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Push Me Closer

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Severus raised his eyes to the ceiling, biting his lip to stifle his groan. Had either of them cast a Silencing Charm on the door? He couldn't remember, not when his hands were wrapped in Hermione's hair and her lips were wrapped around his cock. The contrast of the cold November air on his bare arse and the warmth of her mouth sent shivers down the back of his knees.

They had met up in a fourth-floor corridor at the end of their night patrol, and before he knew it Hermione had shoved him into a broom cupboard and dropped to her knees. There, amongst cobwebs and the rustling of mice in the corners, she had pulled his trousers down over his arse and proclaimed, “I want to taste you.”

Who was he to deny her?

The space was quiet but for his heavy breathing, the small sounds she would make and the slick sound of her mouth moving up and down his cock. His hands tightened in her hair. She took him in deeper, her throat constricting around his head. He had to stop himself from thrusting into her mouth and instead let her take control. It was sexy as hell. Growling her name as a warning – in case she wanted to move back – he opened his eyes and glanced down. Her bouncing brown curls, hollowed out cheeks and pink lips moving around him proved too much, and he spilled down her throat with a strangled groan.

Severus fought to catch his breath – and to convince his thighs to stop trembling – and combed his fingers through Hermione's hair. His shirt clung to his sweaty back, and now that the heat of the moment had passed, he shivered. Blinking his eyes open – when had he closed them? - he found Hermione sitting back on her knees, hand wiping her mouth. Her face was flushed, eyes alight and lips swollen. Fuck, she was beautiful.

“Bloody hell, witch,” he said once he regained his breath, and reached out to help her to her feet. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Hermione chuckled and stood. “No. I've just missed you, that's all.”

This confession made him kiss her deeply. He had missed her as well, more than he cared to admit.

It had been a warm summer evening when they ran into each other in Diagon Alley, and she had asked if he wanted to go for a pint. He realised in the dim light of the Muggle pub – less chance of people staring – how pretty her eyes were. She had thrown her head back in laughter, hand on his arm and his pulse had quickened. Thirty minutes later she was bent over the sofa in Spinner's End as he pounded into her, hands digging into her hips.

“How are your knees?” Severus started fastening his trousers – he felt both cold and strangely vulnerable standing there with his prick out in the open.

“They're fine,” Hermione said, waving a hand over her robes to clear off the dust and grime. “Thank you for the cushioning charm; that was very thoughtful.”

“That is the very least one can do when a witch drops to her knees on a stone floor to suck your cock.”

Hermione snorted. “Very eloquent.”

Severus retrieved his cloak from where it had been slung over a box of cleaning supplies. “Are we heading to your quarters or mine so I can return the favour?”

She bit her lip. “Yours.”

Approximately ten minutes later she was spread out on his bed, keening and moving her hips against his mouth. Two fingers were curled inside her while his tongue was slowly circling her clit, never doing the same thing for too long.

“Severus, please,” she begged. “Fuck, stop teasing.”

Letting out a chuckle against her flesh, Severus' fastened his lips around her clit and sucked it into his mouth, drawing a squeal from her as her thighs quivered. Mumbled jargon came from her lips; a mixture of his name, curses she only used when they were intimate, and the name of the gods. Her heel rubbed against his back as she tried pulling him closer.

He knew she was close by the fluttering of her walls even before she started chanting his name. Thrusting his fingers harder, he kept his free hand wrapped around one of her thighs to stop her from crushing his head. Every muscle in her body tensed and she let out a long mewl as her back arched and she fell apart under his touch. He slowed down until she was twitching against him, pushing at his head. Moving away from her oversensitive flesh, Severus cast a quick cleaning spell on his fingers and pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. She tasted both floral and salty, her skin warm.

Hermione rose on her elbows, peering down at him. Her hair was like a halo around her head. He could still feel its softness in his hands. “Thank you.”

He smirked. “My pleasure.”

His cock was hard again, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her. Severus stayed in bed watching her as she gathered her clothing – which had been strewn all over the room in his eagerness to get her naked. He particularly enjoyed the view of her bending over to pick up her knickers. Her arse was outstanding. Thinking about how it felt – and moved – in his hands made his cock stir. Once she was – regrettably – fully dressed, she leaned over the bed.

He reached up to tuck her curls behind her ear. “I'll see you at breakfast.”

Hermione brushed her lips against his. “Good night, Severus.”

Tempting as it was to pull her down and distract her into spending the night, he refrained.

There would be time.

After their first tryst over the summer, he hadn't seen her until the week before the start of term. He had been unsure of how to handle the situation and had thus been surprised when she showed up as he was setting up the Potions classroom and promptly asked if he wanted to keep shagging, no strings attached. How could he say no to an offer like that?

Stretching out on his stomach, Severus buried his face in the pillow.

The start of the autumn term had limited the time they could spend together, and as November rolled in with sleet and cold winds they found they could scarcely meet twice a week. It wasn't enough to see her every day as a colleague; he wanted more.

He would be lying if he said he didn't know when it happened – when his feelings turned into more than enjoying her body and her mind. He knew exactly when it happened. A rainy Thursday evening about three weeks prior, he had been late to the staff meeting. Hermione had kept the seat next to her clear – his preferred seat facing the door – and saved him the last slice of Manchester tart. He had looked at her and felt a tugging somewhere around his navel.

Inhaling deeply, his nose was assaulted with her smell. Floral and something fruity, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. His cock twitched, and he groaned. He really was fucked.

They had a routine for breakfast – dating back to when they first started to become friendly during her second year of teaching – that was as predictable as Hagrid bringing home yet another dangerous animal and giving it a name like Fluffy. Blasted dog. Severus was barely coherent before two cups of coffee and she knew better than to try to engage him in any conversation.

“Are you finished with the latest issue of Arithmancy Quarterly?” she asked, spreading blackberry marmalade on a piece of toast. “ I was hoping to incorporate some of Russling's theories in my NEWT class tomorrow, but I need a catch up beforehand.”

“I finished it last night,” Severus said, not raising his eyes from the Daily Prophet in front of him. “You can swing by my office later, or I'll bring it to you by the end of the day.” He glanced up at her. “You're wasting your time, though; Russling's theories are mediocre at best.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I'm not having this conversation with you. Again. Do I tell you how to do your job?”

He huffed, closing the paper. “Frequently.”

“That's completely different,” she argued, waving her piece of toast in his face, “because I'm clearly right, and you're clearly wrong.”

Severus wanted to kiss the smile from her face. He wouldn't, though. Not in public, anyway. Public displays of affections were for teenagers and newlyweds, and they were neither. They had decided at the start of term – whilst they were catching their breaths on her sofa – to keep their relations private. He didn't mind; it was no one's business what he did – or whom in this case.

Instead he snorted and shook his head. “Gryffindors.”

After breakfast, they went their separate ways: Severus down to the dungeons and Hermione up to the Arithmancy classroom on the seventh floor. If he was so inclined he might have lingered on the juxtaposition between him being in the underbelly of the castle and her up high near the sky. He entered the classroom through his office and took his place behind the desk. Though they tried to keep their relations separate from their jobs, it had happened once or twice – or a dozen times – that she'd come to the Potions classroom for something work-related only to end up on his desk. Or bent over it.

He could hear the students – third year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws – gathering outside the classroom door, chatting and laughing. Rolling his shoulders, Severus banished all thoughts of Hermione splayed out on his desk from his head and opened the door with a wave of his wand.

Five minutes before the lunch bell rang, all hell broke loose.

Severus was overseeing the bottling of the Erumpent potion when there was a large crash and several screams from the back of the classroom. He hurried over and saw a broken jar of Bundimun Secretion on the floor. The acidic substance was splattered everywhere; on the floor and furniture, and on the robes of unexpecting students.

He slashed his wand through the air, hopefully neutralising the secretion before it made irreversible damage.

“Who is responsible for this?” he barked, looking around the class. His eyes met a pair of wide blue ones, filled with tears. “Miss Hearth, stay behind. Anyone who got as much as a drop of the Bundimun Secretion on you, report to the Hospital Wing immediately. The rest of you, out!”

Quiet moans of pain and sniffles were heard as the students gathered their belongings and left the classroom. He stalked over to the only remaining student in the room. Her face was pale, eyes watery and with silent tears streaming down her face.

“Miss Hearth,” he hissed. “Explain yourself.”

“I'm sorry, sir,” she sobbed, wiping at her face with her right hand. “It just slipped, it was an accident.”

“Accident or not, you caused serious harm to your fellow students. If the secretion got into anyone's eyes they would become blind.”

She let out a whimper and nodded.

Severus tilted his head. “Show me your left hand.”

Miss Hearth complied, and Severus' stomach turned seeing her red and swollen hand. It had a putrid smell, and he backed away slightly.

“50 points from Gryffindor and detention on Saturday, 7 o'clock. Now off to the infirmary with you.”

Once she was gone, the classroom door slammed shut behind her, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Even diluted, Bundimun Secretion was highly acidic and could eat through most materials. Taking out his wand, he set out to clean up the mess and restore the desks and the rest of the classroom to its original state.

It took the better part of the lunch hour, and left him with no time to get any lunch before his NEWT class arrived. Thank Merlin they were marginally more competent than the younger students; at least he didn't have to worry about them blowing up the classroom and could make a start on marking homework.

In the break before his last class of the day, Severus ducked into his office to fetch a cup of tea. Practically downing half of it, he pushed down the urge to add a splash of firewhisky. Hermione's Arithmancy journal lay on his desk, and he eyed it as he sipped his tea. He would go up to her office later that evening to give it back. Hopefully she wasn't busy, and he could stay for a bit. Not only for sex – though it was mind-blowing – but for her company. He was very fond of the way her nose crinkled when she laughed.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Enter,” he barked, annoyed at being interrupted and putting down his empty mug on the desk.

He wasn't expecting Hermione to step into his office, and he hated the way it made his mouth dry.

“If you're here to berate me for giving your star student detention, save your breath.”

“I'm not,” she said, closing the door. “You know me better than that. Are you all right? You didn't get any of the Bundimun on you?”

His pulse quickened. “I'm fine, thank you.”

“I spoke to Poppy before coming down here; the students are all going to be fine. Poppy even said no one will scar.”

“Luckily,” he said, leaning back against his desk. “I daresay Miss Hearth will not be so careless in the future.”

Hermione smirked. “Also the point deduction means Gryffindor is no longer in the lead for the House Cup.”

Severus shrugged. “A happy coincidence.”

She rolled her eyes but then smiled. “If you say so. I need to get to class.”

After she brushed her lips against his and sauntered out the door he realised the Arithmancy journal still lay on his desk.