Unforgettable

A/N – Thanks to all who reviewed. Yabo – I was fanning myself as I was writing it and this chapter. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Mysticslave, Lovethelab, illnevertell, and all the rest who are guessing that Hermione is pregnant – Wouldn’t that be a kick if she was? He he! I already told Stormi the answer. GinnyW – I’m glad you made it over here from Ashwinder. Although my beta, Kathy Rose kicks ass with grammar and spelling, I have to rely on the kindness of strangers for canon betaing. Ashwinder has a few subtle variations and corrections. The fic on Aswinder is indeed to finished product. Susan – I adore you. You’re support is awesome. Thanks to everybody who has left feedback. It inspires the muse. On with the show. More lemons!

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Chapter Ten –

His knees buckled and he knelt before her. Composure was just a word to him now. He could muster no semblance of it as he sat in front of her. It was awkward – his pants around his ankles. Hermione stared at him as she sat back on her ankles and licked her lips.

“I’m assuming you found my performance adequate,” she stated knowingly, sticking a finger up to her mouth and sucking it in.

Guilt rarely held sway over him. He had no use for it. It only hindered other, more positive emotions and sensations. But he couldn’t ignore it this time. He was drowning in it. The woman before him had no idea how she was bound to him. All she knew was the fire of lust. His soul would certainly burn in hell now. She probably fancied herself in love with him.

There was only one way to know for certain. He unsheathed his wand from his sleeve and muttered the spell. “Legilimens.” The lone word was solemn. If she didn’t hate him now, she certainly would now.

She backed away and slammed her eyes shut.

But it was too late. He was already in, prying into her deepest thoughts. Images washed over him, as she tried to force him out. A fourth-year picture of her emerged with gargantuan teeth from when Draco had hexed her, and he could hear his callous voice announce, “I see no difference.”

He winced as he felt the cold lance of cruelty strike her down.

A seventh-year picture of his lover emerged. She’d received the highest mark on her potions NEWT and she’d come to thank him. “It seems the Fates are fickle, indeed,” he had sneered, insinuating that she had merely been lucky.

An adult Hermione appeared in his mind. The setting was the first annual celebratory ball. His words over her appearance that night had rolled off his tongue, inflicting the pain he had intended.

Severus cringed, seeing the hatred and spite.

Something else shimmered in the distance, something hopeful, yet far away.

Her mind guarded her secret with a passionate resolve.

“No,” she whimpered beneath him.

Severus backed away, suddenly unsure.

“Please,” she whispered.

Her entreaty made his blood boil and he could feel the immediate response. He needed the answer. He could sense it. Whatever she had locked away would be the answer to end his suffering. Her suffering be damned!

“Let me in,” he commanded softly, lightly brushing his lips across her forehead.

It was like a dam breaking, the torrent of pent-up emotions mocking him. She wanted him! She always had! Before the potion. The realization struck him down even as he glanced around.

He hardly recognized the feeling as it carried him away. She didn’t fancy herself in love with him. She did love him!

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He knows! She’d felt him brush against her darkest secret and she readied herself for his scathing assault. She was stupid and foolish. Harry had tried to teach her Occlumency, but he was barely proficient in it himself. The pupil was only as good as the teacher.

Hermione kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see the loathsome reaction he must feel. She pushed against his shoulders, but he did not move. Feeling the light, teasing brush of his lips against hers, she started, opening her eyes.

She didn’t see the rejection or the sarcastic response she’d anticipated. His eyes were black and unreadable.

“Forgive me,” he whispered against her lips.

With heightened desperation, Hermione returned the kiss, sighing when he deepened it.

Severus broke the kiss and rolled away awkwardly, toeing off his boots and pulling off his pants. He reached for his tunic and started undoing a multitude of buttons.

She couldn’t stop watching him if she wanted to. He was lean, his defined muscles flexing as he moved. Fine black hair dotted his forearms, chest and legs. With feline grace, he rose and offered her his hand.

“Come with me,” his voice persuaded. Blushing, her gaze lingered on his impressive size, then snapped to his eyes.

Severus smirked. “Please.”

His polite request was met with a tentative smile. Hermione reached for his hand, but hesitated.

“Do you not find the dungeon floor cold, Hermione?”

Feeling a chill crawl up her spine, Hermione grasped his hand. He pulled her up with ease and into his embrace, nuzzling her cheek gently. “As much as I wish to Divesto your clothes and take you right here, I wish to taste you first.”

Hermione blushed furiously.

Pulling her toward his door, his smirk turned into a genuine smile. “I wish to peel your clothing from your person and explore how much of your body that delectable blush covers.\"

Closing the door behind them, Severus took one of her hands in his and lifted it to his mouth and kissed her palm. An electric shock shot up her arm and she groaned.

“So responsive,” he whispered softly, moving behind her. He slid a hand around her midriff and made quick work of the button to her jeans. He inched his palm into her jeans, under her knickers, and past her moist curls.

“Forgive me,” he breathed against her cheek and scooped his fingers inside her.

Somehow she kept her knees from buckling as his fingers danced across her swollen nub. Just as she neared the precipice, he withdrew his fingers and tasted the damp digits. “Forgive me,” he repeated. “Your essence has haunted my dreams these past weeks.”

“Weeks?” Hermione questioned breathlessly, moving her hips as Severus pushed her jeans and knickers down. She groaned when his hand traveled under her sweater and cupped one of her sensitive breasts. He plucked the nipple to a fine point, making her forget all else.

Her world tilted as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to his bed. The green satin of the comforter melted with her weight and she had little time to adjust before Severus was upon her. With a vicious tug, he pulled her to the edge of the bed and knelt before her, pushing her legs apart and nudging her femininity with his nose.

All coherent thought escaped her as she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and thrust her hips up to his voracious ministrations. This seemed so familiar…so right.

She grinned when he growled, running his tongue up and down her wet slit. His rhythm was set, occasionally stopping to suckle her clit or swirl his tongue around the jutting peak.

“Come for me, Hermione,” he instructed, pushing several fingers into her. “Say my name.”

Just as she thought she would split in two, Hermione cried out. “Severus!”

Before she could catch her breath, she felt her world tilt again. This time, her lover was beneath her, guiding his readied shaft between her legs. She smacked his hand away and grasped his sex, sinking onto his weeping member.

Hermione winced as his nails dug into her hips.

“My wand,” he moaned with a pained expression.

Hermione tried moving off him, fearful that she had injured him. But he held her to him.

“I need my wand,” Severus panted. “To cast a contraceptive charm.”

She giggled, easing his hold on her and moving on top of him. “I’m protected,” she breathed against his lips, tasting herself. “The Potion,” she explained, another blush tingeing her cheeks.

Severus chuckled and started unbuttoning her tight, suggestive sweater. “Amazing,” he said with admiration. “I’m buried deep inside you and you’re blushing about telling me that you’re on The Potion.”

Snapping the last button open, Severus spread the fuzzy material away from her breasts. With a beastly growl, he sat up and flipped them over and thrust deeply inside her.

“Severus!” she cried unsolicited as he pounded unmercifully into her wanting orifice. Locking her legs around his ass, she matched his rhythm.

She was so close, almost there, standing on the edge of oblivion. Yet something held her back. Her stomach churned and she turned her head away the smell of sex on both their breaths, hoping Severus would orgasm soon.

He granted her wish, groaning her name as he came within her. He collapsed on top of her, seemingly devoid of enough energy to shove off.

Pushing on his shoulder, Hermione bit her lip. Please Merlin! Not again! “I-I need to use the toilet,” she stammered, shoving his shoulder more forcefully as the urge to vomit rose in her throat.

She made a mad dash for the toilet and lost what remained of her lunch. Thankfully, she had skipped dinner. This stupid flu had the worst timing.

“Hermione,” Severus’ concerned voice called from behind the door. “Shall I fetch Poppy?”

Righting herself and opening the door, Hermione gave him a weak smile. “I’ll be fine,” she replied reassuringly and scooped a handful of water to rinse her mouth out. “Just a touch of the flu.”

Severus handed her a towel. “Nevertheless, you should go to the hospital wing and seek a flu remedy.”

Hermione’s smile brightened and she pulled him into her arms. “You may want to be careful, Severus. I may begin to think you actually care,” she teased knowingly, feeling him grow tense.

“I may not love you, but you should never doubt that I care for you, Hermione,” Severus admitted grudgingly.

She sobered and hugged him tighter. “I’ll take what I can get.”

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