Getting Past Broken: Part Five

[tychesong]

Still smiling, Hermione drew her tongue in a line up the underside of his cock and then licked a slow circle around the head of it, teasing him. He grunted slightly, tilting his hips toward her in silent demand, and she let out a low laugh. She wrapped a hand around his base gently, and he demanded, "Harder. You are not going to hurt me, Hermione."

She tightened her grip slightly, but still didn't suck him into her mouth the way she knew he was waiting for. She had put off Ron for the last month or so this way, and liked to think she had gotten fairly good at it. She wanted to drive him as close to insane as humanly possible. So instead, she continued to draw the flat of her tongue up his length, licking it like a lolly, so close, and yet so far from what he actually wanted.

"Hermione," he drew her name out in a hissed breath, and she smiled in response, before closing her mouth over him, her lips wrapping around the head of his cock and sucking strongly. She drew him in further and gave a calculated moan, remembering how the same action had always driven Ron a bit mad. She twisted the hand still gripping his base, and rotated her head the opposite way, hollowing her cheeks as she slowly drew back up his shaft.

Severus swore softly above her, his fingers plunging into her hair, twining into fists to grip it as she began to slowly bob up and down on his cock, her hand twisting, her mouth wet and moaning. She loosened her jaw slightly, attempting to take more of him at the same time that he pumped his hips slightly, hitting the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, and pulled off him long enough to say, slightly apologetically, "I haven't figured out how to deep throat yet, I've always gagged when he tried."

His grip loosened on her hair immediately, and his body stilled, rigid. "Go at whatever pace you need, I'll control myself better, just please, don't bloody stop, or mention that wanker again." His eyes burned down at her, and then closed briefly when she sucked him gently into her mouth again. "Do you have any idea what it does to me, the sight of you like this?"

His eyes glittered as he traced her upper lip, lingering where it sealed around him. His hand trembled slightly, as it lifted back to her hair. Hermione swallowed, her mouth tightening on him, and felt his thigh tighten under her free hand. For the first time doing this, she didn't feel like it was a chore, a lesser evil to have to tolerate. A feeling of power blossomed low in her-she might be the one on her knees, but Severus was the one putting himself at her mercy.

Experimentally, she leaned forward again, sucking strongly, pumping her hand as she drew him as deep into her mouth as she could. He was thick, hot and smooth, gliding in and out of her mouth, tasting of salt and man.

He groaned loudly, the sound sending shivers down her spine and prompting a response from her. His eyes were glazed as she picked up her rhythm, lifting her free hand to roll his balls between her fingers. He was utterly smooth-completely hairless from their bathing accident, and while the texture was a bit strange, it was also rather nice.

She did rather miss the little trail from his navel, though. On that thought, she released his cock with a small pop, and gave him a sly look. Feeling rather deliciously naughty, Hermione ran her tongue from the crown of his erection to the base, and then up the invisible line where that little trail had been. She lingered briefly, circling his navel once, and then retraced her line back downward.

"Hermione." He grunted.

"I'm going to take advantage of your current state," she said, and proceeded to suck one of his balls into her mouth, rolling it a little as she did so.

"FUCK." He burst out, not expecting it, his fingers tightening into fists in her hair again.

She released him, and repeated the process on the other side, only letting go in order to kiss her way up his cock and lick it into her mouth again. It was a heady, dizzying feeling to have Severus Snape clearly so affected from what she did-he seemed to be getting more and more restless, closer to the edge of being unable to hold himself back from pumping into her mouth. She continued for several minutes, relishing the hot slide of him over her tongue, the way he grunted slightly whenever she moaned. After several minutes, she released him and stood, shrugging out of her clothes as she did so and enjoying the way his eyes devoured her. She felt beautiful under his gaze, beautiful and unashamed in a way she had never thought was possible, especially after her scarring.

"You said you wanted me on your lab table before you were done with me, as I recall?" she baited him, watching his eyes flare in response. He closed them briefly and took two deep breathes, clearly attempting to collect himself. When they opened again, he appeared to have banked his desire, though it was still evident.

He reached out for her and pulled her to him, drawing her arms up around his neck, and for a moment their eyes caught and held. She had expected him to kiss her forcefully, with the same burning fire that he had used the day previously. Instead he halted, and for a minute Hermione fancied she could fall into his eyes, and he into hers, like they were both poised on the edge of a dock, on a deep and bottomless lake.

Hermione let out the barest of sighs and let herself fall into his kiss, into him. It was encompassing and rich-the sort of kiss she might have daydreamed about as a young girl, before the practicality of war had forced her to turn off such thoughts. Her mind swirled with something she couldn't adequately decipher; a sense of urgent lust and longing that felt both fiercely right and somehow sad. It was like being part of a fantastical dream she had always hungered for and yet knew would end.

He broke off their kiss, and stared at her intensely. She could almost see her thoughts echoed in his eyes, leaving her to wonder if he hadn't just used Legilimency on her. She found herself desperately wanting to ask, but unwilling to shatter the magnitude of the moment. His hands stroked down her back softly, almost reverently, halting to clasp the curves of her rear. He lifted her, fitting her more thoroughly against him, and turned to set her on the table.

She felt decadent, naked as she was while he was still chiefly clothed; yet oddly cherished. The memory of him filling her, gliding hotly between her thighs and her lips, made her burn. She wanted it again; it was utterly undeniable. She wanted this man inside her again, without any fear or anxiety. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of his coat, and she whispered, "Is it always like this?"

He hesitated slightly, and then shook his head. "Lean into my hands, Hermione. I'm going to lay you back, but not hold you down."

Something blossomed and loosened in her chest even as she felt her smile widen on her face. She leaned back in his arms, allowing him to carefully lower her to the cool, granite-topped table. He arched a devilish eyebrow at her, and used one hand to lift one of her legs to rest on his shoulder, even as guided himself to her entrance with the other.

He had entered her previously with such sudden and rapid force; it had completely caught her off guard. They had been mutually caught up in desire and sensation, at the time, thoroughly lost to each other. He took his time, now, thrusting forward with brain-melting languidness. The odd angle made her feel constricted, made him feel larger, longer, and Hermione felt as if her body had to almost struggle to accept him this way.

His head turned minutely to where his right hand held her calf firmly in place on his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss into the arch of her foot. His left hand slid up the thigh of the leg that still dangled over the end of the table to caress her softly, drawing a long moan and subtle arching of her back. All the while he continued to press slowly-ever so slowly!-inside her. He was attempting to drive her as mad as he had claimed she was; there was really no other explanation.

She attempted to spread her legs wider, tried to urge him to move faster, but he held her firmly in place. "Patience, Hermione…I'm trying to pace us."

"I don't want slow!" She whined, and was pleased to see him smile in response. He looked fascinatingly disheveled above her, more so than he had naked. He was still wearing his coat, though it hung open on his lean frame, and his starched shirt was unbuttoned several centimetres. Coupled with his long hair and crooked, smirking smile, he was the very picture of debauchery.

Over the course of the next twenty or so minutes he drove her to a slow, screaming climax, his long fingers stroking her torso, rolling her nipples and then drawing back down to thumb her clitoris. He didn't pick up speed until the very end, when he came just a hairsbreadth before she did, his fingers insistently dancing and pressing her overly sensitized centre.

She lay panting on the table for several long moments, watching while he carefully lowered her leg off his shoulder and summoned a damp cloth from the sink on the opposite side of the table. She blushed as he cleaned them both, and then grasped her hand to pull her back into an upright position.

"That was…extremely enjoyable," he stated, his pleased smirk still in place.

Hermione grinned back, and then grimaced as she felt her hair, trying to pat down the tangled curls unsuccessfully.

"Leave it," he told her, bending to pick up her clothes and set them on the table next to her.

"It must look a complete mess," she protested.

He still had apparently not learned the Very Important Lesson, because his expression was rather smugly pleased with himself as he responded, "Yes, it is. I rather like it; this time you're a mess I've made."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat again and she hurriedly drew her knickers on, sliding off the table in order to get them the rest of the way on. Despite his gentle cleaning of her, her thighs still felt damp and slightly sticky, and she suddenly went pale as realisation struck. "Severus! I haven't taken any contraceptives, or used the charm!"

He gave her a disgruntled look. "First of all, I should hope you are not ever using the charm, as it is far less effective than the potion, and its duration is unpredictable at best. Secondly," He glared when she opened her mouth to protest that it was still better than nothing, and continued firmly over the top of her. "Secondly, you must always remember to take the potion, Hermione. You cannot rely on your partner to always be responsible. Or have your best interests at heart."

"I know, truly I do; I'm usually so careful, even when I'm not having sex," she said miserably, continuing to dress.

"That being said," he peered down his large nose at her, buttoning his own coat nimbly, "I am an extremely cautious individual, and in this particular instance, you need not worry. I brewed and took a monthly potion yesterday before arriving at your home, just in case."

Relief flooded her and she gave him a grateful smile. "Thank Merlin," she breathed. He snorted eloquently and gestured to the door leading to his sitting room. Hermione cast a longing look back at the table of notes on the far end of the room next to the simmering cauldron. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "May I help you?"

Both of his eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline in shock, and he asked incredulously, "Hermione, what help do you think you could be in this?" He seemed to check himself, noticing the indignant expression spreading over her face, before continuing, "I have no intention of belittling your talents, but even you said you did not understand what I was doing over there. You never continued your Potions education beyond Hogwarts, and this compound is of a Mastery level!"

Hermione pressed her lips together and tilted her chin at him mutinously. "If you do not want my help, that is certainly your prerogative, I am well aware that Potionery is not my specialty. However, you should consider the fact that while Potionery is not, Arithmancy is." She took a deep breath and forged ahead, not willing to give him the chance to object before she finished. "At the level you are brewing, with the complication of the compound, you need Arithmancy. The possible combinations and order of the components, the timing, the number of stirs, and the level of heat-all the possibilities increase exponentially.

"You are free to turn down my offer, of course, but I am one of the most prominent Arithmancers in the Ministry, and I think what you are doing is fascinating. I would love to run the magical equations for you in order to come to more precise measurements for everything." She stopped to study his expression, and then added softly, "I'm not asking to share credit, and it's certainly not contingent on anything. It's just…far more interesting than anything that the Ministry has given me to do. They are only interested population and opinion statistics."

His expression was unreadable for a long moment, then he finally grimaced, and muttered, "I hate Arithmancy, there is no art to it. Come along then, I'll explain in more detail."

Excited and pleased, Hermione followed him back over to his notes and bent over the table with him, listening intently as he broke down the three major bases of his compound and explained them each to her in painstaking detail. He had far more patience with her in regards to his own work than he had ever shown as an instructor in class, she thought amusedly.

She retreated to the far end of the room again so as not to interfere with his workspace, and they worked in near silence for several hours, eating lunch at their workspaces, only breaking for a few minutes of stretching at a time, and for supper. They had eaten lunch at their respective counters; served by a house elf with huge yellow bow above one ear. She had given Hermione a wide-eyed look, and then Disapparated with a crack that had made even Severus start and glance about irritably, before returning to his work.

He had left his robes, abandoned at her end of the room, where she had initially unclasped them, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He looked very much like he had in the garden-had it really only been three days ago? He, for the most part, spent the time reading and looking up various things in books and scribbling more notes, frowning at them in fierce concentration. It was nearing nine in the evening when he suddenly stood and stretched again, arching his back and cracking it several ways.

"Break time?" she asked again, mildly.

He started and whirled to look at her, surprised etched on his face. "Some bloody spy I am," he grumbled, then more loudly, "I was actually going to call it an evening-go read a bit, perhaps."

Hermione felt herself involuntarily smile. "You forgot I was here."

He scowled. "I got a bit caught up. I didn't expect you to stay this late."

Still smiling at him, she demurred, "I didn't mind in the least. As I said, I find this all incredibly fascinating; I'm nearly through the first half of the equation for the first base."

"What of your job at the Ministry?" he challenged. "Didn't you have to go in today?"

Hermione laughed. "Severus, it's Sunday. What's more than that, I've requested the next week off after that rather horrid Friday."

"That was rather abominably short notice," he groused, his words clipped and snippy.

Hermione tilted her head at him, her smile fading, and said softly, "I was a bit overdue for one. I haven't taken once since I started, and rarely take full weekends. Is this your way of telling me that you would like me to leave?"

His face became passive again. "You are, of course, welcome to stay if it pleases you. I believe my library had interested you as well? Or if you would feel more comfortable taking the next day or so to yourself…"

"If that is an invitation to stay the evening, I would like that," she said shyly. "If I'm not intruding? We can resume work tomorrow?"

He blinked; an expression of clear shock for him. "You are still interested in continuing?"

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and grit, "Severus. I've told you I find this interesting and enjoyable work. You knew me as a student; do you really think I'm lying about that?"

Humour lit his eyes briefly and he remarked dryly, "I had forgotten your enthusiasm for all things academic; I am unused to anyone working for such long stretches of time as I do." He hesitated, and then said, "If it is truly your wish to stay the night and work with me again tomorrow, you may." Then, after another slight pause, he warned, "I get up early."

Hermione gave him the brightest smile she had, and leaned up to give him a hard kiss. "I find that very agreeable."

He looked at her, seemingly confused, and then nodded perfunctorily. When he sat down on his favourite side of the couch, she curled up on the opposite side, Earth Made of Glass, in her lap. She hadn't gotten to read when it had first been published, and had been both surprised and slightly pleased to find it in his shelves.

He glanced at her choice and said caustically, "I hadn't thought you were interested in science fiction at all; what made you pick that out of all the books I have? I would have laid money down that you would have chosen one of my more obscure texts."

Hermione lifted her own brows in amused parody of his own expression, and responded, "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not always reading dry, academic treatises or scrolls in Old English."

"Yes, sometimes they're in Old Norse," he fired back dryly.

"They are not-well, almost nev-Severus!" she cried.

"Well you have to admit, it isn't in keeping with the Hermione Granger who was my student."

"Sure it is," she retorted, sarcastically, "I have always had varied tastes in literature. I was simply more focused on academic books during day-time hours whilst I lived here, because, oddly enough, I was in school." She gave him a superior look and pointed out, "Why else would I choose to read this, if I hadn't already read A Million Open Doors?"

"The sight of you reading a novel just strikes me as odd, that's all." He tilted his head curiously. "When did you read the first one?"

Hermione found herself shrugging uneasily. "My third year. The underlying theme resonated."

Severus snorted in apparent good humour. "I imagine it did." He turned back to his own book at that point-what appeared to be a biography of someone Hermione hadn't actually heard of. After trying to surreptitiously read the back of the book for a summary and failing when she realised that there was only a snooty looking picture of the author there, she resolved to look the subject of the book up later. They settled into their respective reading materials for the next hour and half, adopting the same companionable silence they had worked in.

It was incredibly odd to slip into a bed not her own; Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Severus had felt the same way when sleeping in hers. It was slightly different, she thought-they had gone to "nap" following the rather energetic sex that had worn them both out and had not awoken until the next morning. This was pre-meditated sleeping in the same bed for the full night. Feeling slightly nervous and a little shy, Hermione curled up next to him, wrapping an arm about his waist and snuggling into his side. He seemed uncertain what to do at first, before finally drawing her more firmly against him. Pleased, Hermione sighed and linked a foot over his calf, enjoying the feel of his skin, slowly rubbing it up and down.

"Hermione," his voice was a bit stiff, and it halted her movements abruptly. "I am not an adolescent any longer, and I'm afraid I am actually a bit too tired for more right now-perhaps you might be able to prevail upon me for such strenuous activities in the morning?"

Hermione stifled a giggle in his shoulder and answered with a muffled, "I wasn't actually asking…I honestly was just enjoying the feel of you. Say what you will about it, your legs actually do feel really nice and silky smooth."

He growled inarticulately in the dark. "It looks ridiculous."

"A bit," she admitted. "You can always use a hair-growth lotion," she offered, tongue in cheek.

"I am not going to slather my legs and groin with hair-growth solution!" he snapped. "Founders only know what might happen. With my luck it would be horrific and braid-able."

Hermione couldn't stifle her laughter at that point.

"Troublesome, insufferable girl," he groused.

"Woman, Severus. I am very much a woman," she corrected and then pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. Attempting to placate him, she added, "One who is very pleased to have such a man as you in her bed, with hairy legs or not."

He waited a beat, then sniffed, "You're in my bed."

Hermione smiled against him in the dark. "So I am."

Their days bled into each other over the next week; a mixture of dry humour and work interspersed with bouts of glorious sex. Despite what he had claimed their second night together, he was able and willing to engage in "strenuous activities" on a fairly regular basis-often twice or even three times a day. After the first such day, Hermione actually found herself fairly sore, unused to such activity as she was. He had merely shrugged at her when she mentioned it, a wicked light in his eyes. She had discovered that his chin stubble was not entirely a bad thing in all circumstances.

He had procured a book from somewhere on erotic massage, and they took turns with it, finally ending with him straddling her hips and fucking her from behind until she screamed into the soft rug in front of his fire. There hadn't been a nicer word for their frenzied coupling-fucking had been the only one she could think of that could fit the situation. She had tried it herself the following morning, riding him hard in his bed, learning to use her thigh muscles where he had guided her before, and giggling that it was far easier to keep purchase there than on her couch.

They invaded the prefects' bathroom on the sixth day and she had sat in his lap facing outward, her head resting back against his shoulder, her legs on either side of his. He had spread his thighs wide, and thus hers, and then teased her with his fingers until she begged him for release. When he denied her, their bath turned into a rather surprisingly juvenile water and bubble fight, followed by a long intense session by the side of the bath on a pile of towels.

When they had retired back to his rooms afterwards, she had shyly asked if he would mind if she extended her leave from work another week. Following that, she had said, she would be able to work with him in the evenings and the weekends, if it suited him.

He had autocratically informed her that she had volunteered to help with arithmantic equations that were less than half done, and that he fully expected her to either complete the task, or have the grace to inform him forthwith. Her boss at the Ministry had grumbled and given her scathing looks at her request, but since she was entitled to two weeks of vacation time every year (and she had not taken any in the last two) , he was unable to deny her request. Severus had not smiled when she had informed him that the extra week had been granted, but his eyes had lit softly, and she got the distinct impression that he was pleased.

Of course, they agreed, it hardly made sense for her to Floo home in the evenings, she might as well pack a small bag of things for the future; she had already brought over several of her toiletries and changes of clothes. When the house elves had laundered them and hung them in his closet instead of leaving them where she might pack them away again, neither bothered to mention it.

She had resumed her weekly teas with Minerva on the two Thursdays she had spent in Severus' company, and once again the Headmistress offered her the Transfiguration post. Hermione declined once more, protesting that it wasn't really her field, as she usually did. Minerva had given her now standard pish-and-tosh speech, reminding her of how very apt she had been in school, and then offered her the Arithmancy position instead. Professor Vector, she claimed, was able and willing to switch to teaching Transfiguration, if Minerva could find someone suitable to teach Arithmancy.

Hermione laughed it off, but wondered. If she were to stay and join the staff, would Severus find it awkward to live in the same castle as a former lover? Or might he, just perhaps, be as interested as she was in the idea that they might be able to carry on for the foreseeable future? The idea was awfully tempting, particularly as it became more and more clear that it really was time for a career change.

In the mere two weeks they had more or less cohabited, they had slid into a comfortable pattern of companionship and sex; she desperately tried to ignore that his reasons were self-serving, and he seemed content enough to never bring the subject up. She told him stories about her childhood before discovering her magical capabilities, and after several days, managed to coax one out of him as well. It was a small thing, but it made her feel full to bursting that he had trusted her with it.

There were problems, of course. She would routinely fall asleep curled up into him, only to find that he had rolled away in the middle of the night. He groused that she tried to steal pillows and left her stockings on his floor, she griped that he always left the loo lid upright and never capped the toothpaste. There were moments when they both attempted to use the same counter space and would indulge in a glaring match, and moments when she would accuse him of moving something of hers, only to have him summarily blame the house elves.

He would wake up extraordinarily early-the morning she had found him in the gardens finishing up work there at half five turned out to be not unusual. Hermione, who never made it out of bed before nine unless forced, was not unsubtle in her vocal displeasure. He, in turn, found her penchant for thinking aloud when stumped on a problem endlessly annoying, and had even banished her from the lab to the sitting room once.

Despite all of this, Hermione rather thought that they viewed their respective sniping at each other as more of a game than true fighting; a verbal sparring that they both looked forward to as much as they were honestly annoyed by the inciting occurrences. They really were getting along extraordinarily well - she had worried that he would tire of her quickly and be eager to get rid of her. He hadn't had a roommate or a true relationship in years, after all. It helped that neither one of them was especially social or extraverted; life seemed to dwindle down to an ideal bubble encasing just the two of them.

Then it happened.

The Monday morning she was to return to work, he stirred first at his ungodly rising time of four in the morning, and had reached out across the bed space for her. It had become a sleepy morning routine for them over the last two weeks: he would rouse and pull her into him, rubbing a peremptory morning erection against her and dislodging her from her cocoon of sleep.

Hermione mumbled a protest, whining, "Why can't you sleep as late as the first morning we woke up together?" He, as usual, paid her grumpiness no mind, his hands roving her body to pinch her nipples and slide between her thighs, seeking out her heat. She was slick but not really ready; she seemed to be in a constant state half-arousal lately. It's like a Pavlovian response to being near him, perhaps, she thought dreamily, enjoying the warmth of him pressed against her.

He immediately set about to finishing the job of fully arousing her, rolling her onto her back and putting his mouth to work at her throat even as his fingers probed her tender flesh. It didn't take long before she was sighing in pleasure, her hips pressing back against his arousal, her fingers sleepily running over his skin to stroke him in turn.

He shifted on the bed between her thighs and pushed inside her with a rumbling hum, pumping easily. They had done this position before, him kneeling upright in the bed while she lay back; he was especially fond of pulling her hips up onto his thighs so that she was arched up, sometimes pulling her feet up to his shoulders or flat on his chest. This morning however, he seemed content to simply let her bend her knees to meet his thrusts. They were a bit stronger than usual in this position; rocking deeply and satisfyingly into her core.

Hermione took a deep happy breath, her eyes flying open when the tips of her breasts made contact with the soft texture of his chest hair. He was propped up on his elbows above her, his eyes closed and a sleepily smug half-smile on his face. He wasn't entirely alert, she realised, and like their first morning, he had simply moved on top of her instead of tugging her on top of him without even thinking about what he was doing.

Yet she didn't immediately flashback to that horrible night at the manor. Severus wasn't pinning her down by her wrists or chest, he wasn't using his weight to keep her from getting away, and yet he was still, undeniably, on top of her. The familiar planes and angles of his face were at ease, the ever-present line between his brows relaxed.

The furrow between his brows increased and he stilled when he suddenly realised she was no longer responding him, his eyes cracking open to ascertain what the problem was. She saw the instant it registered-the moment his sleep-fogged brain cleared enough to understand that she lay entirely beneath him. Self-loathing and shame registered in his expression and his muscles tensed, anticipating her panic.

He started to move off of her, but Hermione surprised herself by suddenly closing her own fingers into his back, digging her nails slightly into his shoulders. A very clear message to wait. He gazed down at her, still filling her, still half risen off of her.

"I…I am not scared. A little nervous, but I was fine until I realised." Hermione bit her lip and tilted her hips slightly, thrusting gently upwards. "Yellow? I mean, I don't want you to stop but can you just, you know, be careful?"

His eyes dilated, and he slowly lowered himself back onto his elbows, the tension between them heavy. "Say the word, and I'll-"

"I'm not." She cut him off, and pushed up again, sheathing him full inside her. "I trust you, and that you're not going to hurt me."

He groaned, the barest of sounds, and resumed his previous pace, a slow but deep stroking of her, his hips flexing rhythmically. "Wrap your legs around me," he urged, and with a soft breath, Hermione complied, running her knees up his thighs to hook around his waist. She was definitely in his power now, under his complete control, but she didn't once picture Greyback's face above her, didn't feel his brutal joy in her fear. She only felt Severus, her lover of the last two weeks, her unexpected friend, unravelling her tension and anxiety in strong, easy strokes.

"I want to replace your memory of it," he uttered lowly, so quiet she almost couldn't hear him. "I can't, not entirely, but that's what I want. I want you to be able to do this, like this, and think of me when you do, not him." His mouth turned down slightly, "and not the idiot either. I want your mind to default to me. Even later, when you lie in another man's arms, another man's bed, I want you to remember me here. I don't give a damn if it's selfish."

Something inside her snapped at his words and she found herself moaning loudly in response, tightening her legs around his hips and snapping her own up to meet him. His breath hissed between his teeth loudly and responded in kind, driving into her harder. She tightened reflexively, whispering his name, enjoying the way his eyes darkened above her. Their gazes caught and held, their thoughts entangling and indistinguishable from each other as his barriers dropped and reached for hers.

What if it's always going to be you? What if there can't be anyone after?

Not supposed to want this. Not this much; not when you're going to be done with me.

Merlin you feel…

Like fire.

Like life. Keep me.

I'm worth it; I deserve it after everything. I deserve to have you.

"It's okay," she whispered, not entirely sure what she was responding to, or reassuring him of.

"Fuck." He swore loudly and shattered, flooding her with semen as he shuddered above her, leaving her behind. He very nearly didn't catch himself from dropping on top of her, rolling to the side at the last minute so that they lay side by side.

Hermione groaned and wriggled slightly as the sheets under her dampened. His hand scrubbed over his face briefly and he turned to look at her, the firm line of his mouth the only indication of his chagrin. She offered him a wry expression and answered his unspoken apology. "It's fine, really-I'm not certain I would have been able to, anyway. I was caught up in my thoughts a bit there."

"I can still…" he offered.

"No, no it's okay. I think it's better actually. I don't think that always has to be the point."

He huffed a low chuckle of laughter. "Mad. Such a waste."

"But clearly, it's possible for me. Perhaps not today, but in the future, with time, it's not out of the realm of possibility."

"Yes," he responded, his gaze shifting to look at the ceiling. "Clearly." They waited a beat in awkward silence and then he flexed into a sitting position, jostling the bed as he left it to stand. He didn't quite stomp into the bathroom, his footfalls heavy and foreboding as if he were upset. The door closed with a firm click that was a clear message he preferred to be alone.

Feeling slightly miserable, and unwilling to contemplate why, Hermione sat up as well, glancing over at the clock on his bedroom wall. It was barely fifteen past, far too early to really be up and about. There was no way she would be able to return to sleep, however, not after that.

Reluctantly, she climbed to her feet, wincing as she slid over the wet spot on the sheets between her thighs. She dressed slowly, uncertain if she wanted to face Severus, but feeling like it would be cowardly to leave first.

He had been inside her head. He knew she was getting…unhealthily attached to him. Was shutting himself in the bathroom his way of informing her that she should leave? He had very definitely fulfilled his terms of the bargain. By rights she should release him from his oath. It was possible he already was-as a magical debt, surely the pressure on him would automatically lift when fulfilled. Uncertain of herself, and of him, Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed and fiddled with her skirt, waiting for him.

The door to the bathroom opened abruptly, and he re-emerged fully dressed, his damp hair the only indication that he was in any way disordered. They stared at each other and then she mumbled, "I have to work today; I should Floo home first and make sure I have everything I need."

He nodded shortly in response. "I need to check on my area of the garden."

"Of course," she agreed hastily.

He hesitated, then asked, almost reluctantly, "Will you be by this evening?"

What was he asking? Would she be by to pack her things? To work on his equations? To share his bed? She wasn't certain and didn't know how he wanted her to respond. "Yes," she said finally. For one reason or another, she would be coming back; let him make of the answer what he would and she might receive some sort of sign of what he wanted.

Of course, he was Severus Snape, and his expression didn't change in the slightest at her response. He merely nodded again in his stoic way, and left, leaving her to sit in the room by herself. Miserable, Hermione waited several minutes, desperately trying to convince herself she had no reason to cry, before finally Flooing home.

She couldn't concentrate on work all day; her mind was conspicuously absent, fixed back on Hogwarts, on him. She was given several frowning looks throughout the day, from both her co-workers and her boss, as she allowed first one, then more errors to occur in her work, skewing her calculations and forcing her to restart. She both dreaded and looked forward to the end of the day when she would see him again.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the hours ticked away until she was under no obligation to stay at the Ministry any longer. In previous months she had often stayed later than she had needed to, but now she found herself wondering if it had really been out of misguided loyalty to her job, or out of the desire to avoid seeing her boyfriend. Certainly it wasn't because the work was so consuming.

She enjoyed arithmancy-the way the numbers always eventually ended up at a conclusion, no matter how complicated the arithmetic or the numerological variants. She glared at her desk and perversely wished there were a way to use arithmancy to decide how to handle her situation with Severus. One of the first rules of magic was the inability to predict human emotion, however. There was simply no way to account for it-no magic rune, hieroglyph or number to enter that would draw the right conclusion, to show her the right path.

What do I want from him? What do I want to have happen? She forced herself to face the questions head on, and after a moment of struggling with her thoughts, was forced to admit that she wanted him to ask her to continue as his lover. She didn't want to return to her lonely life and boring job and fear that she wouldn't be able to ever recapture the same feeling that she had found in his arms.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione gathered her bag and headed for one of the Floo entrances in the Ministry Atrium. When it was her turn to use it, she hesitated, trying to decide where to go, until she noticed the witch behind her tapping a foot impatiently. Before she could think about it any further, she Flooed to his sitting room, thankful that it was still open and the wards keyed for her arrival.

She found him in his lab, looking at her three dimensional matrix with a slight frown on his face. His head tilted in acknowledgement of her, and his finger jabbed at a section. "This looks a lot more complicated than it has to be, and it doesn't look quite right. It's not smoothing out the way it should."

Hermione blinked, then said uncertainly, "It's the most simplistic form your compound can take-it's off because I'm still missing variables. See here," she pointed at a complicated string of numbers and runes. "This section is the basic strengthening base, and each cross point," she wagged a finger at the myriad of dividing subsections, "is how it reacts to each of the individual components of the stasis base that you are trying to use to stabilize."

"You mean this is the entire compound?" he asked, shocked.

"Yes, of course." She shook her head and amended, "Well, it's as much of it as you've been able to work out. As you pointed out, it's not evening out because you are still working on integrating the bases, and are not certain of what components I should add. It's currently suggesting something in the draconis or cerastes family might be of use-but I don't have your expertise to narrow it down further at this point."

"Not blood," he murmured, "tears perhaps…or hydra scale." He grabbed a pad of paper and began to furiously short hand notes, ignoring her presence entirely.

Hermione felt her mouth drop open. Clearly, he had not been plagued with doubts as she had. She felt like stamping her foot childishly and only barely restrained herself, finally settling on saying loudly, "Severus!"

His head shot up and his wary expression told her he knew exactly what she was trying to resolve. His hand tightened on his quill and a large blob of ink dripped on to his parchment. He took a deep breath, and Hermione's heart froze. She just knew he was going to ask her to leave, and only return in order to help with his research, if at all.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "What if you're the only one who can make me feel that way?"

To her horror, it spilled out at the same time as his quiet, "Did you have plans to stay this evening?"

They both froze, staring at each other, and he said stiltedly, "How is it that you would like me to test the theory? Polyjuice, perhaps?" His jaw tightened, and he added, "I have role-played with that before. It would not be the first time a woman has requested that I look like someone else."

"She was an idiot, whoever she was," Hermione heard herself retort, and then bit her lip.

His brows shot up, but he quickly recovered his impassive expression and said neutrally, "You are not under obligation to ask my permission to sleep with someone else."

Hermione gave a frustrated moan and sat down, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. I'm terrified of trying with anyone else and I wish you could be there, because I trust you, but that's insane. So maybe the Polyjuice idea is not such an awful idea. But would that even work if I know that underneath whoever you're wearing, you're you?"

His eyes flashed impatiently and he snapped at her, "Well, maybe insane or not that's what you should do! Take some pretty, muscle-bound lover with a penchant for being watched and fuck him in front of me. Or better yet, we'll share! If we can make you enjoy that, then I'm sure you'll have no trouble prancing off into the sunset. Either way, you should make up your mind about what you want!"

Hermione's temper blazed in response, and before she could bite the words back, she yelled, "Maybe I should! In fact, let's do that! Do you have anyone specific in mind, or shall I take out an advertisement in the Prophet?"

"Certainly! As long as we're discussing inviting people along, why don't you? Or better yet, owl the Malfoys! I have it on good authority that either one is willing to bed you for the greater good!" His cheeks were actually red with fury, she noticed, the colour staining his pale face as if she had slapped him.

In contrast, Hermione felt her blood drain, and she stared at him for a long moment, letting his words sink in. "How would the Malfoys, either one, come to make such a statement?" she finally whispered, stricken.

His face immediately closed off and he said stiffly, "As you are aware, I did not immediately agree to our arrangement. Lucius is a long-time friend and close companion of mine; I sought his opinion when I began to second guess my decision."

Hermione felt her eyes prick with humiliated tears. "You discussed my…problem with him? Severus, how could you?"

The man sighed and sat, then said, resigned, "I wanted his opinion; I value his thoughts a great deal. He has been my appointed mentor since I was eleven years old, and as such he has sworn to keep all of my confidences, Hermione. He would not have mentioned it to anyone, I swear it. He called me a fool for rejecting your proposal, and wondered aloud if you would accept himself in my stead. I asked him not to approach you."

Hermione blinked back her tears and said, unsteadily, "Really, Lucius Malfoy said that about me?"

Severus gave a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. "He baited me by saying he would have gone so far as to offer you marriage. He knew I wanted a reason to change my mind."

Hermione spluttered. "Marry him? I would never!"

"Would you not?" Severus' head jerked back up and his eyes met hers. "He's handsome, intelligent, well connected, and wealthy. He has never had any trouble attracting women. He has made mistakes, as have I, as have we all, but I assure you he is not fundamentally a bad man. You could do far worse for a husband than Lucius Malfoy."

"I don't want Lucius Malfoy as a husband. I am not certain I ever want a husband." Suddenly inspired, she added softly, "Nor would I want to come between the two of you, if you are as good friends as you say."

Severus' mouth pursed. "The lady who once asked me to use Polyjuice was Narcissa Malfoy. Many years ago, she requested of her husband that I join them, in his guise. She wanted to experience having two lovers at once, but didn't like the idea of adultery. Sharing a woman with Lucius was not…" he took a deep breath. "It is not out of the realm of possibility, if it is needed." He glanced at her again, and then added irritably, "Close your mouth before you catch flies. I'm merely trying to ascertain and do what is best in the situation."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, but was unable to keep herself from staring. Never in her wildest imaginings had she ever suspected him to blatantly offer to share her with another man, with Lucius Malfoy of all men! "You…you would arrange that? And you wouldn't leave me alone with him-you would be there the whole time?"

He didn't flicker an eyelash. "If you asked it of me, I would."

Hermione said faintly, "Can I think about it for a bit?"

His chin tilted fractionally in assent. "Are you planning to stay this evening?"

"You are not too angry with me?"

Severus sighed. "I am tired, Hermione. It's been a very long day. Are you coming or not?"

For the first time since their arrangement began, he held her to him the entire night.
A/N: Only one more chapter to go! Thank you all so much for your amazing reviews--I am so sorry I've been behind responding to some of them; I've had a lot of personal things come up in the last few weeks and haven't spent a weekend home in the last three. I promise I will get to them! In the meantime, I hope you've been enjoying this so far!
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