Understanding

Once again, all Harry Potter belongs to JKR; all song lyrics and titles belong to Amy Lee and Ben Moody of Evanescence unless otherwise noted.

Sorry it took so long. Xmas and everything... But, as you will notice, it is a bit longer than my previous chapters AND there is a bit of smut (the Diet Coke of smut) at the end. You must forgive me- it is my first attempt at smut and I'm an idiot and somehow wrote myself into a corner so that I would have to write it from Snape's POV. I don't know very much sexually from my own standpoint, so I hope it's at least semi-believable from Snape's!

Understanding
Chapter Eight:
Field Of Innocence

****I still remember the world from the eyes of a child
Slowly those feelings were clouded by what I know now
Where has my heart gone?
An uneven trade for the real world
I want to go back to believing in everything
And knowing nothing at all
I still remember the sun always warm on my back
Somehow it seems colder now
Where has my heart gone?
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger
I want to go back to believing in everything****


I had never known the truth of the expression that sometimes reality hits you.

My reality had arrived without warning and with the consistency of a fully-loaded semi-truck.

Entering the funeral parlor, every molecule of oxygen that had ever resided in my body made a hasty exit and I felt my chest flatten and collapse. My pulse throbbed through every inch of my body and I'm not sure how or why but my lungs seemed to be functioning even though I was sure I was not breathing. Snape and Dumbledore flanked me, but as I entered the sitting room, they fell back, allowing me time alone with...

Those weren't my parents.

Sorry, there's been some mistake.

Yes, they looked like very waxy, fake versions of my parents, but the corpses in the shiny, highly polished caskets were not my parents.

Approaching the casket holding the likeness of my father, a choked sob ripped through my body and I could not contain it. I did not kneel, I did not pray. I wailed. I stood there for quite some time, quickly becoming a big snotty mess. I could still feel Snape watching me, and I wanted nothing more than for him to hold me again. For some reason, his arms were the only solace I had been able to find through this whole ordeal. But both Snape and Dumbledore stayed where they were, in the doorway. Some legilimens you are, Snape!

He couldn't have read my mind had it been illustrated by Dr. Seuss!

The man in the casket wore my father's favorite turtleneck (he could not be buried in his suit due to the lacerations on his neck); he bore the scar above his right eyebrow where I had split him open the summer he tried to teach me to play baseball. But he wasn't my dad.

The corpse that had been my mother was wearing my mother's favorite dress, her hair unnaturally styled, and her makeup too obvious. I honestly felt nothing looking upon the two of them. The bodies meant nothing to me. They were the arms that had held me, the shoulders I had cried on, and the lips who had kissed me goodnight every night of my life until I left for Hogwarts. But they were meaningless now.

I remember my mother saying that after her father's death she hadn't been afraid because she had felt him with her, that she didn't need to be sad because he still there, in spirit, at least. I didn't feel my parents with me, but I didn't feel them gone, either. There was such an unquestionable reality to the situation, and I could not bring myself to be sad. There was no use. Crying wouldn't bring them back. Not living my life wouldn't bring them back. Perhaps it was the control freak in me telling me to give it up. There was no one else to grieve. No one else to mourn. It was over. It was done. I couldn't change the fact that Harry and Ron were gone. I couldn't change the fact that my parents were dead. I couldn't change a goddamn thing, and instead of fighting it and becoming depressed, logical, intelligent, straight-laced Hermione Granger was going to give in.

You win, Fate. They're dead. I'm alone. I accept it. Now can I please leave this disgusting funeral home that smells... well, quite frankly, of death and semi-rotted flesh?

It wasn't that I was in denial about my parents' deaths. I knew they would never be coming back. I knew they were gone forever. So I didn't understand why anyone would want to see the garish representations of them that were their semi-preserved corpses. The bodies were not my parents. The flesh was nothing more than carrion now, and I cared very little about it.

I thought it was very silly for people to come here and look at their bodies. If they wanted to mourn my father, they should have watched an American football game and tried to hold a conversation using only lines from "Tommy Boy." They should have listened to his Beatles CDs. They should have read any of his academic-looking tomes on ancient history. They should've tinkered with his beat-up, I mean, classic Mustang in the garage. I had no idea why anyone would want to view his body. He was never all that fond of it anyway.

If people wanted to remember my mother, they should have whistled off-key and cluelessly sung songs with the wrong words. They should've told stupid jokes that were more cheesy than funny and laughed as if they were watching a stand-up comedian. They should have prepared dinner and made enough for five people even though there were only three people there, you know, "for left-overs." They should have listened to her sing the songs that reminded her of Ireland, the sad rebel songs that left me longing to have known Roddy McCorley and the minstrel boy.

Why would seeing their bodies help anyone when they clearly weren't there any longer? Maybe I was numb by that time. Maybe I was shocked, but I had no desire to stay there. I had seen my parents' bodies for the last time, and I was good and ready to leave before anyone else had even arrived. But I would not be allowed. "People will want to see you, Hermione." But I didn't want to see them. How many responses to "I'm so sorry" are there? I mean, honestly, what are you supposed to say?

"Yeah, well. Guess you're glad your life doesn't suck as bad as mine."

I mean, really. What was I supposed to say?

But I sat quietly like a good girl for the insufferable four hour period, the only bright spot being the arrival of the Weasleys.

Well, what was left of them.

Arthur and Charlie walked in very solemnly and respectfully with Percy rather stuffily and pompusly following behind them. I never liked him. Upon seeing me, Arthur and Charlie threw their arms around me, both crying. I know it was more for their own losses and I didn't begrudge them one second of that emotion. I have heard of people who get jealous of grief- who are too wrapped up in their own pity parties to understand that others have felt loss themselves, but I was not one of those people. How could hold any of their emotion against them? They were my friends, my allies, and now, some of the only family I had left.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Mr. Weasley breathed, barely audible, and I hugged him tightly. I knew he meant it. I knew he meant he wasn't just sorry at the situation. He was sorry I was alone. He was sorry my life had been taken from me. He rstorstood.

Backing away from Arthur and Charlie, I noticed Percy and smiled at him. He nodded at me.

Okay, guess it's an asshole thing, not just a Snape thing.

I learned that the Weaselys would be staying for the funeral the next day and I hastily asked them to be pallbearers. My parents were great people, but they hadn't exactly built up a strong network of friends. They had very little family, and even with the Weasleys I still had to fill one pallbearer spot.

I would be damned if I was going to ask Snape.

Mr. Weasley's eyes lit up for a split second after agreeing, enchanted by the chance to learn something of Muggle culture. In exchange, I offered to give him one of our televisions, and he praallyally clapped with delight.

Luckily, the wake came and went fast enough, and my family, Snape, Dumbledore, and the Weaselys all made their way back to the house where I promptly turned on the television, ordered them pizza, and passed out on the couch.

God, emotion was exhausting.

The next morning, I woke up in my own bed with no recollection of how I had arrived there, but as I was wearing the exact same clothes I had worn to the wake, I assumed I had not been taken advantage of. Not that Snape would have taken advantage of me. He had made that point very clear.

Dammit.

Glancing at the clock, I had just rolled over to leave bed when there was a soft tap on my door. Soft tap, not crushing blow. Okay, so it wasn't Snape. Soon, Amy poked her head in to give me my "wake-up call." I explained that at six o'clock in the morning, I had no desire to hear her rendition of the *N Sync "No Strings Attached" tour, but it didn't stop her from jumping on my bed shouting "Bye bye bye..." I ran into the shower before she could start in on "Space Cowboys."

What can I say? I'm a Backstreet Girl.

My parents' funeral was the single worst experience of my life, and I suppose I'm lucky that now that the details are so blurred and distorted in my mind from years trying to repress them. Honestly, thinking on it now, I see flashes of images, but not many straight coherent thoughts among them. There is one thing I remember, though- barely suppressed giggles. I have always had a problem with inappropriate thoughts popping into my head at times when I should not be giggling. I was crying and pretending to listen to the homily when, I swear to God, I heard my father's voice say, "Doesn't Father O'Connor look like Kewpie doll today?" During one particularly somber moment, a slight glimpse of Snape inspired a memory of a drunken game of Truth or Dare with Harry, Ron, Neville, and Ginny.

"Harry Potter, truth or dare?" I asked.

"Truth."

"If you could cast any Unforgiveable, who would you curse, why, and if Imperius, what would you make them do?"

A drunken Harry conversed shortly with an even more sloshed Ron before turning back to me.

"Imperius, Snape, and I'd make him only able to speak in quotations from sexually explicit rap songs."

"Harry! ANY Unforgiveable- to ANYONE. And you choose Snape? And why would you choose that? It seems kind of a waste to have him speak in song lyrics."

"It would be the ONLY thing he could say," chimed in Ron. "I mean, come on Hermione, can't you just see it? 'Um, excuse me, Professor, but what was that second ingredient?'"

"'Well, Mr. Weasley," Harry began Snapily. "'I like big butts, and I cannot lie.'"

I giggled hysterically in the church under the guise of crying. Thinking about it, it really *was* a funny idea. Misguided, but funny. Snape cast a sidelong glance at me, but I only pretended I was crying harder. It wasn't difficult, I was crying, after all, even if I was laughing inside.

The last thing I remember about the funeral and my inappropriate thoughts is walking back to my pew after communion and thinking, "Jesus is stuck to the roof of my mouth." I was immediately sure I was going to go to Hell for the thought, but it was really fucking funny at the time.

Oh, and I remember that we hadn't been able to come up with our pallbearer and Snape had had to do it.

But that's about it.

Isn't lovely the way the human mind works? I hardly remember the gut-wrenching pain that shot through me as my parents were lowered into the ground. I could never tell you how long mass lasted or how far away the cemetery was. I barely recall not being able to breathe as the cantor at the church sang "You'll Never Walk Alone" from "Carousel." She was wrong, by the way. Since that day and for every day since I most certainly have been walking alone.

Back at the house, I said goodbye to my relatives. Aunt Peggy had offered to drive my American relatives to the airport, so I had time to collect my thoughts. I thought it was nice of her, but soon found Dumbledore had asked her to do it. It seemed I had unfinished business with the Headmaster.

And so, Dumbledore and Snape sat me down, much like they had that day with the lawyer, and the Headmaster stared at me as if trying to think of ways to explain the concept of sharing to a toddler.

"Hermione. You may have noticed that we did not bring any of your things with us from Hogwarts," he began cautiously as though he was unsure of his wording.

"I assumed you could have it sent here." Seemed logical enough to me.

"Hermione, dear. I... I don't really know how to tell you this, sweetheart."

I was tempted to tell him to spit it out. He had told me my parents were dead with no hesitation, what could be so bad now?

"You are not a legal adult in the Muggle world."

Um... duh, sir.

"But I'll be eighteen in three and a half months," I answered, not really seeing where the conversation was going.

"And until then, you may not hold the title to a house or a car, you may not sign for anything legally, and you could, technically, be forced into an orphanage if found living here by yourself. Hermione-"

How many fucking times is he going to use my name?

"Your parents' will indicated that should anything happen to them while you were underage, you should be placed in my protective custody until you come of age. You will be returning to Hogwarts with Professor Snape and myself in the morning."

Now that it was out, I wanted him to take it a little more slowly.

"Of course, you are an adult in the wizarding world, and as such you will be granted full freedom on Hogwarts grounds and in Hogsmeade. You will be given private quarters in the faculty wing and will have all of your time completely at your leisure. This is not meant as a punishment, only a precaution for your safety. You will only need to stay at the school until your birthday in September."

"But... Couldn't I sue to be emancipated to stay here?" It wasn't that I didn't like Hogwarts, but I was done there. There was nothing left for me there. Especially not with the way things were going with Snape. A whole summer alone in the castle with a man who wanted me (I knew it. No matter what he did, I knew he wanted me. He HAD to!) but wouldn't admit it was not the most appealing thought.

"Of course, Hermione, but the legal eedieedings would take at least three months, and by that time, the point will be moot. It is simply the best situation for all of us that you return to Hogwarts. It is what your parents willed."

Why was it that everyone suddenly knew what my parents would have wanted or how proud they would be of me. I mean, in Dumbledore's case, it had been written down, but how the fuck could people I had never seen before in my life keep saying "Oh, they'd be so proud of yo Yea Yeah, I know they would. They told me so the day they died when they owled me at breakfast!

Suddenly, I felt a soft pat on my knee as Dumbledore stood.

"Get your rest, Hermione. We leave in the morning."

Dumbledore made his way up the stairs, followed shortly by Snape, and I took the opportunity to gaze around my home one more time. I resisted the urge to think of it as the last time. When faced with the prospect of being forced to stay here alone, I had wanted to leave and never come back. Now, being forced back to Hogwarts, I had no desire to leave my home. I wondered if my emotions would ever stop running rampant, if I'd ever be able to distinguish between laughing and crying again. It seemed unlikely, and with a heavy sigh, I turned oue doe downstairs lights and trudged up the stairs.

And stopped dead at the sight in front of me.

Snape's door stood halfway open and he, apparently oblivious to the fact, was naked in front of it. He was inside the room, his back to me, gettinady ady for bed. I slunk back into the shadows, hoping he wouldn't turn around and see me.

Well, I was hoping he wouldn't see me.

I kind of wanted him to turn around.

Starting at his broad shoulders, I began a thorough investigation of his body. His back was wide and well-toned, though his pale skin was criss-crossed with many scars. Lowering my gaze to his ass, I'm just a little embarassed to admit I felt myself get wet fantasizing about him. I'd never seen a man naked, and I'd certainly never pegged myself as someone who'd have an avid appreciation of such a thing, but GODDAMN! The man was beautiful!

I watched the muscles in his back stretch and flex as he picked up a pair of sweatpants from the suitcase on his bed.

Don't put them on.

Don't put them on!

DAMMIT!

He puem oem on.

Moving my eyes back up (There was nothing fun to look at down there anymore), I began to contemplate those scars. Every one of them probably had its own story, its own life, and I suddenly wanted to know all of them. I wanted to know who had done this to him and why. I wanted to make all of his pain go away.

I had a sudden compun ton to trace each of those scars.

First with my fingers, then with my lips.

I 't w't want to do it.

But I couldn't help myself.

He jumped as I laid my cold hands on his back and began my investigation.

"Hermione," he scolded, but it was not scary in any way, at least not to me. In fact, it came out more like a plea for more. The fact that he hadn't turned away and had actually tilted his head back in a movement I took to be submission only encouraged me. His eyes were closed, and I could not resist the urge to stand on my tip toes and kiss him right at the juncture of his neck and strong jawline. He shivered and repeated his plea.

"Hermione, please." But instead of stopping, I ran my hands around his side to rest on his chest as I began to kiss his back in a very strange pattern. Tracing his scars. Hoping to erase the torment that I was sure accompanied all those lovely little reminders of his days in Voldemort's service. He couldn't possibly have realized or understood all that I felt for him, but right then all I wanted to do was lose myself in him, to not think about all that was going on.

Turning to face me, he slipped his hands to my waist and looked in my eyes. I could not place the emotion on his face. Probably because it was such an odd occurence for it to be there at all. But I gazed back at him intently. He was not getting away tonight.

"Hermione, we can't do this." I simply put a finger to my lips and gently kissed his chest.

"You're vulnerable," he managed to mumble around my finger. "I couldn't take advantage." He was adament and had pushed away somewhat. I had to think quickly, and my mind finally flashed with a scene from some John Cusak movie- don't remember which one- and I unabashedly stole it.

"I need to do SOMETHING, Severus. I need to FEEL something. I've got to take my mind off everything. It's either this or I hurt myself. And I'll do it in a Muggle way so you can't trace it." Concern flashed in his eyes, and I was sure he didn't believe me but wasn't willing to call my bluff.

"Hermione, please," he begged, taking my hands and leading me to sit on the bed. "You don't understand what you're playing at. I may be a heartless bastard, but I am still a man. With feelings and needs. I don't want to be your pity fuck."

"That's not what this is," I murmurred quietly, but I felt myolveolve slipping away. He was going to reject me again.

"Maybe not, sweetheart."

Dear God! Did Severus Snape, president of Assholes Anonymous, just use a pet name?

"But your parents have just been buried, you are very emotional, and I don't want to do something you will regret in the morning." But even as he made this speech, his hand had moved to cup my face and stroke my hair, the other still rubbing my hands soothingly. I saw my opening, and though he was right in assessing the fact that I did feel extremely vulnerable just then, I leaned in close to him. I could feel the heat emanating off his body and once again I could not resist. I quickly dropped my eyes to his dorky black sweatpants.

Hmmm. They didn't seem to be so puffed up in the front like that ten minutes ago.

The wanton sex goddess part of myself that I hadn't known existed until, well... I'll be damned, about ten minutes ago... took over my actions and logical, thinking Hermione was quickly replaced with hormonal, lonely, horny Hermione.

God help me, I liked sex goddess Hermione. She seemed decidedly happier than the regular me.

"You don't seem sure of that, Severus," I purred as I looked him in the eye, making sure he caught the fact that I'd seen his erection. Slowly, and, God help me if I know where I got the know-how or will to do so, gently raised his hand to kiss his palm, sending visible shivers all over his body as he closed his eyes.

Ooh, I like that. Do it again.

The power I had over him was quickly intoxicating me and paralysizing me with fear at the same time.

"Please, Severus," I begged shamelessly, holding his hand close to my heart. "I want you. I want you so badly." I was practically on the verge of tears, the vulnerable Hermione suddenly and inexplicably making a return engagement and had closed my eyes, afraid to shed the tears I feared to be forming behind my eyes. I had virtually moaned the last statement, and it made my insides twist and writhe in a way both exciting and damning. I felt myself get even wetter as he hoarsely whispered to me.

"Go close and lock the door."

****
She smiled shyly at me as she walked to the door, placing not only a locking but a silencing spell on it. Leaning back on the bed, my arms propped behind me, I closed my eyes again, conflicting emotions running through my head like the fucking Hogwarts Express. I wanted her so badly it was physically painful, and I believed her when she said she wanted me, but I wanted her for more than tonight. I wanted to be more to her than comfort in a time when she had lost everything important to her. I wanted to be important to her myself, not the tangential figure I supposed I was. I wanted her, all of her, and I could see nothing but bad feelings coming from this impending intimacy.

"Miss me?" she asked sweetly as I felt her straddle me.

Good God, Granger! You go straight for the jugular, don't you?

I moaned loudly and involuntarily bucked up against her as she settled herself against me. She smiled bravely, licking her lower lip, and I placed my hand on the back of her neck to pull her close and kiss her. I had every intention of starting slowly, but Hermione, it seemed, had different ideas. Her tongue had hastily parted my lips and soon I was involved in the most passionate kiss I had ever experienced.

Okay, so I didn't have much to base it on, but still...

I could feel her smiling underneathlipslips as she ground her hips against me and felt me push back against her. I hesitated for a moment. Was she truly a virgin as I had believed? She wasn't acting like it!

Taking a firm hold of her, I turned the both of us so that she was laying on her back and I was hovering over her. I took the time to look at her- really look at her for the first time siwe'dwe'd become close. She was gazing up at me with those big brown eyes, full of lust hopehope and trust, and it broke my heart thinking that it was all for me. She smiled shyly and broke the eye contact, suddenly visibly nervous, but I not not end my assessment. I studied her perfect lips that really felt at home beneath my own and her beautiful breasts I was aching to touch.

"Severus?" she called weakly, timidly. I realized I had zoned out and smiled my apology to her before claiming her lips again, this time not allowing her to move things too quickly. She sighed as my hands came to rest on her waist, and she shivered as they made their way slowly up her sides. I was practically lying on top of her now, and I took the opportunity to break the kiss and move my lips up her neck all the way to her ear. She squirmed and giggled as my lips tickled her and my hands began to roam over her breasts.

"You are so beautiful," I whispered, glad that not only my hair was curtaining my face but hers was as well. I was suddenly sure my face was red, and I was entirely self-conscious about every move I made. But then I felt her small hand begin to wind itself in my hair and I heard her response.

"I was just thinking that about you." I could feel her face heat up next to mine and I smiled knowing she was just as nervous and vulnerable as I was. I kissed her just below her ear and worked my way to her collar bone, the lowest flesh I could reach before encountering her shirt. Slowly, I ran my hands away from her breasts and up under the hem of her shirt. She moaned my name, which I took to be a good sign, and continued. Pulling the offending fabric over her head, I was rewarded by the sight of her upper body. She was well-endowed but with no discernable ounce of fat on her. I vaguely remembered Ginny Weasley pointing out at Gimmauld Place one night, "You can't be a freedom fighter and have a big butt," as she passed on seconds of her mothre's pudding. I guessed Hermione had taken that statement to heart because she was the most well-proportioned woman I had ever seen, and I had at one time beensidesidered one of Voldemort's top rapists. Then again, I hadn't bothered undressing most of them.

I physically shook myself of the memories and kissed Hermione again. She kissed me back with such fervor I thought I would die from the pleasure, and soon things began progressing so quickly there was no thought involved, only instinct. I had moved to rest on to her her fully and she moaned every time my painfully swollen cock touched her anywhere close to her core. Soon we were moving in unison and both ached to complete the act, but I had promised myself at the beginning that I would not fuck her tonight. She may want me tonight, and if she really did, she would still want me tomorrow, but I point-blank refused to deflower her on the night of her parents' funeral.

By the way she was squirming, I could tell she was becoming impatient, and I gently ran a finger under the waistband of her pants. She moaned loudly, her eyes flying open wide.

"Severus!"

I grinned wickedly, suddenly in a very Snapey mood. The power I had over her was quite the aphrodisiac, and I slowly ran my finger over the front of her underwear, dipping ever so slightly in the front. She gasped and wiggled, biting her lower lip.

"You like that, Hermione?" I asked, smirking and continuously rubbing her through her underwear. She wouldn't take much more, I could tell. Her underwear were soaked, and she was moaning almost nonstop. With an almost pained look on her f she she nodded, but I knew I couldn't let that pass. "What was that?" She moaned again and nodded vigorously. Smirking purposefully and leaning close to her face, I nipped at her lower lip but did not kiss her.

"Say it, Hermione," I hissed. "Tell me you want me. Tell me what you want me to do." She td myd my head forcefully to kiss me insistently and after the brief but powerful kiss, she released me, practically sobbing her response.

"I want you Severus! Touch me! Please! I need you!"

Needless to say, it was encouragement enough for me.

With very little flourish or fanfare, I had removed her pants and panties in one swift movement and she was gloriously naked under me save for her bra which I never had the priviledge of removing as she tore it off herself. I laughed at her. She never was very patient about trying new things, was she? My hand molded itself to her and the other sought out her breasts while she bucked and moaned and pretty much lost all control of her movements. My hand between her legs had barely moved for fear of setting off an entirely too premature orgasm (I won't lie- I did it as much for myself as for her), but I was suddenly and irresistably drawn to lay my lips on her breasts. As my mouth closed around her nipple, Hermione literally screamed. I laughed softly again and told her if she could not contain herself I may be forced to stop. I was not entirely joking when I told her this. If Dumbledore was watching his wand at all, he would have known she had cast a silencing charm and would be working in his own unobtrusive, fatherly way to find out why. It was all I needed to have him crack the spell while she was screaming my name.

Actually, now that I think about it, that probably would have been a pretty kick-ass way to get fired.

Hermione settled somewhat, but as I began my ministrations again, I felt her hand impatiently tug at my waistband. I allowed her to pull the pants down and we both gasped as I laid myself on top of her. I had never known anything could feel so right. Hermione had begun to move under me, wordlessly begging me to enter her, but I could not oblige her tonight. I may be a bastard, but I have some morals. So I rolled to my side and began to run my fingers through her wet folds, seeing her buck and hearing her groan. Her reaction encouraged me and I hadn't intended it, I swear I hadn't, but I couldn't stop myself from lowering my head to her and running my tongue over her clit.

"OH MY GOD, SEVERUS!"

Screw it. If Dumbledore heard, I really couldn't care anymore.

Her hands attached themselves to my head, and it appeared that I would never be allowed to leave my post tasting every inch of her. God, I wanted her so badly! She was so beautiful, so intelligent, so fucking *willing*. I could feel her begin to come and I had to pull myslef away. I wanted her to come for me, but like the pervert I knew I would feel like in the morning, I wanted to watch her. She cried out as I left her, but my hand soon replaced my mouth and I began pumping fingers inside her eagerly. With my other hand, I took hers and guided it to my cock. It was already leaking and I knew that with the slightest provocation, I would come with her.

But her hand stopped dead, and the moans ceased escaping from her mouth.

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

Please don't tell me to stop.

Please don't tell me to .
.

"We can stop if you like."

Goddamn morals! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Why on earth would I offer to stop? I was so fargone that if she asked me to stop I'd probably have to jack myself off right there in front of her anyway.

"No!" she replied, though she seemed e a e a bit less sure of herself than she had earlier this evening. "It's just... Um... I don't know how... I've never..."

God, was that it? I kissed her deeply and began moving my fingers on her again. Her hand, though limp (bad choice of words), had never left me, and I placed my free hand over hers and began to pump, showing her how. Yes, it was little more than glorified masturbation, but if it was what she could offer me now, I would gladly take it and beg for more. Through our kiss, I felt her moan into my mouth and knew she was getting very very close. I moved harder and faster and heard her whimpering my name.

"That's it, Hermione. Come for me, Hermione. I wan see see you come for me." She began shaking and moaning extremely loudly, her muscles clamping around my fingers, and as I felt her come, my own release flooded over me.

Well, more like over her hands.

Leave me alone. I just had the hand job of my life, and I'm fucking exhausted.

*************A/N*************
"Baby Got Back" belongs to Sir Mix-A-Lot (Don't ask me how I know that)

Also, it has been brought to me attention that Hermione would be able to drive at 17. Sorry. I could've sworn I read an interview with Rupert Grint and he said you couldn't have a license in England 'til you're 18, but I guess I'm wrong. Sorry...my bad.

Thank you:
Flick: Thank you for your review and for wishing me a very merry Snape. Didn't get him, though. I have a feeling GrrArrg hijacked Santa's sleigh and intercepted him somewhere along the line...

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X: Thank you very much. Your words meant a lot to me!

Kristi:Wow! Thank you so much for all your kind words! I actually cried reading your review, and I've NEVER done that! Thank you so, so much! I can't even write words to express how much that meant to me! I hope I do not disappoint.

GrrArrg: Oh, what can I say? I've already told you you rock hard-core and that you're my favoritest ever, so all I can do is say you are one of the bestest reviewers EVER! Thank you SO much for having my back after my little... um... tantrum. I just remember how pissed off I was when someone yelled at you, and I was SO afraid you'd stop writing! But I'll keep going if you do, okay? I can't wait for your next chapter!

Carol: Thank you. My thoughts exactly on the back button. Don't worry, though. I love the good reviews too much to not finish the story!

WendyNat: Thank you so much! I hope you liked this chapter, and thank you so much for reassuring me in my time of doubt!

aphrodeia:Thank you so, so much! I'm glad you liked the silencing spell line- it was a personal favorite! And if having a Snape obsession is wrong, I NEVER want to be right!

Talene: Thank you for your review, and I want you to know that if you ever feel like talking to someone, you can always e-mail me. You sounded so very, very depressed it kinda scared me. I know I know nothing about you, but I don't want anyone to be so unhappy. So, I guess if this story brings any happiness into your life, I'm glad.

shemhamforash: Thanks! I'm a little embarassed to be so highly praised, but thank you so so so much! Umm... as far as being Severus' keeper, I'm afraid he's already agreed to move to Utah and marry both GrrArrg and me and live a simple, polygamistic life...
Thank you for encouraging me after the flaming! You rock!

**PS** If it won't incite a riot like it did when GrrArrg asked, could you each please tell me a bit about yourself in your next review? Call me sentimental, but you lot make me feel like I have friends. Real friends. And if I print it out, maybe the doctors will let me out of my restraints for the weekend. They think I'm making you up.