In Demand

It


IT\'S ONLY WHEN I FALL ASLEEP


 


Hermione ran breathless through the dungeons. She and Harry
had been in Hogsmeade visiting with Draco when the ministry news had reached
them.  That is to say, the news
declaring Voldemort officially “dead.” 
She knew that if the decision about Voldemort had been reached, the
decision about Severus had been as well. 
 


Severus had practically drug her from the dungeons this
morning.  He was getting a bit
irritated with her.  She was
spending all her time under foot, afraid to miss a single minute. 
He said he needed some time to himself and that it would do her good to
get some fresh air.
 


Harry agreed to escort her to Hogsmeade for lunch with
Draco.  Draco had told her about his
testimony by Pensieve.  She
appreciated the fact that he had exposed his memories to a room full of stuffy
old Wizards to protect her from their scrutiny. 
But, she would physically relive it all again just to have the chance to
change the way the night had gone.
 


She had begged Albus for a Time Turner.  It
would give her the chance to go back and make it right, to keep Severus from
beating Sirius Black almost to death.  But,
Albus was an honorable wizard and just could not do it, no matter how much he
cared for Severus.
 


Hermione was also riddled with guilt. 
This was all because of her.  If
she hadn’t flirted with Sirius, if she hadn’t gone on that damned
‘picnic’, if she hadn’t gotten upset about the chess game and stormed
out… The list of her crimes in all of this went on and on. 
 


She wasn’t sleeping well at night.  When she did sleep her dreams were filled with visions of
Sirius Black grinning at her, telling her he would still win in the end. 
 


So she ran from Hogsmeade to the dungeons, not stopping for
a minute.  She was sure that her
dreams were correct and that the ministry would be coming for him. She would
have nothing left.  The man she
loved would be torn from her.
 


It was all her fault.
 


She flew through the potions classroom and into his office. 
“Severus,” she screamed.  She
looked around the small office and immediately noticed the boxes he had packed
were missing.
 


She was too late.  He
was gone.
 


She fell back against the stone wall and sank to the floor. 
“No, no, no, no, no, no.”  She
wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked, back and forth, repeating the same
thing over and over again like a mantra. Tears ran down heeekseeks to fall
unnoticed on her arms.  Grief
overtook her soul.
 


He was gone.
She didn’t hear the door open, or notice that someone had
entered the room.  She felt a
comforting hand on her shoulder and looked up into the blue eyes of Albus
Dumbledore.  She threw herself
against him and cried.
 


“Oh, Albus, I heard the news that the Ministry
investigations were complete.  I
came as fast as I could.  But, I’m
too late.”
 


He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her gently away. 
He was obviously confused. “Hermione, slow down, child. 
Slow down and listen to me.  It’s
true; the ministry has made their decision. 
I must admit though, I would have thought you would be pleased that
Severus has been cleared of all charges.”
 


Realization dawned bright on her face. 
Then it was her turn to look confused. 
“But, his things, where are the boxes and all of his things?”
 


Albus walked over to the Potion Master’s desk. 
“I would imagine, ah yes here they are. 
His favorite Quill, his journal, his Pensieve…  
Hermione, did you forget what hangs around your neck?” 
The blue eyes danced.
 


Her eyes lit with delight and she blushed slightly. 
“I’m sorry, Albus.  I can’t imagine what you must think of me right now. 
You must see me as quite the child.”
 


“On the contrary, my dear. 
I see you as quite the woman.  The
woman who is in love with my Potions Teacher.” 
He brushed a stray tear from her cheek and placed a fatherly kiss in its
place.  “I’ll see you at dinner. 
Don’t be late.”
 


She barely heard him as he left the room. 
She was gazing into the miniature Pensieve. 
 


Severus was in the shower.
 
 I SEE THAT WINNING SMILE

Severus stood in the shower with the scalding hot water
beating down around him.  It had
been a while since he truly felt relaxed.  His
shower was one of the few luxuries he’d allowed himself over the years. 
Black marble and probably large enough to fit the Slytherin quiddich
team, it was equipped with several showerheads, so the warm water could really
help sore muscles.
 


 He knew
Hermione would soon be home from lunch.  He
couldn’t wait to tell her about the ministry’s ruling. He smiled, looking
forward to some celebrating. After all, there were still 4 hours until dinner.
 


He figured he’d clean himself up and wait in their
bedroom for her.    He
reflected on this thought, wondering when it had ceased to be his room and
started to be their room.  “Funny
how things change.” 
 


His shower was also deep enough that a shower curtain was
not necessary; the spray didn’t reach the tile floor in the rest of the
bathroom.  As a result, he was able
to see the door open up and Hermione walk in.
 


She looked at him appraisingly.  “I ran into Albus.  He
filled me in on the outcome of the inquiry. 
Looks like you’re stuck teaching for a while,” she teased with a
delighted grin on her face.  As she
said this, she was opening her robe, one button at a time. She slipped it from
her shoulders; it pooled around her feet, a cloud of black.
 


She continued on, clearly enjoying the effect she was
having on him, “Since you’re going to be staying, I was wondering if you
would do me the honor of going to the celebration with me?”  Her shirt joined her robe on the floor with her lacey bra
quickly following suit.
 


He found he could not utter one syllable; all he could do
was watch, and listen, as she continued.
 


She unbuttoned the 4 brass buttons running down the low
rise of her jeans.  “Thought we
could dress up, get a little tipsy, do a little dancing,” she wiggled her
bottom to unheard music as an example.  With
the movement, the jeans lay on the tile.
 


Turning her back to him, she pulled down her thong and
reached for a black towel that was hanging on a hook.  She wrapped the towel around her body, tucking the corner
between her breasts, and turned around to face him once more. A few steps took
her to the edge of the shower, inches separating their bodies. 
The spray from the shower misted over her. 
She ran one finger down the center of his wet chest, past his navel,
continuing on to swirl circles around the wet end of his shaft. 
She gazed down at it and purred,  “Sound
like a plan?”
 


He fought desperately to quell the urge to agree and take
her right there in the shower.  He
was not a man who would allow a woman to manipulate him with sex. 
“Except for one thing.”
 


She cocked her head and looked at him quizzically.
 


“As far as the wizarding world is concerned, the Potions
Master does NOT dance, ” he told her, firmly.
 


She dropped her hand and raised her chin. 
“Is that a fact?”
 


“That is a fact.  Now,
are you joining me?”  He obviously
assumed the case was settled.
 


She did not.
 


“I don’t think so. 
I believe I have to find an escort. One who dances.  I suppose I’ll have to ask Remus.”  With that, she turned and started to leave.
 


He was faster.
 


He took two steps forward into the bathroom. 
Catching her by the wrist with one hand, he tore the towel from her body
with the other.  With a smooth
movement, he spun her to face him and pulled her back into the shower. 
He pulled her tightly against his chest and growled, “What exactly do
you think you’re doing.  Going to
take up with a werewolf now, are you?”
 


She smiled innocently and replied, “I’d rather not; but
I thought I made myself clear.  I
need an escort that will dance.”  She
wiggled a bit, again doing a little dance of her own. 
“This is starting to get good.” 
“Besides, I’ve heard werewolves make very, ummmm, interesting
lovers.”
 


He knew what she was playing at and he was more than
willing to oblige her; after a bit of the game himself.  He slid his hands up between their bodies, over her aching
breasts to her shoulders.  He spun
her quickly and pulled her back against his obvious erection. 
Snaking his right arm around her waist he bent her forward. 
He leaned over her and reached around between her legs. 
His mouth caressed her ear as he growled, “By that, I take it you mean
position??”  He began to move,
grinding against her backside while working her nub with his hand. 
He could feel that she was slick.  “We’ll
see who is able to manipulate who by their baser instincts,” he thought
smugly.


 


She whimpered slightly and rocked against him. 
She closed her eyes and fought to gain some control over the heat that
was overtaking her body.  With great effort, she moved away from him and spun around.
 


Bringing her hands up, she splayed her fingers across his
chest and pushed, hard. Startled, he stepped back.  She repeated the movement, until they had backed ithe the
running water and he was up against the tile wall of the shower. 
 


She pressed her body fully against his, feeling him twitch
against her stomach in response.  She
gazed at him with hot eyes, “Among other things my dear. 
Are you quite sure you won’t change your mind about dancing??” 
She inclined her head and tasted his neck.
 


He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the
floor.  A few strides had them out
of the shower again and her pressed up against the opposite wall of the
bathroom.  “Oh, I’m quite sure
that I will not be dancing.  Remus
is free to sniff around you.”  It
was his turn to incline his head to her neck. 
He inhaled as she twined her fingers in his wet hair.  His voice was in her ear, “Those werewolves certainly can
smell when their prey is excited.”  He
‘sniffed’ his way across her collarbone, to come up and suck gently on her
opposite earlobe.
 


She shuddered against him. 
Her response pushed him to try and end the game. 
He tried to take her mouth.
 


She was faster.
 


She ducked, and once again, she was heading to the door. 
“Then it appears we are at a stalemate,” she called over her
shoulder.
 


He was tired of this game. 
If he didn’t do something to end this soon, something was going to
blow, and it wouldn’t be his temper. He caught her at the door and once again
pulled her back against him.  She
reached her right arm up and around his neck, offering him free range of her
breasts. 
 


They were both breathing heavy, both at the end of their
endurance. He trailed kisses over her neck and shoulders, once again rubbing his
shaft against her back.  His fingers
traced lazy circles around her nipples, peaking them.
 


“Enough, Hermione.  Lets
talk about this later, I can’t take much more. 
Please.”  He could not
believe that he was begging, but he was.
 


She felt him slip a bit, and knew she now had the upper
hand.  She turned on him. 
With a whispered hex, he flew back into the shower stall and up against
the wall once again. 
 


Wide, shocked eyes looked through the steamy room at her. 
“Where has she been learning wandless magic?” he wondered. 
He pushed the thought away for a later time. 
She was stalking him, walking slowly, seductively through the hot water. 
She placed one hand against the tiles on either side of his head. 
“I can’t take much more of this either, Severus,” she purred. 
“I’m going to dry off and crawl into bed.” 
He brought his right leg up and around the back of her knees, pulling her
forward to press against his aching need. She brushed her lips lightly over his
before continuing, “You can finish up in here and join me.” 
She parted her lips slightly, inviting him. 
He leaned forward to cover them, but at the last second she pushed him
back flush with the wall again.  She
turned abruptly around and walked toward the door.
 


He smirked slightly, enjoying his victory as he watched he
sashay towtheitheir bedroom.  Only
to have his jaw drop open at the final remark she tossed over her shoulder.
 


“That is, you can join me after you agree that
we’ll be dancing together at the celebration.” 
 


He leaned against the wall in defeat and beat the back of
his head against the tile several times for good measure. 
She had teased him into a throbbing, aching bundle of sensation. 
“Damn, she’s good.”  He
sighed in defeat, straightened up, and turned the water off. 
He quickly toweled himself dry.  “I
guess the Potions Master is going to dance.”


 


“Uh, Hermione, about the celebration. 
Just how many dances are we talking??”
 


They were late for dinner.