension in the room. "Sing. I'll leave
the singing to Lizzie."
"But not today," Lizzie chortled as all eyes moved to her with consideration.
"I'll play for you," Hermione grinned, she didn't feel like being the only one
singled out.
"I haven't warmed up, and it's much more important for a vocalist to warm
herself before performing."
"Ha!" Hermione chuckled, closing the lid of the piano gently. "I'll give it to
you today, simply because I'm guessing dinner will be served shortly?" She sent
a questioning look at Narcissa who nodded with a small smile.
"Miss Granger is correct, we'll have to put Elizabeth on the spot another day."
She handed Hermione her glass of "wine" as she stood and moved away from the
instrument.
Narcissa took Severus's arm and they proceeded to lead the way to the dining
room, followed closely behind by Draco and Lizzie. Hermione nervously glanced
at Lucius as he rounded the piano and offered her his arm.
"Thank you for the lovely entertainment, my little lioness." Lucius demurred, a
devilish grin on his face that would mark him as handsome, if it weren't for
the evil glint in his ice grey eyes. Hermione's entire body froze, something
about his voice – the phrase he'd used – startled her deeply. On instinct, a
hand fluttered down to protect the small swell of her belly, unnoticeable in
the robes she wore. Oh, but Lucius watched the movement and pale eyebrows rose.
He lifted his eyes to hers and studied her intently for a moment before a sneer
curled his face. "Are you in the family way, Miss Granger?"
She gave a small squeak and pushed past him, her skin crawling as if she were
covered in honey bees.
"Now, now." The loathsome man caught her hand and tucked it into the crook of
his arm. "It would not do for us to enter the dining room separately, it would
make me look very ungentlemanly."
Hermione did not dare deign him with a response, instead she clenched her
teeth. Her whole being knew that something was very wrong. She allowed him to
escort her into the elegant room and lead her to her seat, thankfully next to
Severus. The moment she was seated by him, her body started to tremble more
violently then even her nerves had made it when they first arrived. He looked
at her in alarm and slid a hand over her thigh, grasping her knee and leaning
in.
"What's wrong?" He hissed quietly into her ear while giving Lucius a rueful
smile from across the table as he took his seat.
"I don't know," she whispered honestly, trying desperately to prevent the tears
that were trying to well in her eyes. "I think I'm going to have a panic
attack."
"Breathe." He encouraged in a low murmur, wrapping his fingers around hers,
sliding his thumb across her knuckles soothingly. As quietly as possible, she
pulled a deep breath into her lungs through her nose, blowing it out gently
through slightly parted lips. She did this a few more times while Severus
engaged in quiet conversation with the table, still rubbing her knuckles. By
the time the soup hit the table, she was in control of herself again, albeit
still feeling terribly uncomfortable. She gave him a tremulous smile as she
reclaimed her hand to dip into the steaming bowl of broth. It was delicious.
While Hermione tracked the conversation as they moved through each course, she
participated minimally. Focusing instead on the exquisite food that made her
pregnancy palate palpate with joy. After the lovely soup, there was a
beautifully presented shrimp cocktail. Hermione almost groaned in delight as
the cocktail sauce was heavily flavored with lemon and dill. It was served with
a hard roll she couldn't identify and the sweetest butter she had ever tasted.
Following the fish course, the entrée and removes were served together as a
small platting of half of a Cornish hen paired with glazed carrots and a bowtie
pasta in some creamy sauce she was unfamiliar with, but tasted of garlic and
thick cream and seasonings that tickled her taste buds tantalizingly. A
delightfully crisp, non-alcoholic punch followed for the palate cleanser. The
Roast course included quad on wilted cress, which was not as much to her taste,
but she was getting full, anyhow. An asparagus salad with champagne-saffron
vinaigrette started to fill in the limited cracks in her over full tummy.
However, when the chocolate painted eclairs with French vanilla ice cream
appeared before her, she somehow found room for it, as well.
Severus watched her with amusement as she fastidiously put away almost every
bite of every dish placed in front of her with polite enthusiasm and little
throat ticks of pleasure. She had never been a big eater since he had known her
more intimately, and after months of barely eating anything at all, he was
relieved her pregnancy had taken over her palate and drove her to put weight
back on her too-thin frame. He guessed in the last few weeks she had gained
about five or six pounds, but being she had lost well over thirty-five since
her parents and her abduction, she had a long way to go.
"Shall we retire to the parlor for tea and coffee and dessert?" Narcissa asked
politely to the room at large.
"That wasn't dessert?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself. Lucius's
eyebrows rose and a condescending smirk covered his features. Severus gave him
a hard look as the poor girl flushed pink, realizing her mistake. "I'm sorry,
I'm not use to such elaborate meals." Her voice was small.
"I am ever so pleased that you enjoyed the food, Hermione," Narcissa replied
kindly. "You definitely look like you need to put on a bit of weight. It was a
pleasure to see you eat so well." She gave her husband a reproachful glare,
daring him to say anything to the contrary.
Her blush deepened and Severus slid his fingers over her leg again to help
quell her embarrassment.
"Of course, she should eat with gusto," Lucius said, tone sly with a slight
edge to his voice. "She is expecting after all, isn't she, Severus? Dare I say
she's almost…four months along?"
The silence was almost painful, Narcissa's hand fluttered lightly to her chest
with surprise as Hermione's already crimson face deepened to maroon.
"How astute of you, Lucius," Severus said with barely disguised contempt. "Yes,
Hermione and I are expecting. We are very excited, even if it was a little
premature for our relationship."
"How delightful!" Narcissa quipped.
"Yes, how delightful," Lucius agreed with a bland smile. "Is it also delightful
that you could potentially be the father of another man's child?"My child
perhaps?The thought disgusted him as much as it intrigued him.
Severus growled a warning as his betrothed's face went from cherry red to
translucent, her eyes sliding shut as shame carved her features. Anger filled
him and his posture became defensive just as Draco exclaimed. "Father,
honestly!"
Narcissa shook with slightly checked rage. "Lucius, what a horrific comment.
Hermione has been through a terrible ordeal; it is none of our business nor is
it even remotely polite for you to make such observations or comments."
Lucius cringed outward at his wife's reproach. He had to hold back his disgust
of the man he called son and the man he called friend before calmly answering.
"I apologize for my outburst; it was very rude of me." He gave a gracious nod
at Hermione, who was being blocked protectively from his view by his enraged
friend.
"As it were," Severus stated crisply as he protectively placed a hand on
Hermione's shoulder, she reached up to touch her fingers to his. "The child is
mine, confirmed with a prenatal paternity charm. We are expecting a daughter in
September."
Lucius grit his teeth in disbelief before extending another apology and
heartfelt congratulations he didn't really feel. How in the world had they
failed so horrendously breaking these two? The curly-haired chit had seemed so
utterly destroyed beyond recognition when they released her. Now it was all
babies and weddings and hand holding and secret touches and smiles. Severus was
a traitor to his kind, he deserved a lifetime of hell for his actions.
He unfortunately had to let the rest of the evening pass with no other
incidences or his wife would castrate him. Bollocks all anyhow.
===============================================================================
Severus was grateful his friend had the decency to keep his mouth shut the rest
of the bloody evening. Hermione was looking ready to drop from exhaustion and
sheer force of will to remain calm as he led them away from the Manor. Just
outside the gate, he Apparated them to Spinner's End.
She had done him very proud in that difficult setting. He had been floored by
her piano playing and she had handled the ten-course meal beautifully,
carefully following cues from him and Narcissa as to how to go about each plate
that appeared before her. He was still concerned about how Lucius interacted
with her, something had seemed very off. Even for his non-Muggle-born-loving
friend.
She sunk into one of the arm chairs in front of the fireplace when they arrived
in his home. Using her wand, she moved some logs into the hearth and threw an
Incendio at them. The fire roared to life and seemed to bring a peace to her
frame as she relaxed back into the chair.
"Hermione?" he asked quietly, settling at her feet and leaning against her
knees. "What did Lucius do to you in the music room when you were alone with
him for those few moments?"
"He really didn't do anything," she said softly, gently digging the fingers of
one hand into his sleek hair, he leaned into her touch like a cat. "It was the
way he held himself, the things he said."
"What did he say?"
"That's just it." She pulled into herself, she could feel her mental reprieved
crashing in around her. "I don't know. Except for that awful comment after
dinner, he was perfectly polite. Something just…felt so wrong." Another shield
slammed into place and she panicked, trying to push it out of the way. She was
horrified that she could feel herself shutting down. A sob broke and Severus
turned to her, terrified.
"Hermione?" He moved up to his knees, moving between her legs to cup her face
in his hands. "Love, what's wrong?"
"I don't know," she whispered, another choked sob breaking through. "I feel
like I've taken five steps back…I just…I can't." She pulled her face out of his
hands and covered it with both of hers as he pushed himself to stand. Her
breaths were coming in hiccupping gasps and she cringed as he pulled her up out
of the chair and into his arms. She pulled away quickly, needing the space. He
couldn't touch her now, not when she felt so broken again.
"Hermione…" His eyes reflected his fear and she held his gaze.
"I think I need you to take me back to the Burrow."
"You're not going to stay…?"
"Please, Severus. I'm so sorry." She averted her eyes, pretending the stone of
the fireplace was fascinating.
"Hermione," he knew he sounded desperate. "What happened?" He gasped her
shoulders and pulled her to face him. Her eyes were blank and he almost
screamed with frustration. "Don't you dare do this again. Stop it right now!"
Her eyes widened and she shook her head, her breathing still coming in ragged.
"I c-can't seem to stop it."
"Hermione…" It came out almost as a groan as he forced her into a hard embrace,
rubbing his hands up spine. "Don't leave me again," he begged. Those words
seemed to trigger something in her and her breathing immediately became easier
even as her tears became more fierce. She sagged into his hold, grasping his
robes in her fists.
"No," she hiccupped. "No, I won't. Of course, I won't."
===============================================================================
                               Monday April 5 th
===============================================================================
"There's been a set-back," Severus said quietly, entering Dr. Jenkins' office.
Jenkins stood in surprise of Severus's voice being the first he heard for this
session. He was leading Hermione in by her hand. The girl looked haunted,
purple darkened her puffy eyes, her hair was as limp as he'd ever seen it and
she looked bedraggled.
"How much of a set back?"
"Nightmares, nervousness, depression." He started, leading her to the davenport
and guiding her into a corner. He crossed the room to the tea pot and busied
himself by making her a cup of tea. She accepted it gratefully before turning
her eyes to the doctor.
"I'm aware of my situation," she said calmly. "I'm trying to pull myself out."
"What triggered it?" Jenkins settled himself into his chair as Severus sat next
to her on the couch and pulled her into his arms. She went willingly. "No loss
of intimacy?" He observed.
"We hadn't regained full intimacy," Severus answered, his voice sad. "She's
been agreeable to being held, cared for, and touched. We've done nothing else
for around a week."
"What triggered this?" The doctor asked again.
"Dinner with an old friend's family. He's standing up as my best man." Hermione
shuddered at his words.
"Who?"
"Lucius Malfoy," Severus started. "He was…well, he was part of the Death Eater
movement, but his family turned at the end. He served some time, and has been
home on house arrest. He has a 24-hour pardon to attend the ceremony."
"I was tortured in their home during the war," Hermione said quietly. "I think
I am reacting to being back there. I don't think this is about my abduction."
"Tell me what happened."
She explained the looks she felt, relayed their conversations. "He really did
nothing wrong, he was polite except for when he brashly brought up that the
child may not be Severus's, which he apologized for immediately."
"Tell me what you felt."
"Panicked. Trapped. Suffocated."
"The breathing techniques you taught her helped while we were in their home,
but when we returned to my home, she had a full-blown panic attack," Severus
supplied.
"I see." He was silent for some time, no other questions coming forth. Finally,
he spoke again. "What have your nightmares been about."
The brunette shook her curly head, declining to answer.
"Hermione, we must talk about them."
A distressed noise left her throat and her hand clenched her robes over her
heart.
"Has she told you about her nightmares?" The question was directed at Severus.
"No."
"Hermione, tell me about your nightmares."
She closed her eyes, a tear escaping. "I don't want to worry you."
"That's my job," Jenkins said kindly. "You worry me and together we figure out
how to fix it."
She let out a long sigh on a woosh. "I was back there, only now there are
faces. A face."
"Lucius's."
"Yes." A hitch of breath held back a moan of fear. "I'm being silly, right? He
was on house arrest at the time. He couldn't have been there."
Silence. Severus's face had gone translucent in its stillness, blank to hide
his emotions.
"We cannot rule out what your subconscious is trying to tell you," Jenkins said
quietly. Severus's head snapped up and he looked at the man intently.
"You think there is a possibility." It was a statement of fact and the doctor
didn't deny it.
"Our subconscious is very good at filling in the blanks, sir."
"There's no proof," Hermione's small hand covered his clenched fist. "Love,
there's no proof."
"So, let's get proof."
A light sparked in Hermione's eyes as her fiancé's face became fierce with
determination. A plan. A plot. A way to bring vengeance. It was exactly what
she needed. Her mind cleared of its terrified haze. Her brow set with purpose.
"What do you propose?"
Twenty minutes later both Hermione and Jenkins were nodding in agreement, faces
grim with resolve. "I think this will work," Severus said calmly. "Let's catch
us a Malfoy."
Chapter End Notes
     Debussy Clair de Lune: https://www.youtube.com/
     watch?v=LlvUepMa31o&list=PL416C3B4F5EBC7D86
***** Chapter Thirty-Five *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: So here's our beautiful day. I'm going to let you know that this
     chapter has a cliffie. I'm sorry about that, but I wanted to focus on
     their ceremony for one chapter, it's important. Next chapter...action
     and lemons. Promise. ;o)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                              Chapter_Thirty-Five
                             Saturday April 11th 
===============================================================================
He was getting married today. Never once in the last thirty-nine years of his
life did he think this day would come. By the time he was twenty-two, the only
woman he had ever loved was dead and he resigned himself to a life of sullen
solitude. When he had finally completed the vows he had made to his dead love,
when he had seen her son through the worst of the war, helped him stay alive so
he could win, he had felt peace. Peace as his life’s blood drained from him.
Peace as he slipped into nothingness. Something had kept him on this plane,
though. He had woken woozy and frantically clinging to life. Being a smart man,
and not particularly trusting, he had carried a bezoar, anti-venom, pain
potion, and a blood replenishing potion on his person at all times for the
previous half year, plus.
He had chewed the bezoar and downed the potions, but his magical core had been
too weak to heal the punctures in his neck; one which had almost completely
severed his carotid artery. So he had pressed a dirty, wadded up ball of yuck
to his neck and resigned himself to probably bleeding out a second time. Until
those caramel eyes had met his.
She didn’t know he remembered, but he did. He remembered the shock and alarm in
her eyes. He remembered her frantic pleas for the medical staff to help him.
What he remembered most, though was her promise. “I won’t let you die, I
promise. I know what you did, I know who you are. I won’t let you die.” The
words reverberated in his skull as he knotted his cravat. She was the first
person in thirty-eight years who had kept a promise to him. He would spend the
rest of his life keeping the promises he would make her today.
===============================================================================
She felt fluttery. Her whole body hummed with her excitement. She was marrying
today. Marrying a good man, a brave man. She was marrying for love, for family.
It was more than she could have ever dreamed.
How she, Hermione Granger, had become the object of Severus Snape’s affection,
she would never know. Where he really hadn’t changed in the last almost year,
he had shown her a side that he had kept hidden from the world for too terribly
long. The side of protector, friend, confidant…lover. He loved her, and she
loved him. So, when asked if she was nervous, she told them no. When asked if
she wanted to change her mind, she told them no. When asked if she was happy,
the resounding yes had made them all smile.
Her daily ablutions consisted of the normal and the abnormal. She had been
bathed and scrubbed pink, lotioned and powdered, plucked and prodded, and made
up. She was pleased with her makeup, the girls had kept it natural and light,
enhancing her already lovely features. An Impervious Charm was placed on her
face because everyone said she would cry. She hoped she wouldn’t, how
embarrassing to cry while you told the world you loved someone.
Ginny and Lizzie had gone in together on some very sexy knickers in ice blue
(her something blue and something new) and had tucked the matching bra in her
small, beaded bag she had transfigured to match her gown – for later, they had
told her. She was wearing a pair of drop diamond earrings of her mother’s for
something old, and Molly had borrowed her a crystal and pearl necklace that she
had worn on her wedding day. She had a pair of satin slippers to wear for the
reception, as the bridal party and all guests were to present themselves
barefoot for the ceremony and tie their magic to the Earth and to each other.
Her hair was stunning and had taken Ginny and Lizzie almost three hours to
complete. Lizzie saying over and over again that she had too much hair for her
own good. A thick, loose braid crowned her head and was pinned heavily with
baby’s breath. They had left tendrils loose to frame her face. The braid had
been pinned with a sticking charm to one side of her head, then the rest of her
mass of curls had been straightened to waves, and tucked into a loose, thick
plait that fell heavy down her back, just grazing the top of her bum. In it was
pinned more baby’s breath. This, coupled with her gown, left her looking like
some sort of Earth goddess.
Molly had walked in and instantly burst into tears. Ron and Harry had trouble
speaking until Harry finally told her she looked stunning and Ron pulled her
into a warm embrace and told her softly how beautiful she looked. Lizzie and
Ginny had gushed. She felt perfect. Now, she just had to wait for sunset.
===============================================================================
There were too many flowers. White and dainty. They covered the arbor and the
chairs; petals were sprinkled down the aisle and there were bunches in vases on
each side and each end of the aisle as well as on each side of the arch. The
thirty-odd guests felt like too much, but he didn’t see anyone he didn’t know.
Most of these people were very close with his wife-to-be. Hagrid, Minerva, many
Weasleys, Andromeda Tonks and the little wolf brat of Lupin’s. Most of the
staff from Hogwarts. The remaining Order members. He wanted to laugh at the
Malfoy’s, who looked out of place and decidedly uncomfortable. Lucius was
talking with Narcissa who was sitting in a place of honor on one side of the
aisle as Severus’ only family, while Draco attempted to make awkward
conversation with Charlie Weasley and his date. Just a few more minutes and he
and his best man could move to the wedding arbor. An officiate from the
ministry was present in long, silver flowing robes. His name was Lewis, and he
seemed like an okay bloke, had a lovely speaking voice. The ceremony would be
nice.
He had told Hermione he wished to write his own vows – he was pretty sure she
had been shocked on that account. He hoped they weren’t too sappy, but he had
lots of promises to make today to this woman who had changed his life, who was
giving him a family, and who was going to make a home with him. A real home. He
wanted to promise her a good life, he would do everything in his power to make
it so.
Lizzie Williams exited the house about five minutes later, just as the
dazzling, golden sun touched the horizon. “It’s time!” she called, and she made
her way to sit next to Draco as Severus and Lucius made their way to stand to
the right of the officiate. A few moments later, there was a swell of piano
music and Molly and Arthur Weasley (who were standing in for Hermione’s
parents) made their way down the aisle. A breath after they were seated,
Ginerva Weasley appeared clutching a small bundled of white roses, wearing an
aquamarine colored dress. Thank goodness it wasn’t some horrible, gaudy color.
The dress was made of a light, floaty material and had a sweetheart neckline
that ruesched across and enhanced her bosom and slender waist (not that he was
looking) and cascaded freely to the ground. It swirled around her feet and she
danced lightly down the center of the chairs, smiling broadly at him, her hair
swept up in an elaborate coiffure. Her eyes sparked and he couldn’t help
returning her smile with a small one of his own.
Then his eyes flew back to the door as Potter and Weasley made their way
through, both stopped and turned and offered a hand to the wood sprite who
exited. Emotion choked him, and he batted it down by throwing up his Occlumency
shields until he could control himself better. She looked stunning. Flowers and
crystals and curls. Painted toes, French tipped nails, and glossy lips. She
wasn’t carrying a bouquet, as both hands were occupied by her friends’. The
skirt of her sexy, elegant dress swirled around her slender legs as she moved
with confidence towards him. Her hair was wildly contained with tendrils
framing her face, her eyes were wide and glittered with excitement and
happiness and looked at him as if he was the last man on the planet. Before he
knew it, she was in front of him, kissing her friends on the cheek and
squeezing their hands before reaching to him. To take his hands in hers, to
take him into her heart. Forever. He cleared his throat and her eyes smiled at
him knowingly.
Then it started with a swirl of magic that ruffled the girls’ gowns and lifted
the men’s robes. “Ladies and gentleman.” The beautiful tenor voice of the
officiate started. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two
faithful souls…” A wand was raised and a breeze blew in from the East. The
tendrils of Hermione’s hair swirled around her features as their hands clung
together.
“We bless this union with the gifts of the East. Communication of the heart,
mind, and body, fresh beginnings with the rising of each sun. The knowledge of
the growth found in the sharing of silences…”
The wind changed directions and dust motes could be seen where the sun streaked
through the trees.
“We bless this union with the gifts of the South. Warmth of hearth and home,
the heat of the heart’s passion, the light created by both to illuminate the
darkest of times.”
The breeze was now in Severus’s face, blowing the loose tendrils of his ink
colored hair back from his cheeks and jaw, most of it being captured in a black
leather thong at the nape of his neck.
“Blessed be this union with the gifts of the West. The deep commitments of the
lake, the swift excitement of the river, the refreshing cleansing of the rain,
the all-encompassing passion of the sea.”
One last time the wind changed direction and the officiate continued in his
melodic voice.
“Blessed be this union with the gifts of the North. Firm foundation on which to
build fertility of the fields to enrich your lives, a stable home to which you
may always return.”
The officiate completed some pretty wand-work which Hermione watched with rapt
attention for a moment before a warmth coursed beneath their feet and spread up
their legs until their entire beings were encompassed with it. Even though the
wind was now still, both his and Hermione’s hair and clothing moved with the
crackle of magic – their magic binding together.
“The bride and groom may now share their vows.”
Hermione started, and to her chagrin, she would indeed cry. They were tears of
joy, of love, and of happiness. “Severus, I choose you. I choose you and no
other. I choose you to be no other than yourself, as I love what I know of you
just as you are. I choose you because I trust who you are and who you will
become. I will respect you and honor you, always, in all ways. I take you to be
my husband, and I give you myself as your wife. To have and to hold, in grief
and in happiness, in sickness and in health. I promise to love and cherish you
from this day until my last breath; in this world and in the next.” A single
tear rolled down her cheek and he raised his hand to cup her face and wipe it
away with his thumb and gave her a gentle smile.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before starting his own. “Hermione, I
came here today to give myself to you and to receive you into me. I promise to
give you the best of myself and to never ask for more than you can give. I
promise to respect you as your own person and to realize that your interests,
desires, and needs are no less important than my own. I promise to share with
you my time and my attention and to bring joy, strength, and imagination to our
relationship. I promise to keep myself open to you, to let you see through the
window of my world into my innermost fears and feelings, secrets, and dreams. I
promise to grow along with you, to be willing to face changes in order to keep
our relationship alive and exciting. I promise to love you in good times and in
bad, with all I have to give and all I feel inside in the only way I know how.”
More tears were sliding down her cheeks, and his other hand left hers to cup
both sides of her face in his long fingers. He caught another tear before
continuing so only she could hear him.
“You and our daughter will be my life. I will protect and keep you until the
end of time. I thank you for giving myself back to me, and I will spend the
rest of my life showing you how grateful I am to have you.” She nodded, and a
choke of emotion escaped her throat, causing many in the crowd to sniffle and
make happy sighs even though the hadn’t heard his last few sentences. She
pursed her lips in attempts to control her emotions and reached a hand up to
wrap around one wrist before leaning up to kiss him gently on the lips.
“You’re supposed to wait until the end to kiss.” A wobbly voice came from the
crowd. A rumble of tearful chuckles helped break the intensity of the beautiful
moment as the officiate stepped forward again.
“Hermione, you have a ring for Severus?” She nodded and turned to Ginny who
handed her a simple, yellow-gold band.
“It was my father’s,” she whispered. “I hoped you would wear it.”
“Of course, I would be honored.” He raised his left hand and she slipped the
ring on his finger with a watery smile.
“I will now ask Hermione and Severus to join their left hands. Ginerva and
Lucius, please take their right hands with yours.” A simple, silver and gold
ribbon was conjured with more pretty wand-work and draped across their joined
hands. “As this knot is tied, so are your lives now bound. Severus Tobias and
Hermione Jean, woven into this cord, into its very fibers, are all the hopes of
your friends and family, and of yourselves, for your new life together.” The
ribbon magically wound around their hands again. “With the entwining of this
knot do I tie all the desires, dreams, love, and happiness wished here in this
place to your lives for as long as love shall last.” The cord twisted and
knotted again. “By this cord you are thus bound to your vow. May this knot
remain tied for as long as love shall last. May this cord draw your hands
together in love, never to be used in anger. May the vows you have spoken never
grow bitter in your mouths.”
A final time and the ribbon glowed hot and bright. “Two entwined in love, bound
by commitment and fear, sadness and joy, by hardship and victory; anger and
reconciliation, all of which brings strength to this union. Hold tight to one
another through both good times and bad, and watch as your strength grows.
Remember that it is not this physical cord, but what it represents, that keeps
you together. You are now bonded for life.” The heat and light intensified as
the officiate finished the hand fasting vows. When the last consonant sounded,
the ribbon seemed to melt into their hands and wrists as the light burst forth
and encompassed the whole of the gathering. Hermione looked around in wonder
before her eyes met his. He smiled fully at her, crooked teeth and all.
“I present to you Mister and Madam Severus Snape.” The officiate seemed
surprised at the intensity of the glowing light, as well. “You may now kiss
your bride.”
Severus chuckled and pulled her to him with one hand on each hip, dropping his
mouth lightly to hers. She reached up to wind her slender arms around his neck
and returned the kiss sweetly. A few brief seconds later, they parted with
silly smiles and bright eyes. Fingers entwined, they turned to face their
witnesses who applauded and whistled and shot bubbles out of their wands as the
couple receded back down the aisle.
===============================================================================
“You go nowhere alone with him. Promise me, wife,” Severus whispered into her
ear about forty-five minutes later. She shivered, loving the new term of
endearment. The meal was over, and had been light and delicious. Champagne and
wine and beer was floating around on magically refilling trays along with
snacks for those who stayed to dance, which was almost everyone. A magical
deejay played Muggle and Wizarding music back to back and many people were
dancing and enjoying themselves. Currently, Severus held his beautiful bride in
his left arm with hers draped over his shoulders, their right hands were
entwined and held against his chest as they moved gracefully around the floor.
He was having a hard time remembering that they still had to figure out if
Lucius had been there when Hermione had been captured, so caught up was he in
his young bride’s beauty and his desire to make the party more private. He
pressed his left hand to the small of her back indicating he wanted her closer.
She settled against him and he was surprised to feel the small round firmness
of her womb pressing against his groin.
“I can feel your baby bump,” he said softly.
“I’m starting to show,” she said quietly. “We probably won’t be able to keep it
a secret for too much longer once we return to school. I am sixteen weeks on
Monday, and with all the weight I’ve lost, it’s going to become quite prominent
within the next six to eight weeks or so.”
“You’ve gained some weight this last month,” he returned, still keeping their
conversation intimate as he led her around the floor.
“Don’t remind me, I’m up seventeen pounds!”
He almost laughed at the horror in her voice. “You can stand to gain the
weight, Hermione. You lost, what, almost thirty-five pounds since your parents
passed?”
She looked ashamed for a moment and he dipped his mouth to hers, kissing her
sweetly. “Thirty,” she admitted.
“So you could easily stand to gain another twenty five and only be up ten or
twelve pounds from your original weight. Poppy told you she wanted to see you
back up to your original weight plus.”
She gave a low growl and narrowed her eyes at him. “If my appetite continues
the way it has been the last four weeks, there will be no issue with that, not
that I like it. Can we stop talking about me getting fat?”
He tossed his head back and laughed merrily, causing numerous people around
them to smile at them and tinkle their glasses for another kiss. He obliged
only too willingly, this time with a more inappropriate snog that left her
feeling decidedly breathless as it drew wolf whistles and cat calls from their
friends. She was blushing prettily when he pulled away.
“Pink is a stunning color on you,” he murmured against her forehead. “Have I
told you how utterly perfect you look today?”
She smiled into his neck before placing a kiss on his jaw. “Only about a dozen
times,” she whispered.
“Here he comes,” Severus’s arms tightened around her briefly and he felt her
tremble slightly before watching her steel her nerves. “Be ready.” He heard her
cancel the glamor over the scar on her arm.
“Ah, Severus, my friend. Do you mind if I take your bride for a twirl around
the dance floor?” The haughty tones of Lucius made Hermione’s tummy flip, but
she looked up at him with a demure smile as Severus answered.
“Of course, Lucius.” He twirled Hermione out from his body before bowing over
their joined hands and passing her to the elder Malfoy.
The man elegantly pulled her into a formal hold, and she didn’t miss how he
looked at her scar curiously before turning his attention to her. “You look
lovely today, Miss Granger.”
“It’s Madam Snape, actually, sir,” Hermione answered with a quirk of an
eyebrow. “Just today, actually,” she smiled and he gave a low chuckle. “Thank
you for the compliment, though, Mr. Malfoy.”
“Oh, I think we’ve moved on past formalities, don’t you, Hermione?” The way he
said her name made her feel queasy. She pushed past it.
“If you say so, Lucius.”
They moved around the dance floor silently for a few moments, she saw him
looking at her scar again.
“Does this bother you, Lucius?” She indicated the puckered pink lines.
“No, not at all. Scars are meant to be born with pride,” he started. “I’m just
surprised how clean it looks after being opened twice.”
There. She had him. Instead of making her feel triumphant, she felt panic
rising and knew she needed to get away from him as quickly as possible. She
tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Loo,” she said quickly, the horrendous endearment made her head swim after
just receiving confirmation that he was one of her attackers. “I’m sorry, being
pregnant makes it urgent on occasion.”
“By all means.” He let her go with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He
didn’t even realize he had made a mistake. She whirled away from him and had to
check herself so she didn’t bolt from the tent. She was almost to the house
when Severus caught up with her.
“Hermione!” He exclaimed.
She turned to him and all but launched herself into his arms, fear overtaking
any pleasure of catching one of her captors. “He called me sweetheart.” Her
breath hitched in her throat and she coughed gently to try and dispel it. “He
commented that my scar looked good for being opened twice.”
Severus had gone very still. Dangerously still. Lucius was not one for terms of
endearment. Especially with people he barely knew. Definitely not with people
he didn’t like – and he did not like Hermione. If he had called Hermione
sweetheart, he knew what it meant to her. There was no way he could know,
unless he had been a part of it. That, coupled with the fact that very few
people had known her scar had been reopened during her capture, and he knew
this was it. His heart sank even as ice started to flow through his veins. He
closed his eyes, trying not to gag on his own tongue. There’s no way he could
know unless he’d been a part of it.Resignation settled over his being. He knew
what he would have to do.
Hermione noticed his change of mood, but she said nothing as she continued to
cling to him, trying to force her body to relax. “He was one of them,” she said
quietly after a long time.

“He had to have been. There’s no other reason for it, it wasn’t a mistake.
Lucius Malfoy doesn’t make those kinds of mistakes.”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a
question.
“Yes.” The word spun out on a menacing hiss.
Closing her eyes to block the screaming in her heart about how wrong it was,
Hermione whispered. “Good.” She wanted him dead.
Chapter End Notes
     Wedding Dress
     https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1hJUFMVXXXXXBaXXXq6xXFXXXB/Lace-Haute-
     Couture-Sexy-Sheath-font-b-Wedding-b-font-Dress-font-b-Bodice-b-
     font.jpg
     Yule Ball Gown
     https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1jbMROFXXXXctaXXXq6xXFXXX2/Custom-Made-
     Navy-Blue-font-b-Green-b-font-font-b-Mermaid-b-font-Lace-Evening.jpg
     Hair Front
     https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/38/17/87/
     381787317480bc0ab46c72015f09764d--natural-wedding-makeup-wedding-
     makeup-looks.jpg
     Hair Back
     https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/1d/f9/b4/
     1df9b4438c5f4f69e97ca5910fccc789--wedding-hair-pins-wedding-hairs.jpg
     Bridesmaid gown (only floor length)
     https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fc/04/98/
     fc049816cf77045337d415b528cc1965.jpg
     -Italicized - Blessings from the Four Directions - Unknown
     -Hermione's vows were based off an Unknown author's work entitled "I
     Choose You." I embellished and altered some wording. Italicized are
     word for word.
     -Italicized vows by Severus written by Dorothy R. Colgan
     -Italicized - Scottish Hand-fasting Ceremony - Unknown
***** Chapter Thirty-Six *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: And the moment you've all been waiting for.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
===============================================================================
                               Chapter_Thirty_Six
===============================================================================
“Wait, where are you going?” Hermione demanded as she watched her husband spin
on his heel in a billow of black robes, catching a glimpse of a very fierce and
terrifying scowl on his face.
“Today?!” She exclaimed, realization choking her. She was almost running to
keep up with him. “Right now? Oof!” She stumbled over a dip in the lawn, but
caught herself and hurried after him. “Severus, it’s our wedding day!”
He didn’t seem to hear her and she was becoming almost frantic. “You can’t do
this in front of everyone, they’ll take you away from me!”
Still no reply and too quickly they were back in the party tent, all eyes on
them due to Hermione's loud protests. Many mouths were gaping in shock at the
rage Severus was emanating, others covered their mouths with their hands,
trying to hide their surprise. Everyone’s eyes were wide, barely daring to
breathe.
“Lucius Malfoy!” Severus thundered. There was a tinkling of glass as someone
dropped a champagne flute and gasps flitted around the space.
“Severus, no!” Hermione pleaded, grasping his elbow. He did not shove her, but
he did disentangle her fingers and firmly set her away from him. Not making eye
contact and not answering her, he was too far gone in his wrath.
“I invoke the challenge of the Nabu Dehul for the wrongs done to me and mine!”
Magic cracked through the air; the marquee and table cloths billowed with its
force. Several surprised shouts came from around the room. A small shriek
reached Hermione’s ears, it was obviously Narcissa’s protest of surprise. She
was distracted from looking at the woman by the raw power of the challenge that
was cascading through the tent, it was fascinating. Hermione had read about
past Nabu Dehuls  – Wizard Duels – while doing research for an essay Professor
Binns had assigned in sixth year. The last one had been fought in 1873, over
125 years ago. It was an ancient right, she knew. One still respected by the
ministry – at least if Severus won, he wouldn’t be carted off to Azkaban. If he
won. If he didn’t, he’d be dead and she would be a widow the same day she wed.

Severus’ voice ripped through the crowd again, laying the specifics of Malfoy’s
crimes at his feet. “Lucius Malfoy, I accuse you of the rape and torture of my
wife – what say you, man?!”
More shocked exclamations met her ears, but her eyes were fixed on her wizard;
the power radiating off him was riveting.
Lucius Malfoy, who had looked up at Snape’s explosive entrance, seemed calm.
Every witch and wizard gathered was staring at him with bated breath, awaiting
his answer. The magic of the duel was as old as time. It forced the challenged
to accept a fight to the death if the accusations were true. While it had been
a long time since it had last been invoked, it’s power and prestige did not let
the wizarding world forget what it truly was – an infamous form of revenge.
Slowly, the chiseled, blond-haired man raised his fingers to his cloak and
undid its tie. He calmly removed it and handed it to his wife before undoing
his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves. Only then did he answer. “I say I
accept, Severus Snape.”
Narcissa moaned in horror, tears cascading down her face. Draco left Lizzie’s
side quickly to comfort his mother. Lizzie watched him with alarm and dismay.
An outrage exploded around them. Ginny and Luna had to put themselves in front
of Harry, Bill rushing to help hold him back as Charlie and George grabbed Ron
in order to stop him from rushing the elder Malfoy.
Hermione felt sick as she watched her new husband shed his dress robes, his
cravat was being torn from his neck with angry, jerky movements before it was
tossed over his shoulder. He ripped the buttons open at his neck to allow for
better movement as his wand slid down from its spot up his sleeve to be held
defensively in his right hand.
Molly and Minerva were dashing around banishing tables and linens and chairs.
The deejay shrunk his system and Disapparated with a reverberating crack!She
heard Kingsley Shacklebolt send out his Patronus, requesting Auror back up.
The leer emanating from the senior Malfoy was cruel and unabashed. “How did you
figure it out, friend?” The last word was full of sarcastic humor. Hermione saw
Draco’s face drain of color at his father’s admission, Narcissa buried her face
in his shoulder as he held her to him. From fear, embarrassment, shame, grief?
Only she knew.
“Very few people knew her scar had been reopened during her capture,” Snape
snapped, raising his wand and taking a fighting stance. “Among a few other
tells.”
Lucius mirrored him from approximately nine meters away, holding out his left
hand, palm up, before curling his fingers in a few quick successions. The
gesture screamed “bring it on.” Hermione whimpered with fear.
“You know the rules, Malfoy.” Snape’s words were snarled, his deep voice laced
with anger and malice.
“Yes, Snape. I know you’ll be dead shortly, leaving your pregnant new wife
behind. A widow the same day she wed. How tragic.”
Ron let out a growl from across the room and Arthur had to grab his arm to re-
aim his wand as a hex flew from the tip. “If anyone helps, they die!” He cried
above the hum of magic swirling around them. “Only the challenger and
challenged can participate! Lower your wands!”
No words were exchanged from the duo, but suddenly it started. A swarm of
daggers were flying at Snape and a few people screamed as he threw up a Protego
and changed the daggers into daisies that floated harmlessly to the ground
before swirling his wand and making it hail fire. The crowd backed up as Malfoy
deflected the spell and aimed a slicing hex at Snape. There was a grunt of pain
and Hermione gasped, her fingers flying to cover her mouth, as a red streak
appeared on her husband’s cheek.
There was a pause of shock that anyone had gotten a spell through so early in
the game. Hermione watched as he reinforced his shield and aimed a Reducto. It
rebounded off Malfoy’s shield and shattered a table to the man’s left.
It was countered quickly with a Sectumsempra which Snape barely deflected right
after it shattered his shield. “How is he getting spells through Snape’s
Protego? He has one of the strongest shields I know of.” The words were distant
in her ears because her heart was thudding too loudly, but they pulled at her.
Something was wrong. She clutched her chest over the pounding muscle that was
trying to crash through her ribcage. Desperate to keep herself together when
she just wanted to fall apart. This couldn’t be happening! Not now. Not today!
Malfoy deflected two more spells in quick succession before getting another
slicing hex on Snape’s arm. The Potion Master’s face contorted with rage and
anguish and it hit her.

He was emotional.

This wasn’t the cool, calm, and collected Snape they all knew. He wasn’t hiding
himself like he always had. His guard was down, he was allowing himself to feel
today, this important day, in order to connect more deeply with her.

But he was too emotional, too angry, too hurt, too scared. …the strongest
shields I know of. “Put up your Occlumency shields, Severus!” she screamed.
“Damnit, don’t you dare do this to me!” He didn’t react, didn’t look at her,
she felt like she was yelling at a brick wall. “Shield your mind!” As she
bellowed the words, she doubled with dread because another slicing hex hit his
forehead just above an eye.
Then, Lizzie was there, finally able to fight her way across the room to
envelop Hermione in an embrace and pull her back from the sidelines. Ginny,
Harry, and Ron were not far behind. The boys had calmed enough to realize they
could do nothing but watch and take care of the overwhelmed and tearfully
hysterical Hermione.
While she felt her friends’ presence, her eyes did not leave the man she loved.
She knew the moment he registered and complied with her frantic plea because
the game changed instantly. The mental shield allowed him to cut out the
distracting emotions and reinforce his Protegotenfold. The next rapid
progression of spells from Malfoy bounced off it, shattering glass, bowling
over a table, and firing a hole through the side of the tent.
An evil sneer crossed Snape’s face and silently he shoved his hands forward and
the Earth sprang up to bury Malfoy, who deflected and turned it into shards of
glass to push back at Snape. Snape turned the glass into rain that pelted down
heavily on his shield and sprayed their audience. Before the all the rain had
settled, he sent a Confringo, which shattered Malfoy’s shield and immediately
followed it with a slicing hex. Blood bloomed across Malfoy’s chest as a
shallow cut ripped through his shirt and skin. A look of shock on the handsome
man’s face was quickly covered by a sneer. Sweat was dripping down his face
from his exertion.
“Is that all you have, Snape?” Malfoy goaded, reinforcing his shield before
sending two more quick curses at Severus. They ricocheted off Snape’s Protego.
“You know I’ve tasted her?” There was a disgusted intake of breath from the
crowd. Draco’s face looked green at his father’s words. Lucius grunted as he
chased away another hex, his hair coming loose from the plait that hung down
his back. He spun and fired again. “I hung her from the ceiling by her wrists
and whipped her until she bled before I fucked her from behind.” Snape’s face
darkened, moisture beaded on his forehead, but his concentration was not lost.
Not even when Hermione let out a low groan of shocked humiliation at Malfoy’s
disgusting anecdote. More protests flew from the lips of onlookers. Hermione
was special to everyone there, no one wanted to hear the filth coming from his
mouth.
Harry enclosed his arms around both her and Lizzie, Ginny and Ron crowding them
closer in attempts to protect their friend.
“I know the sounds she makes when she climaxes, Snape!” He followed his words
with flashes of sickly green light. Severus had to duck and roll to avoid the
Avada, half of his inky hair falling out of the leather thong that bound it
back from his face before he leapt back to his feet in a low crouch. Shock
registered on his face for a split second before he dispelled it.
Malfoy used the momentary glimpse of emotion to his advantage. “Oh, you didn’t
know she received pleasure from her captors? She has a very responsive body,
your wife. I have two friends that were very, very skilled at making her come
over and over again.” More hexes deflected. Snape still didn’t respond, his
Occlumency shields protecting him from this new horror of information.
Hermione sobbed, her face hiding in Harry’s neck for a moment. “Don’t listen,
Hermione,” Lizzie whispered, rubbing her friend’s back as the others circled
them more tightly. “It’s okay.”
“You can’t blame her, though. Any good Healer will tell you it’s a natural
response, even when the stimuli is unwanted.” More repulsive words to goad her
husband.
“Let’s get her out of here!” Ron suggested hoarsely, sickened by the
descriptions and taunts leaving the elder Malfoy’s vile mouth.
“I will not leave!” Hermione hissed through clenched teeth.
“I watched as my true friends claimed her virgin arse.” The man snarled, sweat
now pouring down his face.
“Oh, gods,” Ginny moaned, tears streaking down her face in absolute alarm and
repugnance. Overwhelming sadness for her friend took hold and she was sobbing
along with Hermione in the next instant. Ron and Harry and others in the room
were passionately shouting insults and protests back at Lucius, trying to drown
out his words.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Malfoy!” George and Charlie could be heard over the
other screams.
And he did, when Snape hit him with a Silencio followed by a Sectumsemprathat
splayed open a thigh and sent Malfoy to his knees with a silent grunt and a
hiss of pain. “Lucius!” Narcissa screamed, her hands flying to cover her mouth
as she jumped from her son’s side. Her eyes wide with fear and wet with tears,
one arm outstretched as if she could protect him. Her son pulled her back into
his shoulder, willing her to not watch. His father deserved whatever Snape
wanted to dish out, but how was he to tell his mother that?
“Mother, shh.” The pale boy hissed, his eyes round as the fight between his
father and godfather continued.
Mere moments and a well-placed stinging jinx later, Severus was standing over
Malfoy, one dragon-hide boot crunched down over the elder wizard’s wand hand.
Lucius’ fingers did not loosen, he refused to let the wand drop.
“Do you yield, Malfoy?” The deep baritone came out around panting from his
exertion. They were the first words he had spoken since he invoked the
challenge. Snape pulled in deep gasps of breath, trying to slow his heart.
Sweat had soaked his hair and his once white dress shirt clung to every inch of
his torso. Perspiration trickled down his temples and off the tip of his nose,
blood streaked his face along the left side from the cut above his left eyebrow
and along his left cheek bone. More blood was on his chest, streaking his
shirt, from shallow cuts that had been landed through a heavy shield. “If you
yield, I’ll make your death quick. Painless.”
“No!” For the first time since the fight started, Snape reacted to her voice by
looking at her. His head snapped up as his young, beautiful, and terrified
bride pushed her way through her friends. “Don’t, Severus. Stop. I know I said
I wanted you to, but I don’t. I changed my mind. This isn’t worth the damage to
your soul. Let the Ministry have him, let the Aurors take him.”
“He doesn’t deserve to live, Hermione.” Snape’s voice was quiet and seemingly
calm, but there was as tremor that showed the venom and hatred he felt. “He
deserves to die for what he did to you.”
“No,” Hermione whispered, slowly crossing the space between them. She stopped a
couple meters away and reached a hand out to him, her fingers were trembling.
“He deserves to rot. We need him to bring an end to the abductions and murders.
I am not the only one who he has hurt. We need him to bring justice.
“Revoke the challenge, Severus. You are the only one who can. Don’t let him
drag you down with him.” The voice belonged to the Minister.
“I have already murdered, Hermione. You know this. What is one more?” Severus
acted as if he hadn’t heard Kingsley.
“You haven’t murdered like this. All your other murders were to protect –
yourself and many, many others. Your soul was shielded by your double life.
Dumbledore was a mercy killing – planned – an assisted suicide. No one in this
room would argue that. This murder would be done for revenge, it will damage
you. He was your friend.” Her argument was insistent; her voice clear as it
carried around the marquee. The others murmured their agreement, encouraging
Snape to end the duel.
Sensing his weakening resolve, Narcissa spoke, her voice quivering with
emotion. “Please, Severus,” she murmured, even though Draco tried to stop her
words with a low hiss of conversation no one could make out. “I know he’s done
wrong, but…please.”
Severus’ eyes slid closed with consternation as he contemplated. Kingsley and
the Aurors he had summoned seemed to materialize out of nowhere, moving in to
take Lucius prisoner. Snape decided, opening his eyes and removing his foot
from Malfoy’s hand. He watched dispassionately as the man angrily shoved
himself to his knees, face red with defiance. His wand was left on the ground
before him. The Aurors waited, no one could interfere physically until Snape
released the bond of the challenge.
“Severus Snape releases the Nabu Duhel challenge beholden to Lucius Malfoy,” he
breathed and a shower of silver sparks burst from the tip of his wand. The
powerful magic that had swirled the room ceased as if a large retaining wall
had caught the breeze and pushed it in a different direction. There was a split
second of silent stillness and then it was as if someone hit a slow-motion
button. As the Aurors moved to put an Incarcerous bind on the man, Lucius
pitched himself forward, grabbed his wand, rolled, and Disapparated with a
resounding crack of deafening sound.
The stunned silence that followed was broken by a sob from Narcissa and a roar
of rage from Snape as the whole crowed burst into a flurry of action and sound.
Before Severus could do anything rash, Hermione sprinted the short length that
was still between them and launched herself into his arms, pulling his face
around to hers with her hands on each cheek. “Let him go!” She insisted,
pulling his lips down to hers in a searing kiss which he did not return, so
deep was his fury.
“Stop,” she whispered against his mouth while pandemonium raged around them.
“Look at me,” she pleaded. “Be here with me, now.” He finally met her eyes,
black coffee to swirled caramel, and took her in. Her hair was coming undone
and there were tear streaks on her face, the Impervious charm wearing off long
ago. Her beautiful gown was now stained with his blood and covered dirt. There
were strips of scorch marks from the fierceness of the magical entity that had
surrounded them all.
Realization dawned; what he had done sank in. He had terrified her. She had
cried because of him. Today – on her wedding day. “I’m sorry,” he growled,
feeling his shoulders drop. “Oh, Hermione, I’m sorry.” He raised a hand to her
face and gently brushed a smudge of dirt off her cheek.
“Don’t be sorry. Be here. With me. Now.”
“Yes.” One arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her closer. There was a
beat where heat seemed to blossom through them.
“You were magnificent,” she rasped.
An eyebrow quirked as he realized her voice was laced with a tremble of desire,
her eyes heavy lidded and focused on his lips. She glanced up at him through
her eyelashes.
“I want you to take me to bed, Severus.” Her voice was husky. “Take me home,
make me your wife.”
His eyes darkened perceptibly, the pupils dilating, and he pulled her
completely flush against his body, dipping his head to kiss her. Unfortunately,
that was as far as they got. They were interrupted with a barrage of questions
and Madam Pomfrey, who came to tend his injuries. With no way to stop the
inundation of their friends, they were pulled apart. Severus was dragged to
where Draco and Narcissa were being held for questioning. Hermione was engulfed
by the Weasley’s and Harry in attempts to calm her, make her sit, and press
water into her hands. She looked longingly over her shoulder at her husband and
sighed.
===============================================================================
Two hours later, Hermione was feeling giddy with fatigue. She giggled as she
heard Molly arguing with the matron of Millamant’s Magical Marquees, who was
berating her for the damage to the tent and insisting they would never again do
business at the Burrow. “That’s two of two weddings that destroyed my
property!” The angry woman was hollering.
“For Heaven’s sake!” Molly threw her hands up in the air. “I said we would pay
for the damages, just like we did the last time!”
She was distracted by Lizzie whispering tearfully with Ginny. “I don’t know if
he knew.” The pretty blonde’s voice hitched on a sob. “Oh, Gods, Ginny. What if
he did? What if him being with me was all a ruse?”
“Lizzie, no. I don’t believe that for a moment.” Ginny attempted to sooth. “He
loves you, it’s so obvious. Not even Draco is that good of an actor.”
The only answer was more quiet sobs. Her eyes roamed the small crowd again to
settle on Severus who was speaking with Kingsley and Arthur. Harry and Ron were
just on the outskirts of the conversation, listening to every word with rapt
attention. Suddenly, she heard Severus’ voice cut across the noise. “No more,
tonight, Shacklebolt. I got married today, I want to take my pregnant wife
home.”
Kingsley looked surprised for a moment, shooting a glance at Hermione and
catching her eye. She gave him a small smile and a nod. She couldn’t hear his
reply, but knew it was in the affirmative when her husband’s shoulders relaxed.
She whispered her goodbyes to Ginny and Lizzie, kissing their cheeks before
telling Lizzie to not fret until she heard more from Draco and that she agreed
with Ginny that he probably had not known. Molly intercepted her for a fierce
hug on her way to say her farewells to Harry and Ron. Both of her dear friends
hugged her tightly and kissed her. Harry brushed a lock of hair from her face
and told her again how beautiful she looked. Ron agreed with pink cheeks and a
bashful smile. It seemed they were both a little drunk, being much more touchy
and sentimental than they’d normally allow themselves.
She waved her good-byes to more Weasley brothers before nodding at Arthur and
Kingsley as Severus wrapped his arms around her, turning on the spot. A tight
tunnel ride later, and they were at the gates of Hogwarts – home. It would be
her home until they figured out what she was going to do for further education
or a job. Then they would make the decision to settle in Spinners End and floo
to their respective work places, or sell the house in Spinners End and purchase
something together, closer to their respective work places. However, all that
mattered tonight was Hogwarts and their quarters and being together again.
She knew without a doubt that tonight was it, she was ready. She married him
because she loved him, he fought for her because he loved her and wanted to
protect her honor. Tonight, she would show him she was whole again – and she
would be whole again as soon as they became one.
They quietly made their way through the wards of the gate and reset them before
walking hand and hand up to the castle. No words needed to be exchanged, the
silence was loaded with promises and heat.
When the doors to their chambers were locked and warded, Snape turned and met
her eyes with a searching look. She smiled softly and toed off her slippers,
watching as he removed his boots. Then she grasped one hand in hers and reached
up on her tip toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips before spinning away and
backing into the bathroom, leading him forward with their still clasped hands.
He started the shower wandlessly, the sound of the water fall was soothing.
Silently, she undid his buttons as he plucked bruised flowers from her hair and
released the sticking charms. She felt the weight of it sag around her
shoulders and down her back before she smoothed her palms over his chest to
push the shirt off his arms. It collapsed in a pool of muddied white at his
heels.
Gently, he guided her to turn and pulled the zipper of her gown down, over her
bum. With a soft groan of appreciation, he uncovered a triangle of ice blue
lace at the cleft of her cheeks. The fingertips of both his hands trailed up
her spine, only to separate at the base of her neck to slowly move over her
shoulders. He turned them again, so he could watch her in the mirror that hung
above the bathroom sink. Slowly, he slid his palms across her bare nape to the
cap sleeves, his fingers slipping underneath to push the heavy, lacey, beaded
fabric from its perch. Having nothing left to hold it up, the dress cascaded
down her body, revealing her to him in the reflective glass completely.
A low growl escaped him and he put his mouth to her ear. “I will make you mine
again tonight, wife,” he rumbled. A delicious shiver ran up her spine as she
made eye contact with him in the mirror and nodded. She was riveted with the
image of them. She was completely nude outside the triangle of blue lace at the
apex of her thighs. She could see hints of her dark pubic hair behind the
fabric and knew they were already soaked with her arousal. He looked dark and
dangerous, his eyes glinting like lit coal. His hair was pulled loose from its
tie and wild from his fight. It hung over his shoulders. She hadn’t realized
how long it had gotten, it almost grazed his nipples.
She watched as his hands slid back down her arms, caressing her sides before
snaking around her and cupping the small swell of her abdomen where their
daughter lay in her womb. Her skin tingled, over-sensitive and on high alert.
She observed with hooded eyes as his long, slender fingers – so white against
her creamy skin – made their way up her tummy to caress the undersides of her
breasts before lifting their weight in his palms. His thumbs and forefingers
encircled both taut, dusky pink nipples to pluck and roll them, pulling that
cord attached to her sex and making her squirm with a puff of pleasure. Her
head lolled back to rest in the hallow of his shoulder, the one that had been
made just for her. She could feel his erection pressing against one bare cheek
of her arse through the layers of clothing he still wore. Her hands came up to
cup under his and he growled his approval as she helped him stimulate herself.
When his fingers were done teasing her breasts, she turned in his arms to press
kisses against his chest. Her tongue flicked out to caress a nipple, making him
inhale sharply as her hands wandered down to open the placket of his trousers,
rubbing him through the fabric while she struggled with the buttons.
Finally, she had him free and tugged the slippery fabric over his hips,
watching his manhood spring free like a tightly wound spiral letting loose. She
sank to her knees into the pool of their discarded clothing to follow his pants
to the ground and help him step out of them. His cock brushed her cheek,
leaving a smear of precum behind. She felt her own excitement drip past her
lips, soaking her pubic hair and knickers.
Before he could think to stop her, or help her back to her feet, one of her
small hands was wrapped around his heat, pumping her towards him as her mouth
engulfed his tip. He let out a startled grunt of pleasure as her tongue
attacked his hardening length with enthusiasm. Her other hand came up to cup
his bollocks, swirling them in her hand gently, like a pair of Chinese stress
balls.
She hummed her pleasure at the pure masculine taste of him, dragging him deep
into her throat and pulling back with firm suction and a twist of her wrist
that caused him to sink his hands into her hair and jerk his hips with a low
curse. He allowed her to continue her ministrations for a few minutes before
gently insisting she regain her feet. He hiked her up onto the counter, where
she hissed as the cold, stone top made contact with her bare bum. He chuckled
as he grasped the strings that held the two triangles of fabric together and
tugged them down her smooth legs and off her feet before forcing his way
between her legs to capture her mouth with his.
His tongue dove deep, tasting her with a desperation that had been absent from
them for too long. Her arms came up to encircle his shoulders while his hands
closed around her back, splaying his palms flat before pulling her flush
against him, her bare breasts being teased by his chest hair. His prick and
coarse, black pubic hair was pressed against her belly and she moaned deep in
her chest, opening her mouth wider for his explorations even as she wrapped her
legs firmly around his slender hips. He could feel her wetness pressed to his
thigh as she ground against him, desperate for relief from the delicious
tension that was coiling in her tummy.
His hands came down to cup her bum and he pulled her off the counter and into
his arms, walking them straight into the shower and under the hot spray of
water. They groaned together as the sensuality of the heat and pressure of the
rainfall showerhead cascaded around them, their lips still locked in a heated
snog. He pulled away from her reluctantly, letting her slide down him until her
feet were firmly on the ground. There was a heady smirk on his face at her
glazed look. He reached behind her for the shampoo and squirted a heavy handful
of it onto his palm before rubbing his hands together. He indicated for her to
turn around and she obliged, moaning in contentment as he massaged the soap
into her tresses. After her hair was rinsed and conditioned, she leaned her bum
into the cradle of his thighs, enjoying the feel of his cock on the small of
her back, before letting her head fall forward as he worked her over with a
soft flannel, sliding it over her body, washing away the dried sweat and grime
of the long, emotional day. Once she was rinsed, she returned the favor, paying
special attention to his heated length, pulling more visceral sounds from his
chest as she rinsed him and then followed the rinsing by engulfing him with her
mouth again, not able to get enough of the taste of her husband.
Too soon, he stopped her again with a rough jerk to her feet. She gasped her
surprised protest even as he pressed her into the corner of the tiled shower
stall. This time, it was he who sank to his knees. Using his hands to brace her
bum, he guided her legs over his shoulders. The water from the shower head
cascaded down his back, the spray of it coating them both in warmth and steam.
He helped her prop herself against the wall before diving face first into her
pussy, eliciting a guttural yip of delight from her as he pulled her labia into
his mouth, his tongue searching out her sweet spot. She tangled her hands in
his hair, shouting her ecstasy in non-sensical phrases and praise. Her climax
crashed around her hard, making her hips jerk erratically. If he hadn’t had a
death grip on her slick backside, she would have slid right down the wall.
Instead, he held her steady and anchored her until she came down from her high.
He helped her regain her footing before pushing himself to stand with the
assistance of the shower walls. He turned the water off and pulled her out of
the stall, using a wandless spell to dry them, making her hair poof wildly and
bringing them both to laughter. It stilled almost instantly as her laughter
made his slightly wilting cock spring back to full mast and her eyes dropped to
it, lust erasing mirth. He swept her up bridal style in his arms and carried
her into the bedroom where a fire danced wildly in the hearth and lit candles
were scattered around the room. Soft piano music was floating in from
somewhere. She looked around in surprise before turning sparkling eyes on him.
“How?” Was all she said.
“Help from Pepper,” he explained with a shrug. She smiled softly at his
sweetness while he continued the short walk to their bed. He set her gently on
top of the comforter before his gaze became predatory and he stalked her – his
prey. He climbed lithely onto the bed as she scooted herself back into the
pillows. He once again reminded her of a sleek, black panther – and she was his
meal. Her eyes drifted closed as his lips made contact with one ankle, his
hands sliding up a silky leg as his mouth trailed in its wake. When he reached
the juncture of her thighs, he retreated and started again with the other leg.
Once again, he skipped the spot screaming for his attention and lavished the
swell of her belly with his hard mouth and hot tongue, his hair occluding his
face and caressing her abdomen, his fingers sinking into her hips.
She writhed beneath him, reaching down to tug on his hair, trying to pull him
up to her. He refused to move quickly, paying extra attention to every nook and
cranny over her body, giving more love to the undersides of her breasts and her
collar bones and neck. Her nipples ached with want of his touch, and he
continued to deny her, driving her barmy with a desperate need.
Her hands clasped and pulled at him, his hair, his shoulders, reaching down to
cup his bum as she thrust her hips up to rub herself against his sex. He
growled a warning at her, before lacing both hands with hers and holding them
above her head. He dropped a buss to her lips. “I will have my way with you,
witch, stop trying to rush me.” It was a promise and a threat and was quivered
with pent up lust and a desire to please.
“Please, Severus, I need you inside me. Please!” She groaned as he relented a
little bit, encircling a nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking it
into his hot mouth, making her cry out and arch her back. “Oh, gods!” She
whimpered pitifully.
Severus was so hard it was painful, the prolonged teasing was driving him as
mad as it was her, but he continued on the path of righteousness. He had plans.
Divine intervention would not help either of them tonight. He would take hell
with the sins of her flesh and die a happy man.
He finally let his fingers leave hers and slide into her heat, thrusting two
fingers up inside of her, making her cry out expletives that turned him on even
more. He watched her face with rapt attention as his digits set a grueling pace
that she matched with jerky thrusts, begging him for more, for harder. He added
a third finger and watched her eyes roll back and her neck arch. He dipped his
mouth to her throat and suckled, leaving a love bite, and then another where
her neck met her shoulder, before adding his thumb to her clit to increase the
intensity of the assault on her cunt. It took very little to bring her to
another screaming, sobbing climax, and she clung to him as he pushed her off
yet another cliff into the deep abyss of sexual sensations. He rolled her onto
her side and crooked one leg up to her chest. Her vision was blurry with her
most recent orgasm and all she sensed was a position that she had never been in
before.
“Look at me, wife. Look at me when you become mine, again.” Her rolling eyes
finally sought him out, her jaw slack with satiation. He gave her a wicked
smile and pressed himself into her, never removing his eyes from her glazed
gaze. She parted for him willingly, her tightness almost his undoing. She
couldn’t help that her eyes slid closed with the sheer intensity of the moment,
of receiving him into her after so long. A swirl of magic flitted through the
room, guttering the candles low before they rose again at the consummation of
their binding. Then, they were moving. The position left the thrusts shallow,
but intense. She wound one arm up and around his neck, dragging him down to
kiss him full on the mouth, nipping his lips with her teeth before pushing his
head down, down to her presented nipple. He took her wordless plea to heart and
sucked it fully into his mouth, making her hand clench at the nape of his neck
and mewling “yes” to explode from her. He reangled slightly and knew he found a
perfect spot when she gasped and groaned, thrusting back harder against him. He
toppled her off another cliff within minutes. She shouted her joy with his name
on her lips. She was so incredibly responsive tonight, months of little to no
intimacy making it easy to drag her off each precipice.
He lifted himself up onto his knees, pulling out of her, which made her growl
in protest, her eyes flying wide as she rolled to her back and pushed herself
up on her elbows.
“What - ?” But he broke her off with another hungry kiss, silencing her
question as he scooped each of her knees in his elbows and pistoned back into
her, hard and fast. It made her squawk against his lips as he bottomed out
fiercely before she reached and clasped him to her breast, scratching her nails
up the rippling muscles of his back. He angled himself on his knees and drove
into her again and again, driving crazed, sexy whimpers and gasps from her.
“You’ll come again,” he demanded and she hissed.
“I don’t know if I can,” she gasped, her nails digging in harder as she met him
thrust for thrust. He let her knees go and they slid down his torso to wrap
around him, her feet cupping his buttocks, allowing him to slide a little
deeper. His balls were screaming with their need, but he held himself off,
determine to drag one more climax out of her. He reached down and shoved her
legs off from around him, rolling them and pushing her up to straddle him. She
fell limp on top of him for a moment breathing heavily before pushing herself
up with her palms flat on his chest. He placed the soles of his feet flat on
the mattress and grabbed her hips as he drove up into her. Hermione’s head fell
back with a low cry of delight, her insane tendrils of hair everywhere. He
growled as she picked up a rhythm, slamming down as he thrust up. He watched a
bead of sweat trail between her perky, bouncing tits. Feeling firm in his
conviction she wouldn’t lose their rhythm, he reached out and plucked one of
the budded tips. She cried out, her nails digging into his chest at his
nipples, making him curse. He snaked his other hand between her folds, pinching
her nub before rolling it in his fingers. This did make her lose rhythm and he
settled her into a grind as he swirled her nub.
“Come for me, Hermione,” he demanded. She made an inarticulate noise of
consent, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, a look of utmost
concentration on her face. Her eyelashes fanned out across her cheeks; she
looked absolutely gorgeous. “Let go,” he growled, his deep voice reverberating
like thunder through her nerve endings.
He was going to fill her up so full, his seed would be leaking out of her for
days. He wanted her there with him. He circled her clit a little faster and her
gasp and the tightening of her thighs let him know he had her. Without losing a
beat, he rolled them again, lifting her bum and increasing the pace and force.
She came with an inarticulate cry. “Unngggg!”
Her release was borderline hysterical and mindless and curled his toes as he
hissed “Yessss!” and catapulted himself off the nearest ledge with her. “FUCK!”
He poured himself into her, driving through their combined orgasm. Her inner
muscles sucking at him with a strength that was otherworldly as he jerked into
her again and again before collapsing on top of her, rolling slightly so as not
to smother her. He grasped the back of her head and sealed his lips to hers,
pulling her tongue into his mouth hotly, possessively, before slowly gentling
the kiss. Sweeping his tongue against hers, nibbling her lips, then suckling
her bottom lip as they both breathed heavily through their noses, their hearts
gradually calming. He was watching her face as she slowly opened her eyes and
smiled at the unfocused, sated look in them. She returned his smile with a shy
one of her own, tilting her head again to give him a sweet, chaste kiss.
“That was incredible.” Her voice was thick and raspy, laced with contentment.
“It was,” he agreed, pulling her into his arms as he settled onto his back. He
cast a Scourgify over them, chuckling as she squealed her surprise before
wandlessly dousing the candles that were strewn across the room. He silenced
the music and reached out to summon the blankets that had been dilapidated
during their romp and a pillow that had found its way to the floor. Finally
settled and comfortable, he began to gently stroke her bare shoulder, smoothing
hair away from her face as she rubbed a thumb across his jaw, her breathing
evening out.
“I love you,” she whispered, yawning.
“I love you,” he answered, conviction ringing in the tone of his voice. “More
than anything.”
She was already snoring softly against him. He buried his nose in the top of
her head, breathing in lavender and vanilla and sweat before drifting himself.
===============================================================================
 
Chapter End Notes
     Please don't kill me because Lucius escaped...I need him for the next
     few chapters. Hang in there, he'll get his due.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!