Hilltop Cottage

A/N: Apologies for the slow updates, I was waiting for Ashwinder and The Petulant Poetess to catch up - you guys are still two chapters ahead, because I didn\'t want you to have to wait any longer!

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Later, Severus couldn’t remember how long he had stood with Hermione in his arms. It seemed like forever, and yet not quite long enough, when she finally relaxed her hold and moved away from him with a shy smile and an apologetic look in her eyes.



‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’



Severus felt wrong footed for a brief moment. Her nearness, the feel of her warmth and her slender frame against his clouded his thoughts momentarily, and he had no idea how to respond. His mouth was dry, and he swallowed slowly, following her movements avidly as she moved towards the kitchen.



He heard the kettle click and the familiar sounds of tea making. Letting out a long breath, he closed his eyes for a brief moment before steeling himself to just behave normally. It was only a hug, for goodness sake. She hugged her friends all of the time; he had seen this with his own eyes. She was a spontaneous and emotional person, and he was conveniently placed to be the recipient of her affections. It meant nothing more. And yet, surely her words meant something?



‘You left me, and I couldn’t bear it.’



It was as if she had expressed more than just the dream, and the irony of it wasn’t lost on him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear her absence either, not now.



He felt her walk back into the room, and he turned towards her, schooling his features to relax as he caught her eyes briefly and took the proffered mug. They stood awkwardly for a moment until Hermione could no longer stand the silence. She sat down on the edge of the sofa, nursing her steaming tea and staring at his shiny boots.



‘Do you have more than one pair of boots, or is that the same pair you used to wear at Hogwarts?’ She smiled up at him cheekily, and he smiled slowly back before folding himself into his usual chair beside the fire.



‘I have two pairs. But these are the Hogwarts boots.’ He stretched his legs out and waved his feet slightly. They both stared at them for a short moment until Hermione changed the subject again.



‘I missed you, you know. After you “died.”’ Hermione made quotation marks with her free hand and looked into his face. ‘I had no idea you meant so much to me, until I thought you were gone forever.’



She was looking at him with expectation. Severus shrugged.



“I don’t know what you want me to say, Hermione,’ he sighed. ‘Whatever you see in me is misguided. I have nothing to offer.’



‘How can you say that? You have already given me so much!’ Hermione declared hotly.



Severus narrowed his eyes slightly and scowled. ‘You talk such rubbish. I don’t know what sort of pedestal you have me on, but I assure you, there is nothing special about me.’



Hermione stood abruptly and placed her cup on the mantel. She ruffled her hair in exasperation and started to pace around the room.



‘You have been part of my life for so long, Severus, don’t you see? I never doubted your loyalty; I always knew you fought for what was right. You made me feel safe, even when everything was falling apart. I always knew I could rely on you, despite your moods and that you didn’t even like me. That wasn’t important, really.’



She stopped pacing and stared at him. ‘I haven’t been able to make sense of anything since the war ended. Everyone else seemed to be able to grieve and then move on. That didn’t happen for me. Ginny and Harry announced their engagement, and I just knew I had to get away from it all. How can they pretend that everything is okay, when it’s not? It’s not okay at all.’



Hermione was trembling a little as she looked at him. Her face was white, and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.



‘I need you, Severus,’ she whispered.



Why he moved from his chair was a question he would ask himself later. Hermione’s plaintive words made him act in ways he would never have imagined, and before he knew what was happening, he was by her side, one arm around her shoulder, guiding her back to the sofa. He handed Hermione her tea and sat beside her, his arm draped around her as she leant against him.



‘You are not in touch with your friends,’ he stated. He knew this from Minerva’s missives. She never failed to mention her concern for Hermione’s wellbeing, but Severus hadn’t divulged anything. She obviously had her reasons for not keeping in touch.



‘They didn’t understand,’ she replied.



‘Not even Weasley?’ he asked.



Hermione snorted a little. ‘Ron? Apart from losing his brother, you’d think the war was just something that got in the way for a few years. He has all the depth of a puddle.’



Severus chuckled softly. ‘Quite,’ he replied. ‘Then you and he are not an item?’



‘God, no. Never were, never will be. Actually,’ Hermione sighed, taking a slurp of her tea, ‘I have never been an item with anyone.’



Severus stiffened slightly and coughed.



‘Nor have I,’ he whispered.



There was a silence then that seemed to stretch with an un-nameable tension, but it was rudely interrupted by Hermione’s stomach growling. She giggled slightly.



‘You should eat,’ Severus said, a hint of amusement in his voice.



‘I should, but I have no food in the house. I meant to go this morning; I didn’t mean to sleep so late,’ she replied.



‘Then we should remedy that. You bathe; I will shop and return with supplies.’ Severus extracted himself carefully from around her and stood slowly, stretching his leg a little. He started when he felt Hermione’s hand in his, squeezing tightly, and he looked down at her in surprise.



‘Thank you, Severus,’ she said, her eyes large and shining.



He nodded, not quite knowing what she was thanking him for.





***



Hermione took her time to brush through her tangled curls before stepping into the bath. Her hair was knotted in parts, and she wished she had some Sleakeazy with which to tame it. She planned to take her trip to Diagon Alley the next day, and as she tugged and winced, she resolved to buy up the shelves of the hair-calmer so that she would never be in this predicament again.



Stepping into the warm water, Hermione sighed softly and grabbed her foaming bath oil. In moments, she was covered in soft, scented suds, letting her puff caress her body as she washed herself. She felt highly sensitised, as if someone had flicked a switch somewhere inside her, and her body was tingling as she ran her hands across her skin and rinsed herself with the warm water. Her nipples, pink and pert, stuck out from the surface of the water, and she shivered slightly as she ran her palms over them.



Hermione wasn’t one to masturbate regularly. She first tried it on the night of the Yule Ball, when Viktor had all but snogged her senseless. He left her feeling tense, and her knickers were more than a little damp. He had offered more, but she had felt she didn’t know him well enough. There was always a little dark in Viktor that had made her feel uncomfortable, so she had declined and explored her more intimate crevices behind the drapes of her warded and Silenced bed in the girls’ dorm. She had almost screamed when she had her orgasm, pleased she had accomplished it at her first attempt. She would have been cross with herself if she hadn’t, because she had read enough about it to know where she should be rubbing.



But while she enjoyed making herself come now and again, she had found it quite exhausting, not to mention distracting, to masturbate too often at school. It made her sleepy afterwards and had interfered with her study, so after a week of solid fingering over the Christmas break, she limited herself to the weekend, and it had become something of a habit.



Now though, she felt turned on, and she clenched her vagina slightly as small tremors flooded her while she pinched at her nipples.



It was Severus that had her like this; she couldn’t deny it any longer. She could almost feel his arms around her, remembered the warmth of his chest under his shirt, and the scent of him lingered still. It was hard to describe what it was; a combination of washing powder, soap and that indescribable maleness that seemed to exude from him whenever she stood close. When she had hugged him, she had wanted to feel his skin against hers, to crawl over him and absorb him by some sort of strange, human osmosis. Why she hadn’t noticed the attraction she felt to him before, she had no idea. She wondered if he felt it, too?



Hermione’s hands trailed lower, slipped beneath the water, and parted her moist folds slowly. She hissed as her fingertip circled her clit, and then she jumped, making the water splash over the side of the bath, as she heard the front door close below. Severus had returned, and there was no way she was going to wank when he might overhear her moans.



Thrumming and more than a little frustrated, she let the water run from the bath and stepped out, towelling herself quickly and trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs.





***



Each step Severus took that lead him away from Hilltop Cottage was causing him pain. He wanted to be with her, and despite his inner voice telling him all of the very real and valid reasons why this was a most ridiculous notion, his heart and his body were betraying him. Even now, his hand prickled where she had held it, and he could almost feel her curls pushed beneath his chin. Just being close to her would be enough, to listen while she rambled on, jumping from one thought to the next and sharing her inner feelings with him, most of which he couldn’t rationalise if he tried.



She needed him.



Severus shopped quickly, grabbing Italian part-baked bread and carton soup from the fridge, a tub of his favourite ice cream, and a punnet of strawberries. He decided to get a bottle of white wine and glanced out of the window at the cloudy sky. He couldn’t say for certain, but he guessed that the sun was over the yardarm by now.



He paid in haste, telling the counter assistant— a pale, freckled teenager called Carl, who was on his first day in the job and nervous with it—to put the change into the charity box. He had no time to waste standing around waiting for his money, and he didn’t need it anyway. All that he needed was to get back to Hermione as quickly as he could.



By the time Severus returned to the house, his leg was giving him more gip than it had in years. He knocked the door, but when Hermione didn’t answer, he guessed she was still in the bath, so he took the liberty of letting himself in and taking the shopping bags straight into the kitchen. He heard sloshing from upstairs and the gurgling sound of water being drained. She would be down shortly, so he had time to have everything ready. He had no clue why he felt a frisson of excitement at the thought of making lunch for her, but it was there all the same, refusing to be cowed. He put the wine in the icebox to cool quickly, then found a shiny, silver saucepan and poured the Italian Tomato and Basil soup into it. He eventually figured out how to control her oven and popped the Ciabbata into it as he stirred the warming soup.



Hearing footsteps, he turned to greet Hermione and almost groaned out loud. She had twisted her damp hair into a tight chignon at her nape, and she was wearing a pale green silk dress that dipped low at the front, showing a glimpse of cleavage and the hint of a lace bra. Her eyes were bright, her lips full and plump, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought the witch was aroused. The girl he had always seen her as in his mind’s eye had been chased away to do her homework, and in her place was a young and beautiful woman who bore him no malice and welcomed his company. She had told him that she had missed him and grieved for him, and with sudden clarity, he knew that he had missed her, too.



Severus smiled, a long, slow stretch of his lips that brightened his face and lit up his eyes.



‘You look much improved,’ he said lightly.



Hermione smiled back with a quirk to her lips and leant self-consciously against the open kitchen door.



‘Couldn’t have been much worse, though. Is that what you mean?’ She grinned, softening her words.



Severus held her gaze meaningfully and saw her breath hitch. ‘I meant that you look lovely, Hermione.’



She blushed and cast her gaze around the kitchen, not very subtly looking for a way to change the subject.



‘Soup?’ she asked.



‘Obviously,’ he said, deadpan. ‘Not homemade sadly, but passable, I think.’



‘I love making soup. Chopping vegetables, adding seasoning. Making it taste wonderful.’ She smiled at him, her eyes bright as she shared yet more of herself.



‘Not dissimilar to potion making,’ he said quietly as he stirred the slowing bubbling liquid.



‘Oh! I forgot about your surprise!’ Hermione clapped her hands together in excitement.



‘Turn the oven off, Severus. I really want you to see this,’ she said.



Severus quirked an eyebrow at her, but did as he was told, taking out the golden bread and turning the heat out from under the soup. A happy Hermione was preferable to a weeping one, and he was glad she was feeling more cheerful.



Hermione opened the back door and grabbed Severus by the hand, dragging him with her past the bird table, which was now repainted and upright thanks to his attentions last week. Giggling to herself, Hermione pulled Severus around to the back of the house, and then stepped aside so that he could see her handiwork.



‘Ta da!’ she said, making a gesture with her hands towards three identical patches of garden that had been dug, weeded, and hoed to within an inch of their lives.



Severus smiled slowly, not daring to believe what he thought she was offering, but hoping he was right.



‘Is this?’ he whispered.



‘For you? Yes,’ Hermione said quietly. Her enthusiasm had given way to embarrassment at such a grand gesture. He could be in no doubt now as to the depth of feeling she had for him, for why else would she have spent the day doing such back-breaking work?



Severus turned to her and took her hand in his, pulling her gently towards him. Staring into her eyes, he stroked her face with his fingers tenderly. Hermione leant into the warmth of his palm, smiling softly as she looked at him through half-closed lids.



‘Thank you,’ he said.