Chapter Text
Harry was waiting for Hermione when she returned to Gryffindor Tower covered in dust.
"Hey - um, Hermione, could I have a minute? To talk to you?" he asked uncertainly. He reminded Hermione of the expression Ron had had when they had been forced to tell Harry that the Whomping Willow had destroyed his Nimbus 2000.
Hermione shrugged off her school robe and flopped onto the sofa next to him. "Sure."
Harry swallowed, as though he had half been hoping she'd say no. "Oh. Okay." He looked around the room, ensuring that they were alone, but all the younger students would still be in lessons.
"Um," he began slowly. "I got curious, after we played that game the other night."
Hermione tensed. It was unlikely that this was going anywhere good.
"I know I shouldn't have looked, but I wanted to know why you weren't telling us. I thought - I thought it was a girl that you were with, and I only wanted to tell you it's okay," he rushed.
"What? Slow down, Harry, what is?"
"The Map. I saw you on the Map," Harry said. "I know. I mean, I know," he said significantly, widening his eyes.
The bottom of Hermione's abdomen fell out, and her heart chose this moment to begin an arrhythmia. There simply wasn't anything to say. Why could she never be smart when she needed to? Exams were all very well, but lying was probably a more useful skill.
"I - what do you mean?" she asked, trying to buy time.
"The Marauders' Map. I know who you're seeing, and I know why you didn't want to tell anyone," Harry said gently.
"No, you don't," Hermione said, her brain finally having caught up. "Because he's not at school with us."
Harry tilted his head. "I guess you're right, in a way. He's at the school, but he's not at school with us. Look, I - I know what it's like, wanting to be with someone but not."
"You had no right to spy on me like that, Harry Potter."
Harry shook his head. "I know. I know. I thought you were acting so dodgy because you didn't want anyone to know you liked girls, and I was getting worried that you'd - you know, that you'd - do something to yourself - oh, God, I didn't know," he said in a rush. "I was scared, and if we came through everything else and then it was some bloody stupid thing like this that - "
Hermione was shocked to see water forming behind Harry's glasses.
"I love you, Hermione. I don't care. Okay?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay." She threw her arms around him. "I didn't know you were worried about - that."
"People do sometimes. If they feel like they can't tell anyone, and you weren't telling anyone. I didn't know." He shrugged awkwardly. " 'M sorry."
"I know. Please, you can't talk about it," she asked.
"I won't. I wouldn't. It's your thing to tell, whoever you want. Or no one. I'll make sure no one borrows the Map," Harry added.
Hermione shook her head. "No one will understand. I thought it was just - but, Harry, I like him. I mean, I think I do."
Harry baulked at this. "I'm not going to pretend that I understand. But if it's what you want…" he trailed off.
"It's odd, but yes. It's what I want," Hermione said. "For now, at least."
The boy next to her was fidgety, and she could tell there was something else. She waited, then finally said, "What's the gillyweed impression about?"
"Huh?"
"You're squirming."
"Oh. Er - "
"We've already talked about me seeing your least favourite person in the world; what more is there?"
Harry hunched his shoulders a bit. "It's the stuff from your Potions notes. There wasn't a trick quill, was there?"
"Er, no," she admitted. Once upon a time, this would have made her blush, stammer.
"And you - it was okay with you? I mean, you wanted him to?"
Hermione couldn't help smiling at the memory. "Yes. It was my choice."
"Right," he said. "Let's move right on from that to talk about absolutely anything else."
"You brought it up," Hermione reminded him with a smile. "All I can tell you is that there's a lot more to him than you think. A lot more than I thought."
Hermione Granger dressed in her Hogwarts uniform for the last time on Saturday morning. As Head Girl, she had to organise the Prefects to get all of their students out of the dormitories on time, and the first years were always convinced they'd never see one another again. Everyone seemed to have lost at least one personal item, and there was rather a scramble to hide or bequeath various Weasley products before they were confiscated by Mum and Dad.
She'd expected to leave more than her robes behind when she left school - friends she'd promise to write but never would; her bookworm persona; her illicit classroom sex with her professor. Now it came to it, there were some things she didn't want to part with.
It was time to bid her teachers goodbye.
Her satchel became progressively lighter as she moved from office to office, returning books she'd borrowed or giving out her notes of thanks to the professors that had taught her for so many years. She promised to write, and then ducked out of each meeting before the inevitable questions about her future plans. After several fond farewells (and Trelawney's), she came to the last on her list, and the most difficult.
The dungeons felt far less threatening than they had at her first Potions lesson, seven years ago. She found Professor Snape's door open, and she peered around it and into his office.
"Professor Snape?"
The man looked up from his desk and took in her uniform. "Miss Granger."
Hermione walked into the room and put a hand on the heavy desk, stroking it thoughtfully. Severus watched her fingers move, then looked up to see a small smile on Hermione's face. "Sturdy," he said.
She acknowledged the jest with a flash of a grin.
"Finished packing?" he asked.
"I seem to have misplaced several smaller items of clothing," she said drily.
"You mustn't blame yourself," he answered piously. "These things happen."
They both stared at the desk in silence. Finally, Hermione tugged on the courage she needed.
"May I come back?" she asked.
Severus's eyes, full of suspicion, flicked to hers, but he said nothing. After several seconds of scrutiny, he nodded sharply.
"I'll write, then?" she suggested.
"Preferable to your landing on my doorstep unannounced." The wizard hesitated, then cautiously added, "But you would most likely find me… unencumbered next weekend, should you do so."
Was this an invitation? "Oh. Yes, right," she said.
"Something may come up, of course."
"No, right, yes," Hermione answered. "Just send an owl, then."
"If I can," Snape hedged.
Hermione then found the exact limit of her patience. She waved her wand at the office door. "Colloportus," she announced, and the door swung shut with emphasis.
"I'm not great at subtlety," she began, her speech pressured. "I like this. I like you. It's not too much for me to ask, that you give me a straight answer - d'you want me to come back or not?"
Severus stood and came around the desk to meet her. "Do you want to come back?" he asked her, his tone careful.
"A straight answer! Yes or no!" Hermione insisted, her blood now up.
Her wizard brought a hand to her waist, under her robes, and slipped his hand around to her back. Snape pulled her close and released a deep, familiar word into her hair.
"Yes," he hissed, commanding and evocative. "Yes. Yes, Hermione, yes," he urged, stroking her back. He said the words as though he were close to climax and she could help him reach it. Hermione was grinding herself against his hip before she knew it.
"How long do you have?" he asked, more urgently than she'd ever seen.
She glanced at her watch. "About an hour, but I'll need time to check the Tower before then. Maybe half an hour."
"Let me taste you," he said. "I want to take the students down to the station with the flavour of their Head Girl on my tongue."
Settling in at Grimmauld Place had been quick, since neither Ron nor Harry had much in the way of housewares, and Hermione was content to use whatever came with the house (happily, this included several jars of Mrs Weasley's strawberry jam).
No owl came, which Hermione took to mean that she was still welcome to visit Hogwarts. No N.E.W.T. marks came either, which only drove her mildly batty. As long as the marks didn't come, she couldn't get a job, which meant she couldn't fail at said job.
Hermione Apparated outside the gates on Friday evening in jeans and a camisole and jacket. She hadn't had to confront the question of what to wear often, but this time, she chose a silk top that looked reminiscent of lingerie, and framed her quill pendant nicely. There would be no mistaking her for a student.
The school felt empty without the voices of students, but it was much easier for her to slip down to the dungeons unnoticed.
"Hello?" she called, opening the door to the Slytherin guest chambers. She should have asked where he would be. What if he was out of the castle altogether?
Next stop was the Potions classroom, where she went to the storeroom door to see if his private laboratory was open. But the storeroom was locked and warded, so if he were inside, he did not wish to be disturbed.
Surely he didn't mean for her to…
His office door was closed but not locked, and once inside, the doorway to his private rooms shimmered into view. It opened, and Severus stood in the doorway, wearing a slight smile and his coat unbuttoned.
"Well?" he asked.
"I didn't know which day you meant, so… I can go, if you're busy."
His eyes raked her. "Tell me why you're here."
Hermione tilted her head. "To see you, of course."
"Couldn't stay away?" he asked.
The witch sauntered over to the door and put a hand on his chest. "Could," she said. "Didn't want to."
"Come in, and I'll show you what you've been missing," he directed.
Hermione let her hand slide down his body to locate exactly what she'd been missing. He was engorged already, and she traced him through the fabric. As she looked up into his relaxed gaze, she almost thought he might kiss her.
His eyes flicked to her mouth, then he whirled and led the way into the lounge. She followed, and the door closed behind her.
The Gryffindor waited for him to offer her a cup of tea, or a glass of wine, or some sort of hospitality. When he did not, she took off her jacket and draped it over his sofa. "Your home is nice."
Snape looked at her as though she'd said something unbelievably simple, so she left it at that. Instead, she stepped closer to him, and he placed a finger in the dip above her collarbone. His mere touch raised gooseflesh, and he traced her bone to the notch in the middle.
"What did you imagine I might do to you, when you arrived?" he asked her. His finger trickled down her chest to her camisole, and he pulled the neckline away from her skin, making no effort to hide the way he was staring down her top.
"Oh, I've imagined pretty much everything," Hermione replied with a smile. One strap of silk fell from her shoulder, exposing the rise of her breasts.
"Choice, those are," Severus said. "I've been thinking about them. How they fit in my hands, how they move when you're on top of me, how soft they are."
Hermione pulled down the other strap, and her companion put his hands at her waist.
"Tell me, Hermione, when did you last come?" he asked, slipping the tongue of her belt out of the buckle.
Her head rolled back on her shoulders, the familiar voice soothing her. "I - oooh," she said, distracted as she felt cool air on her belly, "since you. It's been since you. Almost a week. I didn't want to."
Severus's movements stopped, and the witch looked at him. "Why not? Were you ill?" he asked.
"No, it's just, you do it so well, you make me feel so good. I'd rather wait."
He didn't reply, but instead folded her jeans open and stepped behind her. Slipping a hand into her knickers, he slowly approached her vulva. "I was the last to touch you here?" he asked.
"Yes."
Down until the tip of his middle finger parted her labia and slipped over her clitoris. "Ripe. Are you about to burst?" he growled.
"Yes - "
"Good." He rubbed gently, slowly, making her keen.
"Have you been waiting for me?" Hermione sighed.
"Have I touched any other witches when this hot, sweet delight was waiting for me?" He pushed another finger into her vulva, and she tilted her hips to meet him. "No."
"Unh," was about all her brain could conjure for a moment. "I meant, did you, did you touch yourself?"
"Yes," he hissed.
"Oh, God," Hermione answered. Would he let her command him, now? "Show me."
"Bed, then."
She was surprised; he seemed more… present. Since their power differential was finished, she'd worried that he would push her away, trying to maintain that distance between them. Now, he was inviting her in. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder to look at him.
The Potions master looked as though he were receiving an excellent massage, or perhaps a more intimate service. His face was relaxed, the lines less prominent and his head tilted forward, close to hers. His hand continued to slip through her labia, and when he caught her watching him, he rolled his head to the other side of her neck. She felt a sharp, quick circle of pain.
"You bit me!" she cried.
"It certainly seems that way," Severus agreed.
"Human teeth are unsanitary," Hermione told him, feeling his lips gentling her bite.
"I will most likely do it again," the man said.
A pause. "Hmm," she responded.
"Bed," Snape whispered, pulling his hand from her jeans, trailing wet fingers over her belly.
She held the fastening of her jeans together so she could walk, and he slapped her on the bum as she passed, which reminded her. Hermione turned back. "Are you going to spank me?"
The wizard leered at her. Camisole straps falling off, her jeans undone, Hermione knew she looked enticing.
"Not today," Snape said.
"I know I said you could, and you said you wanted to. I only wanted to know so that I could prepare," the witch implored.
"Do you want me to spank you?"
"No," she sighed. "But I want to get it over with."
He let a smirk gently, seductively win over his face, then he reached for his left cuff and began unbuttoning it. A step toward Hermione, and the tension built. He played it out, tugging the cuff up and back to bare part of his forearm.
"Not today," he murmured.
The witch's bottom tingled in anticipation of pain. He was making her wait for the spanking. Eventually, she'd beg for it, and wouldn't that please him?
Hermione allowed herself a small eye roll as she turned away, moving into his bedroom. Inside, she was pleased to notice that he had added several candelabra to the mantel and nightstand. One might be a coincidence, but more than one? He seemed to want to see more than the fire and a single candle would illumine.
He'd thought about her visit, and found that she was worth looking at.
Hermione stood next to the bed, then turned around to face him and toed off her trainers (there was simply no slinky way to take off trainers). She fixed her intended with an intense gaze, then began to caress her waist, enjoying the feel of silk on her skin.
Did she look sexy or silly? But Severus had apparently forgotten about his cuffs entirely. The slack look on his face reassured her - he was compelled.
He leaned against the doorframe to watch her. She grazed fingertips over her bare collarbone, then lifted the hem of her top over her head and dropped it on the bed.
What was better, jeans and no bra, or leave the bra on and take off the jeans? She'd never made these sorts of decisions; it was always a catch-as-catch-can affair.
From the look on her wizard's face, she guessed that she could probably have undressed in alphabetical order and he'd neither notice nor care. She turned her back to him and unfastened the strapless bra, letting it fall to the floor. A glance over her shoulder and a smile.
He cleared his throat before speaking. "You're making a meal of it."
She only smiled, then shimmied her hips as she pulled her jeans and knickers over her hips and bent over to remove them, giving him a full view of her bottom.
"You are tempting me, with that unmarked pink flesh," Snape spoke. Hermione straightened, still facing away. "I've endured your teasing for months now, Miss Granger. Time to settle up."
She heard the clanking of his belt, then his bootlaces slithering.
"You've made me put up with scraps: a bit of slap-and-tickle over my desk, waiting for you to ride me in the guest rooms, a quick suck whenever you deign to make time."
Hermione thought this was a rather revisionist history, but the way he was talking to her made her whole body yearn. She turned to find him almost nude, and was sorry she'd missed the show.
"This time, I'm going to climb on top of you, I'm going to get between your soft, clean thighs, and I'm going to stay there until I put it to you properly," he grated.
He shoved his trousers down, bending so that his hair swayed around his face, and he had to toss his head to watch her. Hermione found herself unable to move fast enough, and also unwilling to move at all. If she waited, would he push her onto the bed?
"Yes," she whimpered.
He straightened, his erection drawing her attention. And of course, he caught her staring.
"Is it - bigger?" she stammered. "Did it get bigger?"
"Irrelevant. You'll take it, and you'll like it."
She scrambled onto the bed and over to one side. Strong hands grabbed her ankles and hauled her back.
"What d'you expect me to do with you over there?" he asked her.
Hermione hadn't had a chance to really look at him from this angle. His sallow skin looked as though it didn't have enough blood under the surface, and she could see why: it had all flowed elsewhere. He was crawling over her, and she felt a flash of welcome fear. He was powerful. Without magic, she mightn't be able to stop him.
Her legs spread automatically, and she reached for his arms. "Come to me, be in me," sounded silly, but it was all she could think.
Severus knelt between her thighs, licking his lips. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, but the man looked as focussed as if he were planning the invasion of Normandy.
One finger went to her clitoris. He stroked her slowly, as though petting a small animal. He seemed hesitant to put a finger inside her.
"Raise your knees," he directed, and she obeyed.
"Yes," Hermione answered, "come on!"
He stretched out his body over hers, holding himself on one hand, and guided himself to her entrance. "Put a pillow behind your head," he whispered sweetly.
"Hmn?" Hermione replied eloquently. All of her attention was focussed on the thing she almost had. His glans was slippery between her outer labia, and she was wiggling to try to get him inside her.
Severus grabbed one of the pillows and shoved it between her head and the headboard. "Pillow." Without further warning, he rocked his hips forward, hard.
"Oh, ah, yes!" Her eyes flickered closed as he hit her cervix, and she wished that she could bottle this kind of glory. Oneness with him, calm yet anticipatory. She opened her eyes to see him close to her, a moan torn from his own throat.
Snape began to move, his waist between her knees, and her legs automatically rose to wind around him. She was grateful for the pillow cushioning her head from the headboard, as he was steadily driving her up the bed. Instead of fast, he was thorough and constant, certain to fill her all the way with each stroke.
"Perfect, witch, sweetest feeling in the world," he ground out. She tried to reach between them to play with her clitoris, but her hand got in the way, and she was enjoying the rub of his pubic bone on her labia too much.
Hermione caught his gaze, and he didn't look away from her, drilling into her eyes as he did her body. Now would be the moment.
"Yes, Severus," she tried, watching him as she used his given name. He didn't seem to notice, instead focussing on the feelings between them. She wanted to touch everywhere at once, and he gave her time, as he firmly shunted her up the bed.
Back smooth, with the curse scars she'd seen before. Arms firm and flexed, holding his weight over her. Chest and abdomen, fine hair, and his arse was just as she'd seen it - a masterwork of the gods.
Her partner reacted to this exploration with visible discomfort, but it didn't stop his motions. Hermione thought he might have been serious about taking his time with her, because he didn't seem to be altering his pace at all. But when she held her breasts and grazed the nipples, writhing with the friction he created, his motions became slower.
"You wanted this, you lay like this in your own bed, wishing. Now you have it," he said.
She tucked a hand between their bodies, barely needing anything, and rubbed hard as he stilled above her. Severus was watching her carefully, waiting for it - and that thought helped to push her over.
He watched her jerk under him, then he settled back to his work, and she lay boneless. Then, the feeling of pressure grew quickly again, much easier, and Hermione keened in rhythm with him, his pace speeding, and she came again. Again, he slowed his pace.
His will had to be iron, because he'd gritted his teeth during her orgasm, and he was taking his time with this. Could she…?
How much control did she have over his pleasure and enjoyment? Hermione began writhing under him, using her legs to pull herself up to his hips faster. She could change his pace.
She squeezed her vagina around him, and he bucked into her unexpectedly. So she could make him move. Hermione smiled sweetly at him, pulsed again and drew her knees back to change the angle. When Severus looked down at her body, with a clear view of himself sliding in and out, Hermione had the pleasure of watching his face turn upwards and his mouth open on a stifled roar.
Snape dropped to his elbows over her, then rolled off and lay next to her, eyes closed.
Neither spoke. Hermione felt like she had seen too much; she had only minutes to reach him before he closed himself again.
"I certainly missed that," she began, as though it had been exactly what she'd expected and nothing more. She reached for his hand. Best to start slow.
"But I also missed seeing you during the day, you know," she added, turning to look at him. "I suppose I've got used to - seeing what you're doing, looking at you. I realised I wouldn't be able to stop by."
"Can't you let me have a fag in peace, like a normal woman would?"
"No, they're terrible for you." Hermione knew that scolding him was new, but the sex had been so good that she thought she could get away with it. "I'll be quiet."
He didn't push her hand away, letting it rest on his hand without taking it. Holding in her words was proving as difficult as ever for Hermione. But she turned her head to look at the bed canopy, trying to give him the privacy he always needed.
She was therefore shocked when he spoke.
"I… would not have been surprised to find that you had no further interest. Once the taboo was gone."
Was her self-imposed gag order lifted by his conversation? She waited uncertainly, but then thought that he wouldn't have said it if he didn't want an answer.
"I did think - at the beginning it was all about you as Professor Snape. But not for a while now. I don't know how we work, but it's good, and I don't think we need the - well, I wouldn't want to lose the way you talk to me, but it's clearly not dependent on you being my teacher."
He sniffed with humour. "I see that."
"Maybe because I've got to know you better," Hermione ventured.
"That part is inevitable."
"You seem more … willing, now. Maybe it's the same for you."
He sighed and pulled the sheet up to cover himself. "I can hear that question. It's a - " here, he seemed unable to keep his eyes off of her, and he rolled his head to face her on the pillow. "My answers to the personal questions you ask, they are like catnip to you."
Hermione opened her mouth in surprise. "So you want to keep seeing me, and you're luring me with - "
Suddenly, he rolled onto his side, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, then on top of him. She looked down at him in surprise.
"Obviously," he remarked, then gently rubbed her back.
Hermione lay stretched over him, and she pushed up onto her elbows over him. She'd have to be quick. She leaned forward and gave him a cheeky grin, then a fast kiss. He was surprised, but he didn't throw her off of him, which was a good sign.
"In addition," he continued, "I feel no compunction in approaching you, as you would have no reason to blindly obey. If I tell you to use my thighs as earmuffs, and you do it, there's no chance that you're doing it for any reason other than that you like a mouthful of meat." He patted her bum. "And you do, don't you?"
She slid off of him and lay on her side facing him, indignant. "I told you that before! I already said that if I wanted to, I could've gone to Professor McGonagall and had you sacked, that I didn't feel compelled."
"It may surprise you to hear that I am a suspicious person."
She thought about this. It had, indeed, been mostly on her to approach him. He'd occasionally asked if she'd be interested in something, but it was almost always her engaging him first, indicating interest, and then he followed up. Now, he was free to give her… more of himself. If he wanted.
"D'you even smoke?" she asked.
"I used to. I may take it up again, if it bothers you."
Ron would've been a lot simpler, Hermione thought as she pulled the sheet up.