The Unfortunates

Ah, yes - read on! This\'ll hopefully encourage even more questions...

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THE EVENTFUL MORNING


A nauseating feeling and a pounding head awoke Severus early the following morning. His concussion had still not gotten much better, despite Miss Weasley’s (and later on Poppy’s) efforts.

Severus sat up in bed grumpily, rubbing his forehead and casting a glance to the left half of the bed, where Hermione still lay sound asleep. Oh, but she did look beautiful, didn’t she? He hadn’t really thought that much about whether or not she was fair at all, but now as he studied her whilst she slept he discovered she could be called beautiful, if not traditionally pretty.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the feeling of something nasty climbing up his throat, and Severus bolted for the bathroom.

He emerged about five minutes later, cradling a glass of water and praying that Hermione hadn’t awoken by the sound of him vomiting. It appeared she’d slept straight through it, though.

Feeling better, though still being kept from sleep by his headache, Severus sat down in a chair by his desk and flicked his wand to summon himself a cup of tea. Into it he poured a small portion of mild headache potion before downing it all in one go, willing his ache to go away so he could get back to sleep.

He didn’t, however.

The headache more or less left him after about fifteen minutes or so, but he was still in no mood to sleep. Irritated, he settled for pulling a robe around himself and staying by his desk, reading the morning hours away.

It wasn’t until half past eight that he dared a glance in direction of the sleeping witch on his bed again. She’d moved during the morning; now she was lying face up, with a small smile playing at her lips, her arms over the sheets; and one of her legs had slipped out from under them, giving Severus a good view of her foot, shin, knee and lower thigh.

It distracted him.

Was her skin as soft and creamy as it looked from where he sat?

She sighed then, waking him from his trance. Tentatively, he stood from his seat and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, just wanting to watch her more closely.

So far, he realized he hadn’t thought of her all that much in a sexual way. Yes, when they’d first met that was all he’d thought of her, but as he realized she was in fact Hermione Granger that thought had sort of ran away in hiding.

Was it not decent to think about her sexually?

Probably not, considering the student-teacher relationship they’d had, added with the fact that he was twice her age. But Severus didn’t really care about all that.

No, he had a theory as to why this sexual stuff had gone in hiding: Hermione had been through so much these past six months; she’d been the plaything of a dozen Death Eaters, not to mention loads of other men. Her life had been living hell, yet she’d made her way out of it, never once given up. And when at last she’d met friends again, joining up with the Rebels, she had still offered to go off to spy at Malfoy Manor, for the good of the cause. She needed care and tenderness now, not more men ogling her, wanting to jump to bed with her.

Severus wasn’t one for care and tenderness. But he wasn’t about to jump to bed with her either; he’d realized she deserved better than that from him, if she really was interested.

But then... didn’t that constitute as caring? Not wanting to rush her into sleeping with him after what she’d been through? Was he... tender?

No, not tender. But he did care. Had admitted it to her even.

Almost smiling, Severus reached out a hand to gently touch the thigh which had escaped from the confines of the sheets. It felt every bit as nice as he’d imagined. Had he not felt her thigh back when she’d been Mira? He doubted it. His focus had been elsewhere... And it seemed to long ago now, in almost a different world; he felt he could scarcely remember it as anything more than a fading dream.

Gently, he began stroking her outer thigh, just feeling the softness of it. He made no move to inch his hand higher up, but was almost tempted to do so when she sighed softly.

Crawling up in bed again, Severus lied down next to her, never once moving his hand from her thigh.

“Hermione?” he spoke softly. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm?” she murmured, not opening her eyes.

Severus planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I want to touch you, Hermione. Will you let me?”

At this, her eyes fluttered open, looking sleepy but interested. Instead of answering she smiled, and reached up a hand to bring his head down to hers for a kiss. It was gentle at first, as though she was partly waiting for him to make the next move, which he gladly did.

Sliding out his tongue, gently tasting her lips, he slowly initiated a very thorough, long and intimate kiss, making Hermione moan into his mouth more than once. She hadn’t even brushed her teeth, but he paid it no heed.

Unconsciously (or so it would seem), Hermione’s leg slid further out from under the sheets as they kissed, giving Severus better access. He took this as a good sign and, feeling bold – he was only a man after all – he slid his hand higher, ever so slowly, fully prepared that any second she would make him stop.

She never did.

Instead she intensified the kiss, pulling his head closer and sliding a teasing arm across his back. Severus wished so dearly he had lost the robe, wanting to feel her touch against his bare skin. But he feared if he disrobed he would frighten her, or perhaps give her the wrong impression. He wasn’t about to appear as one of the men just wanting her for a quick fuck.

But still her leg moved further, practically begging him to feel the skin higher up, daring him... Challenging fate (and his own willpower), Severus gently caressed his way up to her hip, feeling the waistband of her panties as he did so. Gods, and she kept on squirming, teasing him with her kisses.

When her mouth left his however, and her head bent slightly up to nibble at his neck, he decided whatever damage he could do he had already done and slid his hand down again, gently cupping her sex through her panties, relishing in the warm feeling and the gasp he elicited from her.

“You feel alright?” he whispered silkily in her ear, making the caring question sound nothing but erotic.

“Oh yes,” she whispered back, lifting her lower back ever so slightly to bring herself closer to his hand. Severus felt like he was going to faint; it felt so good. She felt so good.

No longer standing it, he smoothly moved his hand to the waistband again, this time sneaking it gently under, stroking through her curls to find what he was looking for. Her ragged breathing in his ear did nothing but encourage him, and slowly he slid one finger into her, instinctively moaning at the feel of how wet she was.

Was that his doing? Making someone like Hermione this wanton? Could it be?

He dearly loved the thought. Further encouraged he added another finger, kissed her again and started moving his hand against her as he would like to move his entire body, causing Hermione to thoroughly groan into his mouth. His thumb expertly sought out her clit, rubbing it gently, relishing every second spent in this brilliant witch’s company.

She was writhing now, trying to push her hips up to meet his strokes; so much so in fact that he felt the need to hold her down, lest he would lose control of the situation. He liked it like this; when she was underneath, bucking and moaning at his ministrations... And she did just that, louder and more intently, and he could practically feel her closing on orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his lips, her hands still grasping at his neck and back. Severus couldn’t help but smirk.

He kept going at a steady pace, so desperately wanting her to come, and soon he could feel her walls clenching around his fingers, making him wish dearly he would get to feel just that around his shaft at some point. Seconds later she was bucking and shaking, and he pulled her to him for a rough, thorough kiss just as he felt her orgasm fully take over, muffling her moans.

Gods, she felt good... So good.

He held her close as she climaxed, kissing every inch of her that was accessible (he wished now that she wasn’t half covered by the sheets) until she calmed down and simply lay spent against him. Gently, Severus removed his hand again.

“Wow,” muttered Hermione, her eyes fluttering open to look up at him.

“Wow?” He raised an eyebrow cockily. She simply smirked back, punching him playfully in the shoulder. For a second the mood was slightly awkward, but luckily Hermione sorted that out.

“I don’t know if I earned that,” she commented.

“Why ever not?” asked Severus at once, kissing her forehead. “I would say you more than earned it.”

She shrugged. “If you say so – I sure as hell won’t argue.”

He chuckled at that, before he could stop himself.

“How long have you been up?” she asked.

“A few hours. I did not want to wake you; it was only the concussion keeping me awake.”

“The concussion –!” she exclaimed, sitting up. “Oh Severus, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have encouraged – you’re sick! I –”

“Stop it,” he interrupted at once. “Believe me when I say I quite enjoyed it. I dare even say it was the best medication I have been offered so far.”

She smiled.

Giving her a last, gentle kiss on the lips, Severus slowly slid from the bed.

“I really need to get a stronger potion from my lab,” he explained. “Or else I fear my head will be the death of me. Will you be alright?”

“Will you be back?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll be alright.”

Sending her a small, rare smile, Severus made sure his robe was fastened before leaving his quarters, making his hasty way down to his lab to locate the potion. He hadn’t wanted to mention it to Hermione, but their little session had brought back a nastier version of his previous headache and nausea, and he didn’t want that to get in the way of spending the morning with her, even if it meant doing nothing but lying in bed. He would take what he could have.

Reaching the ground floor, Severus made his way to the grand dining hall, in which there was a door that would take him to his lab. Once again he found himself cursing his ancestors for building so large a house.

Killengreen was very quiet – with good reason, as it was quite early. Severus reached the dining hall and made to stride straight through it, heading for the door, when words – spoken in a strong, Scottish accent – caught his ear:

“I’m surprised to find you still live at Killengreen, Snape.”

Severus froze, not really wanting to look to the dining table, but knowing exactly who he’d find there. Reluctantly, he turned.

And, as anticipated, his gaze fell upon James Higsley.

“Awake so early?” asked the Scotsman, his face emotionless. He too was dressed in nothing but a robe, and he was cradling what looked to be a cup of very strong coffee.

“Mr. Higsley,” said Severus stiffly. “I was told you were amongst the refugees.”

“Long time no see, Snape,” snarled Higsley. “You’ve hardly changed at all... Grown older, mind you.”

“You have changed,” said Severus in earnest. “Quite a bit.”

“Yeah, well – you remember me as a pimple-faced, thirteen-year-old git, so I guess I should be happy to hear that.”

“I suppose so,” said Severus, still standing as though frozen. He could already feel it coming; he only wondered if it would be verbal or physical: The assault. Jim Higsley would go for him, he knew it – but he also knew the kid (who was no longer a kid, obviously) was smart, like his sister, and would not act irrationally. Had he too ended up at Hogwarts he would’ve been a Slytherin.

How would he bring it about, though?

“Now, like I said,” said Higsley, “whatever makes you want to stay behind at Killengreen?”

Ah, yes. There it was, of course – the issue of living at Killengreen after what had happened. Severus had asked himself that question so many times he’d lost count. Still he held no answer... Perhaps it was because it was inheritance; perhaps because it was a reminder of the kind of life he was now free of, or perhaps it was simply because she haunted it.

Who knew.

“Well,” said Severus slowly, “it is a very well hidden estate, and as such very suitable for the Rebels.”

“Whatever happened to your previous headquarters? Grimmauld Place, I heard it was called?” Higsley tapped a wistful finger against his chin.

“It was... located too much in the middle of things,” said Severus through clenched teeth. “London was hardly the best place for us to stay when the Dark Lord won.”

“‘The Dark Lord’,” quoted Higsley, his gaze growing darker by the minute. “You still call him that, then?”

Severus didn’t reply.

“Tell me, Snape,” said Higsley nastily, getting to his feet, “do you still think of him often? D’you still wonder what would’ve happened if things could’ve turned out differently? Hm? Ever... regret?”

There.

Yes, he regretted. He regretted it all; who wouldn’t? But there was one incident in particular to which Jim Higsley was referring, and Severus couldn’t bring himself to talk of it. Not now; not after he’d spend such a lovely night with Hermione. He was happy, for the time being; Higsley wasn’t about to ruin that.

Not now. Not when he was finally beginning to forget.

“You’re speechless, Snape,” snarled Higsley, approaching him. “Difficult to make up an excuse, is it? I can hardly say I blame you. Wouldn’t have been able to come up with one myself, but then again I would never have had to, as I would never have done something as –”

“Enough!” snarled Severus, raising a desperate hand to silence the younger man. He couldn’t bear to listen to it; wouldn’t. It was too much. As if her constant presence there wasn’t enough, now he had to deal with the brother reliving the events for him too?

Not this morning. Not now; please not now.

He’d known it would come; of course Higsley would confront him. He’d probably want to kill him, even. And if not kill, then at least he would want to share all of Severus’s nasty past with the rest of the Rebels and... Hermione.

And if he did that, she’d not be spending any more nights in Severus’s bed.

“Enough,” he whispered again, feeling so weak and exposed.

“Guilt beginning to overwhelm you, Snape?” Higsley stepped closer; his eyes were boring into Severus’s own, making it hard to think, breathe.

“It has always been overwhelming,” replied Severus, his voice slightly steadier now; he was not lying. “For all these twenty years, James.”

“Since when are we on a first name basis?”

“Would you rather I continue to call you Mr. Higsley?”

“I would rather you didn’t address me at all; didn’t speak my name,” replied Higsley viciously, invading Severus’s personal space. “The very thought of you speaking my name... speaking her name; it’s revolting.”

“Nothing will change even if I do speak your name,” replied Severus calmly.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then...

“I smell that, Snape,” said Higsley quietly. “You think I don’t smell it? You’re practically raking – next time, remember to wash your hands before you leave the room.”

He had to be bluffing – what was it he smelled? Hermione’s perfume? He doubted she was wearing any. Her... scent?

Higsley raised his hand slowly, pointing a threatening finger straight in Severus’s face.

“Had I had my wand here, Snape, you would be dead now,” he whispered, his eyes alight with rage. “The very thought of sleeping under your roof, in your home, is enough to make me want to snuff it. But I won’t, seeing as how you’re here... I’ll get to you, Snape; you mark my words. That’s my promise to you.” A pause. “Remember the promises, Snape?”

“You don’t –” began Severus, but then he realized and said instead: “She told you.”

“She did.” Higsley’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still the same, Snape, whatever anyone else may claim. Even if the Boy Who Lived himself has pardoned you. I’ll still get to you, as I should’ve done all those years ago.”

“You were thirteen,” said Severus before he could stop himself.

“And now I’m thirty-three. So now I am quite capable. You’re a dead man, Snape.”


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A/N: As ever I thank my faithful beta JessiokaFroka, who not only corrects my nasty mistakes but also gives me valuable feedback.

Now, this was a bit dramatic - perhaps melodramatic, even - but I really felt we needed to give Snape a kick in the behind in regards to this \"Higsley\'s sister\"-business. Things need to be sorted out. And of course Jim Higsley isn\'t being dramatic without reason - yeah, finally you got a bit of information, right? Please let me know what you think Severus has done... Can\'t wait to hear what suspicions that conversation encouraged to!

(Oh, and just for the record: The fact that Higsley\'s first name is James has nothing to do with James Potter... I just like the name; it suits her brother well. :)

Thanks so much to the wonderful readers and reviewers who bear with me. I really couldn\'t go on without you, as I always say - because it\'s true. :)