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A Night in Siberia

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“You must be joking,” he hissed. The woman behind the counter shrank back and tapped futilely at the keyboard.

“I’m sorry, sir, but no...it’s the last room available.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione said. She laid a calm hand on his arm. At least she spoke fluent English. Hermione’s Russian was nowhere near his. “Severus and I can make it work, can’t we?”

He turned his infamous glower on her and she simply raised both eyebrows at him meaningfully. The line between his brow deepened but he relented.

The poor lady gave Hermione a relieved smile. “Oh thank you, miss. We’re the only hotel for quite some distance, and it’s been a brisk business, what with the snow storm.”

“I totally understand. We’ve been a bit stranded. Our, erm, flight’s been cancelled.”

She gave her a knowing smile. Apparently, it was a common enough occurrence. “Will it be cash or charge tonight?”

“Charge.” Hermione nudged Severus until he handed over the little piece of plastic. He gave her a look that said that the Ministry wasn’t going to be happy to foot the bill, but frankly she didn’t care.

To his credit, Severus managed to remain silent - stewing in his anger, no doubt - until they’d made it to their room and locked the door.

“Really, Miss Granger? You realise that this whole debacle will get back to the Ministry and we will likely have to deal with the fall out over it?”

Hermione frowned at him as she shucked off her winter trappings. “For the eightieth time—it’s Hermione. And so what? They sent us here to get the damn thing, they didn’t provide us with a backup Portkey, just crappy rental brooms. Therefore, they can deal with whatever complaints they have themselves.”

He sighed and shucked his boots off, sitting on the rickety chair. Severus looked at the double bed in dismay, then surveyed the lack of obvious seating. “And the bed situation?”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re adults. We’ll manage.”

“We cannot use magic, not this close...it’ll nullify it.”

“Yeeeees,” she said slowly. Was he being deliberately obtuse?

He huffed. “So we cannot enlarge or otherwise transfigured the bed.”

“Obviously,” she bit out, annoyed. “Severus, we’re adults. We can share a bed. It’s just until the storm passes tomorrow and we can get out of this tiny town.”

He was staring at her like she had three heads. She was tempted to check the mirror.

“Look.” She tried a change in tactics. “We’re stuck in Siberia. We can’t get home. We can’t use magic. We just need to pass the night and fly home tomorrow when it’s clearer.”

He muttered something unpleasant under his breath, and then the power flickered. They both looked at each other in alarm.

When the lights remained steady, Hermione laughed. “False alarm.”

“Don’t say—” he started, but was cut off as the power died. Faint light—probably emergency lighting, she surmised—shone under the door.

“—that,” he finished sourly. “Bloody fantastic.”

Hermione smiled in the dark. Fantastic indeed. Couldn’t have planned it better. “Well, good thing we’re already sharing the bed. If they don’t get it back or get a generator going soon it’ll get cold quickly. We should get under the covers soon to build up some warmth.”

She could feel his eyes on her, even in the dark. There was a long pause as she took off her boots and began blindly feeling her way towards the bed before she heard him sigh in defeat.


Hermione lay in the bed, her back to his. When she’d planned this excursion, this wasn’t what she’d had in mind. It had taken three months of machinations to get Pewter to send her and Severus on the same mission, let alone one that had a high chance of them getting stranded together.

She had meant for him to be far less grumpy about it. After all, she’d heard his drunken confession...he liked her. Very much. And wouldn’t admit it, he’d slurred, unless his hand was forced.

So she’d concocted this ruse and when she’d phoned the hotel, she’d been so excited. She’d been trying in what she’d thought was vain to catch his interest only to find the interest was returned.

And of course she was too polite to take advantage of him while he was drunk...

...and he was too damn polite to take advantage of her now.

Hermione frowned into the dark. She could almost make out the faint pattern on the hotel curtains. Maybe she’d have to become too hot. Take off a few layers.

No, that wouldn’t do. He’d think she had hypothermia and bundle her up in everything he could.

She could stretch and “accidentally” rub up against him... except, he’d deliberately turned away from her when they’d gotten into bed.

She frowned deeper into the darkness.

Damn it.


His palms were sweaty. The air of the room was cold and the tip of his nose was in serious danger of frostbite but he was afraid to move.

When he’d planned this expedition, he hadn’t realised it would actually happen and here he was, completely out of his depth. He didn’t know how to go about romancing and seducing his coworker.

The whole “only one bed” scenario was one he’d fantasized about, true, but he hadn’t expected the reality to be so...well...

Maybe it was him.

He knew what he was. Socially awkward, not exactly good-looking...and yet she’d been almost openly pursuing him for nine months now. So he’d thought this would go a lot smoother when he’d phoned the hotel yesterday to ensure they’d only have one room with a single bed available.

But instead the power was out and the room was cold.

And he’d been so adept at finding and harvesting the Mirygdy pelt that of course he couldn’t cast even a proper warming charm without ruining the bloody thing and the entire damn reason they’d been sent up here.

Hermione shifted slightly and the small hairs on the back of his neck went up. He was keenly aware of her breathing. It was steady, but not steady enough for sleep.

Maybe she was cold, he tried to tell himself. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to turn and offer her his warmth.

“I wonder if we could see the northern lights if we opened the curtains,” she said softly. He started and stared blindly towards what should be the bathroom.

“It’s possible.” Merlin, his voice sounded strained.

“If I wasn’t so cold, I’d try,” Hermione said. Was it his imagination, or was her tone suggestive?

He didn’t answer, because he couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat.

She shifted in bed again. Too much to be adjusting. Was she - oh, Merlin, she was rolling to face him. Her breath was warm against his shoulder blade.

“My hands are like ice,” she said.

He swallowed finally. “I can’t feel my nose.”

She laughed. “If you rolled over it could be warmer? Sharing breath and all that.”

She was coming onto him. His heart clenched in hope.

Gathering his shredder courage, Severus rolled over.


Hermione’s heart flipped over in her chest as he rolled to face her. The warmth of his breath washed over her face and—yes!—he fumbled blindly for her hands.

She nearly melted in glee. The pads of his fingers were calloused where they chafed her skin to warm her up, but his touch was gentle.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“If you lose your fingers to frostbite, I’d have to write all of the reports for this debacle,” he said, but there was no acidity to his words.

She laughed quietly. “Well, that’s true. No one would be able to read them, and if you used a Dicto-quill they’d have to redact all of the swearing you do when you’re writing the damn things.”

He snorted and she tried to scoot awkwardly closer.

Pulling one hand free she reached to his face, tracing a careful line down the furrow of his brow. He was frozen—she couldn’t even feel his breath. Her fingertips ghosted over his nose.

“You are cold,” she murmured.

“Yes.” His voice was a mere thread of sound.

She moved closer. His breath was shallow and controlled now. The grip on the hand he still held tightened.

“Maybe I can help,” Hermione said in as suggestive as a tone she could manage.

“Oh?” He flinched in the dark. He sounded about as suave as a dead fish. He was far too out of practice. How had he convinced himself that this was a good idea?

“Mhmm.” Hermione bit her lip, hoping he wouldn’t spurn her now.

“How so?” He was hoarse now. Hope and fear were waging a bit of a war in his chest.

She hmm’d softly, her fingers moving from his nose to cup his cheek. He swore his heart stopped beating, because everything—everything—froze until her lips met his.

His eyes fluttered shut, his nose against her warm cheek. She didn’t flinch away, cradling his face with her hand, her breath puffing over his lips between soft, gentle kisses.

Hermione made a sweet little sound as he kissed her back. One of his hands left hers and moved to her back, pulling her closer. She kissed him gently with slowly increasing kisses. On one kiss she hit just his bottom lip and it was sucked every so slightly into her mouth and he groaned.

And then the lights came on.

They both blinked at the sudden brightness of the room, neither of them having had the familiarity with the room to flip the switches.

They stared at each other as the heater grated back to life.

“Oh, fuck it,” Hermione said. Then she fisted her hand in his hair and pulled him back to her.

He didn’t resist at all, engaging rather enthusiastically. He was buoyed by the fact that she could see just who she was kissing and still wanted him, as well as her own apparent desire. Despite the bright light her pupils had been wide and black.

Her lips parted under his and he took shameless advantage, darting his tongue into her mouth with a groan that made her insides quiver and turn to jelly.

She wriggled, working to move under him, hunger apparent in her kisses. One of her arms was free from her cardigan and she tugged at the buttons on his neck.

“We have time,” he managed. He was sure he was a bit wild-eyed, his hair falling in a curtain, shielding them both from the whine of the heater.

Hermione laughed. “Now that I’ve got you? Yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m patient about it.”

“Oh,” Severus said rather dumbly. His usual verbosity was lost to him. The reality was kicking in because his cock finally roared to life. This was real. This was happening. She wanted him.

She wanted him.

She wanted him.

Severus aided her in shedding clothes, tossing them out from under the bedcovers and uncaring of where they fell. Her blouse landed by the heater, her trousers and cardigan flying further with a giggle.

Hermione stared up at him with breathless happiness, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she took in his nudity. Her hands moved over the thick hair his chest, exploring, and his breath hitched as she reached his belly, following the crisp trail down to his tapered hips.

With a smile, she moved her hands to his back and pulled him down, skin to skin.

Severus groaned. If he’d thought her small breasts were lovely, he was wrong. Their soft warmth pressed against him was perfection. He wasn’t overly experienced, and especially not with partners who wanted him and would undress completely, and it was perfection.

She kissed him deeply, her hands holding him closer. He fought to keep his weight off of her, but failed. He ended atop her, his knee between hers as he took advantage to slide his hands down her sides.

Her skin was deliciously warm and soft under his fingertips. He explored what he could gently, wanting to commit her, this moment, to memory. She wriggled under him as he hit a ticklish spot, then grasped his arse to grind him against her.

With a moan he pulled back. “Hermione...this will be too short if you keep this up.”

Laughter bubbled up in her. “Trust me, Severus, there is nothing short about this.”

He flushed: he could feel his ears burning. She kissed him again.

“Did you want to explore?” Hermione arched a brow at him. She released him and spread her arms wide. “By all means...”

Severus sat back on his heels, his cheeks pink. He couldn’t decide where to start. Her breasts were perfect, he’d already decided that. Her stomach was soft and barely-rounded, her waist narrow, and her hips looked giving. His cock twitched in approval at the witch laid out before him like a feast.

Well, the best way to enjoy a feast was to sample it slowly.

He stretched out on his side next to her, gathering her close. Hermione hummed in appreciation as he began exploring her neck with gentle, open-mouthed kisses.

Her nails ran gently through his hair and he groaned at the intimate sensation. Merlin, when was the last time someone had done that?

Moving lower he caressed her collarbones, the sides of her breasts, and he cupped a breast, his thumb running across her nipple. Her breath caught and he watched, fascinated, as her areola pebbled, tightening to a stiff peak. Fire kicked into his veins and he bent his head to taste her.

Hermione gasped as he pulled a nipple into the perfect suction of his mouth, her hips rising of their own volition. She could feel his cock against her hip, and his hair was slick and soft under her fingers. Her eyes fluttered shut. It had been far too long for her since someone had lavished this much attention on her. Probably a bad sign about previous lovers, she’d wager, but she forced those thoughts away to focus on the man twisting and kneading and suckling her breasts.

She moaned, soft and low and helplessly beneath him. Severus threw a leg over her, effectively trapping and pinning her. The coarse feel of his leg hair was enough to set her aflame.

Yes, definitely too long for her.

He came up for breath only to switch, laving her other breast with as much attention. Hermione flushed under him, the colour spreading up her neck and down to her belly. He was unduly fascinated by it and chased it with his tongue and hand.

Her stomach jumped at his gentle touch, and she giggled when his tongue ran past her belly button, but he didn’t stop.

His nose had caught the sweet musk of her and he couldn’t stop now. Moving downwards, he maneuvered himself between her legs and encouraged her to open for him.

Fuck. Her cunt was perfect, sweet and pink with the crisp, untamed curls framing it. He hadn’t seen anything so lovely. Well, he considered, glancing up to her flushed face, perhaps only one thing.

Raising an eyebrow, he spread her with two long, thin fingers. Her pussy contracted at the cold air of the room and he exhaled in appreciation. Perfection.

Kneeling between her thighs he began to explore, his thumb caressing the small pearl at the top, watching her face to decide how much pressure, which method, she liked best. When Hermione covered her face with her hands and moaned, he knew he’d found it.

Feeling satisfaction welling up within him he brought his mouth to her hard little nub and slid a finger into her slick passage.

Hermione whimpered, her hips shifting restlessly, urging him on. She really hadn’t taken much time for herself lately, and had admittedly been hyping him up as a lover in her torrid fantasies, but clearly Severus was going to surpass those.

His finger felt insanely good inside, despite the fact that she was hideously out of practice, and she couldn’t help the guttural moan that welled up inside her when he added a second, then a third. His mouth was patient and steady, coaxing her wetness to slick his fingers.

Her heart thudded painfully against ribs as she tried in vain to find something to do with her hands that wasn’t snatching at his scalp to encourage him. All the same, she mentally vowed to repay the favor later.

“Don’t hold back,” he rumbled against her core and her blood went molten and sluggish in her veins. The anticipation of being in a bed with him had definitely been enough to get her started, so to speak, but she was quickly moving towards the peak.

“Stop, please,” Hermione managed. “Please, Severus, enough teasing...”

His gaze was hot as he gently left her cunt and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. Merlin, but he looked almost feral as he crawled up her body. His cock, long, thick, and lovely, twitched against her belly.

“I wasn’t trying to tease,” he said. Her knees would have buckled at the growl in his voice if she’d been vertical. Hermione smiled at him, winding her arms around his neck.

“It’s still enough,” she murmured. She pulled him down to kiss him once, twice, feeling his resolve melt. “I’ve wanted you for so long that I’d much rather come with you inside me.”

His flush was adorable and she took shameless advantage of his distraction to curl her legs around his pale, narrow hips. The tip of his cock prodded her entrance and he used a hand to guide himself into place.

Her eyes fluttered closed and he watched her face, transfixed, as he pushed into her. Fuck, but she felt good. Even better was the low moan and hiss of “oh, yesssssss” as he pressed deeper inside. He wondered if she could take all of him.

Hermione arched her back, trying to drive him all the way in. He was thick and hard and hot and felt so fucking good. Her fantasies hadn’t been accurate, despite a little arithmancy, and she was glad to have been wrong for once. His entry was a long, steady glide, and she thought it would never end...right until she felt his sac against her.

Forcing her eyes open, she looked up at him. His cheeks held spots of colour, his mouth open in bliss. Severus’s eyes were dark and hooded and she smiled at him.

Taking his hands and linking their fingers, Hermione began to move under him. His expression went slack, then changed. She was transfixed at it as he held her hands with his against the bed and began to move.

Every minute shift in his face enthralled her. Pleasure coloured his sallow features in a new light and she wanted nothing more than to see it again and again.

Ever push inside of her made her feel more complete and boneless beneath him. He tilted his hips, experimenting, his pace steady. Hermione sank her teeth into her lip when he found the perfect angle.

The answering smirk on his face was borrowed from the devil himself, she was certain.

Merlin, the sounds she made were exquisite. Her little huffs of breath, the whimper as his cock found and struck her inside in a way that brought her pleasure.

“Faster,” she urged in a near-whine, and Severus could do nothing but oblige.

He watched, rapt, as the flush that had faded returned, colouring her cheeks down to her belly. She was so wet and perfect and, oh, Merlin, she felt wondrous.

Heat curled down his spine as he met her demands, increasing his pace. The slap of flesh on flesh as his narrow, bony hips checked against her was loud in the room and he didn’t care. Her moans were growing louder, accompanied by obscenities and he couldn’t dredge up a single iota of caring that they hadn’t—couldn’t—set any silencing charms.

Let the whole damn hotel hear her swearing and begging him to fuck her harder. Her filthy mouth lacked any filter as she drew closer and closer. Let everyone in Siberia hear her, for that matter, as her back arched and bowed, her nails biting into the backs of his hands, her heels digging into his arse, and the sweet cry as she found her pleasure.

Her body clenched around him so tight he could barely move, snarling as he chased his own orgasm. Hermione was staring up at him, adoration and helpless pleasure in her eyes, her cheeks hot and pink. Her legs were going slack around his waist and he let go of one of her hands to hike it back to his hip, holding her where he wanted her.

“Oh no you don’t,” he growled. “It’s my turn.”

Her breath escaped her in a short huff of laughter and she—the minx—deliberately tightened her inner muscles around him again. He nearly went cross-eyed, slamming into her, his chest burning for air. He fucked her through his orgasm, every press into her tight cunt heightening the sensation. His pace slowed, holding her gaze the entire time.

Severus barely stopped himself from collapsing atop her, but Hermione simply curled into his side after his cock slipped from her. He couldn’t help but pull her close, kissing the top of her sweat-dampened curls as she kissed his chest, combing her fingers through the hair there.

They were both sweaty and clearly in no danger of frostbite, the covers pleasantly rumpled and the room smelling of fantastic sex.

Unbeknownst to the other, they each smiled into the room, quite pleased with how the whole plan had worked out.