Chapters 81-90

I Need You

Hermione lightly leant against him, but she didn’t reach for him. Instinctively she realised that this was not the right moment for any possessive gestures, no matter how much she longed to put her arms around him.

She inhaled deeply. As always, even now, his scent made her stomach tingle with desire.

‘Vetyver,’ she mused, her voice low and slow. ‘Also called Khus-Khus or Moras. It is used to break the spells of Dark Magic. Bergamot for successful ventures. Rosemary for protection and health, and to enhance mental powers. Not that you need that.’

Severus’ arms moved around her back again, his right hand stroking upwards along her spine, along her neck and into her hair. She breathed him again. She wanted nothing so much as to slide her hands underneath his frock coat and his shirt and feel naked skin. Hermione curled her fingers into loose fists. After the painful revelations of this evening, the next move was his, not hers.

‘And then there’s cypress,’ Hermione whispered. ‘Protection again. More healing. It also soothes grief. Nutmeg. Again for health, but also for luck and foresight.
‘I do love your scent.’

‘You did not list some of the rather more specific properties of the ingredients,’ he murmured. His breath tickled her ear and his left hand moved to the waistband of her skirt. Her heartbeat quickened. With a quick movement he extricated the back of her blouse. His hand slipped in, searching for her naked skin, stroking in endless enticing circles. She shuddered and her knees were growing weak with need from his touch.

Hermione swallowed hard. ‘Nutmeg…in “The Key of Solomon the King” it is…described as the main ingredient of magical perfumes. It’s also a symbol for fidelity. Rosemary for lust and love.’

His hand travelled upwards. Fingers trailed the edge of her bras. She gasped, but forced herself to continue, when the movement stilled.

‘V—V—Vetyver,’ she sighed under his touch. ‘Also for love. It—it—is said to make a person irresistible to the opposite gender.—‘It definitely works on me.’

Severus chuckled, a gentle sound that thrummed against her cheek as it rested against his chest.

‘Please, let me stay with you tonight.’ During the week they normally kept to their own bedrooms. With their different schedules that was simply more convenient, no matter how much Hermione might have wanted Severus to stay with her every night.

He drew away from her and regarded her quietly for a moment.

‘I still don’t understand why you want to stay with me at all,’ he said. ‘Very well.’

Outside in the hallway, he turned to the right. But she quickly laid her hand on his arm. When he hesitated and twisted to face her again, head slightly tilted to the left, right eyebrow raised inquiringly, her stomach quivered with nerves. Courage, she thought, although she wasn’t sure how wise it was to ask this of him tonight of all nights.

‘How about your room?’

He went quite still, his face unreadable.

‘Very well,’ he repeated at last. ‘Get what you need.’

oooOooo

His bedroom was beautiful, in an austere manner. The fireplace in the left-hand wall was framed with bookshelves that reached from the floor to the ceiling. The other side of the room was panelled with a dark, fine-grained wood. The bed, a typical Hogwarts four poster affair, occupied a deep niche in the right-hand wall. A huge old chest in front of the deep window-seat and a comfortable wingback chair completed the sparse furniture.

The colours were a surprise: cream, sienna, and muted gold, rather than green.

‘You will find the bathroom to the left of the bed.’

‘Thank you.’

oooOooo

Cream and gold were the colours that dominated the bathroom as well. An array of green bottles, flagons and urns with obviously hand-made lotions, soaps and shampoos occupied a shelf. There were two sets of towels. Either Nag was even quicker than ordinary house-elves, or Severus had anticipated that she would share this room with him one day—or rather night—soon. One set of the towels was green, and so was the bathrobe that hung on a hook at the door. The other was cream-coloured.

Hermione quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face. The cleansing lotion was soothing and cool on her flushed cheeks. She carefully placed her toiletry items on an empty shelf and made sure that she had not left a stray hair in the sink. A quick stop in the loo, and she was ready to enter the room again.

Why was her heart beating so fast? She knew that nothing would happen tonight. And they had shared a bed before. But she was nervous.

oooOooo

Severus knew by now that she was quick in the bathroom, much quicker than folklore suggested a woman could be. Still, even a few minutes gave him a much needed respite.

He lit the fire and pulled back the duvet on his bed, then he moved to stand at the window, pointedly turning his back to the bathroom door. Outside the stars and a waxing moon sparkled in the inky water of the nightly lake. But he gazed at the reflection of his own face, almost translucent in the thick glass of the lattice window.

She was getting under his skin. No doubt about that. Simple sexual lust played its part, of course. He could still taste the subtle scent of her desire for him even now. And he wanted her. Merlin, how much he wanted her.

Just to sleep, he told himself firmly. No more.

He must not give her more, not when he was certain that she would lose him soon. He owed her that, at least.

Severus shook his head. Once again, all options had been taken from him. But curiously enough he did not feel angry anymore. Rage and fear were long gone. What remained were faint regret and fleeting gratitude for precious, previously unknown moments of peacefulness.