Beyond 84 Charing Cross Road - Part 17
Nov. 10th, 2008 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darnedchildSummary: 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 17
Pleasant exhaustion seemed to weigh her limbs down, and Hermione didn't have to see the alarm clock next to her bed to know that it was late. Sleep was calling to her, trying to lure her into closing her eyes. She shifted slightly, rubbing her cheek against the masculine chest she was currently using as a pillow.
"Thank goodness tomorrow is Sunday. I have a feeling I'll be sleeping in."
Her soft smile faded somewhat as she thought about the coming morning. When she had envisioned inviting Simon into her bed, there had always been a morning after. Perhaps they would get up early and share breakfast, or they might sleep in and share each other. Either way, Simon would have spent the night with her, asleep in her bed.
Now she knew that was not an option.
Their earlier conversation – argument, really – echoed through her head.
"Do you realize what you're asking? No one has ever been allowed in a room while I'm sleeping, not even Yorick!"
"No, no, a thousand times, no!"
Hermione lifted her chin, straining slightly to be able to brush her lips against the underside of his jaw. "It's getting late. Do you need to go soon?"
While she would have liked him to stay, wanted him to stay, Hermione knew she couldn't ask him to. Not after everything that they'd said earlier.
-~8~-
While Simon had thoroughly enjoyed the delights he’d found in Hermione’s arms and bed, he wasn’t at ease with the afterglow affect. Thankfully, he wasn’t totally ignorant of the expected protocol and after a few awkward moments had slid an arm around Hermione when she‘d moved closer. Prostitutes weren’t inclined to cuddle with their clients, nor were they interested in pillow talk. At least that’s what Simon assumed it was when Hermione spoke of tomorrow being Sunday. Muttered conversations between the older male Seventh Years, along with a few articles read on the sly, had made him aware of the things in general women seemed to expect.
Much to his surprise, Simon didn’t mind the cuddling as much as he thought he would. As his hand skimmed over the hips and slender waist that had a moment ago been his, a smile bloomed on the dour mouth he normally presented to the world. The movement of Hermione’s head wiped most of it away, but when she kissed his jaw it twitched the corners again.
Her next words made his eyes narrow slightly and Simon wondered if he’d already overstayed his welcome. He couldn’t see Hermione’s face clearly in the dim light of the Muggle clock to read her expression. As far as he and his ears could tell Hermione had enjoyed their mutual calisthenics – but if she hadn’t – that could explain why she seemed ready to eject him from her bed. He removed his hand from the silky skin, preparing to slide up and away from her.
“Yorick will probably appreciate an early dinner,” he stated stiffly.
-~8~-
Don't pout. Hermione Granger, do not pout. You knew this was coming, you knew he wouldn't stay the night and you decided to go ahead and sleep with him anyway, you have no right to whinge about it now.
It didn't help.
Simon pulled his hand away and Hermione wanted to snag it, to put it right back where it belonged.
"I wouldn't want him to starve." She bit at her lower lip, firmly resolved to let him slip away. Then her hand reached out, purely of its own volition, and touched the back of his.
"I know you don't want to stay the night, and I'm not asking you to – although, if you wanted, I wouldn't... What I mean is... Damn it, Yorick is a big bird, surely he can manage on his own for a bit longer. Can't he?"
-~8~-
She wants me – to stay?
The hand behind her slowly returned to its previous position while the one she’d touched with her own slid around her waist and pulled Hermione a little closer. The muscles that had prepared to launch him from her bed turned him instead, and one of his legs captured one of hers.
“He can,” Simon said quietly before he kissed her lightly on the forehead. He finally understood what she’d been trying to do with her earlier statement and while he knew he wasn’t going to spend the entire night in her bed…
“Would you like me to stay until you fall asleep?”
-~8~-
I want you to stay. Period. But I can live with this, instead.
She made herself as comfortable as possible considering he had trapped one of her legs between his own. She could have pulled it free, but she didn't want to.
"I would like that, very much."
Perversely, she no longer wanted to go to sleep.
-~8~-
Hermione might have been sleepy, Simon however, was anything but. He attempted to lie quietly and wait for sleep to finish capturing his siren before he stole away, but found his fingers slowly tracing the fine bones and intriguing dips. They would still when he told them to, but like disobedient children with minds of their own, they were soon moving again.
She hasn’t protested so far…
Giving up, ever curious, and feeling safe within the cover of semi-darkness, Simon started to use his mouth as well as his hands to try and discover any possible secrets Hermione’s body might still hold. He also took the opportunity to practice what she had taught him such a short time ago.
-~8~-
That wasn't going to help her fall asleep.
Well, technically, in the long run, it very well might. Especially if her earlier exhaustion was any indication. However, at the moment her body seemed to be waking up nicely, and there were no more thoughts of sleep at all.
No rest for the wicked.
Wicked. If I can't be wicked, I can at least fake it.
The temptation to lie there and let Simon do what he wanted was strong, but Hermione had never been known for her passivity. Also, while she no longer worried (as much) that tonight would be a one time occurrence, what harm could there be in hedging the bet somewhat.
Besides, she would have to be insane to pass up the opportunity to have her wicked, wanton way with Simon.
Her hands, legs and mouth began to move as well, her mind referencing back to the hazy memories of her last intimate – only, and very educational – encounter.
Where did... Oh, yes. Right about – here.
-~8~-
Yes! was the thought that ran through Simon’s brain when Hermione began to actively participate again. It wasn’t that he was greedy – well, maybe he was at that – but it had been a long dry spell. And she was naked. And willing. And naked. And beautiful. And naked. And very, very there.
Not to mention – naked.
And then – she did that!
What did one do when a supposedly delicate female turned the tables so effectively on the male of the species, who had innocently been plying the seduction tools she’d handed him earlier, when he apparently no longer had the molecular cohesion to do anything more than groan and shiver slightly.
If she does that again I might die.
“Again,” he groaned aloud. “Do it again.”
-~8~-
She did it again.
"Let me..."
Then she nudged him on to his back and did something a little different, but equally well received. Hermione had enjoyed his touch and kisses – very much so – but this was equally enjoyable. Now it was her turn to learn how responsive Simon could be, what made him shiver and groan and ask for more.
Her lips and teeth slid across skin, hands stroked and lightly scratched, and Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before one of them gave in to their need.
-~8~-
If this was making love, Simon decided he was completely in favor of the practice continuing for the next century. No one had ever touched him and made him feel the way Hermione was making him feel. He had know lust before, of course, but never this intent – consuming need to bury himself deep inside the woman currently torturing him.
Enough is enough.
Grasping her firmly under the arms, Simon pulled Hermione up and on top of him before taking her mouth in a ferocious kiss. Breaking it, he snorted once before saying, “It’s a damned good thing You-Know-Who didn’t have you on his side. I’d have broken in a moment,” in a hoarse whisper.
-~8~-
Pride warred with arousal for just a moment, and lost.
Her legs settled to either side, body shifting until everything came together the way it was meant to be.
Hermione lifted herself up enough to see his face in the light from her alarm, just the barest glimpse of plains and shadows. His words still echoed in her ears, the voice that could make her tingle. Simon's voice.
Severus' voice.
The desperate need to move overtook her, and Hermione willingly gave in.
Half-formed words tumbled from her lips, unchecked, as they climbed higher. As she reached the peak, body singing; Hermione called out to him, one single word that gave voice to her bliss, meant to entice him to join her, to show him that for this moment in time he was the epicenter of her world.
"Severus."
Part 1 / Part 18
Rating: PG13 (possible R)
A/N - Anything you recognize, I don't own. The Harry Potter-verse belongs to J.K. Rowlings.
Part 17
Pleasant exhaustion seemed to weigh her limbs down, and Hermione didn't have to see the alarm clock next to her bed to know that it was late. Sleep was calling to her, trying to lure her into closing her eyes. She shifted slightly, rubbing her cheek against the masculine chest she was currently using as a pillow.
"Thank goodness tomorrow is Sunday. I have a feeling I'll be sleeping in."
Her soft smile faded somewhat as she thought about the coming morning. When she had envisioned inviting Simon into her bed, there had always been a morning after. Perhaps they would get up early and share breakfast, or they might sleep in and share each other. Either way, Simon would have spent the night with her, asleep in her bed.
Now she knew that was not an option.
Their earlier conversation – argument, really – echoed through her head.
"Do you realize what you're asking? No one has ever been allowed in a room while I'm sleeping, not even Yorick!"
"No, no, a thousand times, no!"
Hermione lifted her chin, straining slightly to be able to brush her lips against the underside of his jaw. "It's getting late. Do you need to go soon?"
While she would have liked him to stay, wanted him to stay, Hermione knew she couldn't ask him to. Not after everything that they'd said earlier.
While Simon had thoroughly enjoyed the delights he’d found in Hermione’s arms and bed, he wasn’t at ease with the afterglow affect. Thankfully, he wasn’t totally ignorant of the expected protocol and after a few awkward moments had slid an arm around Hermione when she‘d moved closer. Prostitutes weren’t inclined to cuddle with their clients, nor were they interested in pillow talk. At least that’s what Simon assumed it was when Hermione spoke of tomorrow being Sunday. Muttered conversations between the older male Seventh Years, along with a few articles read on the sly, had made him aware of the things in general women seemed to expect.
Much to his surprise, Simon didn’t mind the cuddling as much as he thought he would. As his hand skimmed over the hips and slender waist that had a moment ago been his, a smile bloomed on the dour mouth he normally presented to the world. The movement of Hermione’s head wiped most of it away, but when she kissed his jaw it twitched the corners again.
Her next words made his eyes narrow slightly and Simon wondered if he’d already overstayed his welcome. He couldn’t see Hermione’s face clearly in the dim light of the Muggle clock to read her expression. As far as he and his ears could tell Hermione had enjoyed their mutual calisthenics – but if she hadn’t – that could explain why she seemed ready to eject him from her bed. He removed his hand from the silky skin, preparing to slide up and away from her.
“Yorick will probably appreciate an early dinner,” he stated stiffly.
Don't pout. Hermione Granger, do not pout. You knew this was coming, you knew he wouldn't stay the night and you decided to go ahead and sleep with him anyway, you have no right to whinge about it now.
It didn't help.
Simon pulled his hand away and Hermione wanted to snag it, to put it right back where it belonged.
"I wouldn't want him to starve." She bit at her lower lip, firmly resolved to let him slip away. Then her hand reached out, purely of its own volition, and touched the back of his.
"I know you don't want to stay the night, and I'm not asking you to – although, if you wanted, I wouldn't... What I mean is... Damn it, Yorick is a big bird, surely he can manage on his own for a bit longer. Can't he?"
She wants me – to stay?
The hand behind her slowly returned to its previous position while the one she’d touched with her own slid around her waist and pulled Hermione a little closer. The muscles that had prepared to launch him from her bed turned him instead, and one of his legs captured one of hers.
“He can,” Simon said quietly before he kissed her lightly on the forehead. He finally understood what she’d been trying to do with her earlier statement and while he knew he wasn’t going to spend the entire night in her bed…
“Would you like me to stay until you fall asleep?”
I want you to stay. Period. But I can live with this, instead.
She made herself as comfortable as possible considering he had trapped one of her legs between his own. She could have pulled it free, but she didn't want to.
"I would like that, very much."
Perversely, she no longer wanted to go to sleep.
Hermione might have been sleepy, Simon however, was anything but. He attempted to lie quietly and wait for sleep to finish capturing his siren before he stole away, but found his fingers slowly tracing the fine bones and intriguing dips. They would still when he told them to, but like disobedient children with minds of their own, they were soon moving again.
She hasn’t protested so far…
Giving up, ever curious, and feeling safe within the cover of semi-darkness, Simon started to use his mouth as well as his hands to try and discover any possible secrets Hermione’s body might still hold. He also took the opportunity to practice what she had taught him such a short time ago.
That wasn't going to help her fall asleep.
Well, technically, in the long run, it very well might. Especially if her earlier exhaustion was any indication. However, at the moment her body seemed to be waking up nicely, and there were no more thoughts of sleep at all.
No rest for the wicked.
Wicked. If I can't be wicked, I can at least fake it.
The temptation to lie there and let Simon do what he wanted was strong, but Hermione had never been known for her passivity. Also, while she no longer worried (as much) that tonight would be a one time occurrence, what harm could there be in hedging the bet somewhat.
Besides, she would have to be insane to pass up the opportunity to have her wicked, wanton way with Simon.
Her hands, legs and mouth began to move as well, her mind referencing back to the hazy memories of her last intimate – only, and very educational – encounter.
Where did... Oh, yes. Right about – here.
Yes! was the thought that ran through Simon’s brain when Hermione began to actively participate again. It wasn’t that he was greedy – well, maybe he was at that – but it had been a long dry spell. And she was naked. And willing. And naked. And beautiful. And naked. And very, very there.
Not to mention – naked.
And then – she did that!
What did one do when a supposedly delicate female turned the tables so effectively on the male of the species, who had innocently been plying the seduction tools she’d handed him earlier, when he apparently no longer had the molecular cohesion to do anything more than groan and shiver slightly.
If she does that again I might die.
“Again,” he groaned aloud. “Do it again.”
She did it again.
"Let me..."
Then she nudged him on to his back and did something a little different, but equally well received. Hermione had enjoyed his touch and kisses – very much so – but this was equally enjoyable. Now it was her turn to learn how responsive Simon could be, what made him shiver and groan and ask for more.
Her lips and teeth slid across skin, hands stroked and lightly scratched, and Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before one of them gave in to their need.
If this was making love, Simon decided he was completely in favor of the practice continuing for the next century. No one had ever touched him and made him feel the way Hermione was making him feel. He had know lust before, of course, but never this intent – consuming need to bury himself deep inside the woman currently torturing him.
Enough is enough.
Grasping her firmly under the arms, Simon pulled Hermione up and on top of him before taking her mouth in a ferocious kiss. Breaking it, he snorted once before saying, “It’s a damned good thing You-Know-Who didn’t have you on his side. I’d have broken in a moment,” in a hoarse whisper.
Pride warred with arousal for just a moment, and lost.
Her legs settled to either side, body shifting until everything came together the way it was meant to be.
Hermione lifted herself up enough to see his face in the light from her alarm, just the barest glimpse of plains and shadows. His words still echoed in her ears, the voice that could make her tingle. Simon's voice.
Severus' voice.
The desperate need to move overtook her, and Hermione willingly gave in.
Half-formed words tumbled from her lips, unchecked, as they climbed higher. As she reached the peak, body singing; Hermione called out to him, one single word that gave voice to her bliss, meant to entice him to join her, to show him that for this moment in time he was the epicenter of her world.
"Severus."
Part 1 / Part 18