Chapter 12: First Surrender
Random crackling of burning logs in the fireplace was the only noise that penetrated the thick silence of the room. Serving as the only source of light, the orange flames created mesmerising shadows along the walls. But the young woman was oblivious to the dancing darkness with her eyes staring unblinkingly into the midst of the fire.
Hermione sighed. She was more than aware that she should have been in bed long ago. More than two hours had passed since she had put on her nightie but instead of staying in her bed, decided to indulge herself in some reading in the living room. The apartment was silent, indicating that the other occupant of these quarters was thankfully asleep. The problem was that sleep did not pull her yet. In fact, it appeared as if the last good night’s sleep she had was the last night of the summer holidays.
And she knew exactly who to blame for her lack of sleep since.
The fact that she was taking residence in HIS quarters did not help one bit. Against her nature, Hermione was finally starting to realise her mistake. She should never have agreed to such an obscene plan that not only included her marrying at the age of seventeen but to none other than Severus Snape, the Great Bat of the dungeons, the nightmare of every first year student.
Nevertheless, it was too late to relent.
Hermione massaged her closed eyelids. Too late for regrets. The least she could do now for the good cause was to go along with the \"happy marriage\" plan and pretend that everything was fine. The problem was that keeping up the facade was starting to get onto her nerves already.
The young woman already prepared to lift herself from the chair when something orange and bushy suddenly jumped onto her lap.
The witch uttered a squeak a second before she recognised Crookshanks.
“Oh, it’s you,” she muttered relieved, passing her hand affectionately across the thick fur. She could not help herself but feel embarrassed by her stupid reaction. Hermione had no idea why her nerves were running high lately and she doubted she would have liked to know the answer.
Even while being petted, the cat/Kneazle hybrid managed to give her a sullen look. To say that he was not happy to be moved into another territory would have been a huge understatement. Since moving into the dungeons, Crookshanks managed to avoid his owner for almost three weeks and eating only Merlin knew what. Only three days ago he at last approached Hermione, though cautiously. It was somewhat ironic that the same day happened to be her birthday, but she knew her cat well enough to know that there were no “coincidences” where he was concerned.
“It seems you are one of the few who gave his congratulations to me, Crooks,” she whispered, scratching the feline behind his ear.
The cat now gave her a somewhat squinted, reproachful look.
“And don’t look at me like that! You know I don’t mean it in a harsh way. It is the genuine attention one seeks, a small acknowledgement.”
In truth, probably the whole school managed to congratulate Hermione SNAPE on her eighteenth birthday. When she received a personal letter from the Ministry during breakfast, congratulating her with a “blooming start of adult life to one of the most clever and beautiful witches of the British Islands”, she nearly suffocated with all the pumpkin juice that she accidentally inhaled through her nose while reading. Harry’s choking on his porridge was a clear indication that she was not the only one to think that the Minister was taking things too far.
However, despite herself, Hermione felt insulted. Not only by the mere fact that two thirds of all the received congratulations were insincere and made in terms of public niceties. No. The reality was simple; her own husband failed to notice her on her own birthday.
That is not true, Hermione corrected herself bitterly, Snape was an image of polite attentiveness in public. In private however, his attentiveness turned into cold detachment that showed more clearly than any words what he really felt towards her and their forced union.
Their last kiss managed to touch Hermione in a way that nothing else managed to achieve so far. The dance, on the other hand, revived a burning craving that she thought she would never feel towards anything except her books. As a result, she found herself almost constantly pondering the mystery called Severus Snape. While at Hogwarts he displayed a cold bastard who seemed to possess an unhealthy liking towards sadism, unguarded seconds in private showed him to be a wounded man who experienced too much in this world to allow anyone to enter his heart.
Hermione shook her head. That was becoming ridiculous. The last thing she needed was to become some sloppy school girl taking an unhealthy interest in the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts.
“Come on, Crooks, let’s get some sleep,” she said at last and stood up with the orange cat in her arms.
“Nightmares, Mrs. Snape?”
Hermione squealed and by instinct threw her hands to her face in surprise. Crookshanks landed less than gracefully on his feet with a prolonged and angry “meow”. Throwing her a dirty look, the cat shot out of the room like a missile, leaving her alone with the owner of the drawling voice.
Traitor, angrily thought Hermione towards the cat.
Nervously wringing her hands, she turned towards Snape and swallowed.
Snape stood in the doorway that led to his own bedroom. With his hands crossed in his usual stern manner, he lounged against the door jam wearing a black bathrobe. His unbound hair fell freely into his face, creating a curtain through which peeked only his nose and glinting black eyes.
“E-excuse me...did you say something?” asked Hermione, trying to focus her eyes upon Snape\'s face.
“I asked you if nightmares are keeping you awake.”
Hermione forced a casual laugh that sounded strained even to her own ears.
“Nightmares? Nonsense. I just can’t sleep,” she muttered, plastering a lame smile upon her face.
Snape shrugged his shoulders.
“Just asking. It would be awful if my wife suffered under my care,” said he.
The young witch felt an unexplainable warmth rush through her body at his words. Did he really care? Perhaps his arctic demeanour was just an illusion. She however kept her face carefully blank.
“Really?” she asked softly.
“Well, we do not want the public to have any suspicions about your possible discomfort, do we?” Snape’s voice was hard, smirking as he looked at her.
The words ruthlessly crushed any hope of reconciliation between them. Anger boiled instantly within Hermione. However, she didn’t dare let it out in fear of what she might do. The only possibility to let the situation remain peaceful was to disappear from the scene as soon as possible.
“If you will excuse me, I have to go and get some sleep,” she replied coldly.
She was about to make a step towards her bedroom when he crisply spoke out;
Hermione stiffened in place and coated her Professor with a gaze that could have frozen the Niagara Falls.
“I won’t excuse you.”
With her nerves already riding seemingly high, the witch could almost hear how her temper snapped.
“How dare you speak to me like that! You are nobody to me to have the right to order me around,” hissed she venomously.
“I remain your Professor, Miss Granger, do not forget that,” drawled out Snape with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Unhumourus laughter escaped Hermione’s mouth that sounded more like a bark.
“Ha! And that is the problem, isn’t it? I am no longer a Granger but a student who shares quarters with her PROFESSOR. And why is that? Because I ended up being married to one, bloody hell!”
“Watch your mouth, MRS. SNAPE!”
“Or what? Are you going to break our marriage contract? Well, let me tell you this; I don’t give a damn for the fate of the wizard world anymore. As far as I’m concerned, everyone can go and fuck themselves if it means that I have to stay married to such a cold and sarcastic bastard as you one more DAY!” she shouted, having no more hold on her rage. She realised her mistake too late.
He moved so fast that to Hermione’s eyes he was a black blur that rushed towards her. The next second Hermione squealed out in pain as Snape’s hand reached out with a speed of a striking snake and buried itself in the tangle of her chestnut curls, yanking her ruthlessly against his body.
“Shut the fuck up!” he spat into her face.
Hermione’s heart did a flip as she stared into the black eyes mere inches away from her face. Fright flapped like a caged bird within her throat even as she started to regret her sudden outburst. Nevertheless, sheer pride did not let her utter one word of excuse.
“Let...me...go,” she said instead, through tightly clenched teeth. Pain was starting to become unbearable as he held her hair in a death grip. To keep from crying out, Hermione grabbed the nearest thing to hold on to. In this case, she ended up clutching the front of Snape’s bathrobe in her clenched fists.
“Why should I do you such a favour, Mrs. Snape?” he enquired in a voice that practically dripped sarcasm with every syllable. “You throw a raging fit for Merlin only knows why, swear in the presence of a teacher and in addition throw insults towards me.”
“So I have no reason to be angry, eh? It seems that in addition to being far from an ideal spouse, you must be both blind and deaf as well!”
Snape’s fist tightened a fraction more, making Hermione’s jaw tense further in pain.
“Women have a tendency to find nonexistent offences in the very air, and it seems you are not an exception,” said he calmly, contradicting the anger whirling in his eyes.
“Was it so difficult to just say the truth to my face instead of sending messages through your insults, SNAPE?”
The black haired wizard gave her his most impressive scowl.
“What are you blabbering about, girl?”
“For Merlin’s sake, stop acting like a moron! Just a minute ago you managed to rant about how you couldn’t care less about my well-being, while in public you are forced to play the disgusting role of a ‘caring husband’. Save me my nerves and don’t humiliate me with your indifference...I beg you.” The last she almost whimpered out.
Something passed across Snape’s eyes but it disappeared so quickly that she thought she must have imagined it. He did not answer but for some unexplainable reason shifted her body slightly to his left so she ended up with the fireplace behind her back.
Silence stretched between them and unable to see the scrutinizing loathing that most probably lingered within his stare, Hermione dropped her eyes. Brought up in a small but loving family, she always sought for at least an echo of that love to resurface in the people surrounding her. Naturally, as human nature goes, occasions brought people into her path with whom she did not wish to share any sympathy and last of all love. Nevertheless, Snape, no matter how many wrongs he had committed, was still a wizard who used to risk his life daily as a spy for the Order in the midst of the Death Eaters. She did not even want to ponder the thought of how much more he had suffered during the past year. But where things were heading, Hermione doubted if she would gain even a minute understanding between herself and the man who deserved so much more in his life.
With her thoughts whirling thickly in her head, it took Hermione some time to realise what exactly she was looking at.
Snape’s chest rose and fell steadily practically one inch from her nose. Her fisted hands were tightly clutching the cloth of his bathrobe and that did not go without consequences. Hermione’s earlier desperation must have caused her to grab more forcefully than she intended, causing the bathrobe to reveal his body to the very navel. The chest in front of her was completely hairless, thus revealing an unspoiled view of the pale skin. Flat nipples stood out clearly on the lean but muscled chest that rose slightly with every breath. A dark dust of hairs started only from the navel, trailing a path to whatever lay underneath, still concealed in the darkness of the robe.
Snapping her eyes up, she stared with an owlish appearance into Snape’s face. For the first time since her first year, she really felt the intimidating difference between their heights. The man in front of her was tall, and with her small height she barely reached his shoulders. Inevitably, a rapid blush was starting to fill her cheeks as she spluttered for words. Any words.
“Your robe...sorry...eh- I, I mean... time...have to go...late…”
She was already starting to begin detaching herself from Snape when he did something else that froze her in place. Instead of letting go of her hair, the hand in her curls relaxed and tenderly cradled the back of her head while making small movements against her scalp. The massaging effect instantly relaxed Hermione’s body that welcomed the offering caress compensating for the previous manhandling technique.
Her mind however, true to its reputation had no intention of relaxing. Instead of succumbing to comfort, Hermione’s inner consciousness was going a hundred miles per hour trying to figure out the reason for the sudden change. Her eyes, however, seemed to possess an opinion of their own, refusing to detach themselves from the wizard’s face.
She felt herself slowly drowning in the obsidian eyes. Instead of making them lighter, the dancing light of the fire only highlighted further their unbearable blackness, two deep tunnels that could swallow a soul. The firelight smoothed signs of struggle upon his face, making him look younger. Breath caught in Hermione\'s throat at the image in front of her.
The same eyes seemed to caress every pore of her face, dropping down to scan her body.
“A bit light for the dungeons, don\'t you think?” he rasped.
Following the direction of his gaze, Hermione felt all of her body flush in embarrassment. In the midst of the argument she forgot what she was wearing - or better to say what she WASN\'T wearing. The thin material of her nightgown barely reached her knees. Two sorry excuses for straps were the only protection for her shoulders, leaving them and her arms bare.
The next thing that dawned on her was that the fireplace was right behind her, meaning that the nightgown revealed much more than mere contours of her body.
Instead of falling into a panicking frenzy however, Hermione found her body filling up with a different sort of heat, one that had nothing to do with embarrassment. It started out at the pit of her stomach in a cascading wave that descended to her loins. As if responding to some call, her nipples hardened under the thin cloth so fast that it brought an involuntary gasp to Hermione\'s throat.
Snape\'s eyes not once left her body, drinking up her every reaction without shame. When he finally lifted them up, they were no longer expressionless. They were so full of heat that Hermione had to bite her lip to restrain another gasp.
“Enticing...” he whispered and without warning tightened his hand in her hair, bringing her mouth to his.
There was no gentleness like in their last kiss. While the other one trembled with sensuality, the way Snape\'s mouth devoured hers could only be described as hunger. The kiss was almost bruising, forcing Hermione to open her mouth to escape further inflection of pain. Seizing his chance, the wizard\'s tongue lashed into her mouth. He ruthlessly explored it, while his hard lips brushed against hers. His other hand then dropped to her waist and pulled her in tightly to his body. She instantly felt his hardness pressing against her stomach. The sensation made Hermione gather all of her remaining strength, just enough to detach her mouth from Snape\'s.
“You...we- I mean-“
“The legendary know-it-all cannot find words because of me? I am honoured,” interrupted Snape. His pun would have worked better if his voice hadn’t trembled with passion.
Just as she opened her mouth again, his hand shot out from her hair and suddenly grabbed hold of her left breast. Words died upon her tongue instantly, while her mind already forgot what she was about to say.
“You like that, don\'t you?”
His palm pressed firmly around her breast, lifting its heaviness with his fingers digging lightly into the soft skin. Hermione\'s breath was starting to come in short gasps, riding on the sensation that her hardened nipple gave her even through the material of the nightgown, pressing tightly into his hand. No one had ever touched her like that.
She gave a strangled moan.
“I will take that as a ‘yes’.”
The hand upon Hermione\'s waist snaked down against her back until it repositioned itself on her bottom. With an almost agonizing slowness, Snape moved it further down until it rested on the back of her right leg, right underneath her arse. Looking intently at her half opened mouth, he deliberately opened her legs. Without further warning, his leg moved into the now free space, bringing her core flush against the naked skin of his leg.
This time her moan was louder.
“I do, however, believe that you would like this even more.”
With his hand continuing to caress her breast and nipple, Hermione\'s mind lost all of its rational logic. The only thing she knew and felt were his hands, the long fingers that were the secret target of wonderment and thoughts of almost every girl from fifth year and upwards.
The heat between her legs began to be unbearable. Unconsciously, she started to move her hips, pressing herself further into his leg. The friction forced the witch to bite her swollen lip to keep herself from whimpering at the sensation. She felt her building wetness rub itself onto his leg, leaving a wet trail in its wake.
She was too far gone to pay any attention to the ripping sound that cut through the air at first. Only when her flushed skin connected with the coldness of the dungeons did she realise that her nightgown has been torn from her body.
The next second her misted mind told her that she was carefully laid onto the black sofa, with Severus Snape standing half naked right in front of her.
The moment Severus entered the living room he knew he was a lost man.
Years of habit made it impossible for him to fall into a restful sleep before two in the morning. Around twelve, as usual, he exited his bedroom heading for his private study when the soft glow from the fireplace in the lounge area caught his eye. The stupid girl most probably forgot to vanquish the fire after she went to bed. Paranoid or not, the last thing he needed was to have a fire in his quarters.
Therefore, he was unprepared for what appeared before his eyes when he went to investigate.
The young woman sitting in the lounge chair was breathtaking. The fire played upon her slightly golden skin, creating dancing shadows that seemed to caress her body. The way her hand moved across her cat’s fur made him wonder how it would feel for the same hand to caress HIS skin. Both sensual and innocent in appearance, it was almost unbearable for Severus to understand how this creature of light could stand his company. Of course, the very few words she had spoken to him these days proved how disdainful the sight of him most probably was to her.
But even through his anger, Severus’ breath caught in his throat when she stood up from her chair. The material of her nightgown was transparent with the firelight at her back. He watched as if hypnotised the way her plump breasts pulled against the material as her hands went up in surprise.
The rage at her words switched to lust in the blink of an eye. Passion rushed in hot, pulsating liquid through his veins. He had to have her, in whatever way possible. If that was the only chance he would have to be so near her, he will be damned thrice if he wasn’t going to take what belongs to him by the written law. The most important thing now was to let her forget all the rules, to let her succumb to the lust he was providing her.
Because after that, she will belong to him forever.
An alien feeling almost overtook him as he stared at the sprawled young woman on the sofa. Whether he felt guilt because she WAS still his student, or the way he was tricking her was not important. With irritation, he banished the eating guilt aside, allowing himself to feast with his eyes on the image in front of him.
She had, most probably, the most beautiful body he had ever come across in a woman. Right to her nature, she contradicted the stupidity of today\'s fashion. Instead of being flat and tall, she was all curves. Breasts that did not fully fit into his palm were highlighted by a slender waist that flawlessly transformed into wide hips. The dark curls between her thighs undeniably drew his gaze to them as well as the nipples that seemed to harden further underneath his blazing eyes.
The sight alone almost brought Severus to his peak. His loins clenched in response, tightening his balls into an almost painful pleasure.
Looking into her glazed brown eyes, he knew that she was too inexperienced and too far gone in wanting to deny what his body was able to give her. The self-loathing emotion tried to resurface its ugly head again but he ruthlessly suppressed it again. Locking his eyes with hers, he untied the opening of his bathrobe and shrugged out of it.
It was like a car crash. You do not want to see but are unable to tear your eyes from the scene unfolding right in front of you. That was how Hermione felt when she watched the bathrobe silently fall onto the floor, revealing Professor Severus Snape in all of his naked glory.
His school robes, it appeared, hid a lot.
He was like a pale statue. Tall and lean, his muscles rippled under his skin with his every movement. Years of work as a Death Eater and spy showed his physical strength, highlighted in his every flawless body movement.
Almost against her will, Hermione’s eyes dropped to one thing that at present ate her curiosity from inside out.
First thing that her mind noted was his size. Inexperienced as she was, she had no idea what counted as average but even she by instinct realised that the cock in front of her was far from small. Long and thick, it stood up proudly from the nest of black curls. With something akin to a horrified fascination, Hermione looked at a drop of liquid that seemed to have collected on the broad tip. She hardly imagined that the thing would be able to FIT in her at all.
“If you are going to continue watching me like that, everything is going to end right here,” came Snape’s husky voice.
The young woman began to frown in confusion at his words before it dawned on her. However, instead of blushing again, she felt a rush of feminine power that she never felt before. Diving head first into her endless curiosity, Hermione moved her slender hand upon her breast and pinched her erect nipple.
The next second, a male body appeared right above hers. In fear of crushing her, Snape held himself up on his forearms on either side of her head. But while their upper bodies did not touch, the wizard made sure that there was not one inch of space between their lower parts.
Driven restless by the sensation of his hot heaviness pressed firmly against her thigh, Hermione was semi-oblivious to the way Snape’s head bent towards hers. The awareness came only when she felt his lips brush against her ear.
“Touch me,” he said.
Throwing her shyness to the wind, Hermione’s hand gingerly touched his pale chest. With fascination reflecting what she felt inside of her, she trailed her fingers lightly over his skin, tracing random patterns on the muscles. Detecting a small moan of approval escape Snape’s lips, she felt herself getting boulder. Scooting down on the sofa, her mouth connected with his chest. Giving his skin at first small kisses, her tongue darted to his left nipple, licking the aureole.
The next moment she felt herself being grabbed at the back of her head, preventing her from any further actions. Suddenly afraid she had done something wrong; Hermione threw a somewhat panicked look at Snape’s face.
“Silly girl, you’ve done nothing wrong. On the contrary, your actions are proving to be too dangerous,” he ruefully admitted, his breath coming faster than normal.
Before she could come up with an answer, Snape’s lips captured her nipple. Air soundly rushed out of her lungs at the sucking sensation, bringing a blissful hiss from her mouth as his teeth teased the hardened tip. After giving the same courtesy to her other breast, his mouth began to travel south. Nipping on his way, Snape proceeded to lick every place he slightly bit. Hermione couldn’t help but dig her hands in the silk strands of his hair once he came to her sensitive stomach. Ignoring her writhing, his hot tongue dipped into her navel. Every movement sharply reflected in her crotch, as if invisible strings were attached together between them. By the time he left his ruthless torturing, Hermione transformed into a throbbing, needful thing. While her mind did not fully comprehend the intensity of her need, her body knew the thing it craved and who could provide her with it.
Snape, however, did not abandon his sadistic side even then.
The wizard’s motive hit Hermione a mere second before he buried his head between her legs, bringing the first audible cry out of her. Inhaling through his nose, as if trying to memorise her scent, his hands came to lie on her thighs. Nudging them further apart until he was satisfied with the space provided, his mouth came out and licked her wet slit.
“Please...” Hermione cried out, unable to stand the torture further.
Snape suddenly scooted back towards her face, looking intently into her hooded eyes.
“Tell me, what do you want?”
In her haze, Hermione missed the somewhat bitter expression that crossed his face at her words.
“No, you do not want me. You want THIS,” he said through tightly clenched teeth and with a forceful thrust sheathed himself fully in her.
Though her body craved for it and brought her to an unbearable anticipation, nothing prepared her for the pain that seemed to tear her insides in two. Hermione screamed and stiffened.
At her pain-filled cry, Severus froze. With horror he realised that it was the first time he let his emotions overtake his actions. Ruthlessly forgetting to pay any heed to the woman he was now inside of. If he had any doubts about her innocence, they crushed with the same sensation as the fragile barrier had under the pressure of his hardened flesh.
Even if she would not have been a virgin, Severus was far from a small man. Even during the forceful penetration he had to work himself in. Abandoning the language of words, Severus through himself into the language of sensations and feeling. Anything to make her know how sorry he was, something that he was not ready to say in words and most probably never will.
Making a feathery path with his lips from her earlobe, Severus proceeded to lick the tears from the witch\'s cheeks. Her eyes were tightly closed, her body carefully immobile under his. Even as the salty taste filled his mouth, it took all of his immense self control to stay unmoving himself. Too damn long had passed since he had a female flesh to pierce into. It did not help that Hermione\'s tight vaginal walls clutched him in a veined grip.
Somewhere in the middle of his ministrations he was relieved to feel her body beginning to relax.
Unconsciously, Severus gave a small prayer deep inside him that her next action would not be to push his body away.
In truth, he did not know if he had enough strength to stop even then.
To her relief, the pain began to subside little by little.
Only when she lifted her eyelids did she realise that she was crying. The pain was one that could not be ignored, bringing reflexive tears to her eyes.
While the pain subsided, Hermione began to feel something else entirely. A small movement brought her eyes fully open. The emptiness that she began to feel in her most intimate place for the last minutes was now filled to the brink. Unable to prevent her following action, she experimentally squeezed the walls of her vagina.
A hissing sound snapped her head up to Snape\'s face.
The dark haired man looked as if he was fighting some internal battle with himself; his jaw tightly set and his eyes closed. Feeling another tide of feminine power wash over her, Hermione writhed slightly underneath his tall frame. The obsidian eyes snapped open. The heat in them caused her to writhe again.
“Little minx,” he muttered. “You want to play with me?”
Without waiting for her response, he reached down to where their bodies were joined. Without loosing eye contact, his fingers stroked her clitoris back and forth making her gasp in delight. The arousal that she had inevitably lost during the rude penetration came cascading back into her. Her body unconsciously clenched further around him, silently demanding.
“You are playing with the devil himself, pet.”
Bracing himself with his arms, he pulled out almost completely out of her before plunging forcefully back into her. The movement made Hermione half hiss in shock.
“Wrap your legs around me,” came his command.
Some part of Hermione\'s consciousness watched half-mortified as she silently obeyed him. There was, however, another part of her that did not care for anything else anymore. A part gave the truth; what was past could not be returned and the only thing left for her to do was to gain as much as possible from what was given to her. Whatever that meant, Hermione let herself succumb to it and thought no more.
Snape grunted in approval as her ankles locked behind his back, forcing his cock to bury itself even further within her velvet heat. Unable to contain himself any longer, he began to move.
Hermione found her hands buried deep within his black hair again as she watched his body mating with hers. Something in the way of seeing his glistening thickness enter her folds in an agonizing slowness over and over was unbearably erotic. There was no more trace of the previous pain, only a sucking wanting for something yet out of her reach.
Continuing rocking inside of her, his black hair was spilling across her breasts and Hermione shivered at the caressing feeling. Her unsuppressed reaction did not go unnoticed by him and he bent to kiss her neck and breast, moving more of his hair across her skin. Without thinking, she tightened her hold in his hair and aligned his head with hers. He locked his gaze with hers as he thrust in and out of her, his eyes so dark that it was impossible to tell where the dilated pupils began and irises finished.
But she wanted and needed more. Twisting her hips, Hermione tried profusely to find the right spot. Her movement brought an array of colourful swear words from the wizard who immediately stilled.
“Still playing with me, I see. It seems I have to teach you a lesson,” he said hoarsely.
In a blink of an eye, in one powerful movement, Snape brought her into a sitting position with his cock still deeply embedded in her. Without warning, he bit into the side of her neck, hard enough to be just outside of drawing blood. Pain and pleasure merged and Hermione squealed at the shattering combination.
“Oh, yes...” breathed he against her neck.
Hermione\'s legs were still tightly wrapped around his hips as he brought himself into a half-sitting position on his knees. Grabbing her hips hard enough to surely leave bruises on them later, he locked his eyes with her again. Before Hermione could relearn how to breath, he began to pound into her mercilessly, all of his restraint flying to the high wind.
Their upright position caused his cock to run over a spot inside her body with his every movement. Jerking his hips as hard and as fast as he could, he began to draw small sounds from Hermione with his every thrust. In search of finding something to hold on to, she dragged her hands down his back, digging her nails sharply into his pale skin.
Her ministrations drew a hiss of pleasure from the former Death Eater. Hermione could almost hear the moment when all of his pretended patience snapped. Burying his head in her neck, her lover\'s thrusting became desperately violent. Every thrust of his cock would have probably sent Hermione flying off the couch if her body wasn\'t locked in his iron hands.
And then it happened. The moment the blissful pleasure caused her to scream her release; Hermione had a momentary image rush in detached flashes behind her eyelids;
Dark, circular room. Firelight casting dancing shadows upon two figures entwined upon the black sofa. A man and a woman locked in a lustful embrace, their moans and the noise of flesh hitting flesh the only sound now penetrating the silence of the chamber. Their bodies like two undiscovered jewels, sweat glistening upon their heated bodies. The woman\'s back bent in an arch as the orgasm tightened her inner muscles around the man\'s cock. How the man\'s lean body stiffened as a loud growl escaped his throat, floating on the wave of his own release.
She barely noted in her euphoria how she fell back onto the sofa, the wizard\'s body collapsing on top of hers. The weight of the male body however, was blissful. Something that she welcomed with open arms as she tightened her hands around him, holding onto the comfort and safety that his body provided.
“You are mine, now. Forever.”
The rational part of her mind was trying to shout her something, the echo of the spoken words triggering a memory of something important that sent panicking bells off in her brain. Hermione tried in vain to catch a memory that was nagging in her mind, but to no avail. Her weakened body took over her consciousness, pulling her into an exhausted sleep.
But even in the dreamless drifting, the feeling that she had forgotten something vital did not let her go.
Sweet Surrender by witch