A Sad and Happy Story

I’ll tell you this, I’m getting right sick of my storyline getting altered. This was supposed to have been a ten chapter story. Pfffft, who knows now? This story has taken on a life of its own.

Chapter Ten

Over the course of the next several days, Severus and Hermione engaged in a significant amount of snogging, and almost as much cuddling and conversation. At some point, Hermione was not sure how or when, she had made mention of Harry tapping into Voldemort’s memory and seeing the night his parents were murdered. Severus had gone very quiet for the rest of the evening, and she was out of his quarters the earliest since they had become involved.

Hermione was a rather secure young woman, and as such was not tempted into self-pitying “he loves me, he loves me not” sentiments, but she did wish he had permitted her to stay with him. ‘Everyone needs some alone time,’ she reminded herself, ‘even in a relationship.’

Severus was convinced there were no words for what he was feeling. The Dark Lord had ceased to be before he could give a report of what had happened that evening, of why he chose to kill Lily Potter. Dumbledore had ideas, but how could he know? What Severus knew was that he had to see Mr. Potter immediately. He had to know. Filch had Potter in detention this evening, but where?

He stalked through the castle until he heard the distinctive sounds of detention, Filch style. Fortunately, he did not have to go far.

“Filch, Mr. Potter is finished with detention this evening and will now come with me.”

“But Professor, he is not finished—”

“He can finish the stairs tomorrow, Filch.” Filch’s newest favorite detention was having students scrub the stairs, as his rheumatism did not easily allow for such movement.

“Mr. Potter,” Severus said sharply, “you will come with me.”

Potter rose in silence.

Severus led him up several flights to get away from Filch and that cat; he did not want anyone overhearing this conversation. He pulled Potter out of the stairwell on a random floor and spun the boy to face him.

“Legillimins!”

Potter closed his eyes and turned away.

“What are you doing?” Severus said with a hint of despair in his voice, “I need to see that memory.”

Potter looked at him, askance.

“The one you experienced in Madam Bagshot’s home, Potter.”

Again, Potter closed his eyes and turned away, this time shaking his head.

“What are you saying? I need to see that memory!”

Potter gestured helplessly. He had no voice with which to express himself. Severus sighed and flicked his wand.

“Go on, explain yourself,” he said, dangerously.

Potter began, carefully continuing to avoid eye-contact, “You don’t need to see that.”

“I do Potter,” Severus said darkly, “and I will. You have never been able to stop me, now, Legill— Look at me, boy!”

“No, you don’t need to see that. I wish I had never…”

“Look at me!” Severus was getting desperate.

“Why can’t you just listen to me?!” Potter fairly exploded, “It’s awful, alright? You don’t need to see it because once you do, you’ll see it every day until you die!” His voice softened, “You have enough to be getting on with, and you don’t need to see that.”

Severus’ face was positively terrifying.

“Good evening Harry, Severus. What brings the two of you here at this time of night, together, no less?”

The Headmaster really had deplorable timing.

“Headmaster, Potter—”

“Nothing much, sir. We were just leaving,” Potter said simply.

“Well, that is good indeed, Harry, because you are out past curfew. Good night.”

Potter turned and left.

“And Severus,” Dumbledore continued, “this is for you.”

Severus extended his hand to take the object, and the moment he touched it, the sensation of magical travel, unexpected as it was, nearly made him ill.

He landed hard on his arse in a dark room. Looking around to examine his circumstances, he cursed Albus Dumbledore’s name six ways from Sunday. He was in a bedroom, which apparently adjoined to a bathroom, as he could hear splashing and see a sliver of light through a door. Who on earth didn’t shut the bathroom door while they were bathing? Well, he was about to find out, and give them a piece of his mind.

Standing up and assessing the damage to his arse, Severus re-assumed his intimidating demeanor and strode to the door. What he saw greatly surprised him.

Hermione was in the bath, reading what he would bet his life was the library’s copy of Moste Potente Potions, based on the worn look of the cover and pages. An interesting choice.

He considered his own position; he could either lurk in the shadows and be creepy or take the risk of making himself known. He chose to leave. He sneaked to the door and tried to open it. After he failed, he pulled out his wand and tried a variety of spells on the door. Cursing under his breath, he realized he had only one choice left. Make his presence known. Maybe she would forgive him. It really wasn’t his fault.

Severus returned to the bathroom door and knocked. “Hermione?”

“Severus!” Hermione’s face was beet-red. “What’s going on?”

“Damn Albus!”

“I’m sorry?”

“Albus sent me here. It had to be him. He handed me something and the next thing I knew, I was falling on your floor.”

“I didn’t think you would be going out any more tonight… why did you go see the headmaster?”

“I… ah… I…”

“Severus, I can’t have a serious conversation through the bathroom door,” Hermione sighed, “come in.”

She could tell he had been up to something, not that it exactly took a seer. Picking up her wand, Hermione summoned a chair, setting it close to the tub.

“Sit down,” she instructed, gently, “tell me what happened.”

***

Severus was ranting and raving about how Harry wouldn’t show him the memory when an amazing, Slytherin-worthy idea hit Hermione. Normally a sensible girl who would have giggled and dismissed such an idea, she found that under the circumstances the idea seemed wholly appropriate.

Pulling her wand out of her hair, Hermione disrobed the irate man pacing around her bathroom. He looked at her in what could only be described as utter shock. She smiled stunningly at him and shook her head.

“Get over here,” she said with a hint of a laugh underlying her voice, indicating the tub by splashing scented bubbles in his direction.

Part of her really wanted to dissect his psyche and find the source of his aggravation with Harry, to get him to expose the hurt of being unintentionally responsible for what happened that night, because she knew that the only way to heal such things was through exposure and acceptance. But not now… no, now she just wanted to focus on the beautiful, naked man in her bathtub, and she really wanted to tickle him.

Severus was feeling very indignant until she invited him to join her; he felt a stirring in his cock which he tried to ignore as he was not sure what she had in mind. The moment he settled into the tub, she set upon him, climbing over his long legs and settling herself on her knees, arms around his neck. She kissed him fiercely, seemingly unashamed of her own nakedness at this point. He was sure that her passion had gotten the better of her.

“Hermione,” he groaned, breaking the kiss, “take it easy, witch.” He took a moment to reposition himself after her impassioned assault, drawing her closer in the process; perhaps a bit too close. They both gasped and Severus’ head came into dangerously sharp contact with the back of the tub when her own wet warmth, distinct from the bath, brushed against his hardness. In response, she wrapped her legs around him, locking them into contact. He made a series of wimpering noises, seemingly unable to speak.

“Severus,” Hermione whispered, bucking her hips. Her hands found his, and she laced their fingers together, bringing his hands to her breasts, “Touch me.”

He did not have to be asked twice. He dipped his head so that his lips were at her ear as he kneaded her breasts soundly, “Witch,” he breathed harshly between nips to her ear, “our first time will not be in the head girl’s bathroom.”

“We don’t—oh, gods!—we don’t have to do everything. But please, let’s do something! Severus, I need to… I need,” she stopped speaking as his hands went to cup her bum and draw her into him.

“I know what you need, Hermione,” he said, eyes dark with lust.

The easy slide of his cock along her wet heat was maddening and he knew it would be over soon. One hand continued to pull her to him rhythmically while the other snaked down her front to address her pleasure.

When he first touched her engorged clit, she cried out wordlessly, arching her back and raising up. He rubbed her mercilessly, causing her to squirm against him and sob in pleasure.

“Severus, Severus! OH, yes!”

He could feel the beginning of her orgasm at his hand and captured her lips as she fell over the edge, shaking and sighing.

He clutched her to his chest desperately as she came down. What happened next was an utter surprise to him.

As she lay sweetly against him, her hand reached down to his erection and gripped him firmly. She ran her thumb over the tip and he gasped.

“What do you want?” she asked him, sexily.

In response, he grasped her hips and drew her sex onto his cock, careful not to penetrate her as he rubbed against her with fast, hard thrusts. His head fell forward to rest on her shoulder as he began to pant. He pulled her tight against him and let go, spraying his seed between their bodies.

He sank backwards in the tub and regained his strength.

Hermione was brushing his hair out of his face, it had stuck to his forehead with sweat and bathwater during their activities.

He pulled her close to him and held her tight.

“I love you, Severus.”

He picked her up and stepped out of the tub, casting a drying spell on both of them, and carried her to her bed, where he laid her down.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, heading for the door.

“Severus?”

“Hermione, you know I can’t stay,” he said, sounding sad.

“I know. I was going to tell you sweet dreams.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” he said uncharacteristically softly. The next sound she heard was the click of her door shutting and locking.