“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Hermione accused him two hours later. He was sitting on the ground, his back against one of the rocks near the campfire, drinking a mug of tea. “We should be doing something, yet all you're doing is sitting on your arse.”
He turned his head and gave her an appraising look. “Just what should we be doing?”
“Well, we could pack up the tent and leave.”
“And that served you so well last night, didn’t it?” He took a sip of tea. “Just how far did you get last night before you found yourself back in camp?”
Hermione muttered something under her breath.
“What was that?”
“I said,” Hermione gritted out, “not far – but that could mean anything.”
“Yes, I’m sure it could,” he replied. “However, I don’t relish the prospect of chasing my tail for hours on end only to find myself in the same bloody spot I started out in.”
“We just can’t sit here and do nothing.”
“Then give me a productive suggestion – anything other than wandering around aimlessly. What do you think we should be doing, Granger?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, that’s such a helpful suggestion,” he retorted.
“Don’t be such a prat,” she admonished picking up a clump of dirt. Without a thought, she tossed it at him, much as she would’ve had it been Ron or Harry there with her. It hit him on the shoulder.
“Did you just throw dirt at me?” he asked in a soft voice. Hermione paled. She remembered that tone of voice quite well – it was the dangerously quiet tone Snape had before he struck. “Did you just throw dirt at me?” he asked again, in that same tone when she didn’t reply.
“I… uh…” she spluttered.
“I can’t believe you’re juvenile enough to throw dirt at me,” he said softly. He turned towards the fire and made some motions that Hermione couldn’t see. “Especially when mud is so much better,” he finished, tossing a gooey gob of mud at her. It struck Hermione on her forehead and slowly oozed down her face.
She let out a shriek of outrage. “No fair!” she yelled.
Severus arched a dark eyebrow. “You have the audacity to screech about fairness to me? Especially after you tossed a clump of dirt at me?”
Hermione scowled at him. “Fine,” she hissed, stalking over to where he sat. Severus watched her with a wary expression as she tried to scoop the remains of mud from her face. “I won’t talk to you about fairness.” She leaned over him, and he looked up. Her shirt gapped in such a way that he had a wonderful, full view of her breasts clad in a lacy white bra. Transfixed, he watched them jiggle as she smeared her muddy hand down his cheek, muttering, “I’ll just take revenge.”
He jerked back as soon as the cold mud touched his cheek and rasped, “Brat!”
“Not so cavalier when it’s you with the muddy face,” Hermione huffed.
“No” he conceded. “However, the view was well worth it.”
Hermione glanced down and noticed how much her shirt gapped, blushing hotly as she realized how much of view he had. “Pervert!” she yelped, yanking herself upright.
A small smile curved at the corner of Snape’s lips. “Can’t blame a man for looking, especially when the wares are so well displayed,” he replied smugly.
“Oh you… you…” she seethed, stalking over to the tent. “You plonker!” Without a backward glance, she darted into the tent.
Part XII
“Here,” Severus muttered, thrusting a pan through the tent flap. “This should help.”
Hermione stared at his hand protruding through the tent entrance. “Why are you being so nice?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’s not a matter of being nice,” he said, placing the pan on the floor. “I’d rather not sleep caked in mud. And since you’re sleeping with me, if you’re muddy, I’m going to get muddy. I’d really rather not.”
When she made no move towards the pot, he exclaimed, “Don’t be naff, it’s only water.”
“It might only be water, but I’m not sure I trust you,” she said with a sniff.
“Don’t be a daft cow.”
“Oh, as if you’ve a right to talk, pillock.”
“Slag.”
“Sleeveen,” she shot back.
“You’re a right cheeky monkey.” He chuckled.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” she replied.
“Now quit being daft and use the water before it turns cold,” he admonished, moving away from the tent entrance.
“Don’t think that this makes us even,” she called after him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Part XIII
“Are you going to spend the rest of the day inside the tent pouting?” Severus yelled.
“I’m not pouting!” Hermione hollered back.
“Oh, right, you’re not indulging in an incredible sulk.”
Hermione stuck her head out of the tent. “I’m not sulking, pouting, moping, or whatever else you want to call it!”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Severus guffawed. He turned from her and started sorting through the supplies to the left of the tent. “Well, this is a surprise.”
Curiosity caused Hermione to lean more out of the tent. “What?”
Severus shot her a sly look. “You want to know? You’ll have to come see for yourself.”
“I’m not sure I’m interested,” Hermione replied, pulling back into the tent.
Severus shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just means more chocolate for me.”
Hermione surged out of the tent at the word chocolate. “Oh, I don’t think so, mister.” She stalked over to the supply area and snatched the package of chocolate out of his hands. “You,” she raised the package up, “don’t deserve this.”
“Neither do you,” Severus replied, snatching the package back. Hermione darted forward to steal the chocolate back, but Severus raised it over his head. “I don’t think so.”
Hermione glared at him. “If you don’t give me the chocolate, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” she told him through clenched teeth. She grabbed his arm, trying to pull it down so she could reach the package of chocolate.
“Blood-thirsty wench.”
“Only if I don’t get some chocolate,” she said in such a serious tone that he barked out a harsh laugh.
“Well,” he told her, keeping the chocolate out of her reach. “You’ll just have to wait until later. We’ve loads of goodies, and this is only part of it.”
“Really?” Hermione asked suspiciously. “Like what?”
“A bit of wine, some steaks to grill, and potatoes.”
“All that?”
He nodded. “As well as the chocolate.”
Hermione shook her head. “Why would they send us all of that?”
Severus merely shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Do you think it might be poisoned?”
“I doubt it. There are much easier ways to get rid of us.”
“That’s true,” Hermione conceded. “Still, I find it awfully odd that they’d send all of that to us.”
“Odd enough to avoid it?”
“No." She snorted.
“Right, then, who’s cooking?”
Part XIV
“I’ll say this for you; you definitely know how to cook,” Hermione said with a sigh, licking her fingers. “I don’t know when I’ve ever had anything that tasted this good.”
“You’re just saying that because you want more of my meat,” Severus quipped. He reached over, picked up the bottle of wine and poured himself a healthy measure.
“Top me off?” Hermione asked, handing him her cup. Severus poured the rest of the bottle into her metal mug. “I can’t believe we’ve finished off the bottle all ready.”
“We’ve still a few more. I’ll go get another bottle,” he replied, standing up.
Hermione took a small sip of her wine, and then watched Snape over the rim of her metal mug. He moved with a casual grace; but then he’d always been graceful, even when he stalked down the halls of Hogwarts. His figure was very mesomorphic – he had a solid torso, with wide shoulders yet a tapered, narrow waist. He looked long and lean with muscles in all the right places.
He has such a grab able arse, she mused to herself as he bent over to search through the supplies. That thought caused her to snort softly into her mug of wine. Snape would kill me if he knew I was ogling his arse.
“Here we are,” he said, walking back to the campfire. He settled himself on the ground beside her and handed her the package of chocolate.
Hermione unwrapped the top part and broke off a piece, popping it into her mouth. She groaned in pleasure as the chocolate hit her tongue and passed the packet back to Severus. “This is so peaceful,” she said, once she swallowed her piece of chocolate.
Severus shot her a questioning glance.
“Don’t look at me like that; I can appreciate the peace and quiet out here.”
“You’ve been quite vocal about your distaste of the situation up ‘til now.”
Hermione let out a soft sigh. “I know. But this is different from the last time I had to camp – no one is trying to actively kill me, at least I hope not.” She stretched forward, flexing her fingers in front of the campfire. “I could almost come to like this; no one wanting my attention at all times, no need to rush off and do this, or hurry there to do that.”
“It does feel like that sometimes, doesn’t?” Severus mused.
“If I’d known adulthood would be so… stressful, I might’ve enjoyed my childhood more,” Hermione confessed.
Severus snorted. “I’d hardly call dodging psychopaths an enjoyable childhood.”
Hermione frowned. “Well, no. But there were many good times between all that rushing around and trying not to get killed.”
Severus made a disbelieving harrumphing sound in the back of his throat.
“It really wasn’t that bad,” Hermione reassured him. “Really, until our fourth year and Cedric Diggory died, it didn’t really feel as if any of it were real.” She shook her head, letting her curling hair fall into her face. “In retrospect, I’m appalled at how blatantly we chased after the mystery that was Voldemort – we just didn’t realize the real cost of our charging into danger.”
“Part of that was due to Albus Dumbledore,” Severus said gruffly. “He had a plan for Harry, and you got dragged along.”
“I wouldn’t call it being dragged. Not really.” She sighed, stretching a bit on the ground, her knee brushing against his leg. “Harry was my friend, and I knew he couldn’t do everything on his own, I don’t think anyone could have – and Ron… I think Ron wanted glory at first, but then chased after Harry, too, because not chasing would’ve been unfathomable.”
“You were children – all three of you. Had I my way, none of you would’ve been involved with it at all.”
Hermione nodded. “I think I can see that now – you weren’t happy at our involvement at all.”
“Why would I be? You were all decoys – little play things thrown out to capture the mad man’s interest so that we could out flank him. It’s really an amazing feat that there were only a few casualties at all those first few years.”
“Hand me more chocolate,” Hermione demanded. “If we're going to talk about depressing things, I need more.”
He handed the package over to her, and she broke off another piece. “We could always talk of other things,” he said, when she handed the package back.
“We could,” she said, slipping the piece of chocolate into her mouth. She rolled it around her tongue before continuing, “But I think we’d still end up with a depressing topic.”
“Probably true,” he replied, snapping off a piece of chocolate for himself.
“What does that say about us?” she asked after a moment. “I mean, didn’t we do enough – suffer enough with Voldemort? I thought… Wasn’t it my time for some happiness? And for a little while, I had that. Then it was gone, and I… when Ron died, I wanted to go with him.”
“That’s not the way things work,” Severus said softly, draping an arm around her shoulder.
“No,” she said with a soft sob. “It’s not. And it’s patently unfair.”
“Things are hardly fair in this world,” he told her.
“Don’t be so reasonable,” she admonished him. “You have just as much right as I to rail over the unfairness of it all.”
“It does no good.” He took a slow sip of wine. “All it does is cause a mouthful of remorse and a bloody harsh head the next day.”
“That’s it? That’s your sage advice?”
“If you’ve come for sage advice, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I just try to do the best I can each day, and hopefully it’s enough.”
“I suppose that’s good enough,” she replied, leaning back into him. “Sometimes, I do wish things had been different.”
“You mean with Ron?” She nodded, sipping her mug of wine. “I never understood what you saw in him,” he said, causing her to splutter into her cup.
“Ron is – was wonderful.”
“Yet hardly your intellectual equal.”
“Why would he have to be? That’s not why I loved him.”
“But it must’ve been hard…”
“Not really. You forget we’d known each other since we were eleven. I had no illusions about Ron, and he had even less about me. Yet, despite all of our differences, together, we worked. He was… home.”
“And now he’s gone.”
Hermione shivered. “Now he’s gone,” she repeated softly. “And sometimes I think I’m lost without him.” She stretched, arching her back against his side; she tucked herself back into the small curve of his body. “I still stand by my first observation, this is really peaceful.”
“Even if you’re out here with me?”
“Maybe because you’re out here too,” she said in a slurred tone, her eyes closing.
Severus watched the flickering light flash across her face for a time. She let out a soft little snore and cuddled in closer to him. She was right; it was utterly peaceful. That thought startled him.
With a sigh, he eased her off his shoulder. She rolled against the rock and muttered something in her sleep. He stood up and stretched, his warm, relaxed muscles protesting. He corked the last of the wine, and stored it with the supplies. The rest of the food was gone – that alone should’ve made him feel wary, but he was pissed enough not to care.
Walking back to the fire, he sprinkled a cup of water of the small flames. He used a large stick to stir the wood and ash in the pit and slowly poured more water over it. He repeated the process until he felt no heat emanating from the pit. He then gathered up some dirt, dropped it on top of the pit ashes and stepped down. As soon as he was sure the fire pit was taken care of, he returned to Hermione.
“Severus?” she asked sleepily as he lifted her from the ground.
“Shush, Hermione,” he said softly, shifting her weight. He started walking towards the tent.
“’S sleepy…”
“I know, we’re almost there.” He nudged the tent flap open with his foot and stepped inside.
“… ‘S you… nice?” she asked as he gently placed her on the sleeping bag.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, brushing some stray strands of hair back from her face. Hermione let out a soft sigh at his touch and then rolled onto her side. He waited a few heartbeats, watching her chest rise and fall as she slept, before pulling off her shoes. Once that was done, he shrugged off his own shoes, followed by his trousers and shirt. He slipped into the sleeping bag beside her, and she immediately curled around him.
Part XV
Hermione instinctively snuggled closer to the source of the warmth next to her in her sleep. Her cold body wrapped itself around the source, trying to draw in the comforting heat. The source tried to move, but she would whimper in protest, her sleepy body trying to cuddle close again.
“Hermione…” a sleepy voice next to her ear breathed.
“Hmmm mine,” was her incoherent reply. She wrapped herself around Snape’s body, burying her head into the nook of his shoulder.
His body went from sluggishly asleep to instantly aroused as Hermione rubbed herself against him in an effort to get warm. He took a deep, calming breath in an effort to slow his body’s response. Instead of peace, he caught the subtle scent of Hermione – even the small sponge bath she’d taken earlier couldn’t diminish the small subtle hint of vanilla that clung to her flesh. His semi-erect cock thrummed with arousal.
Hermione shifted in her sleep, her thigh swinging over Snape’s legs. Each movement she made brought a surge of blood to his cock. Try as he might, all he could think about was how warm and soft she felt. Every instinct he had screamed, ‘turn her over and bury yourself deeply within her’. It took all his will power to lie still.
He didn’t fall asleep until nearly dawn.
Part XVI
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Severus yelled, sticking his head into the tent. Hermione was wrapped around the sleeping bag, her shirt bunched up her stomach, her trousers twisted around her frame. She merely rolled over at the sound of his voice.
He ducked into the tent and nudged her with his foot.
“Go the fuck away,” she muttered, throwing the sleeping bag over her head.
“You’re a right bitch when you have a hangover, aren’t you?” he mused.
“And you’re a fucking git! Now go away.”
“Now, now, don’t slag off on me, else I might not help with that pounding headache I know you’ve got knocking around.”
“Bastard.”
“Hermione Granger,” he said in the tone he’d often used with students, “rise your lazy arse up and get out of the tent. I’ll not tell you again.”
“You’re evil incarnate,” she moaned sitting up.
“Possibly.”
“You don’t have to be so smug about it.”
“I can’t believe you got pissed on such a small amount of wine.”
“Oh, please stop being so loud.”
“Move your arse, and I’ll pour you some coffee.”
Hermione groaned, her stomach rebelling at the thought of anything touching it. “That sounds revolting.” Severus reached out a hand, intending to help her up. Hermione eyed the hand with a wary expression. “I don’t think I should trust you,” she mumbled.
“Quit whining, Granger.”
“You’re no fun,” she hissed, grabbing his hand. She deliberately made him pull her up from the ground, arching an eyebrow, as if daring him to comment on her weight.
“I’ve never been accused of being fun,” he chuckled, releasing her hand once she was on her feet. “Now, why don’t you wash the dried drool off your face and act like a normal human.”
Hermione’s eyes widened in shock, and she ran a quick hand over her face. “Ugh,” she let out in horror. “Go,” she ordered him, trying to resist the urge to hit him as he left the tent, his shoulders quaking as he suppressed his laughter.
Part XVII
“I would kill for a bath,” Hermione muttered, leaning against a tree. “A nice, hot, bubbly bath.”
“Not going to happen any time soon, Granger.”
“I know, but I can wish, can’t I?” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you can stand it. Don’t you feel grimy?”
Severus had the good grace to blush. “Err…”
“You don’t even look as if you’ve been in the forest for three days,” she went on, as if he hadn’t made any noise.
“Actually,” he interjected, “I’ve… There is a small stream.”
“And you didn’t share?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’m surprised you didn’t find it, the way you’ve been pacing around the area for days.”
“Do you think I’d be this grimy if I had found it?” she practically shrieked.
“I think you’re fine.”
“You are such a man,” she huffed. “I feel gross, and you think it’s natural.”
“Now that’s going a bit far, I didn’t say it was natural, I just said I think you’re fine. It’s not as if you smell repellant or anything.”
“Ugh, please. You don’t honestly believe that.” She put her hand on her hip and gave him a scolding look. “I think you’d better show me this small stream, it might not be as good as a hot bath, but at least I can clean off the muck of three days.” She pursed her lips. “I wonder... is it deep enough to actually swim in?”
“I don’t think you’ll want to go that far; the water’s pretty frigid.”
“What I wouldn’t give for a wand right about now.” Hermione sighed. “We could Transfigure something into a bathtub, heat the water, and be blissful for a few hours. Ah well, no matter. Even if the water’s near ice, I need to clean up.”
“I still think you’re fine as you are.”
Part XVIII
An hour later, Hermione sat before the fire, slowly drawing her fingers through her hair in an effort to dry it. She watched Snape through the corner of her eye; noticing how every so often he’d press a thumb against the base of his throat. It was an action she’d seen him take countless times over the last few days, though she didn’t know why.
“Why do you do that?” Hermione asked softly.
“Do what?” he asked, pressing on his throat.
“That thing with your hands.”
“This?”
She nodded.
“I sometimes have to.”
“But why?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
Severus sat back on his heels, surprised she asked. “Why do you want to know?”
“I just wondered… You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have pried.” She set her metal plate on the ground and raised her hands up in the air near the fire. She rubbed her hands together, trying to get some heat into her freezing fingers.
“Nagini,” Severus whispered into the darkness. The snake’s name seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Hermione sat still, her fingers soaking in the heat. “In a way,” he continued, “I was rather lucky. Voldemort wanted her to rip out my throat – he thought that… that I owned something he wanted and that only my death would give it to him.”
“The Elder Wand,” Hermione muttered.
Severus nodded his head. “Yes, the Elder Wand. Even though he had it in his possession, he thought that I was the owner of the wand because I had killed the great Albus Dumbledore,” he said bitterly. “It was inconceivable to him that the wand would pass to another’s hands without bloodshed – so it never dawned on him that it might have belong to someone else.”
“Who?” Hermione asked before she could stop herself.
“Potter’s never told you?”
Hermione shook her head. “He – he spoke of some of the memories he received from you, but he never went into details about anything. I think once it was over, he just wanted to forget it all.”
“I see,” he said softly. “The night Albus,” his voice cracked over Dumbledore’s name, “died, Draco had forcibly taken his wand. That small act transferred ownership to Draco.”
“So then the wand was Draco’s?”
“In a way, for a bit.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What happened to Harry’s original wand?”
Hermione blushed hotly. “I broke it. I hadn’t meant to – I had cast the Confringo spell in an attempt to stop Nagini at Godric’s Hollow, and it ricocheted around the room, before hitting Harry's hand. When the spell hit his hand, it broke his wand. I felt awful about it.”
“And?” he prompted. He shifted his body, easing down onto the ground to near Hermione to make himself more comfortable.
“And what?”
“Well, obviously Potter didn’t go without one for…”
“Oh, that’s true. He stole Draco’s…” Understanding lit her eyes.
“Exactly. Potter took Draco’s wand.”
Hermione shook her head. “Still, it wasn’t the Elder Wand that Harry took; it was his normal one.”
Severus shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Potter was able to subjugate Draco, hence whatever was Draco’s now belong to Potter – that included the Elder Wand. Technically, even Draco could be considered Potter’s property.”
“But that’s barbaric,” Hermione gasped, clearly aghast at the prospect.
“Humanity is inherently barbaric,” Severus replied. “Some of the oldest magic had some untenable results – it is tied to our baser instincts; often to our own detriment.”
“Still… to be owned by someone simply because they were able to overpower you?”
“It’s a vicious cycle. Magic is drawn to someone who has the potential to be powerful. Those with potential often seek any means necessary to become powerful. The more powerful they are, the more magical ability they have, and the more they crave. Most people don’t know how to temper themselves once they’ve obtained it all.”
Hermione shivered. “And so the wand was Harry’s in the end,” she said softly. “Yet Voldemort believed you owned it because you killed Dumbledore.” Her eyes darted to his neck, a horrified expression flashing across her face. “He wanted Nagini to kill you for that wand – a wand you didn’t even own.”
“Yes,” he said flatly.
“I had always wondered what had happened in the Shrieking Shack – by the time I arrived with Harry, all I saw was you on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. I –“ She broke off, a soft sob catching in her throat.
“There was nothing you could’ve done,” he said before she could continue.
“We could’ve tried.”
“I didn’t want that – I was quite ready to die.”
“You can’t mean that,” Hermione gasped, placing a hand on his forearm.
Severus looked down at her hand; it'd been so long since someone had touched him with even an ounce of compassion. “Hermione, I was ready,” he responded with a susurrant sigh.
“But, you –” She started to speak, but he placed a long, tapered finger against her lips, effectively silencing her. Her nostrils flared and her pupils dilated a fraction at his touch.
“It’s a moot point,” he said gruffly, pulling his hand away. “I’m alive. Nagini’s bite left me with some scars and her poison damaged my larynx, but it wasn’t enough to kill me.”
“May I see?” Hermione asked impulsively, leaning forward. She didn’t even wait for his response. He jerked slightly at the touch of her cool fingers against his neck then sat impossibly still. She felt, on some level, as if she were slowly petting some wild, predatory animal; he’d move and savage her at any moment.
“You’re very lucky, “she murmured, letting her index finger trace one of the scars.
“That’s one interpretation,” he replied caustically, causing Hermione to glance up at his face. He was staring at her – his eyes incredibly dark.
“Are you always this difficult?” she asked, sliding her finger across the rough ridges of the other scar.
“You don’t know when to stop, do you?” he muttered, hauling her into his arms.
Hermione let out a small gasp as his lips captured hers. It wasn’t the soft gentle sort of kiss Ron used to give her – this kiss was one of hunger; she could feel Snape’s need to possess her.
She could only clutch at his shoulders, as he slowly drew her tongue into his mouth. He sucked on it gently and then followed it as it retreated back into her mouth.
Severus tore his mouth from hers, panting slightly. “I’m not sorry,” he told her, quickly standing up.
In a daze, Hermione lifted her face up, her gaze locking with his. Slowly, her tongue flicked out against her bottom lip. Severus groaned.
“I didn’t ask for an apology,” she whispered in a husky voice.
“Still, I shouldn’t have,” he said, watching her with a wary expression as she stood up.
Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t mind.” She cocked her head to the side. “Unless… you didn’t like it?” Hermione stepped closer to him, watching his face. "You did like it, didn't you?" she asked softly, moving in front of him. "Because I did."
"Hermione..." he started, and then stopped, choosing instead to lean down and softly kiss her. His lips slowly moved over hers and she sighed, her right hand reaching up to grip at his shirt.
Severus pulled back, and looked down into her upturned face. "Are you sure?" he asked softly. The expression in Hermione's eyes must've reassured him. He kissed her again, moving his hands slowly down the front of her shirt.
She shivered at this touch. As his tongue licked at the edges of her mouth, his large, warm hands slid underneath the material of her shirt, skirting across her skin. Hermione gasped against his mouth at the feel of his hands, and he took full advantage, slipping his tongue between her plump lips.
Hermione tugged at his shirt, dislodging it from the waistband of his trousers. The fabric bunched against his back as her greedy fingers worked their way up, flattening against the plane of his back. He felt so warm and so solid. Heat pooled in her belly.
Severus shivered against her, his probing kiss faltering as Hermione's hands moved around his waist and up his chest. Her pert fingers found his nipples, and he groaned into her mouth as she tweaked them.
"Do you like that?" Hermione gasped against his mouth.
Severus groaned and pulled her tight against him. "You've no idea. None at all."
Hermione laughed and tweaked his nipples again, raking her nails slightly across the puckered ridge.
"Do that again," he ordered.
"Hold on," she told him, pulling her hands out from under his shirt. He moaned in protest. The buttons of his shirt were so bloody small she ended up just pulling the shirt open, causing the buttons to pop off. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and bent her head down to his chest. He hissed in pleasure as her mouth latched onto his right nipple.
"Yes," he moaned as she rolled her tongue around his nipple.
He lifted Hermione off the ground and spun her towards the tent. The movement caught her off guard and she gasped.
"We should take this somewhere a little more private," he told her as he pushed through the tent flap. He set her on the sleeping bag, and then straightened. He stood above her, his shirt agape; he could feel her eyes roving over his chest like a physical caress.
Hermione leaned back on the sleeping bag, propped up on her elbows watching as Severus slowly peeled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. His eyes never left her face as he stepped out of his shoes, kicking them to the side. His hands drifted down to his waistband.
Hermione's eyes wandered down the length of his wry frame, down to the sight of his cock straining against the material of his trousers. She unconsciously licked her lips.
"Wanton."
She smiled up at him, trying to look innocent, but failing miserably. "It must be the company I'm keeping," she said in a husky voice, sitting up. "May I?" she asked, reaching for the waistband of his trousers. He didn't say a word as she slowly unbuttoned the top button. She looked up into his face as she lowered the zipper; his eyes glittered darkly as his cock sprang free from its prison of material.
Hermione pulled back, eager to see his body. Severus wasn't a big man by any means, but he was wholly male. His shoulders were broad, his chest nearly hairless, his waist tapered and narrow. She let her eyes wander over his body, down to the rigid member jutting up from his groin. She leaned down and licked the tip of his cock. It was just a small lick, more of a teasing preview of what was to come than anything else, but it caused Severus to utter a harsh, guttural groan of pleasure.
"Hermione..." he moaned, clenching his hands at his sides. She smiled up at him and impishly licked the tip of his cock again. Severus gasped, his dark eyes fluttering closed as he reached for her. "Bloody hell, are you trying to kill me?"
"No," she replied with an impish smile. "I'm just trying to motivate you."
"Oh, I'm motivated," he replied, stepping completely out of his trousers, which had pooled at his feet. He straightened, standing before her completely naked, his engorged penis proudly jutting forward. Then, before Hermione could move, he leaned down, pushing her back against the sleeping bag. He placed an arm on each side of her head and pressed his naked body against her still-clothed one.
Hermione arched against him. She could feel the heat of his body through the material of her own trousers, sinking past the flimsy cotton of her shirt. Severus kissed her again, his mouth roughly taking hers. He kissed her as if she were the only woman in the universe, and Hermione reveled in that feeling. His tongue pressed past her lips, sweeping into her mouth, leisurely teasing and twisting against her own. His hands moved against her flesh, pushing and tugging at the material of her shirt.
The shirt was gone in a second, smoothly sailing over Severus's shoulder before his head dipped down to nuzzle between Hermione's breasts. He licked at the curve spilling out of her silk bra, sucking at the soft flesh, causing Hermione to groan.
She arched up, and his hands wound their way around her back as he deftly unhooked her bra. He pulled the flimsy material down her shoulders, freeing her breasts from their confinement.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as his lips captured one nipple. He wrapped his tongue around the tight peak, swirling and teasing the sensitive point until she let out a ragged, gasping breath. Her reaction seemed to please him, because Severus let out a low growl, then moved his mouth to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment.
Hermione clawed at his back, desperately trying to breathe in the onslaught of so many wonderful sensations. Her hips moved restlessly against him, her need to feel him inside of her mounting.
She pushed at him, pushing that glorious mouth away from her breasts, gasping, "Take these off..." All the while pushing at her trousers.
Severus gave her a sizzling look as he helped tug the offending material down her legs. His fingers hooked the elastic of her silk knickers and dragged them down too. He tossed them somewhere behind them.
Hermione moaned in pleasure as his hands touched her; it felt electric because this time there was nothing between her flesh and his hands.
Severus tried to pin her to the sleeping bag, but Hermione met him halfway, pushing him back until he was sitting beside her. She grabbed at his hands before they could continue to wander over her body. That earned her a haughty look.
She leaned in towards his chest, and whispered, "Not so fast," before licking at his nipple.
"You're going to kill me," he gasped out.
"No," she told him as she leaned in, casing him to fall back against the sleeping bag. "Just torture you a bit." She released his hands and straddled him as she nipped at his neck, her tongue tracing the path of the scar. His eyes closed and his hands gripped at her waist.
He licked his lips, his voice all hoarse and breathy as he called her a sadist. He rocked his hips up, positioning his cock at the crux of her sex. Hermione arched her back as he flexed up, sheathing himself fully inside of her. Hermione whimpered in pleasure, a strangled, "Yes..." hissing from her lips.
Severus reached up and pulled her down, groaning as his lips captured hers. He flexed his hips, arching up as his tongue swooped into her mouth, the tandem movements making Hermione squirm against him.
Back and forth they rocked, Hermione's hips rising and falling as she rode him, sometimes only taking a part of him into her flesh, other times taking the full length of him as deeply into her as possible.
Hermione placed her hands on his chest, using him for leverage as she moved against him at a faster pace. Her thighs flexed, the muscles tensing as she threw her head back in pleasure.
Severus slipped a hand down between them, his fingers searching until they landed on her clit. Hermione let out a strangled gasp. He stroked her clit slowly, relishing the way her inner muscles clenched around his cock with every light touch.
Severus arched up, his hand teasing at Hermione's clit as his cock moved inside of her with first a shallow, then a deep thrust, alternating until Hermione thought she'd go insane.
"Please," she whispered.
He moved both hands to her hips and moved her body with his, the thrusts becoming almost sharp and brutal. Hermione shifted a bit, and then suddenly she jerked, letting out a keening cry. Her eyes rolled back as she convulsed around him, the power of her orgasm clenching around him.
Severus let out a harsh groan, thrusting up one last time as his own orgasm overtook him.
Hermione collapsed against Severus's chest, her breath ragged and quick. Severus's hands stroked her back, slowly sliding over the curve of her spine as she tried to recover. He kissed the side of her neck, and she groaned in protest as he moved, easing them both onto their sides.
"That... that was..." she gasped out, trying to find the right words.
"Shush," he told her, placing a long, tapered finger against her lips.
Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to protest, but something in his eyes belayed her. She ducked her head, nuzzling against his chest as she closed her eyes. He let out a soft breath, reached over, and pulled what he could of the sleeping bag over them.
Chapter 3
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