General Disclaimer: All characters that you recognise belong to Joanne Rowling. No money is involved in writing this story, unfortunately.
This is most definitely an M rated fic for language and situations. There will be lemons so bring a citrus press and some sugar, but there will be long sections that are completely citrus free. Major character death described. SS/HG is the main focus with a couple of other non-canon relationships thrown in as well for good measure.
This takes place during the Trio's seventh year. Assume that everything through Book 5 happened as written; the HBP is sort-of followed minus the Unbreakable Vow and a certain confrontation at a high tower, details will be clarified in due course. The war was ended during the summer and they're now back in school.
Most everyone is slightly fucked up after the war and may be somewhat OOC after what they've been through, but I hope it will make sense. As such, certain situations and states of mind will be described that relate to trauma and violence among other things, and I won't put up chapter warnings. If you're someone who cares about trigger warnings, consider yourself warned and go read something else. This is a story of what-happens-after, once the war is won and you're supposed to live happily ever after.
By the way: If anyone is interested in beta'ing this story I'd be most grateful, please PM! It's all outlined and 75k words written but I want to make sure it stays coherent.
Where The Streets Have No Name
Severus Snape stalked the halls of Hogwarts one late Friday evening in September in a foul mood much like usual, blaming the fact that the day so far had been an unmitigated disaster ever since he got up in the morning awakened by a vicious headache. It started with Peeves tying the Headmistress' shoe laces to her chair, which had admittedly been rather funny apart from the fact that his smirk had earned him the honour of castigating the irrepressible poltergeist once Minerva had seen it, and after that the day had been full of cauldron messes, students trying to pass notes in class and one explosion caused by the current Longbottom wannabe, a fourth-year Hufflepuff boy.
The war had been won during the summer break, at the cost of several Aurors and Order members including Albus Dumbledore himself and Potter's ginger haired sidekick Mr Weasley. With the help of Draco Malfoy and later also his parents the Order had infiltrated Malfoy Manor and managed to kill several of the Inner Circle Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself, rather than trying to stage a large battle at Hogwarts or the Ministry which had been both Albus' and the Dark Lord's main goals. The plan had apparently been Weasley's idea, and the boy had managed to subvert most of the Order to his way of thinking, including Severus himself. The new term had seen the return of many students looking pale as ghosts, flinching at loud noises and angry at the world in general. Some of the staff was not much better off although most of them hadn't been affected by the fighting. He'd had to triple the amount of Calming Draught he brewed for the Infirmary.
The sound of panting and moaning of an undoubtedly sexual nature had him on alert as he rounded a corner to a well-known corridor lined with convenient nooks at regular intervals. Annoyance and slight disgust over wanton teenage displays warred with the thrill of the hunt as he honed in on the suspected alcove, making sure to move extra silently as he approached.
"Well well well, what have we here?"
A boy was leaning against the wall, panting, as his dick was sucked by a girl kneeling in front of him. He did recognise the brat, Nicholas Wentworth, a NEWT level Potions Ravenclaw student. The seventh-year boy hurriedly righted his clothes, a fierce red blush on his cheeks as he tucked his deflating prick into his pants.
"Fifty points from Ravenclaw, Mr Wentworth, and detention with Filch for a week. Now get lost." The boy ran off as fast as he could, not bothering to even look at the girl he abandoned.
The girl was still on her knees, facing away from him with her head bowed. No matter, he would recognise that ridiculous brown bushy hair anywhere.
"So, Miss Granger," he said, drawing out the sound of her name, "I did expect better of you as a Head Girl, paragon Gryffindor lioness and Brightest Witch of your Age. Are you aspiring for another title, perhaps? Or merely redefining the terms as Head Girl?"
She rose and started buttoning her blouse that had been undone halfway, giving him a tantalising glimpse of a lacy white bra over smooth skin. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glared at him defiantly. He had noted that she belonged to the group of twitchy, fidgety students with hollow looks, alternating between numbness and anger. No wonder, given what she had done during the last few days of the campaign, and probably before that too.
He moved closer, standing directly behind her. She smelled of jasmine and neroli and arousal, and his cock twitched in response. A plan started to form in his mind. A reckless, completely crazy plan that went against everything he had upheld as a teacher. He really shouldn't act on it.
"Do you think I am stupid, Miss Granger?" he asked in a near whisper, his mouth close to her ear. She shook her head mutely. "That I would not find you? That I would think it an accident that you are found in my path with a boy like that, with no silencing charms and in a corridor you know I would frequent?"
"Sir, I…" she started but he interrupted her again.
"No. Don't bother. None of us has escaped unscathed from the war. I shall make you an offer, Miss Granger. Come with me."
He swept off, not bothering to see if she would follow, and soon heard her steps as she half ran to catch up with him. They walked in silence through the hallways and staircases down to his quarters. He opened the door, wards recognising his touch, and gestured for her to follow. She looked around the room with large eyes, taking in the perhaps surprising level of style and comfort compared to his office or classroom. The room was rather large, with an oval mahogany dining table just in front of the entrance door. As usual it was heaped with books, parchments and the odd Potions-related equipment since he didn't often use it for meals. He started a fire in the hearth with a nonverbal wave of his hand and moved to the middle of the room, taking off his teaching robes and banishing them to their hanger by the door. The walls were a warm beige wherever visible, but mahogany bookshelves lined nearly every wall. Over the dining table, a fake window showed a view of the lake and the forest behind it. He had a small kitchenette in an alcove on the other side of the table, rarely used apart from preparing the occasional cup of tea. At the other end of the room, across an intricately woven carpet in rich green, gold and blue, was the large hearth flanked by two comfortable armchairs and with a forest green velvet couch right in front of it. Two side tables laden with books and scraps of parchment stood next to the chairs, and the couch had a woollen throw blanket in a reasonably discreet Tartan pattern on one of the armrests, a Christmas gift from Minerva that he had reluctantly allowed after testing it one chilly Scottish winter evening. Along the same wall as the entrance door but towards the fireplace another door led down to his private lab, and across from it was the door to his bedroom.
She remained standing close to the door, wary of what he would suggest but probably itching to start investigating his extensive library if the covert glances she was casting in the direction of his bookshelves were any indication.
He turned to face her. "You are trying to feel something again, are you not? Something, anything? Is that why you are trying to get caught sucking off boys in the corridors? Were you planning on fucking him there too?"
She was blushing at his coarse language but still raised her chin defiantly. "Sir, I …" she began again before he silenced her with a raised hand and a stern glare.
"I have a suggestion for you, Miss Granger, to get this … detention … over with. A rather unique proposition, in fact, and one that may fulfil your exhibitionistic thrill-seeking tendencies to our … mutual … satisfaction."
He moved closer to her where she still stood by the door, circling to stand slightly behind her again by her right ear. She stiffened but didn't move away.
"If you agree to my suggestion, you will be free to leave and there will be no notices on your record, Miss Granger."
"What … what would you have me do, sir?" She turned her head slightly towards him, still wary but clearly intrigued.
"Strip for me," he whispered in her ear, carefully monitoring her reaction. He saw her eyes widen and heard her sharp intake of breath.
"But … but that's not allowed!" He noted with interest that her first reaction was not about his person or the grossness of the act but about the legalities. "You're a teacher, sir, and it's against the rules!"
"Indeed, Miss Granger. However, after the events culminating this past summer, I find myself rather disinclined to care about such things." She nodded slowly in response. "I will leave after this school year is done anyway, if I were asked to leave a few months early it would scarcely make much of a difference. I can assure you that no one will hear about this from me, so your own reputation is as safe as you make it."
"You're leaving, sir?" She turned around to face him with what he would call a worried frown, if only the notion that someone cared about him wasn't so absurd. "But what will you do?"
"I have yet to have that discussion with Minerva," he warned her, raising an eyebrow, "but I plan to start a potions research and brewing company to improve certain medicinal potions and to sell them to St Mungo's or various apothecaries."
"That sounds like a great idea, sir!" She actually smiled at him, a radiant smile. "I would say I'd be sad to see you go but since this is my last year as well it wouldn't make much of a difference."
"Oh?" He was surprised that anyone at all would miss him.
She nodded and seemed to be lost in thought, worrying her lower lip with her teeth before looking up at him again.
"I agree to your proposal," she said firmly and her gaze was suddenly full of a fire he hadn't seen in a long time.
"Is that so?" He felt the corner of his mouth rise and a responding fire was rising in his chest, probably reflecting in his own eyes. "Miss Granger, before either of us takes a step we shouldn't, I must inform you that I detest coercion and would never do something to you against your will. If you want to back out, at any stage, I will not stop you and you may grade essays instead. I have seen enough forced acts for several lifetimes. The door and Floo are already warded against intrusion but neither are warded against your exit. I will sit down over there and will not move from the chair." He indicated the chairs by the fireplace.
"I understand. I trust you, sir," she answered in a low voice to his surprise. Trust me? Has anyone ever trusted me?
He walked over to his favourite armchair and turned it to face the room rather than the fire before sitting down, careful to ensure that she was between him and the door so that she wouldn't feel trapped. She seemed to be composing herself, taking deep breaths to steady herself.
"Do you have any music, sir?"
He quirked an eyebrow at her as he waved his wand and a classical piece started playing, a clarinet concerto. She looked directly at him, seemingly surprised.
"Mozart, sir? Not Celestina Warbeck?"
"Wizarding music is utter tripe," he scoffed and she agreed with a slight laugh.
"At your convenience, Miss Granger."
His command brought her out of balance again. She hesitantly removed her outer robe and draped it over the other armchair. The Gryffindor coloured tie went next, leaving her in a slightly too large cardigan over the white shirt and grey pleated skirt.
"Move a little. And slow is good."
She took a few hesitant steps as she slowly unbuttoned her grey cardigan. Slowly she started to get into it, finding some confidence somewhere and losing a bit of the hesitancy. She started swaying her hips in time with the music and the fire was returning to her eyes as she pulled off the cardigan. He felt an answering bulge starting to rise in his trousers. It had been so long, too long, since any witch offered him something of themselves willingly and not paid for. He resolutely avoided thinking about the fact that this act was hardly Miss Granger's idea. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt while taking some swaying steps across the room. She was still clad from head to toe it was nevertheless erotic to watch her showing off and his cock twitched happily as she bent over, presenting a nice pert arse towards him even if it happened to still be clad in a skirt.
She rose again and moved closer to him, leaning down over his chair to present him with a view of her very nice looking cleavage. He stayed still so as to not scare her.
"Take it out, Professor," she said huskily, gesturing at his by now very obvious trouser bulge. "I want to see you touching yourself. I want to see the effect I have on you."
A surprised laugh escaped as he realised what she had said, and he fished out his erection from the confines of his trousers. She had turned away from him again and was now slowly, slowly pushing the skirt down over her nice pert bum, exposing a lacy set of knickers in bold burgundy. He groaned as the skirt fell to the floor and she slowly spun around for him. Bare thighs, burgundy lace barely showing under the hem of the shirt, primly stockinged feet in black flats. She started unbuttoning the rest of the shirt slowly, her gaze fixed on his cock. As he wrapped his hand around it and started stroking it he was surprised to see her pink tongue dart out, wetting her lower lip. Apparently he wasn't the only one affected by the situation. She pulled her eyes away from his cock and sought his and he could see the smouldering lust that undoubtedly mirrored his own.
She continued with the shirt, slowly and carefully unbuttoning it to display her pristinely white bra and creamy skin, marred only by the still purple scar she had received at the Ministry in her fifth year. She let the shirt fall slowly off her shoulders and spun around for him as she slowly pulled it off, her hair cascading down her back in unruly curls, the curve of her hips and buttocks becoming visible.
"Exquisite," he breathed, unaware that he had said it out loud until she turned her head towards him in response.
"Do you like what you see, Professor?"
"Do you doubt it?" He smirked at her, pointing at his raging erection with his free hand. She blushed and he considered that perhaps she wasn't as experienced as he had been led to believe. "You are stunning, Miss Granger. Not just your body, but your mind as well, and your passion and commitment. Whoever catches you will be a lucky wizard indeed."
"That's …" she stuttered, staring at him. She tried again. "That's not what I'm used to hearing, sir."
She had stilled and now stood in front of him, arms crossed over her belly, teeth worrying her lower lip again. Her large brown eyes were trained on his and it was as if she had forgotten where she was, what she was doing, in favour of their conversation.
"From the boys here in school?"
At her confirming nod he continued, "More fool they. You cannot expect these young dunderheads to comprehend you, to know what drives you. The thirst for knowledge, the need for a challenge is not something teenage boys with their heads full of Quidditch and girls will ever understand. But if someone like me can see and value that passion and drive that you have, surely there are others out there that will see the same."
Something sparked there in her eyes. She frowned at him.
"As they have for yourself, sir? How's that working for you? All that brilliance and power and intellect of yours and you're stuck in a boarding school, forever single?"
He frowned at her impertinence, the unfortunate correctness of that statement had stung, but before he could come up with a retort she seemed to collect herself again and the fire was back in her eyes. She slowly unfolded her arms and put her hands on her waist as she started swaying slightly, hips rolling sideways to the music. His cock twitched again when she slowly brought her hands up to her bra-clad breasts, fondling each of them through the fabric, and he pumped it harder in response. She smirked at him and his response and slowly slowly approached him again.
"Will you assist me with the clasp, sir?"
"It would be my pleasure to do so."
She turned her back to him and got down on one knee next to his chair, placing one hand, oh Merlin she was voluntarily touching him, on his knee for support. He brushed her hair away from her shoulder gently and saw her shiver at his touch, before gently trailing his fingers down to the clasp of her bra and carefully undoing it. Her skin was soft and supple under his fingers and he longed to trace more of it with fingers and tongue but restrained himself, reluctantly pulling away from her. She rose again, but somehow managed to start the movement from her hips, keeping her head down and her hand still on his knee so that he got an eyeful of scantily clad butt cheeks. He could smell her arousal that had left a damp spot in her knickers and his cock somehow managed to swell even more at the sight. She lifted her head and took a few steps away from his chair as she turned around, hands still clasped around her breasts. They looked pert, just the right size for his hands. She twisted her nipples before letting one hand trail down her stomach to cup her sex through the fabric.
"You're about to see more of me than any man has," she whispered hoarsely before starting to pull her knickers down with one hand, one side at a time. She turned around as she slid the fabric down over her butt, crossing her legs as she turned, and when she had completed the lap she let the knickers drop to the floor. She stepped out of them, bent over again showing her bare arse and lower lips between her legs, and picked up the burgundy garment. She approached him and dropped them in his lap, eyeing his erection. He caught them and brought them to his nose, enjoying her scent.
"May I touch you, sir?" she whispered.
He stared up at her, incredulous.
"Are you sure? I am all yours if you want to but please don't feel like you have to."
"I want to," she said and dropped to her knees in front of him, staring intently at the tip of his erection. He removed his hand from his member and put both hands on the armrests of the chair, giving her as much access as she could ever want. Hesitantly she brought her hand to his cock and touched the silky skin. He couldn't help but to groan at the touch as she clasped her small hand around it.
"Sorry, did I hurt you?" She looked up at him with large eyes and stilled her hand.
"On the contrary," he answered, eyes closed, "I think a whole geological age has passed since anyone voluntarily touched me."
"Oh," came the soft reply, half a sigh, and she started moving her hand over his shaft. The touch was a bit too light and slow for his tastes but he revelled in the feeling of someone else's hand upon him and given the circumstances he was rather glad for the fact that she wasn't pushing him over the edge too fast, giving him more time to savour it. She looked up at him, resting her elbows on his thighs and he could see the round swell of her breasts between his legs.
"I think we are rather similar in that regard, you and I," the young witch whispered, "you're also passionate and loyal and don't suffer fools gladly. Don't you miss having someone to share it all with? Someone who knows what it's like when you get so immersed in research that you forget to eat, or when you have to rush up in the middle of the night to chase a train of thought? Someone who understands what happened during the war and why sometimes the ghosts get too loud for reality to seep through? Someone to debate the latest research with, and to take a differing standpoint with just on principle? Someone who understands your interests and wants to share your books?"
Before he could think of how to formulate a reply, because of course she was right again, she had scooted closer to him and lowered her mouth over him, first teasing him with her lips, pulling them across his shaft and the tip, before her tongue darted out and she started tracing the ridges and grooves of him. His eyes fluttered shut of their own volition as she engulfed him in her mouth.
"Oh, Hermione …" he groaned, completely unable to form coherent sentences. He felt her smile against his cock as she started sucking him, using one hand on the shaft. The other hand soon found his balls. His hips started rocking against her involuntarily and he held on to the armrests as if his life depended on it. The sight that met him when he opened his eyes of her head bobbing over his cock was enough to send him soaring over the edge but his barely coherent warning was unheeded as she just sucked him harder, her hand helping out, and as he came undone with a muffled shout he felt her following his movements, coaxing out the last drops.
He slumped back in the chair, utterly spent, eyes closed as his breathing evened out again. As he felt her move he reluctantly opened his eyes and looked down at her still naked form and his limp wet cock laying across the black fabric of his trousers. The sight was rather absurd since he was still fully clothed.
"Thank you," he murmured. "That was more than I would ever have the right to expect."
"My pleasure, Professor," she said with an impish smile as she wiped his cum from her mouth with the back of her hand. He huffed a laugh at the absurd impropriety of the situation, and tucked his sated and deflating member back in his pants.
"It is Severus, Miss Granger. Only fair considered that your mouth was just on my cock."
"As long as you call me Hermione. Otherwise it feels as if I'm twelve and that seems a bit wrong, doesn't it?"
"You are definitely not that, luckily."
He leaned forward, towards her, and gently traced her cheek with his fingers.
"Would you allow me to return the favour, Hermione?" he murmured. "It would be my absolute honour to bring you as much pleasure as you have just given me."
"Oh …" She stared at him wide-eyed and bit her lower lip again. "You don't have to do that, you know. It doesn't seem like something guys want to do?"
"Hermione, do not get me wrong, I'm not asking just out of the goodness of my heart. In fact it would bring me considerable pleasure to know I could do for you what you just did for me. The boys you may have encountered so far have no understanding of the fact that the greatest pleasure is in giving. I would want to touch you, to learn all your secret spots that make you shudder, to make you come undone screaming my name. If you are amenable? Again, you can leave anytime you like and just because you say yes at one point does not mean you have to go through with it. Do you understand?"
"Show me, then, Severus," she whispered, her eyes half shut already. Slowly he moved closer to her, gently capturing her lips in a chaste kiss before rising and pulling her to her feet. He scooped her up in his arms to her apparent surprise and strode towards the bedroom.
"I am an old man, Hermione, so I would rather play in the bedroom than in a chair. The door is unlocked and again, you can leave anytime."
She nodded and put her arms around his neck as he opened the doors with magic since his hands were otherwise occupied.
"Oh," she sighed at the sight of his bed where he deposited her neatly in the middle of the bed. The covers were half undone and she quickly scuttled under them as he lit a few of the wall sconces. The room was dominated by the large mahogany four-poster bed with rich green covers. On either side he had a matching nightstand, both of them laden with books in various stages of reading. The wall next to the bed nearest to the door to his sitting room was taken up by his wardrobe, and on the other side he had a smaller hearth, not connected to the Floo network. Next to the hearth towards the head end of the bed he had another set of shelves with some books and personal items, and between the entrance door and the other door leading to the bathroom was a drawer with some crystal sculptures he had received from Lucius some time back. A very fluffy light grey rug covered most of the floor between the bed and the bathroom.
"Could you please get rid of some clothes first?" she asked him shyly. She was still clad in socks but she must have kicked off her shoes at some point during that glorious blowjob. The sight of her clad only in stockings was surprisingly erotic and his cock twitched again although it didn't have the energy to inflate again yet.
He quickly unbuttoned his frock coat and deposited it on a hanger before removing his boots and socks. His trousers were still not buttoned and he opted for dropping them on the floor, leaving the silk boxers on along with his white shirt.
"The shirt too, please." He quickly divested himself of that too before approaching the bed slowly and lowering himself next to her.
"May I touch you?"
She nodded nervously. As his hand approached her stomach he saw her tense up, and he changed trajectory and gently stroked her arm instead.
"Relax, Hermione," he murmured.
"Talk to me, please."
"Roll over to your stomach. You are tense, may I rub your back?"
She nodded and he Summoned a bottle of almond oil from the bathroom and straddled her upper thighs, careful not to get too close to her arse which did look absolutely glorious from that vantage point.
"Talk, you ask of me," he mused as he started stroking her back. She sighed and pushed her hair out of the way before settling into his pillows again.
"Do you have any research projects you are currently working on?" she asked half muffled by the pillow.
"Indeed I do, little witch. Several at various stages of completion but at the moment I am primarily working on a curse scar remedy which looks promising so far, and I am also trying to research a mind-healing potion."
"Oh?" she asked, lifting her head to try to look at him. "Did you read the latest article in Potions Monthly on calendula balm?"
He barked a laugh. "Read it? Do you happen to remember the author's name?"
"A. Prince, why?" she said confused before realisation dawned and she shot him a brilliant smile over her shoulder. "But why the pseudonym?"
He shrugged. "It was a minor article and it is rather fun to later write a contradictory letter calling the first one a hypocritical idiot, upon which people will come out of the woodwork to defend his writing, which would never happen if they knew it was me."
She laughed then, a deep belly laugh.
"Enough of that, as interesting as it may be that topic will do nothing to relax you."
"You could read me the phone catalogue and it would be enthralling, sir," she said indistinctly.
"I would rather catalogue you than phone numbers," he answered silkily as he focused on her neck muscles. They were starting to warm under his hands, becoming slick from the oil and slightly flushed with the increased blood flow.
"Ohhhhh you're good. If you ever needed a Muggle job you could take up massaging people."
"There aren't very many I'd like to lay my hands on. But you are soft and warm and beautiful. So strong and passionate and wild."
He found several knots in her upper back and managed to loosen them a bit, enjoying the feeling of her skin slick with oil gliding under his fingers.
"Tell me, Hermione, did I guess correctly? Regarding why I found you where I did tonight?"
He felt her breath hitch under his palms and waited quietly for her to answer.
"Yes," she admitted finally. "Ever since the war I haven't been able to feel anything. I'm numb, as if I'm in a bubble, no emotions can get through. I try to sleep but wake up to Ron's screams as he dies by my feet or I turn a corner here in the castle but all of a sudden I'm back in the Manor and stalked by Bellatrix or someone laughs too loudly and I panic and think Lucius has betrayed us. I try to eat but can't feel any taste. I think of death, jumping from a tower, poison, knives, the lake, and sometimes as I do something completely ordinary I get the feeling that I should just kill myself instead to get it all over with." She took a deep breath and continued, "Everyone also always assume that Ron and I would have ended up together for some reason, but both Ron and I had realised that it would have been a very bad idea. We did snog a little last spring but nothing more than that. So I get pitied as if I'm mourning my fiancé and I can't tell them it's Lavender who is doing that."
"I'm glad you realised that, the pair of you together is a laughable idea. He would have needed someone who could look up to him and play housewife for him and that role would not suit you. Mr Weasley did well, he did have a good mind for strategy."
She nodded in agreement.
"Thank you," she murmured against the pillow, tears running unchecked along her nose. "So anyway I wanted to see if sex could drive away this maddening numbness for a little while and approached Nicholas since he's reasonably good looking and has a decent reputation, but you caught us and well here we are."
"Was that your first meeting?" He was a bit surprised to hear her reasoning.
"Yes and I doubt there'll be any follow-up encounters."
"Good," he said with a smirk before realising what he had said. He could have no claims to this witch but his possessive side didn't quite agree and he had felt a stab of jealousy over her mentions of other boys.
"Regarding your feelings after the war unfortunately I think that is one area that the wizarding world is lacking in skills, but they are perfectly understandable and not in any way abnormal given the situation. I may have some potions that could help but otherwise you will need to talk it through with people that won't judge you. If you are amenable we could try viewing some events in a Pensieve or use Legilimency as I suspect it might help to revisit some of the memories to cut their anchors with the present. You need to let your mind realise that whatever happened, all of it, has already happened and that you are safe now in the present." He heard her breath hitch again. "Please promise me one thing, Hermione. If you ever have the urge to act on those thoughts, please call for me. I will come for you no matter when it is or where you are. I have been there too, I speak from experience."
Her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs and she had buried her head in his pillow. He slipped off her legs and lay down next to her again, pulling her back tight against his chest despite the covers between them and snaking his right arm under her head.
"You're safe now," he murmured in her hair as she cried silently, wetting his arm and the pillow. She clung to his other arm, accepting his touch in a way that felt both completely right and utterly alien. He tried not to think about the fact that his hand was nestled between her breasts.
After quite some time she calmed down and he felt her breath evening out. He summoned his discarded shirt and held it up to her.
"The bathroom is through there." He waved vaguely in the direction of the door in question which was just off his bedroom. "If you need it."
She nodded and slipped out of the bed, pulling on his shirt as she went. It looked ridiculously big on her but in a rather endearing way, reaching down to mid-thigh. His possessive alter ego thought she looked just right dressed in his clothes, but he forced the thoughts down again. Not mine, he chided himself reluctantly.
After a long fifteen minutes or so the bathroom door opened again and she tentatively stepped closer to the bed.
"Does the offer still stand, Professor?" she asked with some of her usual cheek.
He smirked at the look of her standing barefoot and practically naked by his bed, clad in only his half buttoned white shirt. She seemed to have untangled her hair somewhat, washed her face and he suspected she had brushed her teeth with something as well, being a dentist's daughter and all.
"It would be my honour and pleasure to show you what you are capable of feeling, Hermione."
His deliberately smooth tone caused her to blush again and dive down under the covers, still dressed in his shirt.
He leaned across the bed and brought her hand to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the top, letting his tongue snake out briefly to touch her. He then flipped her hand over and placed another kiss in her palm, savouring the softness and taste of her. He sought her eyes and saw that she was starting to respond to his touch, heat starting to rise in them. Slowly he pushed the arm of the shirt up over her elbow, tracing the veins on her arm as he did so. He lowered his head to her hand again and pulled her ring finger into his mouth, encircling it with his tongue, sucking on it as she had his cock earlier. He licked the length of it before releasing the now rather wetter finger.
"Tell me what you like and what you dislike."
"I … I don't know, sir."
"Severus, remember? In that case, I shall tell you what I plan to do to you, witch, and you shall stop me if anything feels wrong."
He moved slightly closer to her and pushed the covers off, leaving her in his shirt.
"I plan to kiss and taste and stroke every inch of your delectable body that I can reach without removing that shirt," he began, keeping his voice low and silky. "I will plant kisses in the crook of your elbow, along your hairline and neck. I will nibble your earlobe and make your leg feel cold. I will move down to said leg and slowly pull off these silly stockings, kissing the back of your knees before I move down your leg to your dainty feet that need extra attention and lots of tongue." He moved closer and started tracing her other arm with his fingers, pushing the shirt up on that arm as well. "I will ensure that both sides are adequately covered, naturally. Then when you are begging me to please touch your breasts I will slowly unbutton your shirt — pardon, my shirt — and trace a path along your belly with kisses before planting my mouth on your lovely breasts."
She was breathing heavily already, he noted with a smirk.
"I will tell you the rest later, witch, but I think I have a job to do now."
Her hands and arms were catalogued carefully up to and including her elbows. He nibbled at her pulse point and licked the crook of her elbow, causing her to moan. His cock was starting to wake up again but he ignored it.
"Just relax, little witch," he whispered as he moved up to her neck, tracing a path with his lips against her smooth skin from just below her ear down to her clavicles and up the other side, careful not to touch her too much otherwise. She had her eyes closed and her hand was tracing the arm he was supporting himself on, along his triceps and up to his shoulder. Such an innocent touch, but that too had been a long time since he had last experienced it, and he relished in the sensation while breathing in the scent of her hair and tickling her earlobe with his lips. His reverie was broken by her sudden gasp and his eyes flew open in askance, seeking hers.
"My leg does feel cold now!"
She blushed as he smirked.
"Indeed. What about now?" and he started nibbling her earlobe gently. She moaned and her other hand flew up to his neck, threading through his hair. His scalp tingled at her touch.
"Oh yes," she said but his try at snaking his tongue into her ear was vetoed.
"Very good, Hermione."
He kissed her forehead. He had neither planned on nor expected any regular kissing but suddenly the arm around his neck directed his head down so that she could claim his lips with hers, insistently requesting access by pushing her tongue against his lips. He lost himself completely in the sweetness of her mouth and his cock was most definitely happy again.
"I could kiss you for months," he said raggedly as he came up for air, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been kissed by someone with such abandon.
"I might just let you," she said with an impish smile and pulled him down again to dock his mouth to hers. He groaned in response to her hands tangling in his hair and the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest. Bliss, his inner alter ego happily stated and he could only agree.
"You are a distraction, witch," he chided when he next was released from her firm grasp on his neck. "I have a job to do, remember?"
Before she could complain he scooted down the bed to place a chaste kiss on each of her kneecaps. In the order of efficiency he opted for a simultaneous attack on both stockings at the same time, slowly pulling them down while placing alternating kisses along each part of revealed calf and ankle. She had spread her legs already, probably involuntarily, and he could smell her arousal quite clearly.
He rolled the sock off her foot and carefully lifted it for better access, tracing the lines of her bones from the top down to the toes. He nibbled one of her small toes which earned him another moan, but licking the thin skin between her toes was nixed as was touching the sole of her foot, although he did get to kiss her arch.
"Now, where were we? Do you want me to touch more of you, little witch?"
"Please what, little witch? Where do you want me to touch you?" he enquired, seeing the fierce blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck.
"Everywhere, Severus," she whispered. "Anywhere."
"Your wish is my command, my lady. My pleasure."
He moved up and slowly, slowly unbuttoned his shirt and helped her out of it, casting it aside. She lay back down on his bed, squirming under his heated gaze.
"You are stunning, Hermione," he whispered. Before he could do anything else she caught him again, pulling him down for another kiss. The feeling of his bare chest against hers made both of them hum in approval and his free hand started tracing her side and upper arm.
"I plan to kiss your shoulders, little witch, and your collar bones and your armpits. After that I think I will be unable to resist your perfect breasts any longer and I will lavish them equally in kisses and attention. Then I shall make my way down to your belly button before detouring to your hip bone and the outside of your hips. I plan to come back up again along the inside of your thighs, slowly inching closer as you beg me to please touch you, until I finally get to pet that delicious cunt you have there, and to taste if your juices are as sweet as they smell."
"Yes, Severus, please," she said breathlessly and pulled him in for another greedy kiss.
"And then I'll make you come so hard you forget your own name as you scream mine, witch," he growled and she gasped as he swiftly moved down her neck, planting a deep hickey just above her shoulder. He pulled her arm up and nuzzled her armpit, clean-shaven and with a scent that was pure Hermione, heady and sweet.
"Please," she begged him and pushed her chest towards his mouth. Not being one to turn down a clear invitation his free hand gently clasped one of her breasts as his mouth sought the other, kissing and kneading them both. He placed greedy kisses along the underside before honing in on the nipple, gently nibbling and suckling it. Judging by her gasps and the way she writhed under him she was rather enjoying his work. Releasing the nipple he had captured in his mouth he shifted across her body to let the other hand play with the recently kissed breast and lavishing the other one with an equal amount of attention. They were absolutely perfect, both for his hands and for his mouth.
"Severus," she moaned. "Please."
He looked up at her, having to let go of that glorious nipple. "What, little witch? Did you want something? I am a rather busy man, you know."
"Touch me!" Her cheeks were blazing red from both arousal and embarrassment but she met his eyes impatiently.
He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. "I thought I was? Did you want me to touch you … somewhere else?"
"Yess," she hissed and spread her legs further apart.
"Do you want my fingers in your pretty little cunt, perhaps?" he asked, drawing out the word.
"Oh yes, please," she breathed.
"And my tongue?"
"You're being evil on purpose! Yes and yes! Please!" She glared at him but the effect was somewhat ruined by her clouded gaze, flushed cheeks and fast breathing.
"Why didn't you just say so?" he asked her with a raised eyebrow and scooted down lower, kissing her belly button and hips, letting his hands roam as they wanted over her silky skin.
Her breath caught as his fingers roamed across her inner thigh, followed by his lips on the other leg, and she spread her legs as far as she could. He settled in comfortably between them, half resting his head on her thigh as the other hand slowly started touching her pubic hair and her outer lips. She moaned and her hips twitched as he touched her. His inner alter ego felt incredibly smug at provoking such a reaction from her. Slowly, gently, carefully he stroked her open, feeling the slick wetness spread over his fingers. He found her little nub, eliciting another moan from her.
"Show me how you touch yourself," he whispered and she reached a hand down over his, guiding him to the pace and pressure she preferred, before he took over the job, causing her to groan and buck against his hand. She was so open, so responsive, so uninhibited.
"Very good, little witch. Now let me taste you." She shivered in anticipation as he slowly lowered his mouth over her, tasting her for the first time. Sweet and sticky and perfect and as he licked her for the first time she cried out in astonishment.
"You taste divine, my little witch." He pushed a finger inside, causing her to cry out and buck against his mouth. This too had been absent from his life for way too long, a witch under his mouth, under his hands, to unravel and catch as she exploded. He set a slow but steady rhythm and as he felt her relax against his finger he slowly added a second one.
"Oh," she breathed at the sudden intrusion.
"Alright?" he asked her, somewhat indistinctly due to the fact that he was still buried in her rather lovely pussy.
"Very, just … full."
"Now, witch, I intend to make you come undone," he purred and got to work. He set a steady rhythm with his fingers and listened to her reactions as he sucked, nibbled and licked her closer and closer to ecstasy.
"Let go, Hermione. Let yourself go. I will catch you."
She started panting and twisting her hands into his hair. He increased the pace and soon she threw her head back, tensing and shuddering.
"Sev… russ!" she moaned and he could feel her twitching internally, strong muscles squeezing his fingers. He let her ride it out before slowly withdrawing his mouth and fingers as she slumped back down, completely spent.
He moved up to lie down beside her again and she pulled him down for another intense kiss, heedless of her own juices on his mouth and face.
"Thank you," she murmured sleepily against his cheek. "I didn't think it could be like that."
"I told you, it was most definitely my pleasure."
He felt rather pleased with himself for making her come like that. Summoning the covers, he tucked her in with a kiss to her forehead before sneaking off to the bathroom. He had nearly shot his load in his pants like a teenager just from her reactions to him and the way she cried his name when she came, and it was short work in the shower before he felt the tingling in his balls and shot his seed on the wall to be washed down the drain.
After sorting himself out he padded back into his bedroom and crept up next to her, not bothering with any nightclothes apart from a fresh pair of black silk pants. She sighed but didn't wake as he shuffled in behind her, pulling her back up towards his chest. She fit snugly in the contours of his body, as if she was made for it. He fell asleep quickly, nose and arms full of witch.
The next morning they were woken up by Winky who told them hurriedly that Missy Head Girl needed to go back to her dorm, pronto, as the Headmistress was on her way. Hermione was still almost asleep when the elf whisked her away, sending her clothes along after her. Despite not having slept for quite long enough, he felt inordinately well rested and pleased with himself.