The Good Thing About Mind Readers Is... (16)

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Snamione >^.^<

Hermione lay sprawled on her bed, her towel hanging from the doorknob of her closet. She'd heard Severus's door open and close, and knew he was in there. She was arguing with herself, back and forth, getting nowhere, as her circular debates about Snape usually went. Was she really ready to do this with him? What they'd done so far indicated she wouldn't mind, but it was also its own situation altogether. But was it really?

She rolled off of the bed, taking a deep calming breath. After he'd taken the time to brew her the potion, she couldn't just NOT show up. Even if it was simply to explain why she couldn't go through with it. She tiptoed across the hall, her bare feet making not a sound on the carpet, and knocked on his door gently. It opened, and she stepped inside, closing it quickly after her. The last thing she'd need was for Shroge to see her standing at his door in barely anything but a thin silk nightgown.

She froze, looking around the room, awed by the transformation of the space. Nothing had really been changed, but there were white candles flickering, instead of the overhead light, casting an orange glow on the whole room, rose petals scattered across the floor and bed, and Snape, standing before her, wearing his usual black, but not at all intimidating. It was like something out of a fantasy, she thought. Or a romance novel. She looked up at him, sputtering a bit, trying to form a question.

"I've been in your head enough to know what you thought this night would be like. If it makes you happy, I'm more than willing to cater to your fantasies." He explained, smirking at her in a way that made her stomach jerk. She looked around the romantic scene, feeling tears prick her eyes. It was exactly how she'd imagined it looking, though the more experience she'd gained with Snape, the more she realized it had been just that. Pure fantasy, and not likely to be accurate.

"You're just trying to make me pliant, so I'll go along with this." She teased, forcing humor through the wash of emotions that was filling her. But he was staring into her eyes, and could likely tell exactly how overwhelmed she was by his gesture.

"I don't need to make you pliant, you've already made your mind up." He said, full of confidence, stepping towards her. His hands rested comfortably on her hips, and she found her arms twining around his neck, even as they bantered.

"And what makes you think I've decided anything?"

"You came in here after I told you my intentions. You're not demanding I retreat so we can discuss this superfluously. You're wearing a nightdress that just begs to be peeled off and left in a fancy pile on the floor..." He trailed off, his fingers skimming toward the rather short hem of the nightgown she'd transfigured just for this. For him. She bit her lip, her cheeks heating at the thought that any second now, he'd discover that she wasn't wearing anything else.

He bent to kiss her, muddling her thoughts, and pulled her farther into the room. He pulled her right onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, one thigh on either side of his, his hands gripping her bare skin, sliding up, and squeezing her bum gently. She let her fingers find his hair, combing through the slightly damp locks. She could already feel his erection pressing up through his trousers, and she tilted her hips, grinding gently against him. A low groan echoed out of his throat as he kissed his way down the length of her neck, and she slid her hands from his hair, down to his chest, fumbling with his buttons. Her fingers were shaking slightly, but one after the other, the buttons down his front popped open, and exposed his chest, and when every button had been yanked free, she pushed the sleeves from his arms, and tossed the material aside. She let her hands wander over his skin, feeling the hardness of muscle underneath.

He seemed to be touching just as much of her, letting his hands wander, exploring her waist, rubbing against the stiffening peaks of her nipples, brushing her hair back so he could nip at her collarbone. He seemed to be surrounding her, his hands everywhere, his lips distracting, and when he pulled her against him, and stood, she barely noticed. He turned, and laid her out on the bed, kneeling above her, his lips never leaving her skin as he pushed her thighs apart, and settled between them. She brushed his silky black hair from his face, and pulled his lips back to hers. All intelligent thoughts had stopped, and all she could manage to comprehend was that she wanted this, and he was still wearing far too many clothes for that to happen. She had his pants undone much quicker than his shirt, and pushed them down his hips impatiently. He slid out of them easily, leaving himself bare as the day he was born, holding himself above her. She could feel the slightly bobbing weight of his shaft against her thigh, and pulled his hips toward hers, needing the friction that would bring her to climax. He acquiesced, entirely happy to pleasure them both with the action.

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