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One warm afternoon, Hermione and the professor were taking a stroll through a meadow. The bees hovered around the small wildflowers, and they could hear the gentle sound of the river in the background.
Their over-the-knee boots had gotten muddy, but their feet stayed dry and warm. Hermione hadn’t let go of his hand since they left the mansion. She only spent some nights there, but it was the only place where she felt at peace. Attending his course challenged her intellectually. Keeping up with the lectures and classroom debates took so much space in her mind that forced any other thoughts out. It was pure bliss.
Her brain was still sharp even after the things she’d gone through. She had been so afraid of becoming forgetful and unperceptive. Learning and knowing were things she naturally did. Without them, she wouldn’t know who she was anymore. If she lost her identity, was it still her inside? She didn’t want to find the answer to that question. Seeing her mother’s health decline was terrible enough. She didn’t want to think about what created one’s sense of self.
She had told Severus about all of this one night, while they watched the logs burning in the fireplace. The blanket was pulled up to her chin, and his arm was wrapped around her waist. If she had to choose one source of warmth, she would drop the blanket to the floor without hesitation.
“I don’t think you are aware of all you have done for me,” she said quietly. Before their meetings after class, she wasn’t used to talking about her feelings. She had always been a good listener. But if you opened up to people, there was always a risk of revealing too much, of giving others power over you, like telling the Fae your true name or eating their food.
But Severus had proved to her that she could trust him. Hermione didn’t regret confiding in him.
“Before I enrolled your course, I was so lost and hopeless,” she added. “I felt like walking down a dark corridor, looking for a door ajar. A crack I could slip through. I felt like the Minotaur. I couldn’t ask for help.”
He pulled her closer. His hand gripped the hem of her shirt. When he finally spoke, his voice came out a little unsteady. “At risk of sounding cliché, you saved yourself, Hermione. You found a door ajar and pushed it open, no matter how heavy it was or how tired you were. You did well.”
She turned to look at him and read the things he had left unsaid: he was relieved that she was still here; he was grateful that they were together; he was proud of her for regaining her sense of purpose.
That night he took more time than usual to undress her. His hands explored her body, as though he needed to make sure that she wasn’t an illusion. She wasn’t lost in a dark corridor, alone and aimless. She was tangible and warm, and he could almost feel the magic running through her veins.
The fire crackled and the moon shone outside. The blanket was long forgotten, draped on a chair. He rocked into her slowly, swallowing her sighs and smiling against her lips. He called her my brave girl over and over again until she clenched around him and he spilled himself inside her.
She wasn’t a monster imprisoned in a labyrinth. She wasn’t unwanted nor did she was alone. She was a woman trying to play with her hand of cards. Her attempt to find meaning in her life had led her to him, and now he was going to make sure that she didn’t merely survive.
She deserved to thrive.
*
They sat under a tree. From a distance, they could see some ducks in the river. Some of them were flying above the water, creating small ripples on the surface. Others were diving underwater with their bottoms up.
Hermione smiled. “Cute silly ducks.”
Snape hummed. His lips twitched. “They have no sense of decorum.”
Hermione laughed. “Of course they haven’t. They are ducks.”
Amusement flashed across his face. His features were handsome, especially when he was happy. She loved tracing his nose, his cheeks, and his jaw, and seeing his eyes soften. He always leaned into her touch and released a deep sigh when she touched his face. It was a display of trust as much as it was of affection. He never relaxed when he was around other people.
Now, there was a gleam of mischief in his eyes. Was he thinking the same? She looked around. They were alone except for the ducks, but she didn't mind their presence.
She leaned closer to him. “Do you want to behave with proper decorum?”
He licked his lips, sensing her intentions. “Here and now?”
She nodded.
“Not at all. What do you have in mind?” he asked.
Hiding her smile, she unbuttoned her jacket and then her shirt. "I think you know what I have in mind."
She lay down in the grass. “Come here.”
There was a flicker of excitment in his eyes. “Aren’t you cold?”
“No. The sun makes me feel warm. And you could too, make me feel warm.”
“Gladly.”
He moved on top of her and pressed several kisses to her bra. It was yellow-green, like the meadow. She hadn't picked it at random. She felt beautiful in it.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
He glanced at her and gave her a smile. “I love it.” He kissed the bra strap as it to comfirm his words. “Green suits you.”
“Thank you.”
He kissed her collarbone. “Any colour suits you.”
Hermione giggled. Of course he would say something like that. He was sweet with her. “Okay.”
“It’s true.” He murmured into her neck. His mouth found the pulse below her jaw, and Hermione shivered. She couldn’t discuss any topic right now, not when he was doing this. “O…okay,” she repeated.
He pulled back, and she saw his smug grin. He started unbuttoning his jacket. She thought he would keep it on, but he removed it, along with his linen shirt.
“It's not the same if I can't feel you,” he said, bending forward.
She couldn't agree more. Her eyes fell upon his lips. When was the last time she'd kissed him? It felt like a lifetime ago.
She let out a contented sigh when his upper body brushed against her belly. She always felt safe when he lay atop her.
“You are right. It’s better this way,” she said, brushing the hair out of his face.
He smiled and kissed her lips.
Learning in the mansion was very important to her, but this, this was priceless. She was not just a brilliant mind to him. She was a human being, with her struggles, her failures and her accomplishments, the things she aspired to be and the things she regretted. And he loved her.
“Are you still determined to break the rules of decorum?” he asked after the kiss.
She caressed his lips. “With you, yes.”
They removed the rest of their clothes. He grabbed his wand and cast a concealment spell, one Hermione didn’t know.
“I invented it,” he said. “This should prevent any muggle or witch from seeing us.”
“Then, I don’t think this counts as breaking the rules of decorum,” she teased him.
He chuckled softly before pressing a kiss to her wrist. “I don’t want us to worry about prying eyes.”
“But the spell doesn’t work with ducks. They can still see us.”
There was a twinkle in his eye. “They can.”
“It would be embarrassing if one of them was an Animagus,” she joked.
He bursted into laughter, and he was still laughing when Hermione pulled him closer and kissed him.
Everything felt better without their clothes on. She hugged him, revelling in the warmth of his body and the sounds of pure happiness that escaped him.
The grass was soft when she lay on her back. She spread her legs wider, and he settled between her legs. His erection pressed against her thigh.
The clouds were heaping up over them. One looked like a bird. She thought of a quote from Jane Eyre. No net ensnares me. Here and now, she felt free. The meadow was beautiful and she was with him.
She looked back at him. “This place looks straight out the Bucolics by Virgil,” she said.
“Hmm if you still can think straight, I’m not doing my job right.” He was trying to suppress a smile.
Hermione giggled. “Oh, you are. Believe me.”
"I am glad."
He kissed down her body and helped her chase her pleasure before easing his way inside her. He paused, letting her adjust.
“Are you alright?” he asked, propping himself on one elbow and caressing her hair.
He filled her completely, but the pressure wasn't uncomfortable. “Yes, I'm alright. How about you?” She always asked him. His comfort was important to her.
"I am too. You always feel so good, Hermione."
He started to move inside her. He set a lazy pace, one that he knew she enjoyed. His cock rubbed against a spot that felt good. Over and over again. A gentle breeze caressed her face. She sighed as she met his thrusts. The clouds shifted; some got thinner, others denser. The spell didn’t block the view.
His face was contorted in pleasure. It was a beautiful picture, one she would never get tired of. She began feeling small ripples of pleasure. Her walls fluttered around him.
“Hermione.” He was close.
She tucked his hair behind his ears, smiling at him. A wave of tenderness blended in with the pleasure, taking her breath away. How fortunate she was, to experience this. She cupped his face and kissed him. “This was love, those who tasted it, know” she recited, her breath laboured.
He made a sound that was a mixture of a groan and a chuckle. “Don’t… don’t tell me that you have just… recited a quote by Lope de Vega.”
“Yes.” She giggled.
He was going to reply when the pleasure crashed over him. He shut his eyes and buried his face in her neck, grunting. Hermione felt his hot seed spilling inside her.
They stayed like this for a couple of minutes. Afterwards, he suggested getting into the water.
“Unless you are worried about a possible Animagus,” he added, his tone light.
Hermione laughed. “If there is an Animagus, they have seen too much already. There's no point in acting shy now.”
He pressed his body against her and kissed the top of her head, his smile playful. “You are right.”