No Looking Back

Written for my lovely friend, Dynonugget. Rawr, babes!

We make our way to his lab and his Pensieve. Forcing my jaw and hands to relax, I straighten my shoulders and follow him.

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Severus moves slowly. The years have not been kind to Severus, and as I wait for him to prepare the stone bowl and his memories, I think perhaps I am being unfair, then wonder where this softness is coming from. He is entitled to his memories, after all. For all that has been taken from him by Dumbledore and Voldemort, not to mention the media circus that had been generated in the aftermath of the war, he is still willing to share his memories with me. Has he been conditioned to do this on command, I wonder? Certainly, he’d had enough of it from the egotistical tyrants he’d served for so many years.

“Severus.”

He sets the Pensieve on his workstation and looks up. There is a glint in his eyes, something I don’t quite recognize. It is not malice, nor is it glee, something in between, perhaps.

I pause, warring with myself for a moment, and then, with a great sigh, I utter, “You do not have to do this.”

His squares his shoulders and rounds the table to face me. “Lucius, I refused you months ago. Perhaps you are right, perhaps you do need to know what ground you covered before you can move on. But know this; I do not regret this memory. I’ve a right to my happiness and to take it where I find it. I’ll not apologize for it. But know this, my friend; you have changed from who you were, and the reasons for showing you this now are the same as when I denied you previously: Hermione’s welfare. She has been through much. I cannot give Hermione what she needs, a future committed to her. I will be free; I will not be tied to anyone or anything again.”

I nod, not wanting to dwell on his words. Instead, I watch as he adds his silver strands into the bowl; I step around the table and lower my face.

I land in Severus’ kitchen, watching as he prepares tea. I laugh he adds a good measure of whisky to the pot and look up when the Floo activates. Hermione calls for Severus as she steps from the fireplace. Severus has a devilish gleam in his eyes, as if he’s been expecting her. He adds another cup to the tray and adds the bottle of whisky, as well, before entering his sitting room. I stand in the doorway, watching the scene before me.

“That insufferable man! That… that asshole! That… that… that fucking prick!” She screams, ignoring Severus as he sets the tray on the table. “Fucking no good, rotten, ball smashing, twat twitching…”

Severus raises his hand, a smirk firmly in place.

“What has he done this time?”

Hermione rounds on him, “What has he done? That idiot wouldn’t know a good thing if it spat in his face! Do you know what he said to me? What he had the fucking balls…” She stops suddenly, as if she’d just run out of steam.

More gently than I would have thought possible from the former Death Eater, he guides her to the sofa and softly urges her to sit. He lowers himself to sit next to her and pours them both a whisky. Hermione calms, but her jaw is clenched tight. She accepts the offering with grim determination and proceeds to drain the cup. Neither speaks. She shudders, but then relaxes her shoulders slightly. She is angry, yet, there is sorrow in her eyes, and her mouth is pinched as if in pain.

With a shuddering breath, she sets down her cup and turns to Severus, who has been patiently waiting.

“Did you know?” Hermione asks.

“Did I know what?” Severus counters smoothly. His manner suggests that they have had similar conversations. I wonder whom they are speaking of, although in the pit of my stomach, I know.

“I’ve come from the penthouse. Lucius is spending the weekend at the Manor. He told me… he said that he…” She doesn’t continue, her breath has caught in her throat.

“Ms. Granger, if you and Lucius have had a squabble, it is no affair of mine.” He says this with such disdain that I can almost believe he has no feelings for the witch, but his eyes have softened as he watches her, the gleam now gone. Something has changed.

“A squabble?” Hermione screeches. “Lucius and I have never squabbled. Oh, we’ve had some heated debates, and Lord knows, we’ve had our share of disagreements, but this, this is so far beyond a squabble…” A choked sob escapes, her words muffled.

“Perhaps, then, you’d like to tell me why you are in my sitting room, bitching?” Severus asks formally, insisting on maintaining his aloofness, despite her obvious state.

“You know about my involvement with Lucius, I know you do. Do not play innocent with me. I am sure Lucius has confided in you. Did he tell you of his decision?” She jumps up and begins pacing the room, her agitation and sorrow written on her face.

Severus nods hesitantly; his lips are pursed as if he has found something distasteful, though I am not sure of what, my involvement with Hermione or the information.

She relates all that happened that afternoon, how I had refused her offer to become my lover, choosing to spend the weekend with Narcissa at the Manor instead of with her at the penthouse. Severus asks several questions, asking for her interpretation of my motives, and such. It appears as if he is attempting to lead her to some realization, but from my own recent experience, it would be easier if he just comes out with what he wants her to know.

She finishes her pacing and turns to Severus. “Why doesn’t he want me, Severus? What is so wrong with me that he would just turn me away?” Her anger is now gone now, sadness and defeat has taken its place.

Her voice unnerves me; hadn’t I realized she needed an explanation? She heard my reasons, had listened to my words, but never reached the obvious conclusions. It slaps me in the face: she is not from my world; she is not Slytherin. Had that been part of her charm? She had adapted well to the business world, almost as if it were her playground, and yet… and yet; while both arenas require creative thinking, it is not in her nature.

Severus stands and meets her across the room. He takes her by the shoulders once more, but it is with a light caress that he gently draws her to him. She leans into him, placing her head on his shoulder. Severus wraps his arms around her and cups her head in his hand, sifting his fingers lightly through her hair.

‘Listen carefully, Hermione. Lucius cares for you, but he is caught between two worlds. Listen to more than his words; for gods’ sake, you are a smart young woman. He would not have you in his world, in his house, if he did not trust you. If he has pushed you away, it is for your safety.”

“That is not what he said, Severus,” Hermione says softly. “I feel as if I am still waiting to live my life.” She lifts her face to gaze into his eyes. “I’ve left school and the war behind, and I believed I could start a new life with him, despite his marriage and our past. I did not kid myself into thinking he would leave his wife for me; even though I know his is not a real marriage. I need someone to want me, Severus.”

Hermione lifts her head from Severus’ shoulder and slowly reaches up to trace his jaw with a delicate finger. “Severus,” she whispers and leans up to place a soft kiss on his chin.

“Hermione,” Severus murmurs, “I am certainly not who you want. I will not stand in for my best friend.” His voice is firm, but his fingers lightly stroke her hair, and he has pulled her closer.

“I know whose arms hold me, Severus. I know whose heart beats hard against my chest. There has always been an attraction. I’ve always felt it. Now you are free. You are free, Severus. Free to want, free to take. I need someone to need me. Me. Not the know-it-all or the Muggle-born or the kickback from the Ministry. Just me. You could want me, couldn’t you?”

“I don’t deny the attraction, my dear.” Severus says quietly, running his hand up her back. “But do not misunderstand, I may be free, but I am not willing to tie my life to someone again. And I doubt that is what you are after, either.”

I stand there, motionless. I am unable to rip Hermione from his arms, to challenge him to a duel. I would fight for her, yet I cannot fight what has already been. My heart tightens in my chest.

Hermione lifts her arms and slides them around him, pulling him closer. “I am not asking for ties, Severus. I am asking for this.” Her hands splay across his back, and she lifts her mouth to his. Severus does not pull away; instead, he mumbles against her mouth, “Hermione, no, love, I’m not who you really want.”

“You are not Lucius, no. But I am here with you now. And you want me. I can feel you. You want me in your arms, and it feels so good to be held. I know, Severus,” she whispers, “I know about loneliness, and I can be what you need, what we need, for now.”

I am appalled. That she could go to Severus, that there had been an attraction between them. Had I seen it? Is this why I walked away? It seems trivial to me. What does this matter? An attraction?

With those whispered words, Severus lowers his mouth to hers, his large hands cradling her head gently as he learns her taste, feels her body molding to his. Her moans of pleasure puncture the stillness of the room.

I stand in the doorway and watch, outraged that Severus would fall for her charms, and yet, I had fallen, as well. Hard, harder than Severus. I want to leave this memory, yet, I cannot.

Severus’ hand skims down her neck and shoulder to gently capture her breast. I hear Hermione’s breath hitch, and suddenly, they are a whirlwind as hands move furiously, removing clothing and grabbing for purchase wherever they find. No words are spoken, but there is a pause, a moment where their eyes meet and a question and answer are given. Severus scoops Hermione up in his arms and turns to stride down the hall. I follow.

They land on Severus’ bed in a heap, their muffled laughter in the air. And then, their laughter dies and is replaced by hushed words and whispers that are barely discernible to me as I stand in the doorway. Like a man walking to the gallows, I enter and approach the sleigh bed set in front of the fireplace.

They are naked now, hands and mouths exploring. Their skin is flushed and breathing uneven. They are lying on their sides, with Hermione at the head of the bed and Severus facing the foot. She is muzzling Severus’ cock, rubbing her cheek against his length before taking him in her mouth. A great huff of breath escapes Severus as he looks down the bed, watching as Hermione suckles him.

Severus lowers his head to Hermione’s pussy, the one I held in my hand just a few short days ago. He begins lapping at her, spreading her open with his hand and sucking on her pert clit. Her muffled gasps shoot straight to my cock. I am twisted inside, a part of me watches as voyeur, the other recognizes that this is my Hermione, the one I don’t remember, but the one I feel every minute of every day.

The duvet has been pushed off the bed, the sheets as well; there are no barriers to keep their bodies separated. Hermione’s curling her toes, and Severus pins her hips to the bed, his mouth working furiously on her swollen pussy. When he sucks on her clit, she screams in pleasure, but Severus does not stop his ministrations. Her hips are jerking, and she has lifted her mouth from Severus’ cock, slick with sheen.

My cock is hard, and I want nothing more that to join in. I push those thoughts away, disgusted with myself. It is as if I am in one of those Muggle cinemas, watching a giant photo playing out before me; while it is lifelike, it is not quite real.

“Severus, please, no more.” She gasps. Her hands reach for his hair, pulling him away.

He gives a low chuckle and bucks his hips towards her. “Put me in your mouth,” he whispers hoarsely. She smiles saucily, taking him in her mouth once more.

Severus, for his part, is now petting her gently, running his hands along the inside of her thighs and over her mound. From somewhere down the hall, I hear the Floo activate. Walking quickly, I enter the sitting room and see myself emerging from the Floo. I am looking around and spot the clothes on the floor, with a smirk, I follow the trail leading to Severus’ room. I stand behind myself in the doorway. Severus notices a movement and looks up, and from where I stand, I know his eyes are meeting mine. Hermione has no idea of my presence; her back is to me, and her eyes are closed tight as she works Severus’ hard length down her throat. My memory self turns and leaves as silently as he approached, but I remain behind. Soon, Severus is shouting, his hips bucking his length into Hermione’s mouth and hand, and she is swallowing his seed, the creamy white coating her lips.

I could murder Severus for his deception. While I have no doubt as to his feelings for her are genuine, he also played on her vulnerable state and took advantage. That it was exactly what I would have done under different circumstances fuels my indignation. But damn it, Severus knew she was my witch, and he enticed her.

And yet, I also feel detached, as if the Hermione whom I am watching is somehow not my Hermione, but a doppelganger. She is not the woman that strode through my Floo Monday morning, business as usual. This not the Hermione who shuddered in my arms as I brought forth her orgasm with only my fingers. This Hermione is weaker, without the steely resolve I’d seen in her eyes as she laid out Michael Flannery’s treachery, without the brazen defiance that made her look me straight in the eyes as she lambasted me and questioned my motives.

I am satisfied. I can walk away from this memory. Whatever she was to me three months ago is not what and who she is to me now. Perhaps the old Lucius was right in turning from her, but I am who I am, now. I have my answer, and I exit the memory.

As always, I must thank my amazing betas, Wildcatcdc and Sc010f. I am proud and humbled to call them friends. Also, a HUGE thank you to Shellsnapeluver for all her help!