An Interlude in an Alley
"I would have much rather gone to the Three Broomsticks," Hermione complained as she walked into the Hogshead Inn, followed by Harry and Ron. They were all immediately greeted by the patrons as they took a seat at the back of the somewhat seedy tavern.
"Hermione, learn to live a little," Ron said, sitting down to the right of her. Harry sat on the other side as three Butterbeers were brought over by Aberforth Dumbledore, the owner of the tavern.
"I want Firewhisky," Ron said, wrinkling up his nose at the beer.
Aberforth's craggy features screwed up into a frown, making him even uglier than usual.
"Should of said something earlier," he sniped, grabbing Ron's mug.
"Me too," Harry said, pushing his beer forward.
Aberforth glowered, took Harry's beer and turned his rheumy eyes on Hermione, who was looking at her glass suspiciously. Aberforth wasn't the cleanest barkeep in Hogsmeade.
"How 'bout you?" he snapped.
"No, I'll take my chances with this," Hermione replied, still looking for telltale signs of filth on the glass.
Aberforth stalked away muttering under his breath.
Hermione pulled out her wand and Scourgified her Butterbeer.
"Hermione, that takes all the flavor out of it, not to mention the little alcohol it contains," Ron said, scowling.
"And all the disgusting germs as well," she added, putting her wand away.
Harry grinned as Ron looked miffed. He and Hermione had broken up ages ago after the Final Battle, but she said they could still be "friends." Ugh. Ron still had his sights on her, however, even though he had an on again, off again relationship with Lavender Brown. He always tried to get Hermione drunk since once he had almost shagged her under the influence, but she had enough presence of mind to stop him.
But if it happened once . . .
"Isn't that Professor Snape?" Harry said suddenly, pointing to a particularly dark corner of the tavern. Both Ron and Hermione's heads swiveled as if on sticks.
Sitting alone at a table with a shot glass and a bottle of Firewhisky was Snape, partially encased in shadow, his big nose prominent and his glittering black eyes staring down at the glass in front of him.
"It is him," Hermione said in a near whisper. "I've never seen him out since his near brush with death."
Suddenly, Snape looked directly at the trio, and they quickly turned away.
"He saw us looking at him," Harry said, looking down at the table as if it were the most important thing in the world. Aberforth placed a bottle of Firewhisky and two shot glasses on the table.
"Here," he hissed, then spun on his heel and headed back to the bar. Ron quickly poured himself and Harry a couple of nice shots.
"So what if he looked at us?" Ron said, lifting his glass. Harry lifted his own glass and they clinked them together before downing the amber liquid as Hermione frowned at them.
"If you two get sloshed, I'm going back to Hogwarts without you," she declared, taking a sip of her Butterbeer.
"Fine," Ron said, pouring another drink.
For the next three hours, a bored Hermione listened to Harry and Ron talk about Quidditch, witches, Quidditch, witches and their adventures, Ron embellishing his role in everything. They were getting plastered all right. She had a small buzz going on, but was nursing her Butterbeers. Suddenly, she was slapped on the back by Ron.
"Come on, Hermione. Have some Firewhisky. It'll put hair on your chest – er – I mean tits," Ron said drunkenly.
Harry burst out laughing as Hermione reddened.
"Ronald Weasley, you're a pig!" she hissed at him.
"What?" Ron replied, his hands spread in askance. "You do have tits. It's not like no one notices."
"This is why I hate going out with you," she began, and then stopped as she watched a woman dressed in a tight-fitting short black dress approach Snape's table. She had black hair, wore black lipstick and heavily applied black mascara. She was definitely one of the local ladies of the night. The wizard's dark eyes drifted over the woman's body slowly, his face neutral. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Snape's eyes narrowed.
He looked at her and nodded, then poured himself another Firewhisky. The woman smiled and ran a finger over his shoulder. She said something else, then left the tavern.
Ron and Harry returned to their inane conversation, but Hermione was watching Snape, who downed his Firewhisky, then stood up. She quickly dropped her eyes as he looked toward their table. He then walked up to the bar and paid Aberforth, then exited the inn.
Hermione sat there a moment, then rose and followed.
Ron and Harry didn't even notice she'd left.
Hermione quietly trailed Snape as he walked into the less savory part of Hogsmeade, passing prostitutes hawking their wares. He must have snarled at a couple of them because they drew back from him as if he had struck them. When Hermione passed, the women made catcalls.
"What 'cha doin' out 'ere, little Miss? Yeh need ta' wear somethin' more clingy if yeh want any business," one called out as the other women laughed. They knew she wasn't a hooker.
Hermione ignored them as she watched Snape turn down an alley. She hesitated and pulled out her wand. Why was she doing this? She stopped at the corner of the building and peered around it. She could barely make out Snape's form as he continued down the close alleyway. She followed, trying to be silent. Snape turned right and disappeared from sight.
Hermione hurried down the alley, not wanting to lose him in the labyrinth of twisting passageways. She turned left and had only gone a few paces when suddenly she was grabbed by the wrist and throat. She was pulled back against a thin but hard body.
"Why are you following me?" Snape hissed at her, his lips at her temple. She could feel his warm, liquor-laden breath lift her hair slightly. He had a good grip on her wrist so she couldn't use her wand.
"I – I don't know," she rasped, and his hand relaxed on her throat just a bit.
"That's no answer, Miss Granger," he responded. "I have a distinct hatred of being spied on. And that's precisely what you're doing. Spying on me."
"No, I'm not spying. I was just—just bored and curious. I saw the woman—"
"The woman? You followed me because of the woman?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I guess—I don't know. I've never seen you with anyone—"
Snape went silent for a full minute until Hermione said in a pleading voice, "Please. Let me go. I'm sorry."
"Am I to presume, Miss Granger, that you wanted to 'see me' with a woman?" he asked her, his voice containing a strange note that seemed to drop to the pit of her belly. "Why would you want to see that?"
"I didn't want to actually see you with her," Hermione replied, struggling to find some logical reason for her actions, something he could accept, something that would make him let her go.
"I was on my way to meet her," Snape said, his voice like silk now. "I was going to shag her. I do shag on occasion, Miss Granger, although I normally have to pay for the privilege."
Hermione didn't reply to this, although she suddenly felt like jelly inside. She quivered a little and Snape drew in a sharp breath as he felt it.
"Could it be that the little lioness wants to find herself enveloped in the snake's coils?" he breathed. "Does she want to live dangerously again? I imagine life has been a bit boring since Voldemort's demise. Another 'challenge' perhaps?"
"No. No," Hermione managed to get out although it felt as if honey were pooling in her lower belly.
Snape fell silent again, but Hermione felt a little pulse against her bum as she rested against the Potions master. She jerked a little.
"I'm going to let you go, this time, Hermione," Snape said, using her given name for the first time. "Just this time because I know what you want, while you haven't fully realized it—yet. I will warn you, however, that sometimes wanting—is much safer than having."
Suddenly, she was free and Snape was once again walking down the alley, his robes billowing. He turned right and disappeared from sight.
Hermione stood there, her heart pounding and her body feeling as if it were being consumed by a slowly building fire. She took a few deep breaths and realized she was shaking in earnest now.
"No," she thought to herself as she turned and began retracing her steps. "This can't be happening. I can't be attracted to Professor Snape."
But her moist knickers said otherwise.
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A/N: Just a short something-something that came to me this morning. It's just a one-shot because I haven't had a good record of finishing stories lately so I don't want to get anyone's hopes up. :( But I love this incarnation of Snape. Dark, sensual, seductive, and compelling. The kind of man that just draws desire out of a woman, a desire she doesn't even know is there. Yum. Lol. Thanks for reading.