A Different Kind of Magic--UNDERGOING EDIT

JK Rowling owns all the Potterverse stuff and profits from it. I do not.

Thanks a million to my great beta VIVAvivacious, for her wonderful appreciation and excitement for this story. I couldn't do it without you babe!

A/N: I do take reader's suggestions under my wing and add them to the story. If you see a prominent need to have a particular issue addressed, feel free to contact me or leave a review. Chances are, I am the resident dunderhead and would do with a good clonk over the head to make the story more palatable. Thank you to my devoted fanbase. You make the continuation of this story so much more fun to write, knowing there are folks out there that appreciate all the hard work I put into this. Mwah!


Chapter 21 – A Ration of Passion

Severus stood at the fireplace trembling. Fucking Lupin. I hate that man! He waited for a bit, composing his inner mind and body before rejoining Hermione on the bed. He watched her while she slept, smoothing a wayward curl away from her cheek, gently tucking it behind her ear. She looked so small and vulnerable, one arm tangled in the sheets, the other thrown carelessly above her head. The likeness was similar to a Muggle fairytale his mother had related as a bedtime story when he was young. Sleeping Beauty was a tale he had heard many times from the tome that still resided within his collection of books, wherever those had ended up. It, of course, had the cover changed so it looked like an obscure potions text. He smirked a bit, imagining Minerva going through his things and finding the book. It would have been amusing to be a fly on the wall had she opened it, gaping at why in hell he would be in possession of such a thing.

Hermione shook her head from side to side suddenly, her brow furrowing. The lids of her eyes betrayed the movement beneath them, indicating she was dreaming. After a few minutes of watching her movements increase to thrashing, he shook her awake.

“Hermione! Wake up!” He actually had to pinch her to get her to awaken. She had been sleeping very deeply. The disturbed look in her eyes slowly disappeared as she focused on him. She tilted her head and looked at him questioningly. She palmed the stone and held it out for him to join her thoughts.

‘What’s going on?’

‘You were dreaming and thrashing about. I woke you up. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?’

Hermione seemed to think for a moment privately, her eyes downcast on the bedspread.

‘I remember bits and pieces of things. I think I was at the Manor you told me about. There were men all around. I think they had guns. I remember feeling very scared and hiding next to a bed. Someone was shouting. I was terrified because I couldn’t find you. That’s all I remember. Does any of that make sense?’

She looked at him imploringly, as if to wish it all away. His answer of silence seemed to confirm her suspicions. The dream had been of an actual experience.

‘Hermione, I need you to remember things are going to come back in bits and pieces, and not everything is going to be pleasant. In fact, there are some things that were very unpleasant, and I do not believe you remember all those details, if any. I want you to know that when you do, I will be here for you. I already know what went on, so there is nothing you can say that will shock me.’

‘Why can’t you just tell me now? Was it really that bad?’

‘Yes, Hermione, it was. Trust me. You don’t want to know any sooner than absolutely necessary.’

She reached up and touched his face, her fingers trailing down the thick stubble on his cheek that had grown since their stay.

‘Severus, what’s wrong? I can tell something is bothering you.’

He turned his head away, but her fingers caught his chin and drew him back to her firmly. She wasn’t going to let him get away with sparing her, when he had just offered to be there for her.

‘Tell me.’

‘Professor Lupin came down here and we had an argument.’

‘Why were you fighting with Professor Lupin?’

‘I have acted despicably today. He was calling me out on my behavior.’

‘What did you do?’

He paused. ‘I caused Ava to cry.’

She lowered her head. ‘Why would you continue to act this way?’

‘What way?’ he snapped.

‘Like a nasty, mean, old git. I’d gotten the impression you were past that after what you say we’ve been through the past year.’

‘Hermione, I haven’t changed. I am everything they say about me. I am the greasy git, the black bat of dungeons. I am a bastard, a mean-spirited, vengeful, and spiteful man that takes no pleasure in the happiness of others. I prefer to be by myself because I loathe what I have become. There is no love lost between me and the rest of the world. I deserve to be alone. It has always been my destiny, and nothing can change that.’

‘I refuse to believe an entire year recovering at the Manor could not have changed you in even some small way. I may not remember much now, but I feel in my heart, Professor, something more happened than you are telling me. You can refrain from telling me for only so long. I will regain my memory, and you will no longer be able to hide. I was by your side there, and I can tell it meant a lot to you, or else you would not be here telling me these things. You’ve always been an intensely private man. The things you do not say speak louder than the words you do.’

A rare look of wonder travelled over his face. How could this woman, in her sickbed, with scattered memory of recent events, still know him so well? He squeezed her hand. ‘Hermione, look at me.’ She looked up, her beautiful eyes both shining and haunted. ‘Even though I never treated you well when you were my student, I have always respected your intelligence. I can never repay the debt of service you have shown regarding my welfare. I will also never understand why you chose to save my life. All I can tell you is I have grown to treasure your friendship as I have no other. Thank you for my life.’

A brilliant flash of light blinked in front of her eyes, and suddenly Hermione was back at the Conservatory. She was seeing herself at the Manor, leaning in for a kiss. She was kissing Professor Snape? His hands were on her breasts, her own hands pressing them into his flesh. He looked so emaciated and vulnerable. A great war hero beaten down, grasping her in worshipful starvation, as if his soul would be saved by her divine touch.

She was in his mind. ‘How?’ Seeing what he was seeing, that first special, intimate, and frantic encounter in the Conservatory. He tried to push her out of his mind, but felt her firmly implanted upon the memory. Her blind determination to experience this memory of herself to its conclusion was apparent by the strength of will in his mind, and it left him flabbergasted.

At the conclusion of the memory she withdrew from his mind, thoroughly confused.

‘Was, was that us Professor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is… Was… Were we…’

‘No, we were not lovers.’

‘Oh.’

She withdrew her hand from his. He was stunned. Hermione had unknowingly and essentially entered his mind just as someone would using Legilimency, only he knew she hadn’t been trained in the art. Was she a natural? Was this a side effect of Flitwick’s little charm stone?

She reached for his hand once more and tentatively motioned for him to grasp the stone.

‘Did you wish us to be lovers?’

His heart skipped a beat before he replied.

‘Yes.’

‘Did I wish us to be?’

‘I do not know.’

Hermione felt conflicted. The memory showed her one thing in his mind, but she could not reconcile it with her own. Amazingly, she was not repulsed by the vision, but rather intrigued. They must have, indeed, shared something special. He had been so very open and honest with her, not at all like the stern Potions professor from her childhood.

‘How does your head feel?’

‘It still hurts, but Miss Ava and Poppy have done a wonderful job healing my injuries. I will need to do a glamour until my hair grows back. I have some pretty large bald patches on top and in the back. I could be a scarecrow for All Hallows Eve.’

He chuckled at that. Bald patches indeed.

‘Kiss me.’

‘What?’ She had surprised him. He turned away instinctively.

‘Are you attracted to me?’

Oh Circe, hell below and heaven above, yes! ‘Hermione, I don’t think this is the appropriate time to discuss this. You are recovering from severe trauma. It would be… wrong of me to take you at your word, and pursue a physical encounter under these circumstances.’

‘You read me Shakespeare. I remember hearing you reading to me the other night. I love his work. It always helped me relax before an exam.’

‘Your voice reading me the Sonnets are what kept me sane those long months of recovery. It was the least I could do to return the favor.’

‘I still want you to kiss me. I want to see if it sparks my memory. It is really upsetting to know we have something special and not be able to appreciate it fully.’

Calmly, evenly, the professor carefully positioned himself next to her, lying on his side. One long arm draped across her body to hold her hand and keep contact with the stone. The other gently cradled her bandaged head and kept contact with her eyes. With excruciating slowness, he brushed his lips against hers, a feather-light touch that was at once more intimate and exciting than any frenzied coupling he’d ever experienced.

There was a spiritual connection here. One she felt in her body and heart, if not with her subconscious as well. And she wanted him. It radiated off her in waves. He became increasingly aware of the scent of her arousal. Every sense was in a heightened state. Nerves tingled, and synapses fired with exhilaration.

‘Se-Severus. I need you.’

‘Shhhhh. Just feel.’

He nipped at her bottom lip, drawing it out, nibbling and letting it pop back. Then he brushed over them again, back and forth, dancing with teeth and lips while she shifted next to him in anticipation.

‘You’re driving me crazy. Ah – oh – ah, yes. Severus. Professor. Let me kiss you back.’

‘Shhhhh.’

‘I can tell you’re holding back.’

‘Hermione – ’

‘Shut up and kiss me!’

So he did. His lips instantly plundered her pouty mouth, and she responded in kind. He could feel one breast pressed into his chest as he leaned into her. One hand was entwined in his greasy black hair, opening and closing as she grasped to pull him in.

‘Touch me.’

‘Hermione – ’

‘No, Professor! You told me we had something special, and I trust you. I feel it. Let me feel you, all of you. I want that.’

‘What if someone Floos in?’

‘Who cares?’

Right. Who was he to argue with a willing, young witch?

‘This might be tricky with my bum leg.’

‘I’m sure you’ll manage.’

‘You’re a wanton little thing, aren’t you, Hermione?’

‘I always get what I want. I was dreaming about you today. Not just the one about the Manor. There was one I had much earlier that I do remember. It was a bit provocative.’

‘Tell me.’

‘No! I mean, I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because just thinking about it arouses me so much, I won’t be satisfied with telling you. I’d have to show you.’

His eyes were like fire, burning into her own as he firmly set the stone on the bedside table, and let his fingers wander to the hem of her cotton nightgown. It was a short trip up her thigh to the thin knickers that rested at her hips. A shudder escaped her as his fingers tugged at the hem and found their way underneath.

Sweet Circe, she’s wet. Oh, and she smells so good.

He kissed her thoroughly, letting himself push a finger to slide into her wet heat. Her arousal coated his skin when he slipped between her labia, and he guided it back and forth over her pleasure center. Hermione gasped under him, and he grunted when her nails bit into the back of his head. Her hips arched at his touch, willing him to pleasure her with his expert fingers.

He willingly obliged, unable to get enough of her mouth and tongue. She tasted of the herbal tea she had ingested with lunch. Hermione allowed him to lead the dance, their tongues meeting and receding in a languorous flow that drove him wild with pleasure.

Severus could feel her breath starting to come unhitched. She had twice pleasured him now, and he had yet to return the favor even once. For a brief, sad moment, he was glad she did not remember the torture right before their escape. He knew she would have possibly been having second thoughts about this romantic interlude, if she remembered what had happened.

Putting aside the regret, he concentrated on bringing her off. One finger dipped into her pussy and back up to her clit. Back and forth, he moistened the tender bud and applied firm pressure as he concentrated quick, efficient movements that finally brought her to completion. She had both arms firmly entwined in his hair, practically suffocating him with her frenzied kisses.

When the orgasm receded, she was quick to grab the stone and press it into his palm.

‘Make love to me.’

‘Hermione, no.’

‘I want to pleasure you.’

‘It can wait until you are fully recovered.’

‘No, it can’t. I need you. I’ve never needed someone right now the way I need you. I can’t explain it. I feel empty inside. Please give me what I need, Severus. I need to see you satisfied.’

‘This isn’t going to be pretty. I’m a gimp, you know.’

‘Oh, stop it. I am sure it will be fine.’

‘I’m not going to last long. It’s been years since I’ve made love to anyone.’

‘I don’t mind. I just want to be close to you. Do you want me?’

‘Gods, yes.’

His trousers were quickly unhitched and gracelessly pulled down around his knees. The professor grimaced in pain when he spread her legs apart and positioned himself above her while leaning on one arm. She gave him a look of concern, but he shook his head. It was awkward. He felt like a fumbling boy on his first date behind the bicycle shed. All of his weight was resting on his good leg, with his bum leg braced gently in a semi-kneeling position. It hurt too much to straighten it out all the way. He grabbed the duvet edges from the sides of the bed to elevate her gorgeous arse.

Looking down at her one last time, his glittering black eyes paused, until he saw her smile and nod when she grabbed his achingly erect cock and squeezed. All bets were off.

Hermione pulled the crotch of her panties to one side as he wet the tip of his cock to get it lubricated. Heaven on Earth existed under his body and between her legs right at that moment. Moist, young, ripe heat enveloped him as he easily slid home. He was glad she was not a virgin. There would have been some explaining to do if there had been blood on the sheets from down there.

He fumbled for purchase with the strange position he was in. It took a minute to develop a rhythm that wouldn’t send stabbing bolts of pain through his hip. When he found his groove, he was able to quicken the pace.

Hermione’s face was twisted in rapture. Her hands cupped her own breasts and rolled the nipples through the cotton nightgown. She ignored the pounding, shrieking pain their efforts were wreaking on her head wounds. The need to have this dark, sensuous man fill her was more intense than the pain. Blood started seeping from her wounds, re-opening to soak, unnoticed, into the pillow beneath her head.

Being a breast man, Severus was instantly fired by this vision of loveliness beneath him. He mistook her grimace of pain for one of pleasure and redoubled his efforts.

The climax came all too soon, and his respirations were raggedly laborious. He felt himself thrust into her a bit harder than he meant to at the peak of the climax, unable to control his base instinct to empty every last bit of seed into her womb.

Hermione felt him climax and quickly brought her fingers down under her knickers to furiously rub her clit, achieving her own second orgasm shortly after his. He pulled out of her and drew her nightgown back down around her knees, pulling up the duvet over her waist in the process.

After adjusting his own trousers, he kissed her again very thoroughly.

She pressed the stone into his palm again. ‘That was wonderful, thank you.’

‘Did that please you?’

‘Very much so. Did I turn you on?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Thank you. That felt… right. I’m glad we made love. We both needed it.’

‘Yes. Now rest.’

After giving her one final kiss, Severus went back to his own bed to lie down. The lovemaking had drained him physically and mentally. He didn’t know what to think anymore. Too much was happening too fast, and he needed to pull back for a bit to put things into perspective. His future hinged on what happened with Minerva and Potter this evening, and he wanted to be mentally ready for the challenge.

They both drifted off to sleep for the remainder of the afternoon. Neither noticed Dobby pop in with tea and biscuits, nor pop back to clear them away. It was well into the evening when Poppy came to check on them. She took one look at Hermione’s bandages and sputtered with undisclosed anger.

“What in Merlin’s name happened here? Hermione’s wounds have re-opened!”

Her outburst brought Severus out of a sound sleep. He hobbled over to her bed and saw what all the fuss about. Guilt and shame washed through him, self-disgust marring his frown at the damage he had caused in the wake of his own pleasure.

Neither of them were forthcoming with an exclamation, so Poppy dressed the head wounds once more after sealing them and giving Hermione a Blood-Replenishing Potion. Her nose wrinkled with distaste as she looked between the two, lips pursed in displeasure. She took Severus aside.

“I’m not one to meddle, but you just leave her alone until she’s better, Severus. Surely a man of your years should know better than to take advantage of a girl who is barely well enough to get out of bed, much less that sort of activity!”

He snorted in reply at her innuendo, but nodded curtly before embarrassment got the better of him.

Poppy set about setting up the chessboard next to Hermione’s bed, and was pleased to see them take up this more appropriate diversion. She scolded Severus thoroughly for walking on his leg prematurely but knew nothing would stop him, so she left the two to their chess game. Before leaving, Poppy informed them Minerva and Harry would be down in promptly one hour.

Dinner was a somber affair, with Severus glowering over his food, and Hermione oblivious as she shoveled it into her gob as fast as she could. Sex had made her ravenous.

At last, the time came for the dreaded meeting. A stony-face Minerva arrived with an equally unhappy looking Boy-Who-Lived-turned-Auror.

Severus wondered who was going to break the ice. It certainly wasn’t going to be him.