Scattered (Book 1)

Message (8)

"Professor?" she whispered as he leaned across her leg, his head hanging slightly as his fingers traveled. He looked up, his hands continuing their movement as he met her gaze. "Thank you." She mumbled having nothing else to say as she effortlessly searched his tired thoughts. The irritation was nearly extinct, and the sleepiness was fading as he stared at her, realizing just how close his motions had brought him toward her. The yellow glitter at the edges was more prominent, and she recognized it as enjoyment. The feeling of her leg under his fingers was making him happy, and she could feel the way he was storing the feeling, memorizing the shape under the fabric. She could smell herself through his mind, the floral scent of her shampoo nearly filling the tent. Her eye color nearly matched his in the dark, and she felt his fingers go still on her thigh, and his eyes broke from hers for a half a second, breaking her from his thoughts as he glanced downward, only to rejoin hers once more, with guilty presence behind them. Her lips were parted, nearly close enough to kiss, if he weren't already stretched across her leg. His fingers twitched slightly, and he held them still again, refusing to slide them higher up her leg, though he wanted to. He knew she was in his mind, but he couldn't close off his thoughts, feeling it was useless. She already knew he wanted her, if she didn't like the repetition, she knew how to get out. The thought surprised her, and she stayed put, unmoving as he stared back at her. He let her roam freely around his thoughts, his fingers tightening slightly on her leg as he focused on staying still, not taking what he wanted.

The fluttery pink feeling shot across his thoughts, and she snatched for it, finally able to latch into it without him locking it away.

"You want me to touch you?" the words were light, playful, but gone almost instantly, replaced with others. "Well, I WAS almost asleep..." "Anything else I can rub for you?" They were barely full thoughts, each seemed to be considered, and discarded, as though he were searching for something to say. Hermione realized it was flirting. The fluttery pink words he'd hidden, the playfulness, mixed with more sexual tension than she'd thought possible. He was trying not to flirt with her though, and the fluttery pink allure was chased by dark shame, apprehension, and worry. He wanted her so badly, but he felt wrong for it. She was too young. She was too pure. She had her redhead. He had his to grieve for.

But none of it stopped his desire to slide his hands up her, push her to the ground, and make her beg for him. He was positive he could make her like whatever he offered, certain that she'd enjoy his hands doing uncivil things. She'd been so very eager last time he'd kissed her, he wondered how much more enthusiastic she'd be without the worry of painfully losing her virginity. His fingers twitched again, spreading wider across her leg, just a hair closer to the warm junction of her thighs. She felt her hips tilt through his mind, and flushed, not even having felt the movement herself.

Her face burning with embarrassment, she pulled away, removed her leg from his lap, and scooted farther onto her own bedroll. The tension surrounding them seemed to ebb slightly as his fingers slid away from her, and he leaned back, sayinging nothing as he lay back down, and closed his eyes, his face blank as he lay there. Hermione stared at him for a moment, trying to pry into his emotions, hoping he wasn't angry that she'd snubbed him. His face betrayed no anger, but she knew he must feel at least a little frustrated. She certainly did. Her core felt like it was on fire, throbbing with her pulse, begging for release.

She snatched up her wand, and unzipped the tent flap, saying not a single word as she exited, needing the fresh air, and more space between their bodies than their shelter provided. She re-zipped the flap behind her, hoping he understood the silent message to stay put. She rubbed her face in the tepid night air and stalked a bit past the invisible boundary of their campsite, hiding behind the few trees there were, and sank to the ground with a groan of dismay. Her head thunked back against a tree trunk, and she closed her eyes, trying to think clearly. There had to be some logical explanation to her physiological reaction to the man. Was it just teenage hormones? She doubted it; she'd never felt the urge to behave so inappropriately before. She'd snogged Ron during the battle, and sure, she'd kissed Viktor, too, but neither had made her completely lose her mind with the thought of just being caressed. She'd enjoyed their kisses, she'd been turned on by Viktor holding her body against his as they made out, but it hadn't been the same as the insanity-causing inferno that Snape aroused.