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Hermione stepped out from Flourish and Blotts, a pile of shrunken books in her bag. The door locked itself behind her, and she knew if she looked back she would see the shopkeeper's annoyed face. Diagon Alley lay silent; most of the shops closed half an hour ago, which she supposed made the shopkeeper's annoyance valid. The summer evening was warm and balmy, and the gentle breeze caressed Hermione's skin as she walked towards the Apparition point.
From the junction where the main street bled into Knockturn Alley stepped a familiar figure. Hermione stopped. So did he.
Her pulse quickened, and she smiled. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Is it?” Severus asked with a quirk of his brow.
“Yes. I wasn't expecting to see you until the start of term. How's your holiday?”
He exhaled a chuckle. “Blissfully silent and bordering on uneventful.”
Hermione laughed. “Mine too. I enjoyed the slow pace the first weeks, but now I'm getting rather antsy.” She pushed a curl behind her ear. Could she... “Would you like to go for a pint? It's such a lovely evening; it would be a shame to waste it.”
Severus looked taken aback, and she almost regretted asking. While they were friendly – frequently grading papers or doing patrols together – they had never spent any time together away from the castle. The truth was that – apart from respecting him as a colleague and Potions Master – Hermione wanted to shag him something fiercely.
“All right,” he finally said. “Do you have a place in mind?”
“Lavender told me of a newly opened Muggle place that's supposed to be good.”
He nodded. “Lead the way.”
The pub – called The Bell and Arms – lay tucked away on a side street near Russell Square. The walled beer garden was surprisingly large and featured light wood pergolas, colourful seating and plenty of greenery. It was busy, and the sound of people talking and laughing mingled with the clink of glasses and soft music playing.
“There's a free table over there,” Severus said, pointing to an empty table close to the wall. “I'll go and order our drinks. What do you want?”
“A lager, please.”
Hermione took a seat – her back to the wall – and adjusted her top. Maybe she should excuse herself to the loo to put on some more makeup... No, that was a silly idea. This wasn't a date. Just two colleagues having a pint on a summer's evening. That one of them wanted to shag the other was just a minor inconvenience. Still, she smoothed her hair and hoped she didn't look too dishevelled. She had spent the day with Ginny, Harry and baby James at Grimmauld and James was at the age where he enjoyed gripping onto everything – including Hermione's hair.
While waiting for Severus she watched the other patrons: couples spending more time watching their phones than their partners, friend groups laughing and talking, and in one corner a group of women was on a thankfully subdued hen do. Her eyes glided towards the outside bar, where Severus was picking up two pints. His robes hid a lot of things, including a narrow waist and fantastic arse. She quickly averted her gaze when he approached. The last thing she needed was for him to catch her staring.
“Thank you,” she said as he placed a pint in front of her. “What do I owe you?”
“It's my round,” he said, sitting and folding his long legs underneath him.
The condensation was cool against her palm as she grabbed her glass. “Cheers, then.”
“Cheers.” Severus raised his glass and drank.
Why did she find the way his Adam's apple moved so sexy? She wondered what his skin tasted like. Setting down her glass, she chided herself. Get a grip, Hermione. Under the guise of batting a fly, she cast a silent Muffliato.
“Did you read Bergmann's article about the properties of moondew in memory potions?”
“I did,” Severus said, “and I sent him an owl telling him what a daft prick he is.”
Hermione snorted. “You think everyone is a daft prick.”
His eyebrow quirked. “I do not.”
She raised her brows in a challenge. “Name one person you don't think is a daft prick.”
Severus' mouth closed, and he looked contemplative. “I don't think you're a daft prick,” he said, eyes focusing somewhere on the wall over her head.
Was she blushing? Her face felt awfully hot. “High praise.”
He shrugged and rested one arm on the table. “You've earned it.”
“You don't find me an insufferable know-it-all anymore?” She said teasingly and took a sip of her lager.
“Oh, I do. But not a daft prick.”
She snorted. Raising a hand, she wiped her chin. “How lovely.”
Shifting in her seat, Hermione's bare leg bumped against something warm and solid. Her breath hitched. Severus' hand twitched around his glass.
They spent hours sitting across from each other at the small wooden table, talking and drinking. At some point during the evening, she had mirrored his position, leaving their arms only centimetres apart. They discussed many things: the recent bombings in Mumbai, the new Muggle Studies professor, movies they loved, music they hated. The setting sun cast a golden light and long shadows over the garden and her companion. She found it difficult to look away from his intense gaze. Several times she thought his eyes drifted down – to her mouth? Her cleavage? - but it was so subtle. She couldn't be imagining the tension between them, not when his leg was pressed against hers and he looked at her like she was the only person in the world.
When he made a scathing remark about one of their lesser liked colleagues, she laughed and realised too late she'd put her hand on his arm. It was warm, and coarse dark hairs covered his skin. Time seemed to slow down. His eyes bore into hers, and this time he definitely looked at her mouth. She moved her hand towards his wrist, and he turned his hand palm up. Her hand slid into his. She swallowed hard. His thumb caressed her palm, sending shivers over her body. She wanted him. And unless she was rubbish at reading him – which she usually wasn't – he wanted her too.
Was she a Gryffindor or not?
She wet her lips. “Why don't we go somewhere more private?”
His movement faltered slightly. “Mine?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
-
They Apparated from an alleyway adjacent to the pub into a small and dark sitting room. Hermione only caught a glimpse of wood bookshelves and a stream of evening sunlight through an open doorway before her attention turned to Severus. Her heart raced; the anticipation almost made her light-headed.
“I'm on the potion,” she said, putting her bag on the nearby wingback armchair. “And I got tested a few months ago. All clear.”
“As am I.”
She bit her lip. How could she be this turned on when he hadn't even touched her yet?
Neither of them moved.
“I want to kiss you,” she breathed.
Severus' eyes darkened. “That would be acceptable.”
Hermione moved quickly, cupping his face and pressing her mouth to his. He groaned, hands finding her hips. She sighed when his mouth opened against hers. Her head spun; she was hot and so turned on she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. He smelt of herbs and smoke and tasted like lager and she wanted more. Her back hit something solid, and she gasped. His lips descended to her neck, kissing and nipping the skin. She whimpered, fingers clenching around his shoulders. Her eyes slid closed when he focused on the spot below her ear.
“That feels so good,” she moaned, hips rolling against his tented trousers.
She couldn't believe this was happening. If she'd left Flourish and Blotts ten minutes earlier, she would have been home when Severus stepped into Diagon Alley, and their paths wouldn't have crossed. His mouth wouldn't have been doing amazing things to her neck, and his hand wouldn't slide under her top to caress her breast through her bra.
“Severus,” she panted, which turned into a keen when he shoved her bra up and cupped her breast.
His lips left her skin long enough to whip her top over her head and reach for the clasp of her bra. His fingers fumbled with the clasp, and he made a frustrated noise.
She placed her hand on his. “Here, let me.”
Her bra hit the floor, and he reached for her. She moaned softly, back arching into his hands. As good as his touch felt, she wanted to touch him too. Spinning them around, she pushed him back against the door – sweet Circe, was that the front door? - and sank to her knees. His hard cock strained against the front of his trousers, and she reached for his belt.
“Hermione,” he growled.
Her hands stilled, and she looked up at him. “Do you not want me to?”
“Fuck yes,” he bit out.
Hermione grinned and unbuckled his belt before shoving his trousers and pants over his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and her core clenched. She wrapped her hand around the base and lowered her mouth over the glans. The back of his head hit the door with a low thud. She moaned and slid more of him into her mouth. He grunted and rested a hand gently on her curls. Bobbing her head, she hollowed her cheeks and swirled her tongue around him. Hearing and feeling his reactions, knowing it was her making him feel that way was beyond arousing. She rubbed her thighs together, but it did nothing to alleviate the pressure. Breathing through her nose, she took him deeper and swallowed around him, while her free hand reached for the skin right behind his scrotum.
Severus let out a string of curses, fingers tightening in her hair. “Enough,” he panted, reaching for her arm.
He pulled her to her feet and before she could speak he kissed her roughly, tongue plundering her mouth. She fisted his shirt and let him move them back until she bumped against something soft.
He tore his mouth from hers. “Turn around,” he ordered.
Hermione whimpered and did as commanded. She bent over the sofa arm – it was a very nice sofa, made of buttery dark brown leather – and arched her back. Something wet pressed against the back of her thigh and she whimpered. Was that his tongue? His hands slid underneath her skirt, and as he cupped her bare arse his groan vibrated against her skin.
“You're so fucking sexy,” he growled, hooking his fingers into her thong and pulling it down to her ankles. He helped her step out of it and tapped the inside of her thigh. “Spread your legs.”
When she complied, he flipped her skirt up around her waist. Hermione could hardly breathe. The wet heat of his tongue slid over her entrance before pressing against her clit.
“Oh gods,” she keened, pushing her hips back.
She writhed against the sensation, eyes squeezed shut. She was so turned on, she wouldn't last long. Her stomach swooped, thighs clenching. Almost there, just a little-
His mouth vanished, and she cried out in frustration. She turned her face to look at him. His hand fisted his cock, chest moving rapidly.
Severus' hand caressed her arse. “Yes?”
Hermione wet her lips. “Yes.”
He slid his cock over her entrance – making her moan and push her hips back – before entering her slowly. Her eyes rolled back. Sweet Circe. He drew out slowly and then slammed back in, and she gasped.
“You feel so fucking good,” he bit out, fingers clenching on her hips.
“So do you,” she moaned, hips pushing back.
His cock dragged along her walls with every thrust and hitting a spot that made her clench around him. Hermione feared the top of her head might burst like a champagne cork. He sped up, and she whimpered. Her hand grasped for something to hold on to, finally grabbing the back of the sofa. His tight grip on her hips was the only thing stopping her from being fucked off the sofa.
The sensations were too much: his thick cock inside her, the cool leather against her front and the rough fabric of his trousers against the back of her thighs. Her body was wound so tightly, her mouth open in a silent cry. A few minutes later and the tension unravelled: her mind went blank, fingers tearing at the leather and body writhing as she came around him. Panting, she relaxed back on the sofa. Her head felt floaty, and her hand was heavy as she reached to brush a curl from her sweaty forehead.
“Jesus Christ,” she moaned, then let out a breathless laugh.
She only then realised he had stilled inside her, hand running up and down her back. “I'll say,” he chuckled. “I thought for a second that you'd passed out.”
Lifting onto shaking elbows, she looked back. “So did I.”
His face was flushed, eyes practically burning into hers. He twitched inside her, and a new wave of arousal rolled over her. She wanted to feel his body covering hers, surrounding her. With some difficulty – her legs were embarrassingly shaky – she stood. Severus moved back, cock slipping out of her.
Turning, she wet her lips. “Bedroom?”
He jerked his head. “Upstairs. Would you like some water first?”
“Yes, please.”
Severus disappeared through the open doorway she'd briefly seen when arriving. She stretched her back, wincing as the vertebrae popped back into place. Looking down, another wave of embarrassment ran through her at seeing the evidence of her climax beading on the side of the sofa. That was new. She vanished it with a wave of her hand. He returned from the kitchen with a glass of water, which she downed in its entirety before setting it on the coffee table.
“Shall we?” she asked.
Severus' bedroom was on the smaller side, with a metal-framed double bed in the corner and a narrow desk underneath the window. The room was dark – the sun had already set – and he turned on the lamp on the bedside table with a flick of his hand. She removed her skirt and shoes and reached for his shirt buttons.
“You're overdressed,” she said, and her words turned into a moan when he cupped her arse and pressed against her. Before she could undo the first one, his clothing disappeared. She gasped at the feel of his warm, bare skin against hers. “I wanted to do that.”
“I'd rather keep fucking you,” he growled, mouth close to hers.
Hermione exhaled shakily. “That works too.”
She moved back onto the bed, taking in his form as he moved over her. She could just about make out a few silvery scars on his torso before his body covered hers. Their mouths met in a kiss that soon turned frantic, and Hermione drew her knees up on either side of his hips. His cock nudged at her entrance, and she tore her mouth from his with a gasp.
“Severus,” she keened, hips rolling and heels digging into his arse trying to pull him inside. “I want you.”
He grasped her chin, tilting her head and kissing her fiercely. Then he entered her in one hard stroke. Her back arched, and she cried out. His mouth left hers, ducked to draw a nipple between his lips. Her hands searched for something to hold on to, finally grasping the metal bars of the headboard. She was still sensitive from her earlier climax, and her legs trembled.
Severus released her nipple and gave the other the same treatment. The sound of their hips slapping together was loud in her ears, as were the noises coming from her mouth that she couldn't suppress. Lifting his head, Severus sat back and arranged her legs to rest against his shoulders. This new angle made her gasp.
“Fuck,” he growled, hands clenching around her thighs. “I've wanted you for so long.”
Hermione moaned, fingers tightening around the metal bars. “How long?”
“Months.” He moved his hand down and rubbed her clit. “I would fantasise about pushing you against the wall in the staff room and burying my face between your thighs.”
“Merlin,” she keened. She was so close.
“Or bending you over the head table in the Great Hall and fucking you until you screamed my name, not caring if the whole school decided to watch.”
“Don't stop; I'm gonna come again,” she whimpered, back arching.
Severus pressed harder on her clit, and a couple of thrusts later, she shattered around him. Her knees drew up towards her chest and Severus followed, burying his head in the crook of her neck and grunting. His grip on her hips tightened, and he slammed into her twice more before stilling. His groan vibrated against her skin. Panting, Hermione let go of the bars. Her fingers ached from the tightness of her grip. She rested one hand on Severus' sweat-soaked back, the other in his black hair.
He placed a soft kiss on her neck and rose to his elbows. Something fluttered in Hermione's chest at seeing his relaxed face, mouth quirked into a hint of a smile. She pushed those feelings deep down. She couldn't let herself give into them.
Instead, she moved his hair behind his ear. “Am I still an insufferable know-it-all?”
He chuckled and kissed her swiftly. “You are.” Rolling off, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “You're also incredibly sexy.”
Hermione smiled softly. “You're not too bad yourself.”
His breath washing over her, and the languid patterns he traced on her back were making her eyelids heavy. Blinking, she fought the urge to burrow into his side and fall asleep. She couldn't stay. Merlin knew she wanted to, but she couldn't. If she did...
“What time is it?” she asked, rubbing a hand over her face.
His hand left her back as he – presumably – cast a Tempus charm. “Almost midnight.”
“I should get back home.”
Severus' brow furrowed ever so slightly before he nodded. “Of course.”
Now that the heat of the moment had passed, she felt very exposed walking downstairs in nothing but her skirt and shoes. She waved a cleansing charm over herself and her knickers before sliding them on, then located the rest of her clothing. As she got dressed, Severus stood by the stairs, arms crossed over his chest and looking frustratingly put together. Only the flushed tint of his skin and slightly messy hair betrayed their previous activities.
Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder. “May I use your Floo?”
He nodded curtly. “Of course.”
It felt wrong to just leave, so she walked over to him and put her hand on his arm. “Thank you for tonight, Severus.”
His mouth twitched. “It was my pleasure, Hermione.”
She kissed him softly and fought against the part of her that screamed she should stay. Throwing the Floo powder into the hearth, she called out for home.
Her flat lay dark and quiet. Dropping her bag, Hermione sank down on the sofa. There was a chirp, and Crookshanks joined her. He kept sniffing her, then gave her a clearly judgmental look.
“I know, Crooks,” she sighed.
What she wouldn't give to be back at Spinner's End, wrapped in Severus' arms. She could bury her nose in the crook of his neck, let herself feel warm and safe. He would make her feel safe. They'd fall asleep entwined, and maybe wake each other in the middle of the night with unhurried kisses and soft touches. She wanted it so badly she could almost taste it.
Hermione blinked. She was going to do it. She would get up, get back through the Floo and ask to stay. Maybe he would say something scathing but thinly veiled, but he would let her stay. Yes, that was what she was going to do.
When the first rays of the morning sun found their way into her sitting room, she still sat on the sofa, staring into the empty hearth.