The Power of Pain

Chapter 43

Minerva waited patiently while Harry and Ron came outside. She noticed that Ron looked substantially more cowed. She would suspect that Harry had something to do with it, evident by his stiff walk and puffed up chest. She watched the boys come men with kind eyes.

"On the count of three gentlemen. One, Two, Three..."

As the world snapped back into focus Minerva took the lead, "This way." She crossed over the back garden waiting for them to catch up before opening the door.

A deep moan, that certainly wasn't one of pain, halted Minerva's entrance into the kitchen. Her eyes went a bit wide and she silenced her footsteps and put a finger to her lips at the two boys on her tail before motioning them in silently.

"Stop that." A deep accusing tone.

"I can't. It feels so good." A teasing quip.

A brief pause before another low groan of relief.

"Granger." Another warning tone.

"Give me back the shirt and I promise to be quieter." A softer but still deep voice lined with a smile.

"No."

"Then suffer."

Minerva and the two boys crept around the frame of the doorway. From their angle, they could see the back of Hermione's head and the part of her shirt draped over her curled arms. Ron felt his blood boil but the wand pressing into his side kept him still. His eyes moved to the black haired man who was leaning over her. He could see his hands run briefly up her bare back and his eyes flared. That was his.

Hermione let out a squeak and jumped whipping her head towards the man. "You did that on purpose."

"Prove it." His voice was lighter as if he was hiding a smile.

Hermione groaned softly with indignation letting her head fall back down. It was then, when her eyes turned away, that she spotted the spies peeking around the door frame. Her eyes flashed with fear before she slowly recognized the messy black hair.

"Severus." Her arm came from under her shirt reaching back behind her, "We're not alone."

He paused for a brief moment before putting on the last of the salve. Let come what may. Meticulously closing the jar, he listened to the train of steps entering the room.

Ron was seething, his face nearly as red as his hair when he stopped short at her state of undress. She looked so beautiful, her skin had returned to its soft sun kissed tone, her eyes were bright and alive just as he had always dreamed. Her hair fell in beautiful chestnut waves around her soft cheeks and small lips. His heart fluttered at the very sight before his eyes shifted to her exposed back. His face pinched. Her back, her skin. It was...

Harry kept to his side keeping his wand pressed into the red head's back. He didn't know what they'd walked in on but it certainly wasn't something he ever would have imagined in his wildest dreams.

Hermione shifted nervously, the look in the redhead's eyes unsettled her. She refused to look away, like prey caught in a predators trap. His name came gradually to her silent lips, Ron. She watched him adjust from one foot to the other before she dragged her eyes back towards Snape. She felt so exposed and vulnerable. She didn't like the way he was looking at her and shifted uncomfortably.