Ghost Writer
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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other related themes and characters created by the brilliant J.K Rowling.
…
The dark wizard walked away from the large crowd of witches and wizards dancing and mingling and laughing toward the bar to refill his empty whiskey glass. He so hated social gatherings. There never was anyone worth talking to, he grumbled. That was when he first noticed the brunette witch sitting alone at the bar sipping on a glass of white wine. In a word, she was beautiful.
Her auburn hair was tucked into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck. Her face was lightly dusted with makeup to compliment her natural striking features. Then his eyes wandered from her face to the rest of her body.
She had matured a lot and not in a bad way.
Her frame was still petite but more curvy than when she was a girl—woman's curves. He didn't know much about women's fashion but he knew what he liked and what he didn't like, and he liked what this witch was wearing. The flesh colored, single shoulder evening gown was sexy but classy, elegant but daring, and damn right lovely against her fair skin as it hugged her curves then flowed down to her heeled feet.
The only feature truly out of place with this divine vision was that the witch did not seem to be enjoying the party. Her chin rested on the palm of her hand that was propped up by her elbow on the bar. She seemed to be intently studying her nearly empty wine glass.
It took a moment to register that the women he was ogling was in fact his former student. Still, he told himself, I am a man after all and she is no longer a girl.
"You look bored Miss Granger," he said as he placed his empty glass on the bar and motioned for a refill.
"That's probably because I am, Professor," she replied, lifting her head and turning her face towards him.
"I haven't been your professor for over a decade, Miss Granger," he said, seating himself in the bar stool beside her.
"Nor have I been your student, but that doesn't stop you from addressing me as if I am."
He smirked at her whit. "So, why are you over here alone being bored?"
She let out a heavy sigh. "Aren't you bored, Professor? Bored with this scene?"
The wizard thought for a moment, then nodded. He was sick of the award ceremonies too. Snape never thought he would be, given so much of his time, sacrifice and talents had gone unrecognized for so many years, but he was. How many times can you applaud a man for being a double agent before it gets old? He had reached his limit about 3 years ago. Since then each Ministry Ball, each party, each awards ceremony had become harder and harder to muster the desire to attend. He wanted a change too and he was hoping that very soon he would find one.
"Are you hungry, Miss Granger? I have a sudden killer craving for a bacon-cheeseburger."
Startled by the sudden change of subject, it took Hermione a couple seconds to register that the wizard had asked her a question.
"A cheeseburger sounds divine," she said with a smile.
A few minutes later she was standing, rather dumfounded, on the Muggle London curb as the wizard pulled up in a red 1974 Corvette convertible. She instantly recognized it as her father's dream car from the calendars and posters that adorned his private office. To see one in the hands of a wizard was, to quote her favorite book, inconceivable.
"You own a car?!" she asked, easing herself into the leather seat.
"Contrary to the Pure Blood supremacist opinion I was once forced to share, I believe Muggles are rather inventive and have much to offer and are in many ways more advanced than magic. Arthur Weasley and I are actually very good friends because of our shared option," he replied with a sly grin. "Besides, this is a much better way to get the wind in my hair than riding a broom."
"You, Professor Snape, are full of surprises."
"You, Miss Granger, have no idea." With that they sped away with a roar of thunder from the engine.
"How's your burger?" he asked, even though he knew she was enjoying it by the unladylike way she scarfed it down.
Hermione gave him a puffy-faced glare that was impossible for the professor to take seriously.
"You know, my dad would be quite envious of you," she said, jerking her heard towards his car. "That's his dream car. He's had posters of it hanging in his office for as long as I can remember."
"Your father is a man of good taste, then," he replied, taking advantage of her distraction to steal a couple of the witch's chips.
"How did you get one?"
"I used some of my Hero's Reward money."
"I used most of mine to pay for University."
"Why doesn't that surprise me," he teased good naturedly.
They laughed a lot as they sat outside the diner. Who would have guessed that the terrifying and menacing Professor Severus Snape possessed a sense of humor? And not a sick sense of humor but a genuine good sense of humor? Hermione Granger sure as hell didn't. All the more surprising was that he understood her sense of humor as well; most people didn't. She was able to talk to him about Muggle things and he actually knew what she was talking about, unlike Ron who never understood her Muggle jokes.
For his part, the wizard found it rather refreshing to find such a vivacious mind in someone so young and beautiful. When she had been his student, he found her intolerably annoying but now he celebrated her hunger for knowledge. It was an attribute he too possessed and she was one of the few people not an ancient wizard, or former colleague, or psycho dark lord that could actually keep up with him. And even then, at times they were limited to only things pertaining to the magical world. Miss Granger was an interesting and charming mix of both worlds.
It wasn't until the diner turned off its lights and hung the 'Closed' sign in the door, that either of them really realized just how long they had been talking nor how late it had become. Hermione felt tired but she didn't want to go home. She had nothing to go home to. If Ron and Harry were there, they no doubt had brought home their girlfriends and forgotten to cast silencing charms. Just what she needed—more reminders that she had gone to the party alone and had gone home alone. Or had she?
She mentally shook her head. What was she possibly thinking? Professor Snape would never want to go home with her and even if he did, there would be hell to pay in the morning when Ron and Harry saw him leaving her bedroom.
Severus was fortunately a grown man who owned and lived in his own house. He didn't have to worry about nosey neighbors or roommates. Especially not two dunderheads like Potter and Weasley.
"Why you still live with those idiots escapes me."
"Who else am I going to live with? I'm too old to live at home but too young to live alone and become a crazy cat lady. So I live with my two best friends and it works."
Not very logical, but whatever. He let the topic drop and offered to drive her home.
"Would you be opposed to just going for a drive?" she asked. "I really don't want to go home."
He acquiesced.
They talked a lot at first, but slowly the conversation died as they slipped into a comfortable silence enjoying the drive and changing scenery until Hermione fell asleep. Every once in a while, he would glance over at her—this sleeping beauty illuminated by moonlight—and wonder what the hell he was doing?
When he had walked up to her at the bar, he had had no intention of leaving the party with her let alone driving anywhere with her and least of all taking her home. Well, that is to say, he had sort of thought about it but never thought that she would actually be up for it. This was Hermione Granger, insufferable know-it-all and Gryffindor Princess who despised him and all things Slytherin. And he was Severus Snape, unapproachable, frightening, and insulting, Bat of the Dungeons and former Death Eater. What possessed the witch beside him to feel comfortable enough to be alone with him of all people?
True, in the last decade he had tried to eradicate all remnants of the Death Eater and grumpy Professor he had been. He still had no tolerance for stupidity and he didn't like big crowds and he absolutely hated teaching, but still he was a decent fellow with his new cosmopolitan wardrobe and straight teeth and newly developed sense of humor. And surprisingly, once he was able to be his own man, not ruled by the Dark Lord or Albus Dumbledore, he actually became a nice guy. Who knew?
Still, that didn't change the fact that he had a former student, asleep, in his car. Nor did it change the fact that he had been thinking some very lascivious things about her. And it definitely didn't change the fact that he was slightly hopeful some of those things might come to pass.
Clouds. So many clouds. Fluffy, soft, bright, white clouds.
Hermione stretched leisurely in her heavenly bed, fighting consciousness, as she attempted to stay in her dream. Last night she had had the most wonderful dream; at least she was pretty sure it was a dream because it seemed too unlikely to be real.
She snuggled deeper into her pillow, trying to block out the morning light. She had no memory of how she got home but she didn't think it really mattered. Crookshanks would undoubtedly be pouncing on her head at any minute demanding she make him breakfast. Needy cat. How could she possibly get out of bed on a Saturday morning when she was so comfortable and when she was still dreaming? Ocean waves crashing lightly on the shore, a salty sea breeze, the smell of toast and tea, and, is that the rustle of a newspaper?
"Are you going to wake up before your tea gets cold, Miss Granger?"
That voice! That deep, velvety, sexy voice!
Her eyes shot open. There lounging beside her, among the fluffy white pillows and duvet, in nothing but his pajama bottoms was Severus Snape. The morning paper was spread out on the bed between them while he drank his morning tea and munched on toast. Had she taken him home after all? Had they slept together and had she been too drunk to remember it?
Hermione peeked beneath the duvet to find herself dressed in an old t-shirt. That's not mine. Her evening gown, she quickly found was hanging in the wardrobe. The question was how had she gotten out of the dress and into her former Potions Professor's t-shirt? A deep blush graced her cheeks.
"Never fear, Miss Granger, your honor remains intact. You fell asleep in my car and seeing as you had no desire to return to Grimmauld Place, I brought you here."
"And where is here?"
"My home, of course."
"And we didn't…?" She couldn't decide if she was disappointed or relieved.
"No, although I did have the pleasure of undressing you all the same. I never would have guessed you, Miss Prefect, would have a tattoo," he said with a smirk that made her blush more. "Tea?"
Hermione accepted the cup, grateful for the change in subject, and grateful for the calming nature of tea that helped settle the sudden stirring in her stomach. Somehow, knowing he had seen her in such a vulnerable state, kind of turned her on and she needed a distraction. The fact that his bare chest was out in the open for her to admire didn't help either.
"Do you mind if I use the loo?" Of course he didn't.
Crawling over the wizard was the quickest way to the washroom. It also gave him an opportunity to admire her bare legs and lace knickers, she thought wickedly.
Severus felt his body instantly respond. He was grateful that the young witch managed to close the washroom door without noticing his tented pajama bottoms.
Little minx is doing it on purpose, he thought with a sly smile. He turned back to his paper and focused on pushing the memory of her beautiful body in his arms from his mind.
Once they had reached his house, he wasn't quite sure what he should do next. Getting her there had been easy enough but he debated whether or not he should wake her. As he carried her tiny body into the house, however, Snape learned that his former pupil was an incredibly deep sleeper. Or she was a really good faker, because not once in all the jostling from the car, through the door (which he was pretty sure he accidentally knocked her head against the door jamb), up the stairs, getting her out of her dress and into his t-shirt, then finally tucked into bed did she stir.
She emerged a few minutes later looking more refreshed, having availed herself of his shower.
"So where exactly are we?" Hermione asked as she peered out the open double doors to the balcony and sea beyond.
"Cornwall. The rest of my Hero Reward," he replied.
"It's beautiful here. So relaxing."
"That's why I picked it. After so many years of stress, I wanted a place where I could unwind; be free."
He came up behind her and pulled on one of her damp curls, enjoying the way it sprung back into shape when he let go.
Hermione was surprised to find that she enjoyed the man's nearness. Why she couldn't quite figure out but she guessed it had something to do with the lovely conversation the previous evening, his new attractive look, or possibly his house. For a brief second she thought of Elizabeth Bennett who joked that she began to first fall in love with Mr. Darcy when she first saw his grand estate Pemberley. Hermione wasn't in love with Professor Snape but she had instantly fallen in love with his house and that made the man decidedly more attractive.
"So what do you do with yourself out here in this self-imposed exile paradise? Any fascinating potions projects?" she asked, hoping conversation would distract her from her unexpected feelings.
"My memoirs," he scoffed, moving from behind the witch to face her as he leaned against the door frame. Hermione didn't know if he was standing that way on purpose to make his physique appear more attractive, but it was working. His back was marked with scars but his muscles were well developed and his skin had a slight golden tint to it; far from the pale sallow skin he sported at Hogwarts. And oh his shoulders! She was a succor for broad sculpted shoulders.
"Really?" she asked with an amused smirk.
Severus nodded. "Apparently several people are of the opinion that tales of being a double agent would be an instant best seller. Not that I care for the revenue prospects, but I am hoping it will save me from having to answer the same stupid questions about it over and over again. I can just tell them to read my book and walk away." He was not enthusiastic about the project at all, if his tone didn't already convey that feeling.
"I'm surprised you would take the time to answer such questions in the first place. I would have thought you would have quite forcefully told them to mind their own bloody business, call them a dunderhead and walked away, your robes billowing behind you," Hermione replied with a sassy smirk.
"I certainly would have years ago, but I am expected to be more agreeable now."
The witched laughed. Ten years ago she would have never put Severus Snape and agreeable in the same sentence.
A pregnant pause passed between them. The wizard didn't even bother an attempt at subtlety when raking his eyes over her alluring form in his t-shirt. Her cutely manicured toes, her perfect calves, the curves of her hips, her petite waste, full bust, slender neck, topped off with damp brown curls. Severus wanted to tangle his fingers in those tresses and further explore the naughty glimpses of skin he had seen when changing her last night and again this morning when she climbed out of bed.
His gaze came to rest on her face; her burning eyes the color of whiskey that made him drunk just by looking at them. Her cute button nose. And lastly those heart shaped lips. At the moment, the bottom lip was caught between her teeth, suggestively. A wave of desire to nibble on that lip with his own teeth surged through him.
It was obvious they had chemistry. Hermione read his intent gaze and realized that she didn't mind her former professor leering at her. In fact, she liked it. It simply meant that he found her as physically attractive as she found him. Their respective intellects shared the night before only served to deepen that attraction. The dilemma was, which one would be first to make a move?
Turning away from him, she crawled back onto the unmade bed being sure to give him a very good view of her lace knickers before settling back against the pillows and meeting his gaze once more. The invitation was clear and Severus joined her in two quick strides.
Without another word, he pressed his lips against hers in a searing kiss. A hand snaked beneath the t-shirt and gripped her hip. Another hand tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck allowing him to control the angle of the kiss.
She gasped at his intensity and Severus took the opportunity of her parted lips to rub his tongue against hers – she tasted like spearmint toothpaste.
"Tell me, Miss Granger, the significance of the tattoo," he breathed, tracing his lips along her jaw.
"They are swallows. I got them when I came back from Australia. They are in memory of my parents."
Severus paused for a millisecond—her parents are dead?—then resumed kissing the sensitive ear below her ear.
Breathing was getting to be an issue as his finger traced the lines of the tattoo then trailed across the trim of her knickers.
"Are you always so sentimental, Miss Granger?"
"Sometimes," she replied. "I suppose it was rash, foolish even, to make such a permanent decision at such an emotional time."
Severus could relate to that. The faded grey snake and skull on his left forearm was proof of his own immature foolishness made at an emotional time. Then again, losing one's parents wasn't exactly foolishness; it was tragic. He would never get a tattoo in remembrance of his parents but that was because he hated them. He knew very little of Miss Granger's youth, aside from she grew up in a Muggle home and her parents were dentists, but he had every reason to believe that her parents had loved her and she them, and losing them was very difficult for her.
"I'm sorry they are gone," he said gently in all seriousness, taking a moment to still his hand and look into her eyes. She gave him a weak smile in gratitude. Hermione didn't say that parents weren't dead but they were lost to her. The memory charm she had placed on them in order to save them from Voldemort proved to be irreversible. They would remain Wendell and Monica Wilkins for the rest of their lives and never know they had a daughter. The swallows were a way of carrying their memory with her always even though they did not remember her.
"I guess it is a relief that it isn't the crest of Gryffindor or some such nonsense," he said, taking the opportunity to change the mood back to amorous and sliding his hand all the way into her knickers, the tips of his fingers stroking her folds. Sweet merlin was she wet and warm.
"Yes! It could be worse," she gasped.
Severus loved how responsive the little witch in his arms was to his attentions, rolling her hips against his hand as he played with the sensitive nub and moaning in delight. With a flick of his free hand, the t-shirt she wore disappeared.
Splayed against the sheets and pillows, Hermione was a vison from a dream. Her firm body, her fare skin clad in flesh colored lace knickers and bra that blended so perfectly it was almost like she wore nothing at all, and her hair spread across the pillow in a perfect halo made his mouth water to taste every inch of her.
A brilliant idea! he thought, knowing exactly where he wanted to start.
Kissing his way down her body, he made quick work of those delicate knickers. Positioning his face at the apex of the witch's thigh, Severus spared her one last glance.
That delectable lip was caught between her teeth once more, her eyes burning with anticipation. Hermione had not enjoyed the few times her even fewer boyfriends had gone down on her but she expected that she would enjoy it this time. After all, Severus Snape did everything well.
She spread her legs a little wider to give him access. He took the hint, a devilish smirk crossing his lips before his face disappeared. She was swollen with desire and she shuddered when his tongue first pushed between those lips. Her hands pressed against his head and she moaned loudly. He lapped his tongue, maneuvering for that special spot. When he finally found it, her back arched and she pulled him tight to her. He suckled against that nubbin and she writhed under his attention. Her cries reached a fever pitch and he started to pull away to look at her, but she held him fast against her.
She cried out his name when finally it seemed as though every muscle in her body tensed and she finished. Severus silently congratulated himself, captivated in wonder at the sight of her. Gently, she pulled his head away from her, up to eye level again.
Hermione's eyes were half closed, her breathing rapid and her face flushed. Snape crawled up her body again, stopping to kiss and lick at her breasts before kissing her neck. He then rolled to his side and she turned to face him. He kissed her forehead and caressed her with his hands.
"There is no need to look so smug, Professor," she teased.
"On the contrary my dear Miss Granger; I have every right to be."
Two can play that game. She pushed him flat on his back and she reached down with her hand to gently grip his throbbing erection. She marveled at the contradiction she found. He was rock hard, but the skin was soft as silk against her palm. She tightened her grip slightly and slowly pumped him a few times with her hand. Snape moaned and tried to pull her close enough to kiss her again, but she smiled wickedly.
Taking hold of his erection in her hand, she gently guided him to her. With a simple downward motion of her body, he was inside her filling her completely.
He gasped, his eyes widening as the warmth from her body engulfed the head of his member. When she moaned, his eyes caught hers and he nearly lost control seeing the desire in her heavy lidded gaze.
With a growl, he grabbed her hips and pulled her down upon him. Buried to the hilt within her welcoming body, he groaned. She moaned again when he thrust into her. Her head fell back, her hips ground against him and she cried out in pleasure.
His control snapped.
Tightening his grip on her hips, he thrust into her again and again. Slowly at first they started rocking against each other, then faster and faster. With a wicked smile, he sat up, wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled over. She gasped, momentarily surprised at finding herself flat on her back again. She quickly adjusted to the new position. She lay back and her expression became one of intense pleasure, bordering on pain as she came again, while Snape continued to thrust into her. She was still riding the wave of her last orgasm when Snape came, pushing her over the edge for the third time.
Snape gasped and buried his face into the nape of her neck as he shuddered from the pleasure. Hermione felt a tingle run through her body as he whispered her name.
Harry and Ron leapt from their seats at the large basement kitchen table when they heard the front door slam shut. By the time they reached the hall, the intruder had already made their way up the stairs. The wizards raced after her.
"Hermione! Where the hell have you been?!" they shouted in unison when they stormed into her bedroom.
Seven days. She had not come home for seven days. At first they thought maybe she had gone home with a wizard and they were happy for her. By Sunday they thought maybe she was having too good of a time to come home just yet. By Sunday night they began to suspect something was wrong because they knew that she was always in bed by eleven-o-clock every Sunday night in time to be ready for work Monday morning. But she still hadn't come home. Then the real shocker came that sent them into an outright panic: Hermione hadn't reported for work that day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or any days that week. Was she on a holiday that they had forgotten about? Nope – she hadn't scheduled time off with work. Now here it was Friday night and she had finally managed to wander home and to their dismay they found her packing.
"Hello to you too," she replied, not bothering to stop magicing all of her possessions into a single bag.
"Are you going somewhere?"
"I should think that obvious, Harry. I am finally moving out."
"But…why?"
"Well, it's quite simple Ronald. Harry here needs to get his act together and make an honest woman of Ginny before Mrs Weasley curses his bollocks off and they will need a place of their own. You, Ron need to get out of this man cave and grow up. As for me," she said picking up her bag and draping her jacket over her arm, "I have found a place I want to live."
The still bewildered young men followed their friend down the stairs to the front door she had walked through not thirty minutes ago.
"So, congratulations, I guess. But where is this place? Can we come with you, you know, to see it? Will you be living alone?"
"It's in Cornwall. And at some point I am sure I can persuade the owner to let you visit. And no, I will not be living alone."
"Cornwall!? But that's like further away than the Burrow. Why are you going there?"
"I was given an offer I couldn't refuse," she said with a sneaking grin that made both wizards worried.
Hermione scooped up Crookshanks from the front parlor window sill and put him in his travel carrier. He wasn't very happy with that.
"Hermione, wait just a second and talk to us," Harry implored.
"Alright, but I have to hurry. He's waiting."
That little word caught their attention. "He?!"
"Yes," she replied calmly. "My new employer – slash – husband."
"HUSBAND!?"
The witch simply rolled her eyes. "Yes. You see, after the Ministry Ball last week I got to talking with this fellow about his work. Well, it turns out that he needs someone who is a capable writer to help him write his memoirs about his career. Not being able to think of a decent magical historian or writer who wouldn't write his story without extreme bias, he asked me if I would be willing to do it. A once in a life time opportunity like that, I had to say yes! The only dilemma was, we kind of slept together and nothing ruins a professional relationship than being tangled up in a romantic relationship at the same time. And he said because he was going to be telling me his deepest, darkest secrets, I had to be in a position where I could not testify against him later. So we thought the best solution was to get married. And we did, this afternoon."
Both Harry and Ron looked at her friend as though she had just confirmed the existence of Gnargles. They had no clue what to say to her.
"ARE YOU MENTAL?!" In typical Ron fashion, with no verbal filter, he said the first thing that came to mind. "I mean, marrying a complete stranger just to write a memoir. What the hell were you thinking?! Don't you know that you aren't able to brake a magical marriage bond except when one person dies?"
"I was thinking Ronald that it was a great opportunity," she replied somewhat annoyed with her man-child best friend. "Besides, the man is not a complete stranger and it turns out we are very compatible with several common interests. Getting married was my idea." Of course she wasn't about to tell them that the week of mind blowing, life altering, earth shattering sex had affected her decision as well.
They had talked business of course. Severus had shown her the cabinet where he had begun compiling his memories in dozens of little glass vials carefully labeled and his pensive. He also showed her the house—a perfect little whitewashed Georgian villa with a few acres attached to it. They had tea on the beach and lunch in the garden every day. Then when evening rolled around and it was time for Hermione to go home, neither she nor Severus wanted her to go. Which then led to more passionate love making. By the third day she realized just how unfulfilling her life had truly become. A new business opportunity and a new romance sure did sound exhilarating. Plus she had fallen in love with Severus—that had to count for something.
Ron still didn't get it. Harry, however, was kind of c'est la vie about the whole thing. He knew Hermione. He knew she would not have made this decision without serious rational thought. And she seemed to be happy about it. It had been a long time since he had seen her this excited about anything. Work sucked. Her love life sucked more. So who was he to tell her not to go after what she wanted. And it wasn't like she could undo it anyhow. C'est la vie.
"So who is this guy—husband—of yours anyway? Is it anyone we know?" he asked.
Hermione smiled and nodded. Then gathering up her things, she walked out the front door. Her two former roommates followed and could hardly believe what they saw.
Severus Snape, dressed in Muggle jeans and a jumper, was on the curb leaning against a bright red classic Corvette. The moment Hermione appeared he stepped forward to take her bag and placed it in the boot. Then he helped her with her jacket. Then he opened the passenger side door for her.
"What the bloody hell is Snape doing here?!"
"Language, Mr Weasley," he said in his all too familiar authoritative voice that made Hermione chuckle.
"You married Severus Snape, Hermione?" Harry managed to control his tone a bit better than Ron but only just a bit.
She turned from her friends and smiled at the older wizard. "I sure did."
Harry and Ron were sure they were the victims of some sick and twisted prank because it really was too unbelievable that their best friend, a fellow Gryffindor, would marry the greasy-git Slytherin. Harry at least had learned to tolerate the man, even respect him, after everything he had done during the war against Voldemort. But Ron still clung to old prejudices and hatred for the teacher that tormented him so much.
"Love potion! He's given you a love potion hasn't he?" Ron shouted.
"Would I know it if he had?" she replied still smiling.
They watched as their friend settled into the passenger seat with her beloved fir-ball pet in her lap. Snape closed the car door and turned on them.
"Some friends you two are. Your best friend comes home to tell you she is happy and married and you don't even congratulate her. And you have the gall to accuse me of seducing her with a love potion. How original. You two dunderheads haven't changed one bit!" he chastised.
With that, the former professor walked to the other side of the car and took his place behind the steering wheel. The engine roared and before Harry and Ron could think of anything intelligent to say, Hermione and the Potions Master were gone.
"You know what I think mate? I think they actually might be perfect for each other," Harry said after several minutes of stupored silence.
"What do you mean?"
"Well think about it. They're both freakishly smart, terribly bossy, and make the rest of us look like lazy, unmotivated dunderheads."
They stood for several more minutes looking off in the direction that the Corvette had gone.
"I think you may be right."