You Know What They Say about Necessity...

A/N: I hope this was worth the wait, good readers. "Suteki Da Ne" means "Isn't it Beautiful" and is the love theme of Tidus and Yuna from the Squaresoft game Final Fantasy X. Lyrics will be at the end. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! I will try to address your comments next time I post. Life is just so darn hectic...

Disclaimer: JKR owns it. Not me. No money.


Chapter Eighteen: Suteki Da Ne


Harry woke from a dream in which a Death Eater was trying to turn him into a rabbit to find that he was alone. He drew several ragged breaths in the darkness, hand clenching tightly around his wand as he sat up, ears straining for the slightest hint of trouble. He heard nothing out of the ordinary, so he slowly sank back down into the bed. It was around four o’clock, and Hermione was gone.

He frowned at this. Well, knowing his friend as he did, she most likely had decided to go and try to talk to Snape. Hermione wasn’t one to let things stew, unlike him. More than once had Harry’s two best friends told him he was notorious for keeping them in the dark, and locking his feelings away. He’d gotten better at letting people in over the years, but it was still difficult at times. Ginny was very patient with him, which was one of the things he loved most about her. That, and her sharp wit. And, well, the fact that it all came packed in that body didn’t hurt matters any!

No, Hermione had doubtless gone to see Snape after Harry had fallen asleep and then decided to go back to her room for the night. Hopefully, Harry thought as he yawned, they’d sorted everything out. Not that he cared, really. Oh, all right, he did. Harry hated seeing Mione upset: and, for all that he didn’t like Snape, he knew what being in pain could do to your temper. If that was indeed the reason. Snape had been a bit more out of sorts than usual the past week, come to think about it. Maybe his dosage should be raised or something. That kind of pain wasn’t something Harry would wish even on Snape.

Harry groaned. Four in the blasted morning, and I’m awake worrying about Snape. Albus would love to see this. Well, Harry was keeping his word. He’d been very polite to Snape since the talk with Albus. Well, except last night. Even then, he hadn’t been too bad with him. Considering his first impulse had been to box Snape’s ears. Surely that counted as progress?

Harry squirmed deeper under the covers and closed his eyes. He’d talk with Mione about it later in the morning. Right now, he just wanted more sleep: and, hopefully, a dream about Ginny wearing that little black dress she had… and nothing else.

Severus awoke, opened one eye to glare balefully at the offending ray of early morning sunlight that beamed on his face, and started to turn over only to find his movement stopped by the warm soft presence of Hermione.

For a moment, he could do nothing but blink at her, stupefied. Then the events of the night before came back to him. She had stayed, he realized. She could have remained awake and gone back to her room… but she’d stayed. The awareness ois tis threatened to put a grin on his face.

For the life of Severus, he still didn’t understand the urge he’d had to ask her to lie down with him. As he’d told Lupin that evening weeks ago, Severus was no Gryffindor. Observation and stealth were his modus operandi. Cautious, careful planning. And what had he done? All but asked her to hop into bed with him. Even though he hadn’t meant it in a sexual way, his daring was surprising to him. Obviously all the exposure to Gryffindors he’d had through the years had finally rubbed off on him. And Hermione was, doubtless, being a bad influence. Although, he admitted to himself as she nestled closer to him in her sleep, perhaps being a bad influence could be a good thing…

In her sleep, Hermione’s face was smoother, with no traces of the worry and concentration that so often knit her brow when she was awake. He studied the small nose with its tiny smattering of freckles, the ful full lips, and the bushy tangle of her brown hair. After a moment his gaze drifted to her still form, clad in a forest green t-shirt and jeans. She wasn’t a vain woman: she hadn’t been a vain girl. She was simply Hermione, and you could take her or leave her. She wasn’t the type to spend hours trying on clothes, putting on cosmetics, and coordinating which shoes went with which blouse. Yet she wasn’t plain: not to him, at least. Her eyes burned with a desire to learn that made her, in Severus’ mind, more beautiful than a dozen Pansy Parkinsons or Lavender Browns could ever be.

He almost chuckled aloud. He’d heard women complain about men not wanting them for their mind. Hermione had no worries there, at least. Severus despised deliberate ignorance and detested stupidity. Much, he suspected, as did she. He was not a handsome man. He’d accepted that fact long ago, and turned his attention to more important matters. When the urge for sex struck him, he simply solicited the services of a prostitute. It was as quick or as slow as he wanted it to be, and there were no emotional complications. There had been times when women had been interested in him, but he’d not been inclined to pursue anything. His world before Voldemort’s death had consisted of teaching and spying. Simple. And he’d wanted it that way. But now…

Now he was on the verge of something he had no experience at. It both delighted and terrified him. He had no earthly idea of what to do when Hermione awoke. His libido, however, had directed his attention to her breasts and how they strained against the thin cotton of her shirt, and was proceeding to give him some inappropriate—though enjoyable—suggestions.

“See anything you like, Severus?”

His eyes darted to her face as his cheeks flushed with guilt. He’d been so busy admiring her… attributes, he hadn’t noticed she was awake. Some ex-spy I am, he chastised himself. Caught staring at a woman’s bosoms.

Hermione was grinning at him like the cat who’d found the cream. When she’d awakened to see him eying her chest she’d been indignant, then amused, then aroused. Severus Snape was looking at her the way a man did when he wanted a woman. The knowledge was almost intoxicating. How could she be angry at that? She knew he didn’t want her just for show. Though not ugly, she was no beauty queen. And he was not the type to go for all-looks-and-no-brains. He’d be as bored by that as she would. So since she had no worries about him not respecting her for her mind, she was pleased that apparently he also liked her body.

As Severus desperately tried to figure out how to respond, Hermione raised her arms aid aid a rather exaggerated stretch. “Mmm,” she sighed. “What a wonderful night.” She stole a quick glance at him, and nearly giggled at how his already pale face had gotten paler as her breasts moved. Then she tucked her arms under her head and studied him. “And how did you sleep?” she d ind innocently.

“Fine,” he said quickly, still uncertain of how he was supposed to be reacting to her impish behavior.

“Just… fine?” she questioned sweetly.

He sighed. “I slept like a baby. There, are you happy now? Anything else you’d like to do to embarrass me at the moment? Hmm? Don’t be shy. I’m sure you have several more ideas tumbling round in that brain of yours.”

Hermione chuckled and moved so close to him her lips were only half a foot from his own, resting her arms lightly on his chest. She was about to take a huge gamble, and she knew it. But oh, the payoff could be worth the risk.

“Tell me, Severus,” she began casually, then dropped her tone into an enticing, husky murmur, “is that mouth of yours good for anything besides sarcasm?”

He stared at her in shock. Had he heard her correctly? Was Hermione Granger, know-it-all bookworm, teasing him? Not just teasing: daring him, almost? He felt the now-familiar heat spread through his body, igniting his longing for her as he studied her with narrowed eyes. So, she wanted to play, did she, his little minx? Well. Inexperienced with love though he might be, Severus Snape could never be accused of being naive. He reached up and cupped her chin in one hand: and, being certain that he had herividivided attention, slowly licked his lips before whispering:

“Why don’t you find out?”

Harry grinned at Remus. “Yeah, things are great with Ginny. What about you and Tonks?”

Remus glanced over with a smile of his own as he continued to stir the pancake batter. “The plans are pretty much all together now. I can’t believe that in a month we’ll be married! It’s scary, in a way,” he confided as he added blackberries to the batter. “But it’s the good kind of scary.”

Harry nodded. “I know what you mean. I feel that way with Ginny.”

“Ah, young love,” Albus sighed from his place at the cutting board. He was slicing mushrooms and peppers so fast and sure that Harry asked if he’d ever been a wizarding chef.

“No, that is one profession I’ve never tried,” Albus laughed. “I should have, though. Merlin knows I’d have loved to wear one of those fluffy white hats!”

A chuckled passed through Harry and Remus. “Say, where’s Hermione?” Remus asked. “I knocked on her door when we got here, but she didn’t answer.”

“Oh, she’s probably checking on the professor,” Harry replied. Then he frowned. “Though it’s odd that he hasn’t called for me to help him yet.”

“Perhaps they’re talking about potions,” Remus suggested.

“Yeah, most likely,” Harry agreed, rummaging in the refrigerator for eggs for Albus’ omelets. He laughed. “I mean, what else would they be doing?”

Hermione reluctantly pulled her lips away from Severus’, only to grab his face in her hands and kiss him again as though she was helpless to do anything else. Her shaking fingers slid up to tangle in his soft black hair, and as she opened his mouth and entwined her tongue with his they both moaned softly. His arms wrapped around her once more, molding her body to his, heedless of hurt, of reason, of anything except feeling her against him.

She pulled back enough to whisper: “Your legs…”

“Are fine,” he growled.

“You’ve got to be in pain with me lying on you like this—”

“I don’t give a damn,” he answered roughly. “Get back here, madam, and finish what you started before I go mad.”

“You really know how to sweet talk a girl,” Hermione replied and resumed snogging him.

Hermione had exchanged kisses before. With Viktor Krum, with Ron, with a muggle boy named Paul. They had been good kisses, sweet kisses, but afterwards she’d always asked herself the same silent question: is this it?

But not here, not now, not with Severus. This was how she’d always hoped kissing would be: where you didn’t snog so much as devour the other person, where no matter how long you kissed it wasn’t enough, you were still left wanting more. She so so hungry for him it was painful. Her lips felt bruised and swollen from the demands of his mouth and she couldn’t care less. She wanted it to go on until she couldn’t breathe, and then she still wanted to kiss him. She’d scoffed whenever she read the phrase “insane with desire” in a book, but that was now precisely how she felt.

She pulled back agailiciliciting a groan from Severus, and smiled at him.

“I didn’t know it was like this,” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against his.

“Neither did I,” he replied, smoothing her hair away from her face.

“We should’ve been doing this weeks ”
”

He chuckled, the rich warmth of it reverberating into her heart. “Weeks ago we were spending all our time talking, remember?”

“Well, that was stupid of us,” she declared, moving him to kiss him once more.

“I think I’ve created a monster,” he teased.

“What, do you want me to stop?” she smirked, easing back from him a bit. “I can, you know…”

He growled again and drew her back to him. “Did I not tell you to finish what you started, woman?”

“And you said you’ve created a monster,” she murmured against his lips.

Severus crushed her to him, ravaging her mouth for a few seconds before forcing himself to calm down. Hermione was young, he reminded himself harshly, and he didn’t want to frighten or hurt her. He gentled his kiss, and she trembled against him, lacing her fingers behind his neck. Gods, she felt so good. He was falling, not down, but up. Being swept up, more like it: buoyed by her scent and her skin and her pliant softness. He couldn’t imagine heaven being any sweeter than this. Not alone, he thought wildly, his world narrowing until it contained her and him and there was room for nothing else: he wanted nothing else. Those nights of despair, the years of emptiness, years when there was no one to welcome him home after an exhausting day of teaching, no one to soothe him after an agonizing visit to Voldemort: all those nights blurred and faded in his memory, replaced with that one thought that burned so brightly in his mind it blinded him with bliss: not alone. Never again alone.

Hermione was stunned to feel a tear slide down Severus’ cheek. She slipped her lips to the drop of water and licked it away, pressing kisses all over his face afterwards. “Severus?” she asked quietly, hesitantly.

He shook his head, holding her tight as her arms came down to embrace him. She continued to lavish him with kisses, interspersing them with soft whispers and soothing sounds, until the moment passed. Then she looked into his eyes, and what she found there made her gasp.

“Severus.” She said his name as though it was something sacred.

“Hermione,” he breathed, watching as her smile unfolded like a note from a devoted lover.

She traced his cheekbones with her fingertips, her eyes on his mouth. She wanted it again so bad she couldn’t stand it.

“Severus…”

“Hermione…”

“Severus? Hermione?” Dumbledore called to them through the door.

They pulled away from each other with soundless gasps, Hermione smoothing down her t-shirt while Severus ran his hands over his hair. “Yes, Albus?” he answered, amazed that he sounded anything close to his normal self.

“Yes, professor, I’m here,” Hermione added, hoping her voice wasn’t as breathless as she felt.

“I just wanted to let you know that breakfast will be ready soon,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “If you wish to shower first, Severus.”

“Yes, Albus, thank you. Please send Mister Potter along,” Severus replied.

“I shall, my boy.”

They heard his footsteps fade. Hermione collapsed against Severus with a laugh. “Bloody hell! I felt like I’d almost been caught by my father!”

“Yes,” Severus agreed wryly. “Albus does have that effect.”

She studied him, questions clearly written in her warm brown eyes. He kissed the tip of her nose. “You must go join the others. We shall eat breakfast, and be social and civil for a bit, and then you and I are going to go work on a potion together.”

“What potion?” Hermione grinned.

“I’ll think of something,” he told her. “And we will talk.”

“Just talk?” she pouted.

“To start with, yes,” he said. “But afterwards…” his voice trailed off suggestively.

She nodded, because she didn’t trust her voice. She gave him one last swift kiss, then got up. “I’ve got to go shower and change,” she realized. Her eyes widened. “Harry mustn’t see me with the same clothes on, and my wand is in my room!” She sprinted out the door.

Severus watched her go in amusement. Then a thought struck him. Potter. Weasley. Hermione’s two best friends… that could barely stand him and whom he could barely stand. What was going to happen when they found out?

He sighed as he waited for Potter to come in, knowing that his life had just gotten complicated. Very complicated.

Suteki Da Ne (Isn't It Beautiful)

My heart was swimming
in words gathered by the wind
My voice bounded
into a cloud-carried tomorrow

My heart trembled
in the moon-swayed mirror
Soft tears
spilled with a stream of stars

Isn't it beautiful?
If we could walk, hand in hand,
I'd want to go
to your town, your home, in your arms

I dream of being
against your chest
my body in your keeping
disappearing into the evening

Words halted by wind are
a gentle illusion
A tomorrow torn by clouds is
the voice of a distant place

My heart that had been
in a moon-blurred mirror that flowed
Those stars that trembled and spilled
cannot hide my tears

Isn't it beautiful?
If we could walk, hand in hand,
I'd want to go
to your town, your home, in your arms

My dream of
your face
that I softly touch
melts in the morning