Biding Time

Disclaimer: I own nothing; I am not making a cent from this.

A/N - Finally, some lemony goodness!

Chapter 12: Sever Us

He knelt down before her, looking serious, as if he were about to be knighted. Then, she felt his fingers at her ankle, fluttering beneath the hem of the lacy dress. He looked up at her, her pale face illuminated by moonlight, her inky lashes lowered to half mast.

“You look lovely in that dress, Hermione. Luminous.” She looked down at the silk bodice and layers of lace and tulle that fell to her ankles. She looked slightly old fashioned, as if she had stepped from another era.

“But you are going to be even more beautiful out of that dress.” He added, his head dipping down and disappearing beneath her skirt. She could feel his warm breath on her bare flesh, then his hot mouth there at the inside of her ankle. He kissed his way up her leg: from the inside of her ankle, to the swell of her calf, to the back of her knee which had always been so sensitive. He rained small kisses up the inside of her thigh, and she hitched in a breath. He must have felt that breath for he laughed and it rumbled against her skin, resonating through her body. He abandoned the thigh and switched his attention to her other leg. He must have felt her disappointment, but he gave no indication. His lips settled at the inside of her other ankle; his tongue poked out and gently lapped at the flesh, tasting her. He trailed kisses up that leg – up the calf, the crook of the knee, up the thigh almost to the join. She was trembling and she had to lean against a tree to keep from sliding to the ground.

She could feel his hand, curiously warm despite the chill in the air, at that join, gently prying at her panties. He shifted the bit of silk to one side, and she felt his warm breath there. Then, his tongue flicked along the seam slowly and she hissed. She could feel his nose bumping at her a little. It was cold and she almost laughed. The, he took her nub into his mouth, softly sucking on her. She had to scrabble at the bark on the tree to keep her balance. It felt so incredible that she didn’t want it to stop. She felt like she was being pulled into a spiraling whirlpool, pulled under. Then, his rough fingertips were toying with that nub, circling around and around. His head pulled away for a moment and then it was back and she felt his tongue slipping inside her, slow at first, then building to a steady rhythm. She gasped, pressing her hand to her mouth to muffle the sounds she was making.

“Merlin!” She sighed, then he was pulling his head out from beneath her skirts.

“I have often though, dreamt, of doing that.” He said, leaning into her as he lazily licked his lower lip “Among other things.” He added, the sly, wolfish look back on his face.

Hermione decided to mirror that look on her face. She tried to look decidedly mischievous.

“Really.” She arched an eyebrow. “There are things I have thought of too.” He shot her a questioning glance, and she smirked at him.

“Really?” His pink tongue circled up to trace along his upper lip.

“Maybe it’s time for a bit of show and tell?” She lowered her lashes and batted them coquettishly.

“As you like.” He flung his arms out in a devil-may-care attitude. She leaned into him, gripped him by the shoulders and pressed him towards the ground.

“Now lie down.” She instructed. He lay on his back, his head propped up against the base of the tree. She pulled her wand out and spelled his cloak undone. There were simply too many buttons to bother with. His cloak fell open to reveal a gleaming white dress shirt and black trousers. She unbuttoned his shirt slowly, softly running her fingertips along his chest and stomach as she went. She gently tugged the tails of his shirt from his waistband. She toyed with the fabric for a moment before pulling the shirt away from his chest. She leaned over him and gently flicked her tongue over his right nipple. His skin was cold in the night air, but his nipple was hot beneath her touch. There was very little hair on his chest save for the light thatch that pointed enticingly downwards, trailing down his stomach and disappearing into his waistband. She dipped her tongue into his navel, feeling him suck in a breath at the contact and his stomach hollowed. She trailed kisses up to his left nipple where she dragged her tongue over him lazily. She moved her head lower as her fingers traced the fine web of scars that patterned his chest like the outline of jigsaw pieces. She kissed along his waistband. Then, she undid his trousers and dipped her hand into the front of them. She released him, then leaned back to survey all she had done. The Professor was breathing very heavy, looking like he was out of control – very unlike him, his hair was tousled and strands clung to his flushed face. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he watched her with those onyx eyes. His white shirt was flung open, revealing his porcelain skin, and his length was springing proudly from his dark trousers. She leaned over him, breathed on his length, then rained small kisses along it. She flicked her tongue across its head and she heard his breath catch in his throat. She enveloped him with her mouth, sliding forwards and back as she drew on him. She could feel him pulsing in her mouth as his breathing grew ragged. She pulled away and she heard him groan with disappointment. She muttered a charm to herself, then returned to her ministrations. She drew his length into her mouth and sucked on him. He stiffened suddenly and gasped.

“What have you done?” He hissed. Even with his length in her mouth, she smiled. She pulled away for a moment.

“A heating charm. It warms my mouth to the same temperature it would be after a cup of tea.” She gently kissed the head.

“It feels divine. Where did you learn that?” He asked, his voice edged with suspicion.

She giggled softly and it shook through his length.
“I’m a librarian. I read books. Lots of books. Not necessarily educational ones. Or….” She smiled “maybe they are educational.”

He growled and sat up, taking her face in his hands and drawing her into a kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, pressing against her tongue insistently. His hands were caught in her hair, drawing and keeping her face to his. He broke the kiss for a moment and whispered a spell. Suddenly, they were in a room, kneeling on an enormous featherbed.

“The ground was leaving a lot to be desired.” The Professor muttered as he caught her mouth in another deep kiss. He caught the hem of her dress in his hand and pulled it up. He slid his hand up her thigh, along the curve of her rear. He fingered the band of her panties, following the elastic around from the small of her back to her navel. He bunched the dress up, piling the skirts at her stomach. He struggled to pull the silky panties down until she hissed “Tear them off, spell them away, I don’t care” as she gently nipped at his nipple. He uttered a charm and the offending garment was gone. He stared for a moment, drinking in the sight of her – her white stomach, her breasts encased in the silky bodice of her wedding dress, his ring nestled between her breasts, the tawny curls at the join of her legs. Her legs were gently spread as she knelt on the bed.

“Lie down.” He commanded and she leaned back, her hair piled on the pillow. He undid the button of his pants, awkwardly pulled himself free of that garment and lowered himself onto the bed. The length found her aching core, nestled there for a moment, then gently pressed against her – reveling in how tight and warm she was. Suddenly, he thrusted into her. She cried out, bit her lower lip and a tear raced down her cheek. It hurt, but soon it became a good hurt. It was enough to make her feel alive, not caught in a half life. It was enough to make her feel claimed, to feel like she was his, to feel like she was where she belonged. He quickened his pace and, after a while, she began to feel like she was flying, soaring above the clouds. After it was over, he pushed the bodice of her dress down and nipped at her breasts, running his tongue in dizzying circles around and around until it swept over the hardened tips. As he gave his attention to her breasts, he muttered things, nonsense things. He toyed with the nipples, plucking at them, teasing them into pebble-hard points. He unclasped the necklace, trailing the chain along her bare throat. He slid the ring from the chain. Taking her left hand in his, he slowly slid the ring with its twining serpents onto her ring finger. He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand, turned her hand and kissed her palm, then the inside of her wrist. His mouth then moved at the base of her throat, warm and soft.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Snape.” Hermione looked up at him lazily. Her cheeks were still flushed and the flush had traveled down her throat to her chest.

“What do you mean “Mrs. Snape”? She yawned.

“Oh dear,” He said with mock horror “you don’t know? We’ve been married for over a month.” Hermione’s eyes widened and she propped herself up on an elbow.

“We’re married?”

“So that must have been with the owl I intercepted that was meant for you!” He smirked, pushing her back down onto the pillow. “Apparently, a betrothal automatically ends in marriage after ten years has passed. Unless one of the parties has died, of course – that could be rather messy otherwise.”

“Who cares?” Hermione’s inner voice muttered.

“Well, then a celebration is in order.” She smiled “Congratulations, Mr. Snape.” She pulled him back to her.