Occultus Intus Vos

Chapter: Chapter 6 - A Good Morning

Author: Bek Allen

A/N: Sorry for the delay folks, preparing for an auction and a move interstate - Oh. The. Joy. But, here is the next to last chapter :). Also, some people have contacted me about spelling mistakes; please bear in mind that, as an Australian, I'm far more inclined to use the British/Australian way of spelling things :) Cheers - Bek.

~*~*~*~

Hermione lifted her head, her brain still foggy with the remnants of sleep as she tried to focus on where she was and why, exactly, she was there in the first place. She started slightly as something moved beneath her hand, her brain kicking into high gear, instantly waking her up. As she looked down, it all came flooding back to her. Valentine’s Day, Severus, Albus, being hijacked from the High Table when the morning owls came, not being able to return to the school immediately, her telling Severus she was leaving and not coming back, Severus saying that he loved her and their long discussion well into the night about what they were to do now that they’d returned to their status as a couple. Sitting up slowly so as not to disturb the man she was pressed against, Hermione made note that Albus’ sofa, while comfortable to sit on, was not all that conducive to a pain-free back in the morning.

“Your elbow is pressing into my ribs,” a soft voice drawled, making Hermione scream and tumble from the sofa onto the floor.

Pulling herself up, the young witch glared at Severus, “You’re awake.”

“So it would seem.” He sat up a little straighter, grimacing as the muscles in his back protested the movement. “Did you sleep well?” He held out a hand to help Hermione up.

“Sleeping wasn’t the problem,” she smiled up at him as she moved back onto the sofa, “it was the waking up. Albus’ couch isn’t made for two people to sleep on… not comfortably, at any rate.”

“I agree,” he tugged her into his lap, pressing his lips to her temple. “I…” he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, “I have missed this.”

Hermione knew those words were hard for him; he was a man used to his independence, used to not having to rely on anyone or anything save himself. “What exactly is it that you have missed about all this? Surely not the part where we are forced to spend time reconciling with each other after being Portkeyed from our breakfast and classes?”

Severus’ chuckle was no more then an expelling of oxygen and a twist to the corners of his mouth. “No. That I could have happily done without. I have missed talking with you as we did last night, as we’re doing now. I’ve… missed… not waking up with you beside me; not that we did it all that often in the six months we were together, but it was enough to make me miss it all the more.”

“I’ve missed it too,” Hermione said, tilting her head until it was resting against his shoulder. “Believe it or not, I’ve even managed to miss your scathing remarks about the students.”

He heard the smile in her voice for all that he couldn’t actually see it. “Well then, Professor Granger, allow me to tide you over until we return to Hogwarts. Misses Parkinson and Creevey, along with Mister Patil, are simpering fools who would no more recognize the bottom of a cauldron than they would a tea pot. In their last Potions class, they melted no fewer than three cauldrons… each.” Hermione’s head fell back as she laughed, and Severus realized he’d never seen anything more stunning.

“They managed to ruin Charms for at least three people the day before last.” She grinned and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear.

“I had heard that you’d assigned them a week’s worth of detention, causing them to miss the ball last night.”

“It was three days, not a week!” Hermione folded her arms over her chest. “Not only did their prank send Miss Abbot to the infirmary, but look!” She held her hands up for his inspection. “They were far worse Thursday afternoon, I assure you.”

He took her right hand gently in both of his own, turning it slightly to inspect the slender, flawless fingers. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her, “What, pray tell, am I looking for?”

“Oooh!” Hermione snatched her hand away, “Poppy fixed them Thursday evening, but they were covered in paper-cuts. I had to forego my evening tea with lemon in the staff room because of it.”

Severus snickered softly but took her hand up once again. "For all that you are the brightest witch of your age,” he began, looking at her slyly, “you seem to forget it more often then not.”

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation and moved to pull her hand away. She came to a halt, however, when he pressed his lips to the centre of her palm. Frozen, she watched as his lips danced across the skin there, sending tiny bolts of pleasure up and down her spine. A gasp escaped her lips as he pressed his lips to the tip of her index finger before taking the digit into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. She shifted on his lap when she felt him nip the pad of her finger, her eyes closing as she whimpered when she felt him harden against her thigh.

She emitted a groan of disappointment as her finger slipped from his mouth, looking at him from beneath her lashes; she noticed the way his cheeks were flushed with desire.

“Shall we move this to a more… discreet… area of the house?” He looked at her, his breath catching in his throat at the way her chest rose and fell with each intake of air. “If this sofa is… unsuitable… for sleeping on, I doubt it will be all that suitable for the things I am going to do to you.”

His voice was a low murmur and only served to wash over her already alert nervous system, sending another, much stronger wave of desire down her spine to pool at the bottom of her abdomen. “Second floor, to the right…” her voice husky with desire as she spoke before lowering her lips to the patch of skin just below his left ear and continued, “third door down.”

In one surge, Severus had Hermione cradled against him, growling softly as she attacked his throat with soft nips and kisses before making his way out of the parlour and up the staircase to the room she had arrived in.

~*~*~*~

“Do you think it safe to return?” Young Albus asked, looking up at his older self.

Dumbledore smiled down at the portrait, his blue eyes twinkling as the afternoon sun washed in through his office windows. “I am not entirely sure.” His beard hid the smirk he felt forming on his lips. “If they are as enamoured with each other as you say they were when you fled from your place above the mantle, I would not be surprised if they had commandeered the room altogether.”

Young Albus’ eyes widened as he stuttered, “But… I… That is to say… that’s our parlour!”

“We are not so old that we do not remember what it was like to be in love, Albus.” Dumbledore looked at the portrait over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“I know that, but… that’s our favourite settee that…” he caught the twinkle in Albus’ eyes and huffed, “oh… Never mind!” He turned on his heel, “If they’re still at it like a pair of rabid Kneazles, I’ll be back Albus, and I’ll be sending them the bill for the cleaning of that sofa and rug! You mark my words.” And with that, he disappeared from the frame and canvas altogether.

Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head. He hadn’t thought of the damage that may be done to his furniture at the time he’d put this plan into motion, and he would indeed be sending Severus and Hermione the bill. Sometimes he truly did marvel at his own genius, whether it was that of his portrait-self or otherwise.

~*~*~*~

Severus groaned as Hermione’s mouth latched onto his earlobe, sucking and nipping at the bit of flesh. His arms tightened around the wriggling female form in his arms as he mounted the last stair. “I…” He swallowed several times in an attempt to return his voice to its proper register. “I shall drop you if you cannot keep your hands and lips to yourself, Professor Granger.”

It was a half-hearted threat at most and Hermione knew it. Chuckling, she released his earlobe, moving her mouth to his jaw and tracing the angular lines with the tip of her tongue. “You wouldn’t drop me, Severus.” She slid one hand from his shoulder down his chest. Her thumb flicking over the cotton-covered nub she sought out.

He gasped softly, his eyes black – even darker then normal – with desire, and gripped her tighter to his body to keep her from slipping. Her giggle as he proved her point snapped him back to attention and he released her legs, letting her slide down his body. Again, a husky giggle escaped her lips as her point was proven.

“See?”

“Wench,” he muttered, cupping her face as she ground her hips against his. Lowering his head, he caught her lips in a brutal kiss, forcing her back against the wall.

Her fingers danced along the buttons of his shirt as she held his head in place until they came to the place where it tapered into his trousers. Softly, almost like a whisper, her fingers danced over the waistband of the black trousers and down the placket, stroking the hardness through the material.

Severus pulled back, his chest heaving as he took in great gulps of oxygen. Looking down at her, he felt a surge of passion wash over him. Her eyes were glazed over, her lips were swollen from their shared kisses and her skin was flushed. He groaned as she became even more bold and pressed her palm against his straining erection, and his hand flew up to rest on the wall beside her head as his hips bucked involuntarily against her questing fingers.

“Hermione…” Her name was a mere exhalation of breath from his lips as he fought for control.

“Severus…” She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, heavy with desire.

Running a hand through his hair, he stepped back, taking a deep breath before reaching down and grabbing her wrist. “I will not be made to… make a mess of my trousers like some… excitable school boy, Professor Granger.”

She smirked up at him, a lazy smirk that promised desire, passion and so much more. “You were taking entirely too long to get to the bedroom,” she reasoned, her voice… her voice a mere shadow of its normal alto. Turning, Severus tugged her along the hallway, his eyes narrowed with determination. Pulling her into the room after him, he shut the door and turned, only to be assaulted by five feet and six inches of squirming, aroused witch.