FIC: Given the Opportunity
Sep. 7th, 2017 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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sshg_smutTitle: Given the Opportunity
Author: Anonymous for now
Summary: Hermione Granger went to Forbidden Forest in search of some relief.
Prompter: borealgrove
Prompt: Professor Granger takes walks along and through the Forbidden Forest most weekend afternoons in order to clear her head and work through problems. Her current problem is both gifted in the nose department and extremely standoffish. When she happens upon him collecting ingredients in the forest on a hot summer's day (having dressed down to a loose shirt due to the muggy heat), her libido kicks into overdrive, and she decides to be bold.
Warnings: Cheesiness.
Notes: The hot weather was truly inspiring.
Read on AO3 / Read on Livejournal
“Merlin, it’s hot,” Hermione sighed probably thousandth time this week. Even though Scotland rarely got hit by a heatwave, they called this one the worst of the century. She wholeheartedly agreed. She had been so happy to get a classroom with huge windows and view of the Black lake, when she had started teaching, but now she would do anything to be moved to dungeons. Literally anything. Even go to her knees for the Potion Master.
“Fuck,” she mumbled. She knew she just had to stop fantasizing about the man, it was becoming unhealthy. She was young, decently pretty and could simply apparate to Hogsmeade and scratch the itch with some good looking wizard. But she couldn’t. She felt that she lacked the experience, the boldness.
Ever since her relationship with Ron crashed and burned, she swore off relationships and hid herself at Hogwarts waiting for the drama to pass. It had taken few months for them to be in the same room without a glaring contest, but they were getting there. Mostly for Ginny’s and Harry’s sake. But Hermione still wouldn’t look around for suitable partner, she had a new job, started to teach Ancient Runes and was always so busy, putting everything she could into each lesson.
Maybe because it wasn’t the most popular subject, but Hermione found it extremely fascinating. Like Snape.
Not that he had suddenly changed and became friendly to her, no, not at all. Mister “I-don’t-need-anyone” kept her at arm’s length, wouldn’t be forced into any conversation, even a friendly exchange about weather.
“I’m perfectly capable of looking out of the window to see the weather. I don’t need your daily commentary, Miss Granger,” he would drawl after she mentioned that today looked like another hot day. It was absolutely frustrating, and for some reason, arousing. The bigger brute he was, the more she just wanted to jump his bones.
“Your cunt is making too much noise, Miss Granger,” she had imagined him saying in her nightly fantasy. He would look detached, cold, a statue moving it’s hips to a non-existing rhythm. But his eyes, his eyes would be the showing the real Snape, the passionate one, the unsung hero, the man inside.
There were nights when she dared to imagine him gentle, he would peel away each article of her clothing, touch each scar, lick the sensitive spot on her collarbone. In those dreams she called him Severus. She would do this rarely, too scared to admit that for reason unknown, she might be falling for the man.
Her head still in clouds, Hermione entered the Forbidden Forest in search of relief from the hotness. The forest never changed it’s temperature, there were too many creatures that thrived in cold and the magic of the forest delivered. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sweat cooling down on her body while she walked on listening to silence. For any other forest, it would be unnatural, but Hermione learned a long time ago, that this wasn’t just any forest. It was sentient, helping Hagrid to hide his half-brother, bringing attention to the times when someone was in danger, but it took its toll too.
When a quiet yelp had sounded just to her left, the voice both unfamiliar and yet slightly known, Hermione froze in her tracks.
“No, no, no,” she mumbled while moving quietly between the trees. He couldn’t be here, she didn’t need to see him just now. But even though the sensible thing would be to turn around and go back to the castle, she was a Gryffindor and she constantly didn’t do as expected.
She could see him clearly, leaning sideways behind an oak. He was kneeling near a small clearing, pulling out some weeds but Hermione wasn’t able to concentrate on what it was. She was too busy staring at him. He wore a crisp white shirt completely unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up and when he turned a little, she could see he wore a white tank top underneath. Somehow it made her more aroused as when he would be completely naked.
Snape continued to pull out weeds, showing them one by one into the basket next to his knees, his hair tied by a black ribbon, revealing his neck which was glistening with sweat. She couldn’t help but lick her lips, he looked delicious. Hermione imagined kissing a path from his collarbone to his mouth, her hand disappearing under white shirt. She could almost feel the smoothness of his skin. Her obsession was slowly becoming torture, she needed to do something about it, otherwise she would go bonkers.
Maybe she could just ask him to shag her, and when he would start yelling at her tell him she accidentally consumed an expired potion, or something. He might think her stupid but at least she would stop imagine all the what if’s.
However, Hermione never had a chance to come to a decision. Her startled yell after a bird suddenly flew out of a tree didn't go unnoticed and when her eyes found the potion master, he was staring right at her.
"Miss Granger," he said with disdain dripping from his voice. "To what do I owe the displeasure of being stalked by you?"
She knew very well that it wasn't even a rhetorical question, it was a pure insult that was supposed to send her running, and she had to admit, she was on verge of lifting up her skirts and run. But Hermione was a Gryffindor and they never run from a fight, no matter the zero chance of winning. Her mind still not made up as to what she's supposed to her with her attraction, she stepped forward.
"Good Afternoon, Professor Snape. I'm simply taking a walk. Next time, you should leave a notice on the door to warn people not to stumble upon you, accidentally or not. I didn't enter the forest to be insulted," surprised by her own words, Hermione watched his own face reflect a tiny sign of shock. Snape didn't expect her to snap back at him.
Maybe it was that easy all along.
"I can assure you there are more attractive things I can stare at," she finished with a smirk which quickly fell of when his own took place. She just admitted staring at him, she's just bloody told him she fancied him. Well, in her own words, if he even noticed. She wasn't sure, he looked almost amused, wrinkles around his eyes showing a silent laughter. It truly suited him.
“I must admit, Miss Granger, to be truly baffled by your words, are you telling me you find me attractive?” there wasn’t any doubt visible on him that he thought the exact opposite. He expected her to make fun of him, and he tried to beat her at her own game, probably defence mechanism and she couldn’t blame him. What he had gone through as child, teenager, adult would burden anyone, what would he be any different, why should he even try to be pleasant when he rarely got any pleasantries back?
Hermione understood, she understood very well. Only honesty could dig her out of this one, and maybe it could help him too.
She looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “Yes, Professor Snape, I find you attractive. Although I must admit that you insisting on calling me ‘Miss Granger’ instead of my rightly assumed title of ‘Professor’ is sometimes making me doubt it’s a sane attraction.”
His amusement was very quickly replaced by anger, he stood faster than she blinked and suddenly was looming over her, his eyes shooting cold fire. She shivered for a completely inappropriate reasons. He didn’t have a clue how he made her feel, his fire was hers, it consumed her, melted her. Snape had saved her life once, and then again and again. She was alive to see the end of the war because he let himself be hated and she admired him greatly. The attraction developed from it.
“How dare you make fun of me you insolent witch,” he was about to start a tirade that might forever take away any bravery she might gain, so she stopped him. With her lips. On his.
He froze like she poured a bucket of cold water over him, his limbs turned to stone and his eyes almost bulged out of his skull. Hermione couldn’t have seen it because she was completely focused on his lips. They were soft, tasted after something sweet but they weren’t moving at all. The delusion crumbled around her, she could feel small puffs of air on her lips as she slowly moved away from his. She kissed him. She bloody kissed Severus Snape and he’s either going to hex her or make her regret she ever existed. Fucking Gryffindor bravery, fucking heat, fucking Snape.
Mortified, Hermione tried to come up with anything that would explain her actions, anything that would make him not hate her forever. She tried to open her mouth, tasted words like “sorry” and “insanity” and “please”. Her eyes half-closed and downcast, she ignored everything around her, even him and only noticed his movements when his hands closed around her biceps. It was a soft touch, skin on skin. It set her on fire.
“I…,” she started before her mouth would from fear remain closed forever. But she couldn’t. Literally couldn’t because this time it was his lips coming to hers and she threw her arms around him before he would come to his senses and run. But he didn’t seem to want to run, his kisses were enthusiastic, passionate, Snape opened her lips with his and slipped his tongue inside touching everywhere he could reach.
Soon they were moving backwards and Hermione’s back hit a trunk of the tree under which she found him. Now she was very glad it was there because her legs refused to keep her upright. Snape must have noticed because he tore his lips from hers and travelled with his palm under her thighs to pick her up. Her legs went around him on his silent command as his mouth trailed down her neck.
“Are you aware what you started, Miss Granger?” he murmured against the skin of her collarbone, nipped on it lightly making her gasp. Her legs tightening around his waist, his erection bumping into her bottom. Along with his actions, his question made sense, he was asking permission, checking whether she was coming to her senses. Oh she was, she definitely was feeling everything at once. Too much. Too much.
She leant her head against the tree and found him staring at her like he was trying to read her. Hermione hoped he did because then all his doubts will finally melt away and she could have what she dreamt about. Him. Snape. Whole. She always loved his eyes, there were so deep she saw everything in them, everything she imagined. The future, the past and now the very hot present.
“Yes, Professor Snape,” she hoped her voice sounded sexy, not desperate and she tried to wiggle her bum against him, to show him, provoke him. She wasn’t sure if she didn’t look like a bloody idiot but when his face changed into an amused smirk, when he moved a little bit close (how was it even possible), their eyes in the same level, Hermione was almost sure she had won.
Next instant they were inhaling each other, tearing at the clothes separating them. She used to fantasize about slowly unfastening all his buttons, counting them, finishing up with a kiss, a bite, a lick. But this fantasy would needed to be fulfilled another time (God, how she hoped there would be another time) because now she could only think “naked, naked Snape, naked Snape against me naked” over and over again and soon his shirt joined hers. Funny, she didn’t even notice when he pulled her free of it. Their skin sizzled, but there were still barriers, her bra, and he spelled it away before locking his lips around her nipple. He sucked so hard she screamed, and birds flew away from the trees around. She should’ve cared about the commotion but she couldn’t because Snape was alternating between her breasts, kissing, licking, pulling, pushing and she felt her knickers were completely soaked. There were sticking to her hot skin, making this wonderfully uncomfortable.
“I need more time with you,” it looked like Snape was talking to her breast, maybe he was but Hermione was to aroused to care. When he looked up at her, she forgot to breathe. His lips were fuller, redder, more kissable and she reached down to pull his face up.
“Merlin, don’t stop,” she moaned when his hand slipped inside her underwear and touched her right there. Few more licks on her neck, his fingers touching more firmly and she fell apart. She almost felt ashamed, almost because he had a devilish smirk on his face and was slowly moving to his knees lowering her to the ground. With a flick of his fingers (his wonderful wonderful fingers), the button on her shorts was opened and he slowly started to pull, her knickers followed and he was positioned very strategically indeed.
Hermione wondered if he ever used his nose this way. He probably had the same thought because he leant forward taking a sniff and murmured: “Later, my sweet pussy, I’ll enjoy you later.”
He was so going to kill her.
And then he was up, his pants already opened and his cock out, hard and ready. He again picked her up and pushed, and pushed again till he wasn’t buried in her completely. There were probably things they should’ve said, much more earlier before it came to this point and Hermione wondered if it was too late to tell him what she felt. That it’s not just a simple attraction, that she likes him with all his flaws even though he drives her against the wall with frustration, his infuriating refusal to call her by her title, belittling her efforts and yet supporting her when it’s really important.
Always in the shadows.
Hermione felt that there was a conversation happening but then he pulled out and pushed back and her nails dug into her shoulders. She could only hold on with her face buried into his shoulder. He came when she bit him. She did twice before that.
Walking back to the castle, Severus tried to outhink himself over this recent development. Did he expected it? At all?
Truth was that he noticed Granger, of course he did. She was clever and more than somewhat pretty. She knew how to hold a conversation and didn’t bother him with inane chatter about gossip or weather, well too much. She was just there. Trading smirks when the new DADA teacher said something incredibly stupid, or taking over his Hogsmeade weekends during his brewing period.
He never looked behind her motivation. He assumed she was trying to make him call her professor, earn his respect in the small ways. She didn’t need to know she already had it, and that him refusing using her title was just his way of keeping distance or annoying her, or …
Watching her swaying hips before him, he reconsidered. Was it his own way of pulling girl’s ponytails? Not that he would ever believed she could reciprocate his feeling, never. He was no fool to believe that his so called heroics changed his appearance or public image.
Severus was still an old grumpy and sarcastic asshole. He accepted it, took his time to recover from the war and enjoyed his new life behind closed door. His colleagues didn’t need to know he enjoyed a good novel or glass of Italian red. No. He was finally his own person who was allowed to keep secrets to himself, no one to report, no one to confess to.
If loneliness decided to sprang on him, he called some old acquaintance and got rid of the itch as soon as possible. This was the life he fought for, he didn’t need any meddling Gryffindors pursuing him, yet when she kissed him, soft and pliant under his hands, he forgot who he was. She made him want things he forbid himself to, she opened herself to his sharp words and Severus knew this was his one chance at having it all.
Granger stopped for a moment, leaned on a tree to wipe the sweat from her forehead, her eyes found his and she smiled and blushed at the same time.
He smirked at her, sped up and let her follow. He couldn’t make it easy, can he?
Author: Anonymous for now
Summary: Hermione Granger went to Forbidden Forest in search of some relief.
Prompter: borealgrove
Prompt: Professor Granger takes walks along and through the Forbidden Forest most weekend afternoons in order to clear her head and work through problems. Her current problem is both gifted in the nose department and extremely standoffish. When she happens upon him collecting ingredients in the forest on a hot summer's day (having dressed down to a loose shirt due to the muggy heat), her libido kicks into overdrive, and she decides to be bold.
Warnings: Cheesiness.
Notes: The hot weather was truly inspiring.
Read on AO3 / Read on Livejournal
“Merlin, it’s hot,” Hermione sighed probably thousandth time this week. Even though Scotland rarely got hit by a heatwave, they called this one the worst of the century. She wholeheartedly agreed. She had been so happy to get a classroom with huge windows and view of the Black lake, when she had started teaching, but now she would do anything to be moved to dungeons. Literally anything. Even go to her knees for the Potion Master.
“Fuck,” she mumbled. She knew she just had to stop fantasizing about the man, it was becoming unhealthy. She was young, decently pretty and could simply apparate to Hogsmeade and scratch the itch with some good looking wizard. But she couldn’t. She felt that she lacked the experience, the boldness.
Ever since her relationship with Ron crashed and burned, she swore off relationships and hid herself at Hogwarts waiting for the drama to pass. It had taken few months for them to be in the same room without a glaring contest, but they were getting there. Mostly for Ginny’s and Harry’s sake. But Hermione still wouldn’t look around for suitable partner, she had a new job, started to teach Ancient Runes and was always so busy, putting everything she could into each lesson.
Maybe because it wasn’t the most popular subject, but Hermione found it extremely fascinating. Like Snape.
Not that he had suddenly changed and became friendly to her, no, not at all. Mister “I-don’t-need-anyone” kept her at arm’s length, wouldn’t be forced into any conversation, even a friendly exchange about weather.
“I’m perfectly capable of looking out of the window to see the weather. I don’t need your daily commentary, Miss Granger,” he would drawl after she mentioned that today looked like another hot day. It was absolutely frustrating, and for some reason, arousing. The bigger brute he was, the more she just wanted to jump his bones.
“Your cunt is making too much noise, Miss Granger,” she had imagined him saying in her nightly fantasy. He would look detached, cold, a statue moving it’s hips to a non-existing rhythm. But his eyes, his eyes would be the showing the real Snape, the passionate one, the unsung hero, the man inside.
There were nights when she dared to imagine him gentle, he would peel away each article of her clothing, touch each scar, lick the sensitive spot on her collarbone. In those dreams she called him Severus. She would do this rarely, too scared to admit that for reason unknown, she might be falling for the man.
Her head still in clouds, Hermione entered the Forbidden Forest in search of relief from the hotness. The forest never changed it’s temperature, there were too many creatures that thrived in cold and the magic of the forest delivered. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sweat cooling down on her body while she walked on listening to silence. For any other forest, it would be unnatural, but Hermione learned a long time ago, that this wasn’t just any forest. It was sentient, helping Hagrid to hide his half-brother, bringing attention to the times when someone was in danger, but it took its toll too.
When a quiet yelp had sounded just to her left, the voice both unfamiliar and yet slightly known, Hermione froze in her tracks.
“No, no, no,” she mumbled while moving quietly between the trees. He couldn’t be here, she didn’t need to see him just now. But even though the sensible thing would be to turn around and go back to the castle, she was a Gryffindor and she constantly didn’t do as expected.
She could see him clearly, leaning sideways behind an oak. He was kneeling near a small clearing, pulling out some weeds but Hermione wasn’t able to concentrate on what it was. She was too busy staring at him. He wore a crisp white shirt completely unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up and when he turned a little, she could see he wore a white tank top underneath. Somehow it made her more aroused as when he would be completely naked.
Snape continued to pull out weeds, showing them one by one into the basket next to his knees, his hair tied by a black ribbon, revealing his neck which was glistening with sweat. She couldn’t help but lick her lips, he looked delicious. Hermione imagined kissing a path from his collarbone to his mouth, her hand disappearing under white shirt. She could almost feel the smoothness of his skin. Her obsession was slowly becoming torture, she needed to do something about it, otherwise she would go bonkers.
Maybe she could just ask him to shag her, and when he would start yelling at her tell him she accidentally consumed an expired potion, or something. He might think her stupid but at least she would stop imagine all the what if’s.
However, Hermione never had a chance to come to a decision. Her startled yell after a bird suddenly flew out of a tree didn't go unnoticed and when her eyes found the potion master, he was staring right at her.
"Miss Granger," he said with disdain dripping from his voice. "To what do I owe the displeasure of being stalked by you?"
She knew very well that it wasn't even a rhetorical question, it was a pure insult that was supposed to send her running, and she had to admit, she was on verge of lifting up her skirts and run. But Hermione was a Gryffindor and they never run from a fight, no matter the zero chance of winning. Her mind still not made up as to what she's supposed to her with her attraction, she stepped forward.
"Good Afternoon, Professor Snape. I'm simply taking a walk. Next time, you should leave a notice on the door to warn people not to stumble upon you, accidentally or not. I didn't enter the forest to be insulted," surprised by her own words, Hermione watched his own face reflect a tiny sign of shock. Snape didn't expect her to snap back at him.
Maybe it was that easy all along.
"I can assure you there are more attractive things I can stare at," she finished with a smirk which quickly fell of when his own took place. She just admitted staring at him, she's just bloody told him she fancied him. Well, in her own words, if he even noticed. She wasn't sure, he looked almost amused, wrinkles around his eyes showing a silent laughter. It truly suited him.
“I must admit, Miss Granger, to be truly baffled by your words, are you telling me you find me attractive?” there wasn’t any doubt visible on him that he thought the exact opposite. He expected her to make fun of him, and he tried to beat her at her own game, probably defence mechanism and she couldn’t blame him. What he had gone through as child, teenager, adult would burden anyone, what would he be any different, why should he even try to be pleasant when he rarely got any pleasantries back?
Hermione understood, she understood very well. Only honesty could dig her out of this one, and maybe it could help him too.
She looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “Yes, Professor Snape, I find you attractive. Although I must admit that you insisting on calling me ‘Miss Granger’ instead of my rightly assumed title of ‘Professor’ is sometimes making me doubt it’s a sane attraction.”
His amusement was very quickly replaced by anger, he stood faster than she blinked and suddenly was looming over her, his eyes shooting cold fire. She shivered for a completely inappropriate reasons. He didn’t have a clue how he made her feel, his fire was hers, it consumed her, melted her. Snape had saved her life once, and then again and again. She was alive to see the end of the war because he let himself be hated and she admired him greatly. The attraction developed from it.
“How dare you make fun of me you insolent witch,” he was about to start a tirade that might forever take away any bravery she might gain, so she stopped him. With her lips. On his.
He froze like she poured a bucket of cold water over him, his limbs turned to stone and his eyes almost bulged out of his skull. Hermione couldn’t have seen it because she was completely focused on his lips. They were soft, tasted after something sweet but they weren’t moving at all. The delusion crumbled around her, she could feel small puffs of air on her lips as she slowly moved away from his. She kissed him. She bloody kissed Severus Snape and he’s either going to hex her or make her regret she ever existed. Fucking Gryffindor bravery, fucking heat, fucking Snape.
Mortified, Hermione tried to come up with anything that would explain her actions, anything that would make him not hate her forever. She tried to open her mouth, tasted words like “sorry” and “insanity” and “please”. Her eyes half-closed and downcast, she ignored everything around her, even him and only noticed his movements when his hands closed around her biceps. It was a soft touch, skin on skin. It set her on fire.
“I…,” she started before her mouth would from fear remain closed forever. But she couldn’t. Literally couldn’t because this time it was his lips coming to hers and she threw her arms around him before he would come to his senses and run. But he didn’t seem to want to run, his kisses were enthusiastic, passionate, Snape opened her lips with his and slipped his tongue inside touching everywhere he could reach.
Soon they were moving backwards and Hermione’s back hit a trunk of the tree under which she found him. Now she was very glad it was there because her legs refused to keep her upright. Snape must have noticed because he tore his lips from hers and travelled with his palm under her thighs to pick her up. Her legs went around him on his silent command as his mouth trailed down her neck.
“Are you aware what you started, Miss Granger?” he murmured against the skin of her collarbone, nipped on it lightly making her gasp. Her legs tightening around his waist, his erection bumping into her bottom. Along with his actions, his question made sense, he was asking permission, checking whether she was coming to her senses. Oh she was, she definitely was feeling everything at once. Too much. Too much.
She leant her head against the tree and found him staring at her like he was trying to read her. Hermione hoped he did because then all his doubts will finally melt away and she could have what she dreamt about. Him. Snape. Whole. She always loved his eyes, there were so deep she saw everything in them, everything she imagined. The future, the past and now the very hot present.
“Yes, Professor Snape,” she hoped her voice sounded sexy, not desperate and she tried to wiggle her bum against him, to show him, provoke him. She wasn’t sure if she didn’t look like a bloody idiot but when his face changed into an amused smirk, when he moved a little bit close (how was it even possible), their eyes in the same level, Hermione was almost sure she had won.
Next instant they were inhaling each other, tearing at the clothes separating them. She used to fantasize about slowly unfastening all his buttons, counting them, finishing up with a kiss, a bite, a lick. But this fantasy would needed to be fulfilled another time (God, how she hoped there would be another time) because now she could only think “naked, naked Snape, naked Snape against me naked” over and over again and soon his shirt joined hers. Funny, she didn’t even notice when he pulled her free of it. Their skin sizzled, but there were still barriers, her bra, and he spelled it away before locking his lips around her nipple. He sucked so hard she screamed, and birds flew away from the trees around. She should’ve cared about the commotion but she couldn’t because Snape was alternating between her breasts, kissing, licking, pulling, pushing and she felt her knickers were completely soaked. There were sticking to her hot skin, making this wonderfully uncomfortable.
“I need more time with you,” it looked like Snape was talking to her breast, maybe he was but Hermione was to aroused to care. When he looked up at her, she forgot to breathe. His lips were fuller, redder, more kissable and she reached down to pull his face up.
“Merlin, don’t stop,” she moaned when his hand slipped inside her underwear and touched her right there. Few more licks on her neck, his fingers touching more firmly and she fell apart. She almost felt ashamed, almost because he had a devilish smirk on his face and was slowly moving to his knees lowering her to the ground. With a flick of his fingers (his wonderful wonderful fingers), the button on her shorts was opened and he slowly started to pull, her knickers followed and he was positioned very strategically indeed.
Hermione wondered if he ever used his nose this way. He probably had the same thought because he leant forward taking a sniff and murmured: “Later, my sweet pussy, I’ll enjoy you later.”
He was so going to kill her.
And then he was up, his pants already opened and his cock out, hard and ready. He again picked her up and pushed, and pushed again till he wasn’t buried in her completely. There were probably things they should’ve said, much more earlier before it came to this point and Hermione wondered if it was too late to tell him what she felt. That it’s not just a simple attraction, that she likes him with all his flaws even though he drives her against the wall with frustration, his infuriating refusal to call her by her title, belittling her efforts and yet supporting her when it’s really important.
Always in the shadows.
Hermione felt that there was a conversation happening but then he pulled out and pushed back and her nails dug into her shoulders. She could only hold on with her face buried into his shoulder. He came when she bit him. She did twice before that.
Walking back to the castle, Severus tried to outhink himself over this recent development. Did he expected it? At all?
Truth was that he noticed Granger, of course he did. She was clever and more than somewhat pretty. She knew how to hold a conversation and didn’t bother him with inane chatter about gossip or weather, well too much. She was just there. Trading smirks when the new DADA teacher said something incredibly stupid, or taking over his Hogsmeade weekends during his brewing period.
He never looked behind her motivation. He assumed she was trying to make him call her professor, earn his respect in the small ways. She didn’t need to know she already had it, and that him refusing using her title was just his way of keeping distance or annoying her, or …
Watching her swaying hips before him, he reconsidered. Was it his own way of pulling girl’s ponytails? Not that he would ever believed she could reciprocate his feeling, never. He was no fool to believe that his so called heroics changed his appearance or public image.
Severus was still an old grumpy and sarcastic asshole. He accepted it, took his time to recover from the war and enjoyed his new life behind closed door. His colleagues didn’t need to know he enjoyed a good novel or glass of Italian red. No. He was finally his own person who was allowed to keep secrets to himself, no one to report, no one to confess to.
If loneliness decided to sprang on him, he called some old acquaintance and got rid of the itch as soon as possible. This was the life he fought for, he didn’t need any meddling Gryffindors pursuing him, yet when she kissed him, soft and pliant under his hands, he forgot who he was. She made him want things he forbid himself to, she opened herself to his sharp words and Severus knew this was his one chance at having it all.
Granger stopped for a moment, leaned on a tree to wipe the sweat from her forehead, her eyes found his and she smiled and blushed at the same time.
He smirked at her, sped up and let her follow. He couldn’t make it easy, can he?
