Games of Truth

by VSBrewster

"The question she was asking was: do you really want to start this? All night they had been daring one another in their own way. He dared her to smoke a cigarette, she dared him to roll a joint. They dared each other to be honest." My attempt to take the stoned drinking games trope seriously.

1. Games of Truth

Disclaimer: characters and places aren't mine. I make no money from this.

It was a clear and a cold night, around nine o clock. For a moment the flame from the lighter flared and Severus Snape could see nothing beyond the tips of his own fingers. Then the zippo snicked shut and he took a couple of quick puffs on the cigarette, blowing the air over the ramparts of the Astronomy Tower and watching it dissipate. In the distance there was a flash in the air. He frowned, his chest tight for a moment as he recalled the volley of hexes flung at Hogwarts defences six years ago. Then, seconds later, he heard a sharp pop. There were more flashes. A smile tugged at his lips.

Remember, remember the fifth of November...

It was easy to forget in the middle of term, in a wizarding school. The Muggle world beyond was celebrating the burning of Guy Fawkes for treason against a corrupt government and monarchy. A dubious holiday at best. But he had always enjoyed the fireworks. As he watched, a second display further south started up, and then a third.

"Have I missed much?"

Severus closed his eyes and prayed for patience to a god he had never believed in. Why could he not have peace? He had been a bad man, true, but that was a very long time ago and even by his own exacting standards, Severus believed he had made some amends.

But no. He could not be left alone to quietly live his life in his school, teaching imbeciles and researching, safely tucked away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. The fates saw fit to deliver Hermione Granger to torment him. As though he had not been through enough.

She leaned her elbows against the rampart, face lit pink by the distant fireworks. She didn't even need to be there. Granger could work wherever she pleased, live wherever she pleased. She had money, an education and a spotless reputation. And of all the bright avenues open to her, she chose to return to Hogwarts to work on another bloody book. No one read the first one, he thought snidely. The Tales of Beedle the Bard would always be an oral tradition in the wizarding world. Everyone liked their Mum's version best. No one wanted the translation of an upstart Muggleborn.

"Something more academic this time," she had heard her breathe excitedly to Flitwick, like translating runes was tantamount to exploring the ancient tombs of the great pyramids. "Something I can really sink my teeth into."

Granger had been allowed the run of the school and it's library, and taught advanced Runes classes on the side. He had seen blessedly little of her.

Severus took another drag on the cigarette. Glancing to his left, he suspected she was watching him but trying not to make it obvious. Gryffindors were always obvious.

"Can I bum a smoke?" She asked.

He turned his head to look at her. Wasn't twenty-four a little old to act out in an effort to look cool?

"No," he said bluntly. He would finish this one and go back to his dungeons and drink. If she was going to curtail the pleasures of one vice, he would simply enjoy another.

"Why not?" She said. She was probably aiming for adult reasonability but she sounded petulant.

This time he didn't look at her. He appreciated the distant rockets instead. "Because it's November and I'm rationing my tobacco. I have December exams to get through. I'm not wasting my personal supply on someone who won't even inhale it." It was possibly the most he had said to her in one go since her return.

Granger took a step closer and he resisted the strong urge to flinch. Physical contact was still difficult. He wondered if she could feel the fizzle of his personal protection wards. Paranoid, the old man would have called it. But then Severus wasn't the one who had got blasted off this tower. Perhaps paranoia was suitable in certain situations; for certain people.

"You grow your own supply of tobacco?" There was mocking in her voice. That was new. When had she stopped being intimidated enough that she could mock him?

Severus took another drag. At least two good pulls left. Then he could stub it out and go back to his dungeon. "I don't like the chemicals they put in commercial tobacco. Pardon me if I like to know what I'm putting into my body." He flicked ash over the wall. A burst of magnesium fuelled light picked it out in the darkness as it fluttered down and down. Then the light dissipated and the ash vanished from sight.

"May I try?" He scowled at her as she reached a hand towards him, evidently about to take his rollie whether he said she could or not. For the sake of shutting her up he handed her the cigarette, though he resented the loss of one drag. The summer had been wet and his supply was low. Give it six weeks and he would be burning with resentment that she had taken that breath of poison from him.

Granger looked strange with a cigarette but didn't hold it awkwardly. She lifted the filter to her lips and pulled, holding her breath as if to prove a point. Her eyebrows raised and, as the next flash of light went off, her could see her eyes were watering. She handed the stub back. "Not as smooth as I'm used to."

"That's agent free tobacco. You can thank me when you have marginally less rampant lung cancer."

She snorted. Severus pulled on the cigarette one last time, then stubbed it out on the stone work and flicked the butt over the edge. Beside him Granger drew her wand and flicked it at the falling twist of paper and ash. It burst into a miniature green firework, serpents of light slithering into the dark and vanishing. "Pretty," Snape sneered, though he noted the girl was used to covering her tracks.

"Can we smoke in the dungeons?" She asked as he was about to turn away.

His intention had been to leave without remark. Doubtless she wanted to enjoy the fireworks on her own, and god knows he had nothing else to say to her. "Are you asking if smoking is permitted in my dungeons, or if it can be achieved covertly without setting off any alarms?"

He was losing his touch. He should have pointed out that there was no 'we'. He could smoke in his dungeons - could do pretty well whatever he bloody pleased in his dungeons. She would be hexed on sight. That would have been the appropriate response. Mellowing with age. The thought horrified him.

"The latter. And could we raid the potion stores?"

Curiosity killed the cat, or so they said. The cat in question was almost certainly a Slytherin.

And so it came to pass that Hermione Granger was knelt next to his desk in the classroom in which he had once taught her potions, papers and tobacco and hash paste laid out before her. A paste because Severus had insisted on cutting it with valerian. He had no desire to spend his Saturday with an aching head and jangled nerves, thank you very much. In his personal opinion she was laying it on a bit heavy - and he had been doing this in the seventies when it was original rather than retro. But what did he know? He was only a bloody potions master. If Granger wanted to get baked he would simply sit back and take advantage. What else could she expect?

"Is there anything else I should know?" He asked, actively engaging her in conversation for possibly the first time since she had left his tuition. "Tattoos on buttocks, intriguing piercings. I should imagine you have to go a long way to rebel against being a saviour."

Granger actually rolled her eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue to take points. "No tattoos or piercings." She looked up at him through long eyelashes, her smile oddly alluring. "Sorry to disappoint." She flicked open his lighter and snicked the flame into life, eyes crossing as she focused on lighting the twisted roach of the joint. Her cheeks sucked in as she puffed to light it. Then she sucked long and held her breath, eyes closing as she released scented smoke and let the lighter go out. Severus sighed and conjured a blue flame between them, the flames consuming the smoke in an effort to keep their activities undetected and ensure his classroom didn't end up smelling like a Bob Dylan gig.

"Everything was horrible for years and I was just a kid. Are you really so surprised I found something to calm me down?"

Severus frowned. You're just a kid now, he wanted to say. Nothing had changed.

Except everything had changed for her. Sudden safety and relaxation after years of being tense. Yes, he knew how that felt. But his numbing agent of choice had always been fire whiskey. The weed would only end up making her more paranoid if she wasn't careful. Looking at her sat on the floor of his classroom, legs extended and back to the wall, there were things that had changed. She still acted like a know it all. But relaxed and, he assumed, unguarded she looked older than she should. He had no right to judge, but she was lined and her eyes were tired. Beautiful, but tired.

Granger leaned over to pass him the joint, and he met her in the middle to take it.

"I wish you'd stop looming over me."

"I am not sitting on the floor," he said with all the dignity he could muster as he pulled on the fag. The burn at the back of his throat was strong and he was desperate to cough, but there was no way he was losing face in front of Hermione Granger. He held it and rolled the taste of the hash around his mouth before blowing a long stream of smoke at the blue fire.

While his attention was diverted he felt the chair shift beneath him, dropping and growing softer. He scowled at Granger from his newly transfigured bean bag. "It's like being in the Hufflepuff common room in the seventies," he grumbled, but did not to change the chair back. A bean bag was better than the floor. Surprisingly comfortable actually. He shifted back into it and extended his own legs, careful not to touch Hermione. He closed his eyes and took another slow puff, leaning his head back and enjoying the feel of melting into his seat.

"You've been in the Hufflepuff common room?"

"I managed to get into all the common rooms while I was a student. Hufflepuff is the only one I haven't returned to as a teacher."

He cracked one eye to see her looking mildly impressed. When she took the joint from his fingers he didn't shy away. "How did you manage that?"

Snape levelled a gaze at his former student that he hoped was superior. "With a companion."

"A different girl in every house." Hermione let out a wheezy, smoky chuckle. "Professor Snape, you are full of surprises."

Only two of his companions had been female, and Lily had been a friend. Not that he was going to disclose that. Let the girl think what she wanted.

"There's a lot we don't know about each other."

Snape's eyes were closed but he rolled them anyway. "There's a reason for that: we don't like each other."

"And yet here we are." He wasn't going to grace that with an answer. He was only participating in this sham of a tete a tete in the hopes Granger would reveal something blackmail worthy. "Did you ever play veritriad at school?"

Snape opened one eye. His vision was a little blurry. Granger was grinning inanely. That would be the weed. He closed his eye again and pretended he hadn't heard.

"It's a game. You say three things, two of them are true and one you just wish was true. Whoever you're playing with has to guess and-"

"I'm aware of the gameplay. What's your point?"

She was silent for long enough that Snape assumed she had let the thought go. He heard her dragging on the joint. It must be nearly gone. Someone had clearly never taught Ms Granger to share. So much the better, if she was high as a kite and he still had his wits about him.

"I've had sex with a man," she said quietly. Snape's brows drew together. "I've had sex with a woman. And I've had sex with a teacher."

He rolled the statements around in his head. It was easy enough. The more interesting part was the statement she wanted, as opposed to the ones that had happened.

"In my day the guesser was allowed a question about each statement, either before or after the answer was revealed."

He cracked his eyes and saw her shaking her head. "When we played you had one question before and one after the reveal."

"Which teacher are you claiming?"

"No way, I'm not answering that!"

He hissed air in between his teeth, allowing himself the indulgence of a smile. "You're wanting to forfeit so early in the game?"

She sighed. He heard paper crinkle. Snape looked up in time to see her rolling a cigarette between her fingertips, lifting to her mouth and delicately trailing her tongue along the adhesive edge. His eyes narrowed. Of his own volition, his mind focused on her tongue, transposing the movement and attention to where it would be more appreciated. Adjusting himself, Snape blamed the hash. "Depends. What's my forfeit?"

"I'll think about it. The teacher is a lie."

She smiled and offered the joint to him to light. "Very good. How did you know?"

"I'd know if you'd fucked a colleague. And you certainly haven't been anywhere near me." She inclined his head, mutely accepting his deduction. He puffed on the joint. If anything, she had increased the volume of hash paste. Apparently she was taking his rationing of the tobacco very seriously. "Fucking hell, Granger," he wheezed. She giggled, the sound much dirtier than it had ever been when she was a teenager. He smiled despite himself. He liked her dirty laugh. "The woman. Anyone I know?"

She was still grinning when she leant in and put her lips to the joint while he still held it. Smile melting from his face, he let go of the rollie quickly and let her take it back to her spot against the wall. "I'll tell you who, but that's the end of your questions. No asking about the circumstances." She took another drag and when she answered her voice was hoarse. "Lavender Brown."

Snape didn't need to ask the circumstances. He could well imagine it. Weasley spending weeks, maybe months nagging for a threesome. And who would he want for such an altercation? An ex-girlfriend, already used to his ineptitudes, but of course. It was only surprising that Hermione had agreed to such an arrangement. That surely must have been the beginning of the end.

"Your turn," Hermione reminded him.

In fairness to her, Hermione hadn't held back - though he still wanted to find out which of the teachers she had wanted to fuck. It might take a few more puffs before she became that amenable. He would need to give something in return if he wanted that information. "I have remarkable powers of recovery. I can make a woman come without touching her." He smirked and leaned back on the bean bag, lifting his hands up to rest behind his head. "And I am incredibly well endowed."

That dirty laugh was really very sexy. When had the nerdish do gooder become sexy? Shapeless black teaching robes did nothing for her, but that was true of absolutely everyone. For the first time, Severus found himself growing curious about the body beneath the swathes of black cotton. For a brief and hideous moment he imagined Brown and Weasley divesting her of those robes. That was the moment he knew he had smoked too much pot.

She was smiling, pink tongue tucked between her teeth as she looked at him with half lidded eyes. She flicked out her tongue and licked the filter before sucking on it. Whoever said carcinogens couldn't be sexy? "Define well endowed," she requested.

"By anyone's standard," he drawled, watching her, daring her to glance at his crotch and try to judge.

Brown eyes flicked down. His cock twitched in response. Being half hard wouldn't hurt the ruse. Little white teeth, not yet stained by nicotine, dug into her plump lower lip. "I don't think you can make a woman come without touching her."

"Then you have a lot to learn about sex with a Legilimens."

She was blushing. In many ways he supposed he should be surprised it had taken this long. "The recovery time. I should have known."

Snape shook his head again. "It always amazes me that women will just believe a man who says he has an enormous cock."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "It's easy to disprove, why lie?"

"Because that's the name of the game. And the probability of you never seeing my wedding tackle is a fairly safe bet."

She snorted. Less sexy. "Consider yourself fortunate. We used to play strip veritriad."

Snape spread his hands. "I'm two for two. Feel free to strip if you please, Ms Granger. I won't stop you."

She was weighing up whether it was worth agreeing to drop two items of clothing for the promise that he would do the same if she won a round. Which she wouldn't. And on the off chance that she did, no one layered like Severus Snape in winter. Granger heaved a sigh and started toeing off her shoes. "Paired clothing counts as one item," he said softly, staring up at the ceiling as though entirely above the whole debacle.

When he looked back at her there were no shoes and her teaching robe had been removed. He smirked. This was going to be fun. Beneath she wore only a white shirt and brown pencil skirt. Ms Granger apparently did not feel the cold. The joys of being young and stationed near Gryffindor tower at the heart of the castle. Those relegated to the dungeons learned in first year to wrap up warm. The blouse was fitted and the skirt high waisted, accentuating an hour glass figure. She had been petite in her seventh year - he remembered a figure hugging set of dress robes worn to the leavers' ball which she was constantly pulling up because she didn't have the bust to pull it off. That, he mused, would no longer be an issue. Thank the house elves for three square meals a day. Though in truth, a reduction of stress was probably just as responsible. Nothing like relaxation to slow the metabolism. He regarded her legs - at the ankle, not the knee - and wondered whether those were tights or stockings.

"My turn. I've had sex in the dungeons. I can have multiple orgasms." She looked down at the floor for the first time. Snape frowned. "And I didn't lose my virginity to a Weasley."

"Do you play poker?" He asked immediately.

Hermione looked surprised. "Is that your pre-reveal question? It's not about any of my statements." He didn't answer but watched her reply carefully. "No I don't. I know how to play but I'm no good at it."

Snape was I'm something of a quandary. On the one hand, no student had fucked in his dungeon. In the first place, it would be one hell of a danger fuck and he was confident that no student would deem it worth the effort. In the second place, a man's home was his castle, and Snape knew his dungeon, knew everything that happened there. She had not had sex in his dungeon. On the other hand, her body language was so bloody obvious about the multiple orgasms. Every woman could experience multiples, it was one of the joys of being female. If that was the lie - and she almost certainly believed it to be, unless she had suddenly become one hell of a manipulator - it confirmed everything he had ever believed about the Weasley twat.

"Your lie is about the orgasms. But you're wrong. You're inexperienced and you have apparently been unlucky in your partners. Biologically, women have the potential for multiple orgasms. I see no reason you should be an exception."

Snape watched her carefully as that sank in, focussing on her eyes. It was difficult to perform occlumency without a wand, without speaking the words. Only the clearest thoughts came through. Her clearest thought spoke to him: all women have the biology, but not all have the psychology. Stop pretending you know me, git.

Interesting.

"Aren't you going to ask me how I got away with having sex in the dungeons?" She asked.

He did want to know, but didn't want to give her the satisfaction of admitting his curiosity. Better to let her think he already knew.

"I want to see what you're going to strip off next."

Hermione rolled her eyes and lifted the hem of her skirt to mid thigh. The sheer black led to a thick, full black stripe, pulled up to a suspender clip. "If those are stockings I'd rather they stay on a bit longer."

The words were out before he could stop them. Hermione was smirking at him. She left the stockings, but didn't pull her skirt down. He could still see that thick black stripe, and a scant triangle of pale flesh above. Instead she started unbuttoning her blouse. Snape's mouth went dry at the creamy young flesh revealed, inch by tantalising inch. She was being perfectly functional about it, but it was still a turn on. "Can that fire put out heat?" She asked. Of their own volition, his gaze dropped to her breasts. Sensible cotton bra, and there were the little peaks of her nipples pointing out towards him. He imagined sliding the white strap from her shoulder, leaning in a suckling on her nipple, teasing and licking it, biting and seeing if she liked it.

He flicked his wand and the flames turned a natural orange. They seemed to have finished smoking anyway.

"This is unfair. You're too good at this."

"Life isn't fair, Granger. That lesson should have been firmly ingrained by now." He ran his eyes over her body. Half hard had become fully hard and he was beginning to wonder how far Hermione would let him push this. It surely couldn't be much longer before she stormed back to her tower. "And besides, it was your idea. All of this was your idea."

Her arms were crossed over her stomach, pushing her breasts a little higher. She was still smiling, just faintly. But there was a shade of doubt in her eyes. Severus realised that he wasn't ready to let her back away just yet.

"Do you find it easier guessing or lying?"

She made a face. "Lying, I suppose."

"Then go again."

"Ok," she said, drawing out the second syllable. "I once drank so much I threw up. My favourite place to be kissed is my neck. And I'm finding this incredibly arousing."

Snape snorted. Did this girl want to end up naked in his classroom? "Only the once?" He sneered.

"Surely once is all you'd need," she replied, smoothing her skirt demurely.

"You aren't turned on by this conversation. That's the lie."

"I want to choose which item of clothing you remove, please." She said calmly, though her eyes were dancing.

Little minx.

"Which was the lie?"

"Why would anyone drink until they were sick? It's always been beyond me!"

He suspected his mouth was hanging open, but he honestly couldn't help it.

"I think I'd like to see you remove your underpants, please. And then we'll call it a night."

"Who says I'm wearing any?" He growled. And was it just him, or did something flare in her eyes at that suggestion. "You have a forfeit. Prove it."

She laughed. "Prove what?"

"You know what. Prove that you're turned on."

Her smile was assessing, calculating. Distinctly Slytherin. "Pants off first. Then I'll prove it."

It would have been easy to conjur a pair of briefs from scratch. But for whatever reason, Severus Snape was feeling honourable. He swished and flicked his wands, muttering some choice words that were not all incantation. A warm tingle, a shifting and then an absence in his nether regions told him that his underwear had disappeared. Making them reappear in his open hand was easy. He offered the neatly folded undergarment to her. "Still warm," he sneered.

Hermione's gaze was fixed below his waistline. She had been hoping he would remove them manually somehow, but had the good grace not to complain.

In a moment she was on her knees in front of him. His wand was already drawn and out of reflex he pressed the tip to her throat. I was unwise to make sudden moves around a war veteran. She looked down at the tip, eyes crossing slightly as they did when she lit a cigarette. One hand lifted and she pushed his wand aside and pressed a little closer, insinuating herself between his knees. With the extra room, his cock had filled to it's full length, tucked awkwardly up against his hip, and there was no subtle way to adjust with her this close. Her eyes were red and bleary and unfocused as she stared him down. "Do you really want proof?"

That was a loaded question if ever he had been asked one. Of course he wanted proof. Of course he wanted to know that she was getting off on this as much as he was. Ninety per cent of sex happened between the ears, and it was always a joy and pleasure and relief to know that there was reciprocation.

This was not the question she was actually asking. The question she was asking was: do you really want to start this? All night they had been daring one another in their own way. He dared her to smoke a cigarette, she dared him to roll a joint. They dared each other to be honest. He dared her to bare herself to him, and now she dared him to ... What? Touch her? Fuck her? The awkward part was, he wouldn't know the precise nature of the dare unless he acquiesced.

"Yes," he ground out.

Warm little hands wrapped around his. She was guiding his hand, pressing it to her stomach. She encouraged him to slide downwards, but Snape found he didn't need the encouragement. Like riding a broom, the instinct didn't go away no matter how long it had been.

And how long had it been since a young thing in her mid twenties had offered Snape her body?

Best not to think about it.

She was scalding hot to the touch. Her skin seemed to have soaked up the heat from the flames, like a stone in the desert sun. She was soft, so soft. He ran his hand under the waistband of her skirt, fingertips brushing the elastic of underwear. The angle was awkward, so with his spare hand he pulled her closer, maneuvering her body between his legs. His cock seemed entirely focused on how he would like to maneuver her between his legs, and strained against the fabric of his trousers towards her as though she had summoned him.

At last he was within and felt the tickle of pubic hair. Down and down. The contours of her cunt lips, her labia. He risked a glance at her face. He had hoped she would close her eyes so he could watch her, but she was staring at him intently. Apparently they both liked to watch. "There," she whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear. He pressed his middle finger upwards. Molten heat and wet and softness. Swollen flesh and sticky juices. Oh yes, she was turned on alright. He pressed up higher, his fingertip sliding inside of her...

"Enough," she said sharply. Hermione wriggled away from him before he could stop her. She was already pulling on her blouse, un fastening buttons. "It's late and I'm tired. Thank you for an interesting night, professor."

Then she was gone, as though she had never been there. No, not quite. There were two cigarette butts where she had been sitting. And her juices were cooling on his fingers. He lifted them to his lips and tasted her. Tangy salt and honey sweet. He licked but didn't suck. He wanted to be able to smell her when he got back to his rooms and dealt with the uncomfortable problem in his trousers.

Snape drew his wand once more and pointed the tip at the butts on the floor. He thought of the serpent firework she had made of the fag he had dropped off the Astronomy Tower and smiled. Instead of Vanishing them, he summoned them and pocketed the evidence for later rumination. For there would be a lot of thought, many questions to consider, and planning to be hatched as to what would happen next.

But for the time being, Snape just wanted to go to his rooms and wank furiously imagining Hermione Granger doing the same.