Keep me, keep me here with you
“I don’t want to lose you,” she panted, her voice muffled against his neck as she kept on pressing kisses on the intricate scars of his neck. Her tongue traced all the lines carefully and he, despite his pledge to stay quiet, let out a groan.
He loved her even more when she was worshipping everything he hated about himself.
One of his hands –the one that was already buried into her untamed curls, tugged slightly, making her pull away from his neck. And despite her nature that screamed defiance, Hermione stopped her ministrations and looked at him with a look that conveyed her curiosity.
“Why are you doing this?” he muttered. This was relatively new; Severus, despite his age, had never experienced what it meant to be in a meaningful situation. Yet this girl had insisted on barging into his life with her newly-discovered wiles and her smiles and the way she succumbed to his touch as if it was crucial to her survival. And it drove him mad, to know that he, a man who always felt undeserving of anything that was good, could live through such a moment.
When she stopped her touch altogether, blinking at the question, he quickly lamented the loss of the feel –her breath on his scars, making him feel raw and vulnerable, in a way he hadn’t let anyone else make him feel.
“Why are you so surprised?” Hermione eventually asked, and instead of her mouth, she let her fingers trail gently over his scars. “Severus, it’s been half a year of being with you, and you still ask me why I am here,” she huffed. “Half the castle has already see us together, and yet you still ask me if I want to hide what we’re doing.” The young woman paused for a minute, before she continued, “I mean it. I fought hard to gain the right to be with you, Severus. And I don’t want to lose you, I don’t want to see you doubting us until you drive me away.”
“I still believe you have better options, Hermione, listen to me–”
“If I am to listen to you, better be to listen to you moan my name,” she quipped, effectively putting an end to the discussion before she refocused her attempts at mapping his scars.
“How dangerous,” he thought, “to finally have something worth losing.” And as his young lover spent almost a whole night trying to commit each and every one of his scars in her memory, he decided that there was nothing else in this world he was keen on fighting for, except for her.