Scattered (Book 1)

The Trouble With Death Eaters Is... (15)

Poor Hermione....

Hermione awoke, feeling strangely warm and as she yawned, her cheek seemed to stick to what was underneath. She pried her eyes open and lifted her head, slightly confused by the unfamiliar room that met her sight, before she remembered she was in their new safe house. She glanced at her bed, and suddenly remembered that she was also, not in her own room.

The bare chest that had been underneath her cheek was rising and falling with slow, even breaths. She stared at the pale face surrounded by a halo of black hair, drinking the sight in, trying to categorize the feeling of waking up, clearly naked, lying on top of a naked man. A naked Severus Snape, for that. She could feel her breath coming in quicker pants as she stared into his sleeping face, left to her own thoughts for once, as his dreaming mind and closed eyes kept her firmly shut out of his. His arm was stretched out, just under 'her' pillow, and she realized it must've been underneath her, or perhaps even wrapped around her before she'd awoken. His other was hidden under the blanket, and she stared at the duvet a moment, wondering when exactly he'd draped it over them. She couldn't recall anything much after pressing her face into his neck.

She sat still, not wanting to wake him, and not sure if she should get up before he came to. He looked so peaceful in sleep, she felt a strong desire to lie back against him and sleep more. She looked around the room, and caught sight of the books and papers on the desk across from the bed. She recognized several of the daily prophets, and the atlas.

Curiosity took hold of her and made up her mind. She carefully slid across the bed, doing her best not to move the blanket, and staring at Snape's face the whole time, an unfamiliar anxiety filling her that she might disturb his slumber. As her feet touched the carpeted floor, she looked back toward the desk, tip-toeing to it. She grabbed her nightgown from the floor on her way and slid it over her head before taking the uncomfortable wooden chair that sat before the desk. She looked over the documents, surprised to see lists, written in Snape's handwriting, of names. There were Order members, Hogwarts students, and possible allies. She noticed that the names seemed to be split into three groups: missing, incarcerated, and dead. Her heart clenched as she looked over each list, familiar with many already.

On another sheet of parchment, she found a crude chart he'd drawn up, each name from the 'missing' list was connected to another list of locations. She felt a swell of emotion at the realization that while she'd been avoiding him, he'd been mapping out possible reunions and rescues.

She glanced back at him, and froze. He was awake, his head propped up on one arm, watching her go over his work.

"Did you know, a large part of the appeal of spending the entire night with someone is waking up next to them?" He asked conversationally, his hand gesturing to the empty spot next to him. Hermione felt her cheeks heat as she glanced from his bed, to the door. She contemplated making a run for it, before he could get another verbal jab in, but before she could budge, he sat up more fully, running both hands through his messy hair to remove it from his face. She stared at him a moment, awestruck by the sight of him so very unlike anything she'd seen before. His entire torso was bare, she could see the muscles of his arms and chest moving as he shoved his hair back. The blanket had fallen to his hips, exposing the thin trail of hair that descended from his navel. His hair was more unkempt than she'd known it could even get, continually falling across his face as he yawned. He blinked at her owlishly, and she suddenly wondered if he did enjoy sleeping in, despite his usual brisk pace of waking and preparing for the day.

"Would you like me to rejoin you, then?" She asked boldly, folding her hands in her lap.

"Mm. Better not. We both need to bathe, I have potions to get started on, and we need to figure out how to break into- and out of- Azkaban." He said, sounding surly, even as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Hermione silently watched him as he stalked around the room, pulling just enough clothes on to make it to the bathroom. Her fading blush renewed at the bare skin that he seemed so comfortable in, but she didn't bother averting her gaze as she compared the morning Severus to the raven haired incubus who'd plagued her evenings. He seemed more sluggish, not at all the driven man who'd been intent on teasing her. His manhood was softer, not the stiff monster that would have torn at her. Instead of driving her into a frenzy of wanting to be sexually satisfied, she felt an odd desire to pull him back to bed and rest in his arms. As his eyes swept up to meet hers, she saw the same need, counterbalanced by the knowledge of how much work they had ahead of them. He might be selfish, but he knew how to be responsible, too, and today would be a test of that.