Tension in the Laboratory

She should have sputtered. She should have screamed. “Lovers? Lovers?! Who do you think you are?” But she didn’t. She swallowed and looked down at their hands together. Lovers. That was better than nothing. A lot better than nothing. And maybe, just maybe, he would come around to wanting her for more…

Snape lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, which sent a spark from his lips, through her body, to pool in her lap. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it tight.

“Don’t,” he said. He turned her hand over, and she heard herself make a small noise of—-what? Pleasure? Protest?

He set his thin lips to the center of her palm, then, holding her hand firmly open, he used his thumb to stroke her palm lightly.

“Dear Hermione.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from him, like a mouse watching a snake.

“I shall require some promises from you. We’ll make them Unbreakable Vows directly afterward.”

“W-what vows?” Her voice sounded too high even to her own ears.

Now he raised his eyes, and she drew back from the intensity of their purpose. “Do you promise never to betray me, by word or deed, known or unknown?”

The words sounded formal, legalistic. Hermione frowned. How could she promise not to do something…she didn’t know would be a betrayal? “I’ll never betray you,” she concurred.

“By word or deed,” he pressed.

“By word or deed.”

“Known or unknown.”

“How can I promise not to do something that I don’t know will betray you?” she objected.

“Known or unknown!” His gaze was locked on her, his eyes blazing.

“But how can I—-"

“You can! You will! Known or unknown!”

Hermione decided to gamble that he wasn’t being unreasonable, which, given what she knew of him, was a reasonable assumption only if the stakes were high. “All right,” she said calmly. “Known or unknown.”

Snape seemed to relax suddenly, and she realized he had been coiled with fear.

“It’s all right,” Hermione heard herself saying. She raised a hand to tentatively put on his shoulder. “I agreed. You knew I would agree.”

Snape allowed himself a short bark of laughter. “You are too kind, Hermione. Hasn’t that ever got you into trouble?”

Before she could frame an answer to that, Snape continued, “This sofa is a bit small. Am I to assume that your bed is not much larger?”

Hermione dropped her hand. “Er—" That was it, then? The lovers part would begin at once, now that the preliminaries were out of the way?

“I hardly need to use Legilimency to read those thoughts. Did you expect moonlight and magnolias?” The voice was cold, the eyes blankly challenging.

Hermione steeled herself. “You might be a little softer with me. You did say ‘lovers,’ not business partners.”

He laughed once more, but this time with what seemed to her to be reluctant but real amusement. “Touché,” he murmured. “All right, then.” He took her hand in his again. Hers were cold, she knew. By contrast, his felt almost warm. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Show me the bedroom. Please.” The last word, added as an afterthought, made his words seem less like a command. Hermione turned toward her bedroom and walked the several steps to its threshold and beyond.

Snape entered and looked around. The room was scarcely big enough for Hermione’s bed, wardrobe, and small bedside table. The red-gold curtains over the window blocked a little of the strong, autumn sunlight. Snape shut the door.

“Noctus.”

The room plunged into darkness. Although it was so thickly dark that Hermione could hardly see the window any more, a niggling doubt wormed its way into her mind.

“I can’t see a thing,” she said. “Can you?” She let the challenge hang in the air until Snape gave one of his reluctant chuckles.

“I’ll have to stop taking your abilities for granted,” he said, and the light in the room lifted to a twilight level.

Snape sat on the bed, clicked on the cozy bedside lamp, and patted the spot beside him in an exaggerated manner. Slowly, she came around to sit beside him.

“You have to trust me a little,” she said, “or it won’t work.”

She felt his hand smooth itself over her hair, which hung in a frizzy, thick curtain down to the middle of her back. “I trust you, Hermione,” he said moving closer, “more than a little.” She closed her eyes and felt his lips come down lightly on her own. He held the kiss for a moment before pulling away. She felt him run his hand again through her hair. He seemed to like it, although Hermione knew it was coarse and mousy.

Then he pulled away from her and began unbuttoning his robes, and after a second, she awkwardly pulled her jersey over her head and added her blouse on top of it. Then she crossed her arms uneasily over her bra. He gave her an inscrutable glance and continued taking off his clothes until all that was left was his trousers and presumably, whatever was on underneath. Hermione fumbled with her shoes and socks until they were off as well.

She started to say something, but he pulled her into his embrace for a hungrier kiss this time. One of his arms encircled her waist, holding her tightly against him, while the other gathered up a huge mass of her hair. The next thing she knew, she was lying on top of him, sprawled most gracelessly, and he was holding her there.

“You might put your knees on either side of me,” he said, with just a trace of mockery.

For some reason, the light words stung, and Hermione averted her face even as she tentatively put her knees on either side of his waist.

She felt him give a small sigh. “That wasn’t meant to hurt,” he said. “I’m a bit—-rusty.”

“With what? Being nice?”

Tiny twitch of a smile. “Among other things. Here, let me undo that for you. Recingo.”

Her bra came undone, and she scrabbled for its edges, desperate for some reason not to be seen. She knew her body was passable, more than passable, even, with its high, full breasts and narrow waist, but the thought of being subject to someone’s judgment, especially his, made her want to hide. His fingers came up to her shoulders and pulled down the bra straps. He brushed her hands away to her sides and lifted the garment away. Hermione couldn’t help half-turning from him. This was too much! To be perched atop him, almost on display, her whole torso out in the open..! Her cheeks burned.

She felt a long fingertip trace her collarbone, then move down, down, down until it reached the side of her breast and began to trace under its fullness. Something brushed the nipple, then she felt his hands cup both her breasts. She squirmed, wanting to hide, get away…

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s not bad,” she managed. “It’s just, I’m so visible...”

She heard him laugh softly.

“Can’t I be, you know, on the bottom?”

“It’ll be better for you this way, the first time.”

“How?” She couldn’t help the note of childish pleading in her voice.

“You can control it,” he replied. “Surely you’ve read books?”

“Of course.” Of course, but books were never like this! She inhaled sharply as she felt his hands moving on her breasts. His thumbs lightly brushed her nipples. Then he pulled her slightly forward and shocked her by putting one of them to his mouth. With a small cry, she arched her back. She could feel his tongue stroking, then his mouth sucking. He moved on to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. Her hands came down on his chest, which was spare but taut. Experimentally, she moved the pad of her index finger over one of his flat nipples in imitation of what he had done to her, and was rewarded by feeling his hands and mouth still. She leaned over and gave him back some of the same treatment with her mouth. When she raised her head a few moments later, she saw a strange look in his eyes and a certain fullness to his lips she had never seen before.

“You always were an apt pupil,” he muttered, tugging at the waist of her jeans with unmistakable meaning.

Hesitantly, she sat back on the bed and pulled them off. Beneath were her plain cotton knickers, the underclothes of a schoolgirl really, about as unsexy as she could imagine. She couldn’t meet his eyes. This was excruciating.

His hands were back around her waist, pulling her atop him again, where she obediently placed a knee on either side of him. He pressed her down, and she felt pressure where she was most swollen and wet. This worried her, as she didn’t want him to know of or notice her body’s reaction. She sat stiffly, trying not to give anything away, her eyes closed, until she heard a somewhat louder sigh than before. Her lashes fluttered open.

“Hermione.” He sounded gentle again, the same way he had when he was talking about Obliviating her, which now that she thought about it, was still a possibility. Her heart skipped a beat. “You said this won’t work if I don’t trust you. I do. Now, you must do what feels good and not what you imagine I should see or know—-"

Her brows came together threateningly. He must be using Legilimency…

“I don’t need Legilimency to read a virgin’s thoughts. They’re written all over your face.”

She looked down at her hands, which were trembling. He took one in one of his. “Open your legs a little more. And let’s take off those, er, quite interesting knickers.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No. No, I meant it.”

She looked at him quickly, and if an almost unreadable expression could be deemed earnest, then his was.

But taking off the knickers brought up two points that she was loathe to mention in any way. For one, there was the wetness, which he was sure to notice. For another…she pictured how she looked without her knickers, the large triangle of light brown hair, even puffier than the hair on her head, and felt agonies of embarrassment. “I can’t,” she heard herself say.

“Can’t?” he answered blankly.

She just looked down, carefully avoiding eye contact.

“Surely it’s not so bad,” he said dryly. “Let me assure you, whatever it is you’re afraid to show me, I’ll find it most delightful.”

His words, meant to make her smile, instead, made her blush furiously and shake her hair forward to hide her face and breasts. She felt his fingers comb through the long curtain, parting it and pushing it back over her shoulders to expose her breasts again. “I do love your hair,” he said. His fingers stilled, and she knew somehow that the penny had dropped. “Take them off.” He sounded a little hoarse. When she didn’t move initially, he said, “Take them off or I’ll use my wand.”

“No wands!” she said fearfully. Slowly, she raised herself and pulled the knickers down and off. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, not looking at him as she heard him taking off the rest of his clothes.

“Would it be better if I turned off the light?” he said. She couldn't bring herself to speak, so she nodded.

“Nox.”

The room was back to twilight, and with a breath of relief, Hermione turned around. Snape was just behind her, on his knees, seeming unsure of what to do. She ran her fingers over his shoulders, then his chest. She could feel short hairs there, leading down. Shyly, she explored down to his waist, and when she hesitated, he took her hand and brought it lower. Lightly, she closed her hand around his erection, which felt like the warmest part of him, swollen, she could tell. Its size felt large without being frightening, but she wondered how it would ever fit in a spot that had never been opened before.

He lay back and pulled her on top of him again. But this time when she straddled him, she felt his fingers exploring the hair at the juncture of her thighs.

“This was so awful?” he muttered, finding her clitoris and spreading open the lips of her sex.

She couldn’t speak.

“Spread your legs a little more.”

Wordlessly, she obeyed. His hands now came around to spread her arse cheeks open. She couldn’t prevent herself from drawing in a sudden breath. Then he was pressing her open sex onto the shaft of his cock. After a moment, she slid herself just a bit along it. She felt his finger begin to explore her opening, and she stilled. She wished fervently that she were not on top. She felt as if she were on stage and didn’t like it. And she didn’t know what to do. She lifted her eyes from his chest to his face. As she had suspected, he was watching her unblinkingly. She met his gaze fully, holding nothing back. Without speaking, he grasped her arse and rolled on the narrow bed, putting her beneath him.

“Better?” His voice was a whisper in the gloom.

She nodded.

“You don’t have to speak. If you’d rather not.”

She tore her gaze away, fixing her sight somewhere on his chest. “You’ll want to know more than I might want you to. You’ll try to take advantage.”

She didn’t have to look at him to know that his small smile was back on his face. “Dear Hermione. Is there nothing I can hide from you?”

I hope not, she thought.

She felt his finger probe between her thighs, opening up her sex, then gently pushing within. She tensed.

“It goes better if you relax.”

“How can I relax?” she managed. Relax? Was he mad? Relax? She was ready for anything, and especially, for pain.

He lowered his forehead to hers. “I wish you’d look at me.”

She raised her eyes with misgivings.

She saw the subtle change in his face as he looked hard into the depths of her eyes. After a moment, he changed the angle of his finger and began working it slowly and carefully deeper inside her. The way he was stroking inside her felt different—surprisingly good. Hermione squelched the growing desire to raise her legs and rub against it. He moved his finger slightly differently again. She couldn’t stop herself from purring, “Mmmmm.” He pushed ever so slightly deeper and kept up the inner stroking. Hermione allowed her breathing to catch, but still, she shied away from letting him see how much she was being affected.

“All right then.”

He kept working his finger deeper until she gave a startled jerk. “What—-"

“Shh.”

He pulled his finger out. His other hand was under her. He reached for his wand on the bedside table and said something softly. Then she suddenly felt the shaft of his cock again against the outer lips of her sex, with the head positioned just at her entrance. Her muscles tightened.

“Hermione.”

His eyes were on her, as black and shiny as obsidian. Her gaze wavered. “Y-yes?”

“You can’t keep this up.”

“Keep w-what up?”

“Not showing me. You have to give in. Or you’ll never come.”

He let his weight push the head of his cock just within her. The feeling was not unpleasant, but nowhere near what his finger had been.

“I’m already here,” she blurted out.

“No.” He let his weight take his cock an inch or two inside her. “Lift your legs a little.”

She shook her head.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

She didn’t want to do that, either, or he would see how weak she was, feeling a bit frightened, worried, and awkward.

He pushed his cock deeper inside her, and in alarm, her gaze flew back up to meet his.

“Yes,” was all he said, and slowly pushed in to the hilt. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly got her full attention and came worrying close to pain. She could feel his shaft pressed against her clitoris, a pleasant sensation, but everything inside felt stretched and strange. He pulled one of her thighs over his hip. Then he used the fingers of both hands to pull her arse open. She gasped and tried to retreat, but he had everything open and at his command now. Her clitoris was flush against his cock, which he was starting to rub inside her, the lips of her sex were exposed to his touch, his balls were pressed to her anus, and try as she might, she could not break eye contact with him.

“Come for me,” he ground out.

What did he mean? Come where? Her brain tried to make sense of it as he moved in small movements inside her. Again, she tried to twist her hips away. But he was stronger than he looked. He pinned her firmly to the mattress, keeping her spread, and moved within her with sure strokes.

“Come for me,” he said again. “Climax.”

She tried again to move away, to keep a certain detachment, exerting more and more of her strength against him, but he met and easily overpowered every effort. Keeping her pinned beneath him, he managed to keep her well spread, never losing contact with her clitoris, which Hermione now knew must be getting more engorged than she had ever imagined.

“Oh!” She couldn’t help it, then. She had no choice. He wouldn’t let her retreat, and she couldn’t hold back the force of pleasure. She raised her legs and arched her back. He began pumping his cock into her more forcefully.

“Keep your eyes open.”

Just a little more, she was thinking. A little more. Oh, Merlin, yes! Like that! Oh, I didn’t know that felt so good inside me. Oh, deeper! Yes! Oh…

And then she couldn’t think any more. She began to come in waves, her hips bucking beneath him, her legs in the air, which should have made her feel ashamed, but she pushed that thought from her.

While she was still coming, she heard him make a noise of impatience and then he pulled his cock out of her. Before she could register her confusion, he flipped her over beneath him, pulled her buttocks apart again, exposing her still pulsing vagina, and thrust himself in to the root. He reached around in front of her spread her open, and pressed her clit with his fingers. And then he began to really ride her, pumping the thickening shaft up her sheath until she came twice more, giving up entirely and letting her legs and arse thrash against him. He pushed himself in as far as he could. She heard him make a strange sound, and then she felt heat spreading inside her.

They didn’t move for a moment or two. At last, he pulled his still-turgid shaft from her and lay next to her. She turned over. She could feel the stickiness starting to seep from her body, but she ignored it. What to say? What to do? Tentatively, she thought she might put her hand on his chest, but he slung an arm around her shoulders, and she found herself snuggling in the crook of his arm. His eyes were closed, and she imitated him, trying in her turn to find oblivion.

After an eternity, he said, with his eyes still closed, “I shall have to teach you Occlumency. But you aren’t to use it with me.”

“You’re too used to the classroom, Severus,” she murmured.