Beyond 84 Charing Cross Road - Part 16

[darnedchild]

Summary: Devsgma and Darnedchild have combined their talents to tell you the story of what has happened to our favorite pair. It starts with a few letters from one extremely grouchy potions maker to the manager of a used book store. Canon through Deathy Hallows to the point of Severus Snape's supposed death at which point it becomes AU. This fic is a collaborative effort and was originally born from an aborted RP that never quite made it off the ground.
Rating: PG13 (possible R)
A/N - Anything you recognize, I don't own. The Harry Potter-verse belongs to J.K. Rowlings.

Beyond 84 Charing Cross Road

Part 16

Dolohov – among the dead.

Simon had told Hermione the truth in one of his letters. Dolohov had never been a friend. He’d never been much of anything as far as Simon was concerned. Now, there was only a brief satisfaction that the wizard was indeed dead before Simon found himself trying to choke back the laughter Hermione’s wolf whistle comment had instigated.

Then she removed her clothing, held out her hand and laughter no longer presented a problem.

As much as he would have loved to deny it, Simon was a fairly normal red blooded male when it came to the charms of the opposite sex. He’d seen naked breasts before, of course, but they never failed to temporarily mesmerize him with their seductive sway.

Mine! was the initial, infantile response of what he had, at one time, considered to be a brilliant mind.

Simon’s eyes had flared open and were trained on their movements as Hermione led him somewhere. It was only as the flooring changed, causing his boots to make noise, that the hold they‘d gained over him dissipated and he noticed where they were.

Skidding to a halt, Simon raised a brow and found Hermione’s eyes at last.

“Tell me you didn’t say what my ears are trying to tell me they heard,” he growled lightly.

-~8~-


“That would depend on what it is that you thought you heard, wouldn't it?" Hermione answered back with another grin.

With a bit of concentration and a flutter of her free hand, slightly more than a dozen candles sputtered alight.

The bathroom had an electric light fixture, the same as the rest of her apartment, but Hermione preferred the softer glow of candles when she was soaking in her tub.

She released his hand and began filling the tub with water. While she was bent over the side, hand out to test the water temperature, Hermione looked over her shoulder at Simon. "You might want to take your boots off."

-~8~-


She’s trying to trick you into looking ridiculous, whispered a dark, very insecure part of his mind. The feminine back, beautifully illuminated in the soft light and currently being appraised by hungry male eyes, was sufficient to send the warning spinning off into the dark where it belonged.

Who would she tell? Simon asked himself as he toed off the aforementioned boots and removed the remainder of his clothing. Normally very neat, he tossed them without looking toward what he thought was an unoccupied corner. Stepping up behind her, Simon ran his hands up and then down Hermione’s arms before he started kissing and nibbling the lowest part of her spine.

“You do realize,” he stated between nibbles, “if I drown – you’ll have to adopt my chicken.”


-~8~-


She had heard him approach, but still her hands shook as she opened the container of bubble bath and added the required amount. Somehow Hermione managed to keep from dropping the entire thing into the water, and was able to finish and set it aside before she was forced to grip the rim of the tub to keep from falling as her knees threatened to collapse.

She moaned in encouragement, back arching slightly.

"We'll just have to make sure you don't drown, then."

As soon as the tub was full enough, Hermione twisted the handle and straightened. Simon was a warm presence at her back and she didn't have to turn to know that he was nude. Desire to see him, all of him, warred with the last of the nervousness that she had been trying to hide most of the evening. She swallowed hard, and fumbled with the button and zip of her skirt. After a moment, both the skirt and her knickers were pushed past the swell of her hips and dropped to the floor and Hermione was bare.

"You should – that is, it would probably work best if you were in the back."

-~8~-


I am, almost made it past Simon’s lips before he realized exactly what she’d meant. The naked woman before him still had her back turned in his direction. That, coupled with the slight tremor in her fingers, told Simon quite clearly that Hermione wasn’t the practiced seductress she was apparently trying to project.

Sliding one arm around her waist, Simon used the other hand to pull her hair to the side. His mouth soon found the delicate skin of Hermione’s neck and a dark, deep whisper began a tale.

“I recall a letter,” he said while gently turning them sideways. He put one foot into the tub and waited for her to follow suit. “It was sent to me by a siren,” explained as his other leg joined the first and his hand assisted Hermione the rest of the way into the tub. Releasing her long enough to sit down, Simon placed both hands around her waist.

“Would the siren care to join me?”

-~8~-


More than anything.

Hermione looked down at the masculine hands at her waist. She could feel his legs on either side of her feet, hidden beneath the bubbles. "I think she could be persuaded to join you."

She stepped forward just a bit, not enough that Simon would have to let go, but far enough that she wouldn't be in danger of smushing her bum against his face as she carefully lowered herself into the tub. A small amount of water splashed over the high sides of the claw footed tub.

Once she was safely seated, Hermione inched back until her hips were snug between Simon's thighs. Surrounded by warm water, vanilla scented bubbles, and Simon, she slowly released her death grip on the rim of the tub and leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh.

"Do you have enough room?"

-~8~-


Later, much later, Simon would wonder what particular Fate had decided to turn a blind eye to the normal course of his life. It was too good to be true. Things like this never happened to him. He’d overhead other wizards talk, of course, and had felt the required envy those without felt; but any daydreams he might have had – had always included Lily, not a former student with hair of tangled silk.

“Enough room? Yes,” he said quietly since his mouth was quite close to the ear he’d nibbled on much earlier in the evening. Moving his head to the side of hers had been an attempt to find those rather fascinating mammary glands that had drawn him into this tub of bubbles, which now hid them from view.

Rather than attempt to mouth some type of “romantic” drivel, Simon chose to pick up a sponge that lay in a nearby tray. It was within arms reach atop a small table that contained numerous objects he had decided to investigate other time. One hand slid farther around Hermione’s waist and pulled her a tiny bit closer. It stayed there, long fingers stroking the line of a rib and flowing across the slight swell of her stomach.

Eying the bubbles with distaste, Simon pulled the sponge down through them and brought up a generous supply of water. As he was about to begin squeezing it over one of Hermione’s shoulders, he had an idea.

She did say she likes my voice.

And this is the bubble bath I designed.

“Raise your chin, my cunning Siren,” he whispered deeply. “I want to anoint your skin with my potion.”

-~8~-


Even as she closed her eyes and lifted her chin for him, Hermione knew she was in deep, deep trouble. She suspected that Simon could ask almost anything of her, and as long as he was using his voice just like that, she would willingly comply.

With her eyes closed, Hermione's other senses came alive, making her even more aware of Simon. His hand was causing havoc across her tummy, fingers dipping just low enough to tantalize her with the possibilities but never low enough to appease her. She could feel his hardness, trapped between their bodies, pressed against the upper swell of her rear. Then there was the sponge being drawn across her skin, the warm water that temporarily washed away some of the bubbles and bared a small glimpse of flesh here and there.

Another downward stroke of fingers had her squirming, knees bending so that her legs could part slightly, bum shifting against his length. Hermione thought she might have heard him groan, but she wasn't sure.

She wanted to touch him in return. Hermione slid her hands under the water and found his thighs. She had intended to stroke him in much the same way as he was touching her, but another squirm-inducing pass of his fingers against her stomach left her unable to do more than knead his flesh as she whispered his name.

-~8~-


Simon was fairly certain he’d taken his fair share of childhood baths in his lifetime. He’d never liked them. Mostly because he’d always felt extremely vulnerable while naked and sitting in a room that was far too accessible by his father. Standing at least gave him a fair chance of sprinting out of harms way if given the opportunity.

There was a great deal of difference in this instance. The sides of Hermione’s bathtub were high. Much higher than those in his former home. The water was far warmer than his father had ever allowed. Years later, Simon had realized that was due to the cost of heating water by Muggle means, but to the young child it had only added to the misery of the event.

The slightly steamy water currently filling Hermione’s tub was relaxing in a way Simon had never imagined. Knots in muscles he didn’t realize he had were slowly giving way and becoming limber. The small ache he always had between his shoulder blades was fading, and if not for the very insistent organ Hermione’s arse was currently torturing, he might have been quite content to lie back and merely hold her until the water cooled.

The bubbles were another difference and Simon damned them yet again for blocking his view. Since he didn’t want to fumble around under the water, possibly breaking the mood and any chance he had of repeating this particular exercise with Hermione, he counted upon her reaction to his voice to ease the way.

“Show me, Hermione,” he said in the same tone. “Show me how and where you like to be touched.”

-~8~-


Show him? She tensed in a sudden case of irrational concern. What if he found her actions stranger or distasteful? Or worse, what if she showed him what she liked and he was just really crappy at it?

Her experience with men was limited at best, but Hermione was a healthy female and was well acquainted with her own body and its reactions to certain stimuli. Was she comfortable enough with Simon to share that information with him so soon, and in such an intimate way?

Simon's mouth brushed against her neck, then she felt the slightest sting of his teeth as he kissed the skin there before moving up to do the same to her earlobe.

Hermione caught her lower lip between her own teeth, hard, and realized that now was the perfect time, the perfect place, and even at his most rubbish, Simon would probably be more than capable of driving her out of her mind.

Her eyes opened as Hermione took the sponge away from him, carelessly tossing it toward the front of the tub. Now that his hand was free, she lightly guided it to her breast, shaping it around her with her own fingers, blindly tutoring Simon in the way that she liked to be caressed. His fingers stroked over aroused flesh, quickly learning the rhythm she liked, causing her to shift and squirm once again. The bubbles slowly began to float away and pop, granting her ever increasing glimpses of their combined efforts.

It wasn't long before her other hand found his, still against her stomach. She entwined her fingers with his. Hermione turned her head to seek his lips, needing his kiss as their joined hands began to slide lower against her bath slick skin.

-~8~-


The teacher became the student and learned more about the responses of a female body than he had in nearly twenty years of stumbling about on his own. A certain stroke just there rewarded him with a quiver while a small nibble at the same time might elicit a sweet groan of want. Simon’s eyes were as greedy as his hands and he marveled at the treasure she’d literally placed within his grasp.

Were all women this responsive, this – incredibly giving? Simon had always had a healthy sex drive, even during the very lean years when he’d had to take matters into his own hands, but the need he felt for the woman currently in his arms was almost overpowering.

He wanted her now.

Whisper some sweet nothing in her ear before you turn her around, seemed to come from out of nowhere and echo through his brain.

She’d probably ask me who the hell I am and where did Simon go before hexing the hell out of me.

She wouldn‘t –

Would!

Deciding the internal dispute could be settled later, Simon broke the latest kiss and nibbled his way along her jaw line to her ear.

“I need you – want you, Hermione. Turn around and be with me.”

-~8~-


At first she wanted to mew in protest. She didn't want to move, didn't want to turn around, didn't want to do anything that might end his touch and his kisses. Every stroke of a finger, every brush of his lips had been pushing her higher and higher, and Hermione knew the end was in sight.

"Just a bit more," she wanted to plead. Then thought broke through the overwhelming want and told her exactly what Simon was asking.

"Oh yes," was the actual reply. Hermione reluctantly pulled herself away from him, scooting forward and turning around. Up until now she hadn't considered the actual logistics of how one went about being intimate in a bathtub.

Some of her earlier eagerness faded as she wondered if it was even possible, without one of them pulling or straining something. The last time she had done anything of this nature, there had been a rather large bed with plenty of room.

She realized she was frowning and quickly offered an explanation, not wanting Simon to think she had changed her mind.

"I've never done this before. I'm not sure what to put where?"

-~8~-


No, no, no, no, no – bloody fucking hell, no!

“Never – “ Simon cleared his throat when his voice cracked and tried again.

“Your timing leaves something to be desired, Hermione. Now is not the best moment to tell me you’re a virgin,” Simon declared a trifle testily while levering himself up to stand in the tub. Glancing down at the proof of his statement, Simon shook his head before he stepped out on the mat and reached for a towel.

Told you it was too good to be true.

Shut the fuck up and leave me alone.

-~8~-


“Virgin?!”

There would have been more after that startled exclamation, but Hermione was suddenly confronted with the sight of a completely nude and very aroused Simon and her mouth temporarily went dry.

By the time she was able to speak again, he was already out of the tub, and once again her evening appeared to be going to hell in a hand-basket.

She also stood, hands firmly planted on her hips, rapidly cooling water running down her torso and legs in little rivers. "Are you honestly telling me that if I were a virgin, you wouldn't have sex with me? It's not a disease, Simon, you can't catch virginity like some sort of pox."

Hermione glared at him as she clambered out of the tub, almost as annoyed at how ridiculously exposed and ungraceful she must look as she was with him.

With a huff, she pulled the stopper out of the drain, then turned to face the man who was fast becoming more trouble than he was worth.

"The 'this' that I had never done before, you idiot, was this -" She gestured from herself to him and back again. "In the bathtub. There's not a lot of room in there, and I wasn't sure what would be the best way to make things fit together the way they should and I thought, perhaps, you might have a suggestion and I swear to God that if you so much as reach for your clothes I will cast a body bind on you."

She was more embarrassed than she could remember ever being in her entire life, and that included the day Snape had read that horrid article about she and Viktor and Harry out loud to the entire class when she had wanted to curl up under the table and hide.

She was also still aroused, and seeing Simon standing there in nothing more than a towel and a few stubbornly clinging bubbles was doing nothing to help matters.

-~8~-


There is hope! shouted the dense little voice in the back of his head that pushed for sweet words and gentle persuasion. Simon was listening to it and looking his fill up to the point Hermione called him an idiot. Whipping the towel off, he stepped close enough that the tips of her breasts brushed his chest. Glaring down into her face, he wanted nothing more than to toss her over his shoulder and head for the bedroom.

And then I’d have a sprained back and she’d not only call me an idiot – she’d have proof.

“Normally, when someone levels an insult in my direction,” he stated with narrowed eyes, a raised brow and a deadly tone, “I would challenge them to a duel, but since I’m dealing with an inarticulate Gryffindor, I’ll forgive you for misleading me with your statement.”

The towel he’d taken off was quickly slung around her waist and used to tug her along toward what he assumed was the bedroom.

“If there’s going to be a body bind cast this evening, my dear, dear Hermione, it won’t be on me,” he said with a wicked glint in his eye, “and it won’t be in the bath.”

-~8~-


She returned his glare with one of her own, although the twitch of her lips as she tried to keep from smirking probably ruined the effort somewhat.

"Normally, when a vexing Slytherin jumps to conclusions without bothering to ask for clarification, I would be inclined to accept that duel." Hermione glanced down as they inched out of the bathroom and toward the doorway that lead to her bedroom. Simon was walking backward, most likely to keep from presenting his unprotected backside to an irritated witch. Smart man. She reached out to run her hand down his chest and lower. "However, since I seem to be without a wand at the moment, I suspect I'll have to seek satisfaction in some other way."

He was nothing like the muscled and perfect men Hermione had seen in magazines and movies, far from society's ideal, and yet Simon made Hermione weak in the knees. He could arouse her without a single touch, using only his voice or words on parchment, true, but having him here in the flesh was very nearly a fantasy come true for her.

Speaking of fantasy...

"Next time, I can enlarge the tub first. Maybe a cushioning charm?" she offered. "I'm sure we'll have figured out what goes where by then."

-~8~-


A soft inward hiss accompanied Hermione’s touch. In Simon’s previous life no one had cared to touch him as she was doing now. It felt – quite wonderful, actually. Hermione had basically promised him a “next time,” which eased some of the pressure upon him to perform, but he’d had enough of towels, bubbles and talk of the future. He’d escaped the bubbles, dropped the towel and now pulled her naked form tight against him. As Simon’s hands slid down and over her buttocks he stifled a small groan and acknowledged he may have just made a major error. The soft skin of her belly against his erection was making the floor look entirely too comfortable.

He delivered a nip and then a kiss here and there on her neck, face and lips as his hands flowed over the expanse of her back. They were anxious to discover every dip, every slight variance of her form.

“There is only the now, Hermione,” he growled lowly near her ear and thought better of what he‘d been about to say.

If there is a future...

“The future will take care of itself. Take me to your bed, you wicked wench, unless you want to be bedded on the floor.”




Part 1 / Part 17