Chapter 11
All is quiet within the walls of the castle now. Severus can feel it in each stone, as if Hogwarts itself has breathed a near-audible sigh of relief now that the little witch has completed her mission. Now that everyone is safe again. Just like its inhabitants, the castle, too, clings to the vital threads of hope. Just like its inhabitants, the castle has its own scars to heal.
It whispers as much to him as he aimlessly walks its darkened halls, though he knows where the castle wishes to lead him, where it always wishes to lead him— to her.
Always, it is her.
And so when he finds himself standing in front of the closed doors of the Great Hall, he knows who he will find inside.
Hermione is laying on the far end of the last table to his left, her legs swinging lazily over the edge as she stares up at the star-lit ceiling. As he comes to stand before her, he watches as she twists the tip a sheathed dagger— one he recognizes— against the wood of the table at her side.
“Where ever did you get that infernal thing?” He asks, arching a brow, though somehow lacking the expected surprise.
“I pulled it from Dobby’s body,” She replies, eerily calm. “I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it… So I kept it.”
“Well… You ought to be careful with it, as I’m sure you know,” He says, eyeing her. Regardless, a slow smirk tugs at his mouth, something darkly poetic about such a dagger landing in Hermione’s hands.
“This is where Bellatrix died, you know.”
“Survivor’s guilt?” He asks blithely, stepping closer to look down at her. “How mundane.”
Severus catches that familiar glint swimming to the surface of her eyes as she tilts her head to the side and meets his gaze.
“Sometimes I like to imagine it was me who killed her,” She practically whispers, her hand clenching hard around the dagger’s ornate handle as she stills.
“I find it’s best to move on from such things,” He says in a gentler tone, understanding all-too-well the sickness such a fixation can cause.
“I can’t,” She says, turning her gaze back to the ceiling. “I’m missing something.”
“You are alive, Hermione, which is victory enough,” Severus says as he reaches down to tenderly sweep a curl from her face, his chest tightening as she leans into his touch. “Or do you need to be reminded of such things, little witch?” He asks, drawing his touch down her cheek and along her neck, down to the valley of her unbuttoned collar as she slowly blinks up at him.
“Will you remind me, Severus?” She murmurs softly, her sweet voice a tingling warmth across his skin as her knees part.
She is so painfully stunning, he thinks as he gazes down at her, with her unruly curls splayed around her shoulders and gleaming under the moonlight, with her cheeks now stained a lovely pink as she searches his gaze, with molten amber eyes brimming with such a sultry desire that his own flesh feels as if it might burst into flame under her scrutiny.
Who could say no to such a creature?
Perhaps a better man would say no…
Severus drags a hand down her chest and stomach as he takes measured steps to stand between her spread legs, each button popping free under his touch.
“Take it off,” He orders, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt as she shifts out of her own.
With his gaze growing darker as he watches her bare herself to him, he slowly smoothes his hands up and down her thighs before gliding them upward, pushing up her skirt along his path and firmly tracing the swell of her hips to then grip just above the dip of her waist. He sweeps his thumbs across her stiffened, pink nipples with a teasing touch and feels her breath hitch as he hooks his fingers into the thin band of her underwear and slides them down her legs as he drops to his knees.
Severus snakes his arms under her legs to clutch at her hips, releasing a heavy exhale against her inner thigh as he leans over her. He watches goosebumps spread across her ivory skin, a deep shiver running through her muscles and making her tremble beneath his hands. He can already smell her arousal as he presses his open mouth to the most tender part of her inner thigh, his blood burning with anticipation as he slowly nips and licks his way down to her knee, returning upward only to descend again down her other thigh.
“Is this what you want from me, Hermione?” He asks just as she begins to squirm impatiently, and he continues to tease her as he glances up to catch her gaze, grazing his lips and teeth along her skin.
“Take what you want, Severus,” She murmurs breathily, peering down at him with a look of pleading.
“Oh, I intend to,” He purrs darkly, drawing a gasp from her that quickly turns into a surprised moan as he yanks her to the edge of the table by her hips and finally buries his head between her thighs, plunging his tongue into her slick folds to languidly lick the entire length of her slit. He holds her still with a firm grip as she restlessly shifts and mewls and clutches at his arms, rapidly coming undone under his mouth as he tastes and teases her, switching between light, lingering licks and firm lashes to her sensitive bud.
“Has anyone ever tasted you like this, Hermione?” He asks, only briefly removing his mouth from her.
“Oh, gods…” She hisses, arching her back off the table and digging her nails into his forearms as he harshly sucks her swollen flesh into his mouth and releases her with an obscene and wet pop.
“Answer me, witch,” He demands with a sudden thrust of two fingers inside her, curling them to rub against her inner wall.
“Fuck— No! Just you, Severus, only you!” She cries, and he latches his mouth to her once again with a deep, satisfied groan as he quickens the thrusting of his hand and thrashes his tongue against her until a desperate moan is ripped from her lungs. Her sounds echo throughout the quiet Hall like some wicked, licentious hymn, stoking the smoldering heat of want pricking just under his skin to a brutal flame of lust, of need, that licks up his chest and scorches his insides, lashing mercilessly at his every nerve as he feels her muscles draw taut before her cunt pulses violently around his fingers, both wholly consumed by her own pleasure as her pelvis grinds against his face and her nails claw deeper into his skin.
Hermione’s arched back barely hits the table before Severus is on his feet and looming over her, swiftly snatching her upper arm and tugging her close to his chest while his other hand twists into the curls at the back of her head with a firm grip. Capturing her lips with his own, he delves deep into her sweet mouth, their groans mingling as she tastes herself on his tongue, while her hands make quick work of his buttons.
The sudden coolness of exposure does nothing to soothe his heated skin as Hermione yanks his shirt free from his trousers and flings it open to roam her slender hands across his bare chest. A deep shudder chases down his spine as her tender touch grazes past his nipples, her fingertips fluttering along several of the many scars strewn across his stomach. As one of her hands slides downward to firmly palm his rigid length, he wrenches her head to the side and nips sharply at the soft flesh of her earlobe, the fist in her hair tightening as she whimpers.
“Feel what you do to me, little witch,” Severus growls close to her ear, pressing himself into her hand and trailing a warm, wet path down her neck with his lips and teeth and tongue.
“Feel how badly I wish to bury myself deep into your wet, needy cunt,” He murmurs against her collarbone.
Her hands fly to his belt, working at it with frantic fingers as her hips roll and shift impatiently against him, moaning as he tugs on her hair and forces her to arch her back, giving him access to trail his mouth down her chest and nuzzle teasingly at the swell of her breasts.
“Please, Severus,” Hermione pleads, squirming in his arms.
“What is it you want, Hermione?” He murmurs huskily, drawing a pitiful mewl from her as he suddenly sucks one of her rosy nipples into his mouth and tightens his hand around her hip, yanking her closer against his hardness to give her the friction her restless movements have been seeking.
“Fuck me, please Severus, I need you inside me!” She begs in a frantic rush.
A hissing breath escapes him as a determined, delicate hand dives inside his trousers and firmly wraps around his cock, and he can feel the wetness at its tip smear across his skin as he aches and throbs in her hand while her other pushes his boxers down.
Hermione gives a small yelp of surprise, clutching at his shoulders and drawing her legs around him as he lowers her down to the table. She drops a hand to reach between them only to huff indignantly as he snatches her wrists and pins them above her head with one hand.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me, witch?” He growls, watching her lashes flutter under his heavy gaze as he caresses and squeezes her breast, slowly thrusting between her folds to slick himself in her arousal.
“Stop teasing—“
Before she can finish, Severus grasps her hip with his free hand and thrusts into her, a primal sound rumbling through his chest as her mouth falls open and she arches against him with a loud moan.
He stills for the briefest moment, overwhelmed and intoxicated and fully seated inside her, spiraling down, down, down into her tight heat and clenched thighs and deep, warm amber as he begins to move inside her, slowly but firmly, watching as she sinks her teeth into her reddened lower lip—
“What have I told you about biting your lip, Hermione,” He warns sternly, punctuating his words with a sharp smack to her thigh.
Something between a mewl and a gasp escapes her as her eyes widen, a glint suddenly sparking in her gaze.
“Again,” She finally pants, tightening her thighs around his waist, “Harder.”
A low, dark chuckle rumbles from him then as he quickens his thrusts, letting go of her wrists and setting a brutal pace inside her as he reaches back to comply with her demand. A sharp crack echoes around them as his open hand comes down hard against her thigh, and he clenches his jaw as her walls flutter and squeeze around his cock while the most wanton sounds spill from her mouth.
“You like it when I’m rough, don’t you,” He husks as he rolls her nipple between his fingers and gives it a harsh tug. Severus barely catches her whispered ‘yes’ as she skims her nails down his chest, clenching around him again and he quickly buries his head in the crook of her neck to grasp at any shred of control he might have left.
“So filthy…” He murmurs against her skin before snaking a hand between them to rub at her, unraveling much too fast with each lecherous slap of their skin as he slams into her.
Hermione jolts under his touch, her hand flying down to grip at his wrist, and he raises his head to meet her gaze.
“I can’t,” She whimpers, simultaneously grinding harder against him and attempted to wriggle away from his circling fingers.
“Shhh… You’re doing so well, Hermione…” He soothes in a low voice as he dips his head to ghost his mouth along her neck, quickening his movements as her sounds become louder and her muscles begin to tremble. “But I won’t stop until that pretty cunt of yours comes around my cock… just like I imagined while you fucked yourself in the library.”
“Gods— harder!” She cries, digging her heels into his back and clutching at his waist to keep herself from sliding up the table as he snaps his hips harder, harder, harder until a litany of incoherent words and sounds of pleasure burst from her lips, her body shuddering violently beneath his. The sudden constriction around his cock plunges him over the edge alongside her with a deep, rumbling groan as he gives one final, brutal thrust before stilling deep inside her and spurting his release into her dripping, needy cunt.
Severus collapses over her with a satisfied sigh, careful not to crush her as they both attempt to catch their breath. At some point, her hands begin to draw slow, soothing circles across his back and he’s not sure he’s ever felt this relaxed in his life.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
He huffs a laugh and raises his head, his smirk quickly melting into a soft smile to match her own as a gentle warmth suddenly blooms in his chest.
“For reminding me,” she adds, her eyes seeming to brighten as he pushes back the stray curls from her face before cupping a hand to her cheek.
She looks so beautiful, he thinks as his thumb gently sweeps over her high cheekbone, all flushed and glowing and just… perfect.
He would give anything to stay by her side, he realizes in that moment. He would do anything, anything at all, to be good enough to do so.
But he isn’t. He knows that… and he hates himself for it.
That familiar ache returns to his chest as he presses his lips to hers.
“Don’t make it easy, Hermione,” He whispers.
***