When All Else Fails, Seek Professional Help

Chapter 6 - When All Else Fails

At one point he had to lean forward in order to hide the quite obvious sign of his arousal.

Offering her food was a horrid idea. Her vocalizations were so stimulating he wanted to pour hot tea into his lap as a distraction. Thankfully she was a light eater, and the incident passed relatively fast.

Severus read as quickly as he could, trying to ignore the 'hows' of technique while gleaning the 'whats' or possible reasons of her failure.

But he was constantly reminded that she was so close. She shifted and he would glimpse at her hair, her face, her hands….

Knowing that she wrote these quite-often hasty notes, presumably immediately after her endeavors, he knew that those fingers that sought her pleasure and wrote these entries were one in the same.

He glanced at those fingers covertly, noticing the lack of wedding ring (a potioneer's omission…since heat and metal rings don't typically dovetail in retail brewing, unless one particularly enjoyed the pain of heat transference), the well-groomed albeit short nails, the knowledge that those delicate hands had great strength nonetheless. His mind concocting all types of visions of what those hands could produce….

Her eyes were boring holes into him. He could feel her hyper-focus as he read. His years of spying were his saving grace at this moment. Willing himself not to sweat; willing himself not to fidget; not to groan- for the god's sake-willing himself not to sob in frustration, Severus forged on.

The ticking clock growing louder and louder in the stillness of the room was driving deep alternately into his subconscious and conscious alike…akin to the drips of water in applied in one particular torture he called to mind.

He could feel the heat radiating from her. Hermione's breath now a jet-stream across his shoulder and cheek as she angled herself; her knees practically a centimeter from his thigh—close enough to touch—she was singeing his skin, he just knew it. His well-practiced slow movements helped him keep himself in check. He would not allow himself to break down and reach for her.

Upon reaching the last scroll, dated just the day before his entire body began to tremble. His resolve began to crumble as his senses alerted him to an unmistakable scent—a woman's arousal. It was clean and fresh and dear gods…it was hers.

At first he wanted to dismiss it, his mind torturing him with thoughts of her putting quill to parchment while her fingers were still scented with her self-gratification, but then she shifted and it was confirmed that the woman's body was ready, but for what and for whom?

He jerked his head quickly toward her to catch a glimpse of her unguarded.

Hermione's checks were flush, lips glistening and plump from her nervous tick –the incessant drawing her lower lip between her teeth and biting only to slick her tongue slowly over the bite to soothe- her eyes were dilated wide.

Severus wanted her so badly at this moment that it hurt, and so he did what he always did best. He lashed out.

"Your research isn't current, girl. How dare you waste my time!" Severus dumped the research on the coffee table and turned on her leaning into space which only further confirmed her state.

Hermione stammered and arched her back, leaning into the sofa while looking up into her angry competitor's face. "I—I—can-!"

"—You can what? Ms. Granger? Keep facts from me? Lie to me? I've devoted," He glanced at the clock, "over seven hours to your…predicament…and you think I can't even detect when a woman's body is ready to accept intercourse? It seems to me you are perfectly capable arousal. I mean just look at you-"

Severus stopped.

His body loomed over hers at this point, she was dipped into the back of his sofa, breathing heavy, one leg had slipped down, her shoe had fallen off and tips of her toes were all that touched the ground. Her mouth puffing out that same sweet heat on his face, making him gaze down at her only to realize she was not in the least bit afraid.

Dear gods….

Their mouths were both open, panting; their bodies so close as his arms gripped the wooden trim on the back and arm of the sofa, caging her in a compromising position.

Hermione felt the thrum again, her body screaming to be touched, so rare and elusive but in this moment, stripped so bare and raw. She felt her need begging for her logical and ethical mind to bugger off and drop dead. Fuck this man….fuck him now…let him fuck you…go ahead….

Her eyes quickly summing up his reaction, his body language, his eyes boiling pitch, she could see his arms shaking like the tremor of wires under extreme pressure. She felt his emotion rolling off of him like heat in the span between them: Desire.

He desired her.

She could feel how animalistic and powerful that want was. And she was witness to how he gritted his teeth against it. She could feel him restraining to the point of pain, and while somewhere in her brain a voice was screaming, 'this is bad, really bad' her body shivered expectantly and readied itself for him; The juncture between her legs now throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

"I touched myself before I came to you. I had to." Hermione whispered. Her face flushed crimson and she looked down only to realize that his manhood was straining against his trousers, hovering right above her core.

"Why?" Severus' growl rumbled through her body like a freight train.

"I was so aroused. I couldn't help it!" She continued. Glancing up again, she could see he was angry, his snarl exposing the teeth on the right side of his mouth.

"Tell me exactly what you did." His hips flexed instinctively almost scraping fabric to fabric, the cloth barriers between them.

Hermione breathed out, "I slid my fingers into my wetness and worked my clit until I had the hardest orgasm I've ever had-" She swallowed hard and continued, "it was so strong it was almost painful but I rode it out, strumming myself with slippery fingers until I coaxed out every last shudder."

Severus' body froze completely, terrified that if he move one centimeter he'd grind himself against her until he came in his pants.

"Did you fantasize about anyone?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes travelling back to his, open wide and welling with tears.

Severus leaned closer, "Tell me."

Her logic and her body warred. To say it was a death knell for her marriage.

Her marriage.


"Oh, God!" She shrieked, "I'm missing my anniversary!"

Her hands pushed at Severus' chest, moving him just enough to tumble through the gap between his arm and knee to the floor. Grabbing her shoe, she tore through doors until she found herself in the middle of his garden.

In the very center, where all paths converged, she caught her breath and her scent. Her signature scent. Her perfume. All around her, at the center of Severus' garden, grew all the ingredients that made up her signature perfume. She was awash in the lush fragrances that she used to express herself.

Hermione swallowed a million different feelings and Apparated home.

After what seemed an eternity, Severus made his way out to the very spot where Hermione stood and sunk down to sit down on the pea-gravel. He cradled his forehead in one hand as the other sifted smooth rocks through his fingers.