The Ties that Lead to Trust

Chapter 10~ A First Time for Everything
Hermione woke sometime in the night, not certain of where she was. There was absolutely no light for her to get even the slightest visual cue as to where she was. Her mind racing, she remembered reading with Severus on the transfigured chair in his sitting room. From the feel of things, she wasn’t in there anymore. There was a soft, down pillow under her head and fresh smelling linens and a quilt pulled over her. With the gears in her mind turning, she logically figured she was in a bed. She couldn’t see any light from a window of any sort, so she guessed she must be in Severus’ bed as opposed to her own.

Slightly startled by that thought, she was even more startled when she felt a warm body nudge up to her from behind. Not certain she wanted that body aware she was awake, Hermione kept still, but the sound of deep breathing indicated that he was asleep. An arm flopped heavily over her midriff, obviously in sleep. Carefully touching the arm, she noted that both of them were still wearing robes. This eased most of the nervous thoughts that were running through her mind. Just sleeping. Hermione felt sleep tugging gently at her consciousness again. She snuggled under the covers and let herself doze once more.
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Early in the morning, Severus woke in the dim light of a few candles in his bedchambers. He had considered altering the time delay igniting spell on his candles so he would keep complete darkness until his customary waking time, but this morning he was glad he had let it be. Three candles were lit on the far side of the room indicating it was quarter to seven, but he remained in bed. Next to him was the soft, warm body of Hermione, who appeared quite comfortable as she slept. He was more than a little surprised to wake and find her nestled against him instead of on the far side of the bed, but clearly they both had shifted in the night as he was no longer at his edge either.

Flexing his right hand to alleviate the pins and needles sensation, Severus settled in a more comfortable position. For a time, he observed the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the covers and took the time to observe Hermione more closely than he had before. Her long brown hair was quite sleep dishevelled, but the individual strands shone translucent in the flickering candlelight. Relaxed in sleep, the skin of her face was smooth and nearly flawless. No wrinkles or deep lines were set in her brow and the roundness of her high cheekbones made her look very young. He knew his own face had a smattering of lines and wrinkles, though it didn’t concern him particularly. The arm next to his own above the sheets was covered in the wrinkled fabric of her robes, as was his, with a small hand gripping gently at the edge of the covers. Brushing his own fingers gently over the back of her hand, it relaxed and lay limp so he could entwine his fingers with hers. The gentle curves of her back were cuddled against the harder lines of his chest and he had at some point in the night partially curled his body around hers.

It was a bit of a shock to discover how comforting it was to hold someone in sleep. He hadn’t often felt comfortable touching anyone, particularly any gestures less formal than a handshake. Taking a deep breath, Severus did an internal catalogue of his own body and found himself more refreshed than he could remember. Sometimes his sleep was deeply troubled and often he woke feeling less then fully rested. It was a pleasant surprise and he felt eager to begin the day. Noticing Hermione was herself beginning to stir, he carefully slipped from the bed, jotted a quick note before gathering his things and exited the room.
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There was light in the room when Hermione woke again. She was alone, and would have been certain her nighttime companion had only been a dream if she hadn’t noticed the depression in the pillow beside her head. It was still warm. She was right, someone had slept with her last night.

Sitting up, she felt decidedly rumpled in the clothes she had worn the previous day with her hair rioting in all directions. Looking around the room, she saw green. Not Slytherin green, but a rich hunter green covered the bed and hangings. The woodwork on the night table and dresser was deep mahogany. Sitting propped up on the small table was a note with Hermione scrawled across the front. She opened the folded parchment and read;

Good morning Hermione,
Last night you fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. The bathroom
is the first door on the right. The main room is out the lefthand door at
the end of the hall. There should be fresh robes on the dresser. I had
a house elf bring them down for you this morning.
Severus

Hermione was touched by his thoughtfulness. There were black school robes folded neatly on the dresser as well as clean socks, under things and a hairbrush. After dressing she found the bathroom and attempted to do battle with her hair. It was such a hassle, at times she felt like cutting it off altogether. Conjuring a toothbrush, she began to feel more awake as the sharp mint flavour permeated her senses. When she had finished with her morning rituals, she took a deep breath and prepared to face the world.

Slowly opening the hall door, she didn’t see Severus in the room. Natural light was streaming in from the open door of the dining room and Severus was hunched over a copy of the Daily Prophet drinking coffee. Knocking on the door jam, he looked up at her with a startled, but pleased look on his face. “Coffee?”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know how you drink something with such a nasty taste so early in the morning. I’ll have tea if it’s not a problem.”

As she spoke, a tea set appeared on the table. She lifted her eyebrow in question. Noting her expression he told her, “My table is connected to the kitchens in the same way the staff table in the Great Hall is. It is one of the perks of being a professor. What would you like for breakfast?”

“Just some toast and an orange I suppose.” she replied and sat down in the chair across from Severus. He put down the paper and helped himself to some toast off the plate that had just appeared on the table. Hermione curled her fingers around the blissfully warm cup of tea.

“Did you sleep well?” Severus asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I fell asleep. It was just so relaxing listening to you read and I drifted off.” she answered, unsure if he would read anything into her comments.

Growing up, Hermione had always had her own room and needed absolute quiet to fall asleep. When she started at Hogwarts, it was the first time she had ever slept in the same room as another person. It had been very uncomfortable for her. She stayed up reading until all the other girls had fallen asleep before she laid down and tried to sleep herself. Even then, each time someone woke to visit the loo in the middle of the night, she would also wake and be unable to fall asleep again. For the first two months, Hermione had not had a single night of uninterrupted sleep. Though she would have studied hard anyway, her initial successes academically had been the result of studying during her sleepless nights. Being a know-it-all had not helped her make friends, and in turn her discomfort around her roommates increased. It wasn’t until she had become friends with Harry and Ron that some part of her relaxed enough to sleep properly.

Even now, she felt uncomfortable sleeping in new locations. Eventually, Hermione became familiar with Lavender and Parvati’s comings and goings in the night. At the Burrow she was at ease with Ginny and familiar with everyone else. Grimmauld Place had been the most difficult place to get used to, with all of its strange sounds at night. Yet last night, somehow, she had been comfortable enough to fall asleep with Severus.

There was a wry smile on Severus’ face when he spoke. “I’m certainly glad you don’t find my Potion’s class so relaxing,” he put the paper aside and lifted the novel that had been under it and handed it to her. “I do believe it is your turn.”

“Fair enough,” she said as they moved back to the sitting room.

Severus’ arm went automatically around Hermione’s shoulders with an ease that surprised both, but neither chose to comment on. Sitting together, reading, was a comfortable, safe activity that seemed to fit somehow. There were only a few more chapters left, and soon they were chatting amiably about the book.

“I’ve always loved the ending of that story. It leaves so much up to the reader’s imagination.” she said.

Severus snorted, “I’ve never been fond of its conclusion, precisely because it doesn’t. The loose ends don’t tie up and you are left hanging. It spoils an otherwise perfectly fine piece of literature.”

Hermione sighed, “Don’t you ever like to wonder ‘what happens next’ even when a story has a definite conclusion?”

“I prefer to see the end as the end. Perhaps it is a desire for closure.” he replied.

“If they were real people, their lives wouldn’t just end there.” she countered.

“But they aren’t real.”

“To read fiction is to suspend disbelief for the purposes of the work. When I do that, I can’t help but get caught up in the characters. A good author has the ability to draw the reader into the story itself.” she explained.

Severus had to confess she had a point, but refused to admit it aloud. “I still prefer a solid ending.”

Hermione smiled, feeling a small sense of triumph. He hadn’t been able to give her a persuasive counter argument and that was a first. It was a bit of a thrill to best him in a debate, even about something so trivial as a book.

“I never knew that Severus Snape ever did anything by halves. Hardly a convincing argument, I must say.” she was grinning mercilessly now. “Perhaps it’s too early in the morning for literary debate.”

A look of amusement crossed his face, “Eleven thirty is hardly early in the morning.”

“Oh goodness! I hadn’t noticed. You don’t have anything in the lab that needs tending, do you?” Hermione queried.

“Everything I have been making was completed yesterday.” He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and gave it to her. “Including this.”

Inside the bottle was a pale rose liquid, the properties of which Hermione was reasonably sure she knew. In an attempt to cover her nervous embarrassment, she began pelting him with questions. “Which potion is it specifically? What is the dosage? When should it be taken? How quickly does it deteriorate? Are there any side effects?”

Sensing her discomfort, Severus stilled her questions and began describing the potion methodically. “This is one of the rarer potions you will encounter, I expect. The woman who developed it has done extensive work in sub- Saharan Africa. She was born in Zimbabwe, but came to England to further her studies. A brilliant mind. Her work has taken her to very poor and isolated communities. She has been attempting to improve the lives of women both muggle and magic in several countries. This potion acts almost instantaneously and is undetectable by any test I know. It is highly effective, even in small doses. It doesn’t have any side effects when used properly, though it can cause miscarriage or premature labour in women who are already with child.”

Hermione was greatly intrigued and already had dozens more questions bursting to get out. “Why would someone take it if they were already pregnant? It’s not used for-”

“No,” he forestalled her question. “Attempts to provide the potion for the Muggle women of the area were initially done by adding it to the water supply. The results rapidly put paid to that idea. More recently, I believe, she has disguised herself as a Red Cross worker.”

“Oh. Well that is clever. What else does she do?”

“Talks on health and children to young women for the most part. Her reputation with the men in some communities has caused her problems, but that only makes her more innovative. Quite impressive, some of the spells and potions she has developed.” He stated, obviously feeling tremendous professional respect for the woman.

“How did you meet her? She sounds dreadfully busy.” Hermione asked.

Severus looked a little sad as he answered. “There was a potions conference, nearly ten years ago now. She was a guest speaker, talking about her work. I could tell from what she said that there was a great deal she didn’t say, if you take my meaning. One doesn’t get so worked up about purifying potions for water supplies, as important as they can be. I approached her after her presentation and asked about what she didn’t discuss with the assembly. My name is well enough known in academia that she thought I might appreciate some of her, shall I say, more controversial discoveries.”

“She sounds amazing. I would love to meet her and discuss her work sometime. Does she come back to England often?”

“Not ever. Working in these sorts of places is dangerous, particularly with the work she did. I learned she was killed a couple years ago. Caught in the fighting in the Congo.” He answered quietly and turned away.

Hermione put a hand on his knee and squeezed it gently, “That seems to have happened too often as of late.”

He only nodded and held her hand tightly. “Too true. There is solace in the fact that she did do a great deal of good while she was able. Told me that she didn’t trust her most ingenious potions recipes to anyone, but needed someone to pass them on to, just in case. I only hope her trust wasn’t misplaced.”

Patting his knee reassuringly she said, “It wasn’t. Will you tell me more about her work?”

And he did. In one of those conversations that feeds itself for hours, they talked through lunch and well into the afternoon, the potion bottle sitting prominently on the table in front of them. When the discussion finally waned, Hermione picked up the bottle and looked at it critically. “You never did tell me how much I need to take.”

“A quarter teaspoon is sufficient. Its effects will last six months.” he told her.

Conjuring a spoon with her wand, she measured a dose and downed it quickly. She looked pleasantly surprised. “One of the few potions I’ve ever had that doesn’t have a nasty flavour. I’m definitely impressed.”

“Though it shouldn’t have any noticeable side effects, you must tell me if you feel strangely unwell. I lack a great deal when it comes to experience with this potion.” he implored her.

“Of course.” she nodded, then stood up as if to leave.

“Where are you going?” Severus asked.

“I.. uh.. I’m quite glad you had fresh clothes brought down for me, but I think I’d quite like to shower, if you don’t mind, so
I’ll just-”

But he cut her off, “-Go ahead. You know where the bathroom is.”

“Um.. Thank you.” she said and made her way to his bathroom. It wasn’t quite what she had intended. Her intention had been to retreat to her own room for a time and prepare herself for what she knew would need to happen soon. The potion had been the last issue to deal with, and now that it was dealt with there was no real reason to wait. Stalling wouldn’t make the situation any easier at this point. Even so, a bit more time might have been nice.
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After shedding her robes, she stepped under the hot stream of water. While washing, she examined herself critically. She still had a rather boyish figure overall. Her breasts were small, her waist slim and her hips shapeless. Not ugly, she supposed, just not highly feminine. At that moment it struck her as odd, worrying about her appearance. It wasn’t as if she were in love with Severus, nor he with her. They were both put in this terribly awkward situation by other people and were trying to make the best of it. Still, she had to wonder if she were appealing to him in that way. She would have to be at least a little, wouldn’t she?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door and the sound of hinges creaking. “Hermione. I forgot to tell you, I keep the towels in my bedroom. I’ve brought some for you. Sorry to intrude.”

“Thank you,” she called over the sound of the running water. “I had forgotten entirely myself.”

“I’ll just leave them on the bench by your clothes.” he answered back.

Then, in a moment when someone else seemed to be controlling her voice, she said, “Don’t leave. Join me.”

Hermione felt herself come crashing back in the long moment of silence that followed. She had just invited Severus into her shower! What was she thinking? What was more, if he didn’t join her, the situation was bound to be more awkward when she finished her shower. Not hearing a reply, she figured he had left and let out a sigh. She wasn’t sure if she were relieved or scared by his departure. Leaning her head back into the water, she noticed it was darker in the room than it had been when she arrived. The candles were enchanted, so they couldn’t have gone out on their own.

Severus’ voice startled her, when it came from just outside the shower door. “Are you sure?”

Hermione’s voice quavered, “Not especially, but the offer stands.”

“Then turn around.” he said gently and she complied.

She heard the door slide open and shut again and felt a small gust of cool air brush against her skin. The light in the room was very dim now, both from the steam in the air, and because Severus had put out most of the candles. She could sense him moving behind her, but he hadn’t yet touched her in any way. The air was filled with tension and there didn’t seem to be an easy way of alleviating it. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand settle on her shoulder.

“Sorry... I won’t...” he whispered.

“No... You just startled me.” she tried to assure him, truly uncertain of what she should do now that he was in the shower with her.

A second hand joined the first on her shoulders and began gently massaging. The hot water dripping down her skin had relaxed her muscles and they felt fantastic as Severus’ fingers rubbed the last tension out of her neck and shoulders. Involuntarily, Hermione let out a soft groan of pleasure. He moved a little closer, then leaned into her ear, “Is that nice?”

“Mm-hmm.” she mumbled and leaned back against his chest.

Emboldened, Severus moved his hands down Hermione’s arms and entwined her fingers in his own. His arms held hers in a soft embrace and she felt his body pressed up against hers. She was very aware of the firmness pressing against her backside. Oddly enough, its presence was less nerve-racking than empowering. Perhaps she was at least a little attractive. Or she might have been until his fingers began moving in small circles against her stomach. Hermione squirmed and pulled away in a fit of giggles.

“Sorry,” she gasped, “I’m afraid I’m most terribly ticklish.”

His responding chuckle echoed through the room, “Never would have guessed.”

“It’s not funny!” she said indignantly, whirling around to face his amused expression. “I’ll have you know people tease me mercilessly because of it. Not fair at all.”

“You have always been very entertaining when you are outraged.” he said, still chuckling.

“And you have always been infuriating!” she countered, but a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Severus extended a hand and touched her face, very much like he had the previous afternoon, brushing water droplets off of her cheek with his fingers. After a long moment he leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were wet from the shower and her skin smelled of soap. The water had heated her skin to a glowing warmth that radiated beneath his arms. It was a delicious feeling. His head bent over hers was now fully under the streaming water. Damp tendrils hung heavily like a curtain, shielding their faces from the spray. Hermione’s hands snaked around to his back and she traced her fingers over his contours, stopping when she encountered a ridge of skin a different texture.

She pulled away from the kiss and moved behind him. What her fingers had encountered, was a thin hook shaped scar about the length of her thumb. Gently tracing it with her fingers, she asked, “How?”

Though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the sheepish grin in his voice, “Quidditch. I have never been particularly talented, but I tried out for the house team when I was in third year. A foolish idea. I was knocked by a bludger and got caught on the corner of the stands.”

“Why is there a scar? Surely Madam Pomfrey could have healed it.”

“I was too ashamed to go and see her. I let it heal on its own.” he answered.

“You must not have let pride get the better of you too often. I don’t see many others.” she observed.

Her hands moved across his surprisingly smooth back. She had anticipated there to be more marks, but the only other she could find was a thin line over his right shoulder. In response to her unspoken question he stated simply, “My father.”

She traced it again, then brushed her lips on his shoulder. “There aren’t many. Only two.”

“Three.” he said.

“Three?”

He turned to face her and took one of her hands in his own and brought it to a thick diagonal slash across his chest. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed it before. It was nearly a foot long, extending from just below his left pectoral downward across his navel. She ran her hand up and down the length of the scar several times, entranced. To have, what must be an old scar, still so prominent now it must have come from a serious volley of magic. A great duel.

“Who?” she whispered.

His voice was low and reverent, “Albus Dumbledore gave me that scar, and that night, I changed my mind about the Dark Lord.”

“It’s over now,” she said.

“This,” he gestured to the line she was still tracing, “is something I don’t want to forget.”

The sound of running water was all that could be heard in the darkened room. Cautiously Severus began his own exploration of the smooth skin of her back. There were no marks on her back, just flawless, soft flesh. This time his hands moved firmly across her, so as not to induce another laughing fit. When he had stroked her back thoroughly, he tentatively moved his hands back to her front and palmed her tender breasts. His long fingers traced them in detail, intrigued by their weight, curves and hardened tips. She gasped in pain when a finger pinched one of her nipples a little to enthusiastically.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and lowered his mouth to the swollen peak

Hermione let out a soft hum when Severus took her breast into his mouth. His soft tongue was a warm caress that took away any discomfort from the inadvertent pinching. A warm rush went through her body, having nothing to do with the temperature of the water. While his hands and mouth continued their attentions, she wriggled in response. Quite beyond her control, her body was reacting to the new sensations she was experiencing.

Abandoning her chest, Severus pulled her tightly to the full length of his body. She could feel his erection pulsing against her in time to his own racing heartbeat. Reaching behind him, she turned off the water. In the dissipating steam, he clung to her, unwilling to let go. She pressed herself against him and squeezed tightly for a moment, then urged him to move. Outside the enclosed space of the shower, the pleasantly cool air came as a relief to her glowing skin. He carefully wrapped her in a soft, fluffy towel before he donned one himself and moved wordlessly to the door.

Taking her by the hand, he led her into his bed chamber and eased her onto the bed. He took a comb from the table and sat behind her, gently easing the knots from her hair. While he worked on her hair, she felt gentle kisses drop on her neck and shoulders. When finished, he returned the comb and extinguished all but a half dozen candles in the room. He stood, gazing at Hermione hugging the towel around herself, once more very unsure of himself. After a long moment, he asked softly, “Are you scared?”

She shook her head slightly, “Not scared, but quite a bit nervous.”

He returned to the bed and urged her to recline. “So am I.”

Her eyes closed, as his hands began to stroke her through the towel. It was a pleasant sensation to be caressed gently and she started to relax again. Reaching up, she pulled his head down into an unspeakably tender kiss. The tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips, encouraging them to part. The sweet, lingering kiss distracted her from the hands that were tugging her towel apart. A warm hand slipped beneath the fabric and travelled across her bare stomach, stopping short of her breasts. A single finger raised and gently stroked her nipple into tautness.

Her breath came uneven when he broke the kiss. She looked up to see him open her towel completely and lower his head to her breasts once more. The warm rush she had experienced earlier returned when one of his large hands came to rest on the springy curls of her mound. Reflexively, she clamped her legs together only to have his persistent fingers ease them apart by drawing delightfully ticklish circles on her thighs.

When his nimble fingers returned to the apex, she whimpered and tried to wriggle away. His mouth left her breast and reclaimed her lips with an urgency she had not expected from him. Trapped in the kiss, she moaned into his mouth when the first inquisitive finger slipped into her moist folds. Her arms reached out to pull him closer to her, thoughts of shyness now forgotten. His fingers dipped into her moist entrance, and he was nearly taken aback by the heat radiating from her core. She clutched him tightly as his fingers toyed with her sensitive bud, making her hips twitch and buck against him.

He lifted his head from the kiss and smiled when he saw her expressions to the pleasure he was giving her. Her eyes were closed, lips parted and swollen from his kisses, the damp hair he had taken the time to comb mussed and splayed across the sheets. Each time he touched her most sensitive nub she squeaked and whimpered.

The teasing fingers retreated and Hermione opened her eyes to see Severus looking at her with a dark intensity in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, more to himself than to her.

She lifted the corners of her mouth in a small smile and ran her gaze over his body. His towel had fallen away and she had her first close look at the distinguishing feature of male anatomy. His aroused member was flushed red and slightly curved, not entirely what she was expecting. She moved to touch it, stopped, then was encouraged to touch him by an insistent hand. His skin was far softer than she had anticipated and hot to the touch. She curiously stroked and played with his length, carefully watching his reaction.

He watched her exploration with wonder at her inquisitiveness. It was amazing to watch and feel her touching him so intimately. When he could no longer bear her feathery touches, he grasped her hand in his and brought it to his lips. In one swift movement he moved over her and pinned her beneath him, breathing heavily. Her eyes held both anticipation and a hint of apprehension when he lifted her hips and gently began teasing her damp entrance with the tip of his throbbing erection. Unable to hold back any longer, he pressed himself fully into her.

Hermione felt like whatever wonderful spell that had been created between them was broken. When Severus pushed himself into her, she felt a sharp pinch, and winced. Though she had anticipated the pain, its reality was a stark contrast to the wonderful sensations he had been giving her previously. He looked down at her with concern in his eyes, holding himself still within her. She tried her best to smile reassuringly and nodded for him to continue. The initial pain lessened to a dull burning sensation when he thrust into her again. Moving her hips, she searched for a more comfortable position and began to feel enjoyment as he moved rhythmically against her. He began moaning and grunting softly with each thrust becoming more frantic than the last. Slowly, Hermione felt a pleasurable tension building inside her, urging her to arch to meet each stroke. His arms were shaking when with one last thrust, he closed his eyes and cried out.

A thrilling shiver ran down her neck as she watched him, lost in blissful abandon, but she felt tense and incomplete when he collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath. Sweat glistened on his brow and she reached up to brush an errant lock of hair off of his face. He cracked the lid of one eye open and smiled into her breast, reluctant to move. When he did lift himself, he noticed her wince. Spooning her against him, he nipped and kissed her neck while returning his dextrous fingers to her aching nub. Soon she was writhing against his hand as it stroked and teased her until a wave of intense pleasure washed over her.

Severus patted her curls gently and grunted softly with satisfaction. He groped around for the sheets and covered them. His arm wrapped around her waist and held her close as he nuzzled her neck affectionately. He was still and quiet for a time and Hermione thought he had fallen asleep, when he said quietly, “I hadn’t made love before... Thank you. I have no words to tell you how special that was to me. You’re special.”

Unsure of what to say in response she simply nestled closer. Soon the sound of deep, rhythmic breathing told her Severus had fallen asleep. She lay awake for a long while, her mind busy with thoughts about what had just transpired between her and her husband. It was the first time she had consciously thought of him as such. Now, laying naked with him in bed, some of the reality of the situation struck her. In their fumbling attempts at friendship and the threats made by Lucius Malfoy, she had managed to overlook the fact that she was a wife. ‘How odd,’ she thought.

In the soft light of the few remaining candles, Hermione pondered the whole bizarre situation and shifted against the soreness between her legs. The wet, stickiness was unpleasant, and she wanted to get up to wash, but each time she tried to edge away, the sleeping Severus would tighten his grip on her. Eventually she gave up, and allowed herself to drift off to sleep beside him.
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