Mission Impossible

A/N: Thank you all for continuing to read and review. The reviews are what really help. Leave a few lines, tell me what you really think. While the fluffy praise is appreciated (I’m really glad you enjoy it) please let me know what about it is pleasing you, or what about it is bothering you- if you have suspicions of upcoming chapters, or concerns. Please let me know what bothers you- but do it tactfully. Reviews fuel the fire!







There are moments in time when doubt looms into play; for however brief a moment it lurks in the back of the mind or creeps along the edge of the conscious, slipping through the psyche and causing that exacerbating question. And as those moments flitter by and the doubt is shoved away by determination or curiosity, thwarted by courage or stupidity, the mind ponders how it got itself into the current situation.



Hermione Granger had just left such a moment, having felt for the briefest of instants that it would perhaps have been wise to enter the sitting room, retrieve the information from the safe behind the portrait, and leave. But with a sigh of heavy resignation Hermione took off her cloak and hung it on the hat rack near the door. This wasn’t going to be easy.



She took a moment to take in her surroundings. The room in which she stood had remained lit and was much more spacious than the outside had made it appear though she supposed by now she should have been used to the fact that in the wizarding world sometimes things weren’t always what they seemed to be. The archway led off into a darkened room that was the sitting room. She couldn’t see beyond the darkness of the corridor that he had disappeared down but assumed that it led to either another room or perhaps a set of stairs. On the wall left of the door was another door that was slightly ajar.



Deciding that it was unwise to follow him Hermione made her way through the door that was slightly ajar. The kitchen was small. A stove for cooking things, a small unit that bared resemblance to a muggle refrigerator, an old wooden table and a matching wooden chair that appeared to be leaning forward on its front right leg; there was a sink and a few cupboards on the far wall, and a door which she assumed enclosed a pantry. For being a makeshift cottage in the middle of nowhere, Hermione was impressed with the accommodations thus far.



Water hissed to a boil in no time at all. Although she was a witch, and a clever witch at that, there was nothing so comforting to her as to boil a kettle of water to make herself a cup of tea the old-fashioned way. Her surprise was not withheld with she discovered that not only did he have a kettle for such an act—though she simply would have transfigured one from a piece of crockery in the cupboard—but when she opened the pantry door to find a plethora of assorted teas. She’d chosen a mild early grey mixed with lavender and rose petals; it would calm her mind and ease the tension headache she could feel starting while delivering her enough caffeine to restore her spirits after the tiring journey and tedious process of finding him.



As Hermione departed from the kitchen, with the kettle tucked back in its cupboard and a steaming rather oversized mug of the sweet smelling tea she discovered that the light doused itself behind her. A unique enchantment, but she expected nothing less from Severus Snape, even if he was alone and blind.



By nearly midnight she found herself seated in an armchair with her tea long since drained poring over the documents she’d retrieved from the wall safe. It hadn’t been easy to crack the wards on the safe, and then there had been the combination lock. She’d nearly given up when she’d managed on luck and an augmented hearing charm to crack it. But all of her struggles were forgotten. The information The Order would need to put a halt to the new rising of the ‘believed-to-be-vanquished’ Dark Lord was in her very palm. It would give them the upper hand and with strategic planning there was no doubt in her mind that good would prevail once more. The hour that her eyes fell weary was beyond her. And before she knew it she’d nodded off to sleep in the armchair, head lulling against her shoulder, a stack of papers in her lap.



She was one again standing inside Number 12 Grimmauld Place, only somehow this time was different. She was waiting for something, or someone. Hermione was standing in a room that was not her own and yet her own as rooms often are in dreams. She twirled in front of the mirror, the green dress swirling around her legs and she smiled. And then she returned to the foyer, waiting by the door, though she wasn’t sure how she arrived there without taking the stairs.



Order members stormed through the door making chatter loud enough to wake Mrs. Black, and yet no shrieking echoed against the walls. They were drenched, most of them, some of them shaking off droplets of water despite umbrellas they closed up as they entered. It had been raining. And she saw him; he walked in with Kingsley and Hermione couldn’t check her smile.



“Without the full flank we’ll have a back end unguarded and you’ll leave them in the sky like sitting ducks on the opening day of hunting season.” He snapped at the other wizard.



“Severus, you are mistaken. Only half the flank is necessary, a quarter really would do, but Dumbledore says he’d rather be safe than sorry. And I trust him.” Kingsley nodded in the direction of the older wizard who was several people ahead of them.



The Order members proceeded to file through the foyer and down the corridor into the kitchen; the usual meeting place. Minerva McGonagall was bringing up the rear with Tonks and two other ministry wizards that Hermione did not recognize; though they hardly seemed important. As Kingsley passed by her, he smiled and nodded. She returned the smile.



“Nice weather we’re having, Hermione Granger.” He said.



“I happen to like the rain,” she smirked.



Severus rolled his eyes as he passed her. “You would.”



Minerva and the others continued past Severus and Hermione leaving the two alone in the entryway. Snippets of their conversation seemed to pertain to Cauldron bottom thickness and muggle meat pies, though neither Percy nor Sweeney were present.



“You’re wet.” He said.



“No I’m not,” Hermione said.



Severus stepped closer and threw his arms around her. He was soaked and felt chilled. She shuddered as he pressed himself against her. Water dripped from his hair all over her shoulders, freezing droplets raining in a river down her back. Trembling, she clutched closely to him, trying to find heat despite his chill. Her whole body was shivering before he pulled away but when he did she frowned.



“Not here in the corridor, you stupid girl.” He took her roughly by the hand and dragged her up the stairs.



Hermione stumbled over the steps as he scrambled up them two at a time. The steps wound higher and higher into the house, and she was panting as they reached the fourth floor. Severus pushed open a door, pulled her inside, and slammed the door shut. There was a bed and little else to the room but it seemed to be all they would need.



His arms wrapped around her and she entangled her limbs with him. Hungry lips found each other and her tongue was pressing into his mouth to be met with his own in a frenzy of passion. She could no longer feel the chill or the water on him, only the heat rising through his clothing.



“Take off your clothes…” she panted. Her eyes were hooded, her breaths shallow and filled with need.



He paused for a moment, gazing at her. It was the first time he had noticed the dress and it did flatter her figure quite nicely. Hermione felt his eyes on her, roaming over her body and taking in her curves.



“Take off your clothes…” he countered and reached for the buckle on the belt of his trousers.



Hermione was too eager. Her fingers wrapped around her torso and grabbed at the hem on the dress, tugging it upward and over her head. The pool of green silk puddled at her feet as she let her arms float down to her side. She wore a lacy black pair of knickers and a matching bra that crossed over her shoulder and lifted her heaving breasts ever so slightly.



His eyes were wild as he took a step closer. But Hermione took a step back. “Take off your clothes…” she repeated, trying to steady her voice. The very thought of him touching her, hands on flesh and his weight on her, his breath and his hair; she could hardly breath.



Severus undid the rest of the fastenings on his trousers and let them fall around his ankles. His fingers moved to the buttons on his shirt. “Take off your clothes…” he countered, his eyes never breaking away from hers.



Hermione trembled. His voice was drawing the wetness forward between her thighs. She needed his touch or she would die. It seemed effortless as she reached behind her and flicked her fingers over the clasp of her bra. The hook came free from its fastener and the straps across her shoulders fell slack. She crossed her hands over her shoulders and guided the straps slowly down to her elbows until the garment was freed from the front of her torso. As she let her arms fall gently against the side of her body the bra fell away and joined the green dress on the floor.



He did not gasp, but his breath tightened and she could feel the flush of need rise in her cheeks. The buttons on his shirt came undone and his pale chest was bared to her. There should have been scars or markings but not a hair seemed out of place. She bit her lip as he shrugged out of the shirt. The pile of clothing on the floor was growing and Hermione could wait no longer.



“Take off your…” but he’d stepped forward, out of his trousers, and the sentence died in his kiss. Their arms wound around each other once more and she fell back to the bed. Two fingers were hooked into the waistband of her knickers and she felt him tugging them down, if a bit unevenly, and Hermione wriggled against him. She would not be fucked by him with her knickers around her knees again.



She pressed her palm hard against his bare chest and felt his heart racing. His eyes searched hers and she kissed his lips. “Just let me kick them off.” She whimpered. Her chest was rising and falling faster and faster. “Please…” she begged.



Severus brought both hands to the side of hips and tugged hard, dragging the cloth down her legs until he’d pulled them over her feet and then he threw them on the floor. Without another word he pushed her further up onto the bed and was between her legs once more. He was naked, and she was naked and her legs wrapped around him. Their lips met again and she cried into his mouth as he thrust himself into her.



Harder and faster his thrusts came; her walls trembling and her chest heaving. Her heart nearly exploded; the hot heavy thrusts coming faster and faster, the friction building. Hermione felt her release trigger as he thrust hard at a slight angle and she screamed, her toes curling and her eyes rolling back in her head.



He was silent, her release triggering his, and for a moment he lay still, heart racing as fast as hers. His ear was near her neck and he could feel her pulse booming against her flesh. Her eyes were closed for a moment and when she opened them he’d pulled away. The chill returned and she shivered. “I’m cold…” she said.



Severus was standing beside her already fixing the belt on his trousers. He bent over and pulled up his shirt in one hand and a worn but warm looking blanket in the other. It was green, the same shade her dress had been, and made of thick woven wool. Hermione smiled as he draped the large quilt over her trembling body. It was big enough to get lost inside but the warmth it brought sent her easily into a most comforted place.



“Thank you,” she smiled as her eyes felt heavy. They fell closed. The blanket was warm, a bit too warm on her feet and she kicked at it slightly, trying to allow some air to hit her toes. Her leg shuddered, a tremor and Hermione bolted up from the bed with a start.



The bed was the armchair she’d nodded off in and she gazed around. The room was light, early dawn filtering through the blinds of the window. Her limbs felt stiff, her arms aching, and she stretched them over her head only to find them slightly restrained. Hermione squeaked, “Oh!” as her limbs shook free of the thick green woolen quilt. “How on earth did…” her eyes grew wide as they were met with the empty black voids of Severus Snape, who was seated in an armchair just opposite her.





A/N: Please leave a review! ^_^