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Hermione paced nervously, waiting for
Severus to arrive. She knew she had nothing to be worried
about; everything was ready for him already. She surveyed
the room again, mentally verifying all her preparations.
The staff table had been lined with a large sheet which she
had enhanced with a cushioning charm and a thin pillow had
been placed at one end. The massage oil too was ready, it
having been gently warmed to a comfortable temperature, and
the spicy scent of patchouli candles permeated the dimly-lit
room.
She’d informed Severus that he would
need to wear comfortable slacks and a loose-fitting shirt
for this treatment. He’d merely raised his eyebrows in that
skeptical way of his and shook his head as if wondering what
crazy idea she’d come up with now, even after she’d decided
against telling him that the shirt would need to be
removed. But at least he hadn’t argued. Then again, he
never seemed to protest her treatments anymore. Hermione
thought he secretly enjoyed them, even the crazy ones,
though she knew better than to try to force him to admit
it. He seemed to her to be nearly cured.
Tired of pacing, Hermione dropped into
a nearby chair and waited, legs crossed for Severus to
appear. The bathrobe she wore, a white terry-cloth number
that would allow her freedom of movement as well as place
her on a more even level with Severus’ own level of dress,
rode up to mid-thigh level as she sat, her feet bobbing up
and down impatiently in her lambskin slippers.
Severus entered the room exactly on the
hour, wearing black trousers and a button-down white shirt.
His eyes widened momentarily at the sight of her unusual
attire before turning to survey the covered staff table.
“Planning to take a nap, are you?” he
asked sarcastically. “Should I come back later?”
“No, of course not! That,” she
motioned to the table, “is for you.” She stood, smoothing
the robe down modestly.
“Perhaps you’d better explain what you
have in mind before I come to the wrong conclusion,”
suggested Severus in a low but even tone.
“Very well,” began Hermione, recalling
her prepared speech. “I’ve planned a special sort of
treatment for you today. It has two main purposes. First,
it is designed to help you relax. Not just your body, but
your mind as well. And second, the activity will hopefully
help you readjust to being comfortable with a certain level
of physical contact with others. From the little I remember
of the evening at the club, I remember you did very well
dancing with that woman you met. This is intended to take
that experience one step further.”
“Really?” drawled Severus, a slightly
amused gleam in his eye. “Pray tell.”
Hermione found herself blushing a
little under his gaze. She wasn’t sure what he found so
amusing, and rather than call attention to her ignorance she
struggled to ignore her chagrin. “In a dance, although you
have your arms around your partner and hers around you, you
are both clothed and if I judge correctly often a bit
nervous and concentrating on the steps of the dance rather
than on the bodily contact itself. What I will do this
afternoon should allow you to experience the sensations
without the need to concentrate on anything at all. Your
job will simply be to lie down on that table. Mine will be
to relax you by administering a therapeutic massage. As I
work your muscles and you become accustomed to the physical
contact, all the tension should leave your body and you
should find the experience very relaxing.”
Severus wore a very strange expression,
as if he were trying to decide whether to protest or accept
his fate. Hermione decided to wait him out rather than
launching into her next set of arguments for the treatment
right away. He stood, lips pursed and staring at the table
for a full minute before continuing. “I see. Very well.”
He approached the table to lie down.
“Wait!” interjected Hermione, feeling
her blush deepen. “Take off your -- You’ll need to remove
your shirt first.” As innocent as her intentions were, it
did seem rather personal to ask one’s colleague to remove
articles of clothing.
Severus grimaced but did not argue. To
her surprise, Severus did not turn his back to her as he
reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt. She watched for
a moment without thinking, then looked away, embarrassed to
have been watching him undress.
When the shirt had been removed and
carefully placed over the back of a nearby chair, Severus
walked back to the table, looked at it a moment, and then
asked, “Front or back?”
“What? Oh, lay on your stomach,
please,” answered Hermione, fighting to keep her eyes from
flitting back to his bare chest.
Hermione tried to stare at the floor as
Severus climbed silently onto the table, but her eyes kept
sneaking a glance upward. He lay on his stomach, resting
his head sideways on the pillow, facing her. Her eyes met
his as he waited, watching her, unspeaking.
Hermione extracted a bottle of massage
oil and squirted a galleon-sized amount into her hand. She
put the bottle down next to Severus’ hip and began rubbing
her hands together to release some of her nervous tension.
She looked down at his back and shoulders. Here goes
nothing, she thought.
His back held several old scars, some
whitened with age and a few still pink that couldn’t
possibly be more than a few years old. One looked much like
the scar she still bore from the fight at the Department of
Mysteries her fifth year. Far from being repulsed, Hermione
felt the scars suited him. In a way, they mirrored the
patched-up nature of his soul.
She placed her hands on either side of
his neck, fingertips grazing his collarbone, and began to
rub gently. She heard Severus’ quick intake of breath at
the first touch, and looked down to see his eyes tightly
shut. He was tense beneath her hands, the muscles rock
hard, so she responded by rotating just her thumbs in a
soothing, rhythmic, circular motion.
“Relax,” she whispered as she moved her
thumbs closer together, massaging the spine at the base of
his neck. “This won’t hurt a bit.”
Severus grunted a response, but
Hermione could not make out his words. She ran her hands
under his hair to cup the sides of his neck, rubbing slowly
in an up-and-down motion.
She looked over at his face again. His
eyes were still closed, but now he was biting his lower lip
too, as if trying to keep from crying out. He wasn’t
totally successful at keeping silent, as he periodically
emitted a sound partway between a groan and a hiss as she
worked. The sound was very entrancing.
Without thinking, Hermione squeezed
just a little harder in response to his noise, leaning her
torso closer to him. His neck arched into her hands and she
smiled, both intellectually glad that he was responding and
also more primitively proud to be so obviously pleasuring
him. She let go his neck with her right hand, grazing the
back of it softly against his upturned cheek before
refocusing her attention on his shoulder blades.
She neither avoided his scars nor gave
them undue attention as she rubbed a dollop of oil onto his
back. She traced his spine, then circled back up to work
the area under his shoulder blades with her fingernails.
The man beneath her hands was fidgeting, and she found
herself whispering in his ear to rhetorically ask him “if
that felt good.” Her hands moved lower to splay over his
lower back, palms as well as fingertips. With each circle
her nails ventured closer to his sides before she finally
cupped his sides with her hands and began moving them gently
up and down, from his hips to just below his armpits and
back.
Hermione realized her hands were
traveling of their own accord. She also noticed that her
own body was not unaffected by their contact. Her breath
was coming a little quickly, as if she’d been climbing the
many staircases to Gryffindor tower. She found herself
wanting to touch him with more than just her hands.
Hermione climbed up onto the table to
sit straddling Severus’ legs. She could reach his shoulders
much better from here. The groan he gave as she leaned
forward over his back to resume massaging his neck shot
through her like passion, and she felt a primal sense of
triumph.
A small part of her mind warned her
that she was going too far but she ignored it, strangely
driven to elicit more and more response from her patient.
Her fingers were nearly dry of oil now and she threaded them
through his hair, allowing her body to rest gently on top of
his. Her breasts rested on his back, her now throbbing
center pressed up against the base of his arse. Now the
moan she heard had come from her own throat as she rubbed
her whole body up and down the length of his back, her
fingers still tangled in his hair.
Severus moved suddenly, rolling over
and nearly knocking Hermione off. She caught herself with
one arm to right herself and found that she was now facing
Severus and straddling his… oh my.
“What are you doing?” she asked lamely
as his arms came up and around her back, pulling her down to
him.
“Relax,” he mocked softly, his eyes
boring into hers with intense longing. “This won’t hurt a
bit.” And then he pulled her to him, his lips already
parted as their mouths met.
Hermione found herself kissing him back
madly, as if she’d wanted him forever.
His hands were everywhere; cupping her head, stroking her
back, reaching down to clasp her arse, pulling her hips
tighter against him. Kissing had never been this…
intense… before. She couldn’t get close enough to him. Her
robe rode up her legs to pool around her waist as she
instinctively rolled her hips back and forth to rub against
his arousal. Even through his trousers and her knickers his
cock felt amazing against her clit. She moaned into his
mouth, sucking on his tongue while continuously pressing
herself against him.
Severus must have unlaced the belt of
her robe, because he pulled the robe open at the chest to
gain access to her breasts. He broke their kiss, looking
into her eyes as he first cupped her breasts through the
thin cloth of her brassiere and then leaned down to begin
kissing the parts not covered by the fabric. He reached in
to the cup of one to release its contents and expose the
hardened peak to his mouth. She felt a rush of liquid
pleasure as he greedily sucked the nipple into his mouth.
She planted kisses on the top of his head, holding it
against her bosom as he licked and sucked her like a man
starved. Her previous resolve not to seduce her “patient”
fled, as it was becoming more and more imperative with each
stroke of his tongue that she have him, consequences
be damned.
Hermione shrugged the robe off her
shoulders, letting go of Severus’ head to slide the garment
down and off her arms. She shivered as his hands gently
circled around to press against her back before seeking the
clasp of her bra. He was having difficulty managing it, so
impatiently she reached behind to undo it for him. As soon
as it was loose he pulled it down her arms and threw it
aside before sliding down under her to take the other, now
freed, nipple into his mouth while cupping the now flushed
breast he’d been sucking a few moments before with his
hand.
The throbbing in her
cunt was becoming unbearable. Severus’ free hand had
moved back to her arse and was sliding inside her knickers.
She wanted them off. She leaned forward to stand on her
knees, trying to pull her knickers down without pulling her
breasts away from his mouth. She hadn’t gotten them down
very far before Severus brought his hand back from her arse
to press his fingers up against her wet folds. She cried
out loud, it felt so good, and this only seemed to fuel his
own passion as he sucked hard one last time before letting
go of her breasts to focus his eyes and one free hand on
unbuttoning his own trousers.
She grabbed his cock nearly as soon as
he’d freed it from his pants, rubbing its naked tip against
her bare clit. Severus’ groan sounded almost like a snarl
and he reached forward to tear her flimsy knickers from
where they sat, hiked around her thighs. Hermione helped
him as he grasped her hips and pulled them toward his
erection, she herself a bit unsure on how to make this work
but driven by instinct. She held her weight on her knees as
she opened her folds with one hand and guided him to her
entrance with the other. She saw his eyes close as he
pulled her down and thrust firmly up all at once, and then
she cried out in pain, thinking ‘Merlin, that hurt!’
His eyes shot open at her cry, and she
saw an unfamiliar look of uncertainty
cloud them. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, trying
not to grimace and leaning forward to kiss him once again as
she tentatively sunk deeper onto him. It still hurt, but
with the hurt was a pleasure too. She focused on that as
she slowly began to move. “Please, just take it slowly.”
The pain receded into a mild chafing
accompanied by a longing for completion. She felt as well
as heard the moans Severus was making into her mouth as they
kissed and she rode him, and the sounds furthered her own
arousal. She found that if she tipped her hips just so, her
clit would rub against his pelvis as she slid up and down
his cock. That felt really good.
Now she was moaning too. She broke the
kiss and tossed her head back, reveling in the dual
sensation of the feel of him filling her and her clit
rubbing against him. Both of Severus’ hands were grabbing
her arse and pulling her deeper onto him with each thrust,
and his groans were getting louder and closer together until
a few moments later he squeezed her very tight and grunted a
couple very hard last thrusts before collapsing back onto
the table beneath her.
She had been almost there, she had felt
it approaching. Damn. She looked down at the goofy,
satisfied look on Severus’ face and smiled, her own
frustration dimmed by the pride she felt at being able to
make the grumpy Potions Master look and feel like that. She
leaned down to kiss him again, with him still inside her.
His arms came around her back to pull her close, and her
clit brushed up against him again, jolting her arousal
further. Maybe she could…
Severus didn’t stop her as she
continued to move against him, he merely continued kissing
her. The tension mounted again with each motion and finally
released as he reached back to cup her arse once more.
Hermione cried out into his mouth, hips bucking and muscles
clenching around him as she enjoyed for the first time the
sensation of coming with someone inside her. When the waves
retreated, Hermione collapsed, exhausted, on top of him and
shut her eyes.
She lay unmoving for several minutes;
no thoughts in her head at all, before a small noise
disturbed her post-orgasmic reverie. She lifted her head
and opened her eyes. Severus had fallen asleep and was
snoring lightly. In that moment, what she had just done
sunk in.
She had seduced Snape. And thoroughly
enjoyed the experience.
What did that make her? A harlot? She
recalled the complete abandon with which she’d helped to
tear off her own clothing. She hadn’t been reticent at
all. She’d wanted what had happened. Badly.
But what did it all mean? Were she and
Severus now “a couple”? They’d just gotten about as
intimate as it was possible to get, but they’d never so much
as kissed before the past half hour. How could two people
go from being colleagues and friends of a sort to being a
couple with no courtship in-between? It seemed wrong
somehow.
Hermione tried to imagine being Severus
Snape’s girlfriend. The word just didn’t seem to fit him
somehow, even with the changes he’d gone through the past
couple months. And could she really handle a boyfriend
right now? She was still getting over the final battle (she
didn’t let herself think about Ron just then), and once her
year as interim librarian was up, she’d probably want to go
on to the University. How would Severus feel about that?
He was an older man, if he started a relationship he might
think he needed to make up for lost time and want to settle
down and get married. Hermione couldn’t imagine getting
married any time soon.
These nervous thoughts pooled up to
form a panic in her stomach and she gulped. What had this
meant to Severus? What would he want to do now? She looked
down at him again, snoring peacefully. She didn’t know what
she wanted to do but she did know that she couldn’t deal
with that now. She tried to climb off Severus without
waking him, but his arm snaked around her waist to pull her
closer. She waited awkwardly for him to wake up.
He finally did, his eyes opening to
greet her with a smile before he leaned in to kiss her
again. He must have felt her nervousness because he leaned
back to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” Hermione found herself at a loss
for words. “I have to go.”
His brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Go?
Go where? I’m finding it rather comfortable right here.”
He squeezed her tighter and began to nuzzle her neck
playfully.
Hermione pulled back and climbed off
the table. “No, I really have to go. I’m sorry. I just… I
didn’t intend for this to happen and I really need to go
think things through now.”
“You didn’t intend…” Severus’ voice
trailed off and a stony look passed over his face. “I see.”
He pushed her aside and stood, pulling
up the pants and trousers that were still halfway on and
searching for his shirt.
“No, Severus, that’s not what I meant!
I just meant that I’m not sure I’m ready for all this… for a
relationship.” Hermione tried to reassure him. She wasn’t
sure what he actually thought she meant but could tell it
wasn’t good.
“A relationship,” he sneered, pulling
his shirt over his shoulders and buttoning it quickly.
“Fear not, I realize it would be rather tacky to assume this
was more than a quick shag. I understand perfectly.”
“You do?”
“Of course. And I must thank you. I
will forever be in your debt.”
“In my debt? What in the world are you
talking about?” asked Hermione, confused.
Severus snorted. “Don’t feign
ignorance, Hermione, it’s unbecoming. For your sacrifice,
of course.”
“Sacrifice?” she parroted.
“Yes, I’m really quite honored. Even
though you do have a penchant for extreme devotion to your
pet projects, I’m sure no one would have expected you to
sacrifice your virginity in order to cure me. That really
was going beyond the call of duty.” Shirt buttoned, Severus
headed for the door.
Hermione followed him. “But it wasn’t
like that!”
“Please. Your “treatment” was
successful, as I’m sure you could tell, so let’s just leave
it at that. The indomitable Miss Granger has succeeded yet
again. My hat is off to you. Now I want you out of my
sight!” He yanked the door open, stormed out, and slammed
it behind him.
Too shocked by his accusations to move,
Hermione stared at the door. She felt sick to her stomach,
horrified by what Severus believed she’d done. However it
had started, she hadn’t regretted what had happened at
all. Aside from the awkwardness and pain from it being her
first time, it had felt wonderful to be overcome by lust,
and marvelous to feel him wanting her just as badly. If she
were honest with herself, she didn’t care if it meant she
was a harlot; but she couldn’t stand the thought of it never
happening again.
What would she ever be able to do to
convince him that he was wrong? That she really had
wanted him, and that she still did. She sank to the
floor and cried.
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