Remember When It Rained

Remember When It Rained
Chapter Thirteen
The Essence of Her


“And to think that I actually kissed the bastard,” she exclaimed under her breath. A moment later she realized that he was actually standing behind her, having silently crossed the room. Her hands stilled in the soapy cauldron.

“Yes, Miss Granger,” he whispered against her ear. “And to think that you even enjoyed it too.”

Her breath hitched as he inhaled her scent, his nose to her neck, his lips pressing against the soft skin of her nape. She stood powerless as a hand touched her hip, running then slowly up her side to reach around and cup a lush breast in his hand. His lips continued their exploration of her neck as his fingers toyed with her now erect nipple and she sighed a ragged sigh.

“Yes Hermione,” he whispered against her skin raising goose bumps. “I think that you have a preference for bastards, don’t you?”

She found herself nodding slowly, her blood thrumming in her veins her heart pounding.

“Severus,” she sighed as he turned her to him. He cupped her face with his free hand and brought his lips down to hers in a searing kiss.

Suddenly, she was pressed against his hard body his hands running up and down her back, his tongue fencing with hers as they both tried to consume each other. Soon she was devoid of her robes and his fingers were making their way with her pearl buttons until her lacy bra was exposed and her nipples even harder in the cool air of the dungeons.

“Oh God!” she whispered as a hand delved into a cup, brushing against her bare skin. He growled as he tore his lips away from hers and took possession of her breast with his heated mouth. She gasped and ground against him, her mind reeling at the hardness of his arousal.

He lifted his head and met her eyes, his darker with lust, his face taut with arousal. “Yes Hermione,” he hissed. “That is for you ma petite, only you.”

Somehow she found herself with her legs wrapped around his waist as he made his way across the classroom and through the anteroom door. She rained kisses on his neck, her hands raking his hair, her lips uttering endearments that would have made her mother blush. He picked up his pace, kicking open another door in his haste. Her mouth on his skin, the feel of her body against his was driving his lust to a fever pitch. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. His bed and her writhing beneath him.

Before she knew it she felt his weight upon her, as his lips plundered hers once more, his hands ripping the material of her shirt open further and pulling her bra apart. Her skin was amazingly soft and he found himself wanting to touch every inch of her. He feathered kisses down her throat, tasting her skin traveling once again to the tip of her inviting breast. She moaned and arched into his mouth as his tongue rasped against her. He wanted her needing him with the same mindless energy he was feeling, every bit of him demanded it.

His hands found the hem of her short skirt and he stroked her thighs, seeking the soft moist curls and the treasure that they guarded. He stroked her soft folds once, twice before delving a finger into the tight, hotness of her.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as she awoke to the sudden weight of Crookshanks on her chest. She ran a trembling hand through her hair, her skin glowing with a fine sheen of perspiration. “Oh Crooks! Thank God you woke me, I was having the most, most vivid dream!”

Crookshanks purred as she began to stroke his fur, snuggling down against his mistress and reveling in the warmth of her blankets.

She lay there under her covers, trembling for a few minutes as she stroked her cat’s fur, willing her mind to forget the vivid dream she had just been awoken from. Finally, she gently set the Kneazle aside and arose, deciding that a bath would be in order. A bath with lots of soothing herbs, followed by a cup of tea and some homework, for she knew that sleep would be impossible now.

A few minutes later found her soaking in steaming water, tears coursing down her cheeks, not suspecting that deep in the dungeon chambers of Severus Snape, he was dreaming much of the same.

Her head was thrown back into the soft white pillow as he thrust in and out of her with powerful, even strokes. Her nails raked his back as she mewed his name. She was hot and tight and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off, but she was so close to the tumble over the precipice that he was driving her toward.

“Come for me Hermione,” he whispered in a ragged voice. His lips descended on a taut nipple, his teeth biting gently down on the tip, sending her over the edge crying his name.

He awoke with a breathless start and a raging erection that throbbed with every beat of his heart. He fairly leapt from his bed and made his way to his bathroom, intent on a cold shower to relieve the ache. He refused, he told himself, to relieve himself as he was wont to do lately in the usual manner. It helped nothing really, it only contributed to his present state of misery.

The water hit him in an icy torrent causing him to gasp. He forced himself to endure the discomfort, he told himself that he had to stop thinking of her. As the water did it’s work, he vowed to begin taking the Dreamless Sleep he had brewed just yesterday. If the dreams continued he couldn’t honestly say that he would be able to resist the lures of Hermione Granger until the end of the school year.