A/N: Thank you all for taking the time to read and review. This chapter took a completely different turn from when it was first written. I think you will like this better. I would love to hear your thoughts on these two. Thanking Miss TycheSong again for her prompt and to all the SS/HG shippers that make writing this pair so much fun.
~~Chapter Two~~
It had been weeks since he had married the witch and she had scarcely spoken two words to him. Meanwhile he visited the mirror weekly to watch the dark faceless stranger lay waste to the wanton image of his wife. Each week a new scenario, every time he finished in an agonizing heap on the floor, no closer to finding happiness, no matter how elaborate the scenario.
It had become his own personal torture device and he feared it would only get worse. As the days passed he would look upon his real wife as she walked in the corridors or as she slowly chewed her food at the staff table. He idly wondered if she would allow him to do even half the things he had seen in the mirror. There were times that Severus suspected that she knew he was watching her. Her gait changed ever so slightly and he could almost see a slight blush in her cheeks.
Could it be that his wife actually fancied being admired?
He wondered what she would do if he pursued her, if he would lay claim to his right as her husband. She was a sort of odd creature. Her face always stuck in a book, ink stains on her fingers and used quills adorned the tightly wound her bun of riotous curls. He found her oddly distracting in the way one would look upon an unknown animal in the zoo.
Regardless of her odd appeal he was resolved against feeling anything for the witch except disdain. The irony was not lost on him. The image that bought him to pleasure weekly was that of her face, the way her voice sounded as it mewled in pleasure beneath the dark stranger's machinations, the way her mouth tightened around the hardened cock of her lover and the way she seemed to look at him instead of her dark lover when she found her blissful release.
What Severus Snape didn't know was that for weeks Hermione Snape had taken to following him to his retreat at the tower. She had watched him pleasure himself watching images that only he could see, each time her name gracing his thin lips as spurts of ejaculate stained the dirty floor.
Each time she had touched herself wantonly imagining all the things he could do to her. Inexperience did not limit her imagination and she marveled at the depravity of her desires. She was also ashamed at her thoughts and actions. Regardless of her shame she pleasured herself in the dark of her rooms. She imagined him kneeling between her thighs, his leather clad hands holding her legs open. His death eater mask in place as it hovered near her exposed sex. His fingers would dip into the folds of her pussy, her juices soaking the leather of his gloves as he fucked her with his long talented fingers. She would grab her sheets and bite down onto her lip til it was raw just to keep his name from echoing into the empty room.
She knew he was watching her. He watched her walk in the halls and even as she was eating. She could feel his thoughts reach out to her, a jumbled mess of admiration, jealousy and disdain. The connection existed as a result of saving his life. He didn't know the link existed but she did. It was how she knew where to find him every Friday night. It was how she knew he was in trouble while in Azkaban. It was how she knew that even without the mirror he would bring himself to completion in the dark of his empty room in much the same manner as she did.
"It is time Minerva."
"Are you sure Albus?"
"Yes, have the mirror removed from the school. Tell no one."
"As you wish Albus, I really hope you know what you're doing."
"I always know what I'm doing my dear, now make haste, it is nearing the time when Severus heads there."
At first Severus Snape could not believe what he was seeing.
The mirror was gone.
He searched high and low and it proved fruitless.
He resigned himself to finally inquire with Minerva what had become of the mirror.
Minerva did not prove helpful at all as she just shrugged and feigned ignorance. The sleeping portrait of Albus Dumbledore chose that exact moment to snore, which told Severus more than if he had actually spoken.
They had gotten rid of the mirror.
She watched as he tore the room up in search of the mirror.
His desperation was palpable and she almost felt sorry for him, almost.
It was during dinner a couple of weeks later that she first felt it.
He was trying to enter her mind. She almost dropped her fork at his prodding. The feel of his mind pushing softly into hers was akin to a clumsy caress, nothing like the confident man that strode the halls of Hogwarts. His attempt was hesitant as she felt his uncertainty. She was disgusted with herself as she immediately became aroused at the thought of displaying the images of him ravaging her while dressed in his death eater robes or those of him tying her to the wall of his dungeon while he pleasured himself just inches from her aching cunt.
At first she just let him see her mundane, every day thoughts and she could almost feel him scoff with boredom at her projected images. Just as he was retreating from her mind she flashed him just one image.
Dark black leather gloves.
With his interest piqued he tried to probe for more but her walls came crashing down so hard he seemed to physically reel back in his seat. Without looking in his direction she pushed her plate away and headed to her room.
Winter gripped the Scottish countryside in an iron fist of cold and desperate isolation. It was much the same as it was every year and during this time his patrols became increasingly more difficult. His mind and his body battled against the cold winds of dead winter and his increasing loneliness came over him once again. He was closing in on fifty. His joints ached with the cold and his robes no matter how thick, never warmed him as they should. With almost no fat on his body, keeping warm became a task. Drinking had helped when he was younger but the hangover was just not worth it as an older man. His bed was cold and empty and had been all his life. With no one there to warm it he wondered once again if death would have been a better option to this living nightmare.
His only reprieve had been the mirror images of a wonton witch and her dark clad lover. And now even that had been taken from him. He had no joy in his life.
On his hands, he wore the only luxurious item in his life, black leather gloves. They had been a gift from Albus and Minerva during his second year of teaching. They had seen many a dark night and had kept his hands from suffering the ill effects of the bitter cold all these years. As he adjusted his long fingers he remembered the image from his wife's mind. He had tried to reach for more but she had occluded him with skill unbeknownst to him.
Since then he imagined just why she had thought of that particular image.
As he continued his patrol he looked out onto the grounds and saw a dark image walking along the newly fallen snow. Dark robes played against the light from the full moon and it took him a moment to realize it was that of his wife.
She moved with grace he had not noticed before. Her hair was free of its severe chignon and blew softly in the cold air of the night. The soft tendrils of moonlight played against the long ringlets of chestnut hair that cascaded down her back. He stood off into a shadow alcove from which to observe her undisturbed. She truly was an odd creature. Here in the dark of the night she seemed almost like someone else. Gone were the severe lines of worry and concentration that normally marred her unblemished skin. The frigid air tinged her cheeks giving her an angelic appearance in the moonlight. Her eyes brightened by the cold, Severus could almost imagine seeing the moon and stars reflected in their irises. At that moment he realized what was different. It was the face that had stared at him from the mirror.
He wondered for a moment if somehow, maybe, perhaps his wife would…no she would never.
Walking quietly but with purpose he neared her. She was facing the frozen lake and had not seen him approach.
"You should not be walking the grounds alone at this hour Miss Granger," the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. What did he care if she was alone?
"I am not alone now, am I?" she answered without even acknowledging his presence. She turned away from him as she pulled her robes closer and tightened the long black scarf around her neck.
He grunted, there was no answer to the question. She was no longer alone, he was there. He wanted to imagine that she knew he had been there all along. He didn't know why he cared what she thought, he just did. He was torn between despising the witch and being very much at her mercy. They walked along the lake in silence, their breathing in the cold air and the snow crunching underfoot were the only sounds that could be heard in the dead of the night.
They walked back to the entrance to the castle when Severus held his hand out to open the heavy wooden door. Hermione watched as his leather clad hand gripped the handle and pulled with ease. He stood behind her to reach for the door; he was close enough to smell the faint traces of jasmine in her hair. The front of his body, almost flush against her back when he heard the sharp intake of breath.
Could it be?
He took that moment to look into her mind.
He watched at the dark robed figure hovered over her. His leather clad hands caressed the soft globes of her breasts as she writhed in pleasure. Her hands bound to the bed posts as he teased her folds and bought her to climax time and again with his hand and his voice.
No sooner had he seen the image was he pushed out of her mind. It took him a moment to recover but in that moment she had moved quickly away from him and into the castle. He took off after her. The heels of his boots the only sound as he gave chase. Taking a short cut though a hidden corridor he caught her at the entrance to her rooms.
Pushing her against the wall he placed his knees between her legs and held her in place.
"Tell me witch."
She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving as she struggled under the weight of his body against hers. His fingers threaded through hers as he held her hands in place above her head flush to the rough stone wall. His legs kept hers apart and she could feel the heat from his body at her core.
"I-I don't know what you mean," she feigned ignorance. She could feel his magic caress hers, she knew what he wanted but she would not concede defeat to him. She would not be the first to beg.
It had to be him.
"Oh you don't know do you?" His words were growled into her ear. She could almost feel his lips caress the shell of her ear. His long hair caressed her face. She could smell the residue of a day spent at work, the smoke of the cauldrons, the tang of the ingredients mixed with the smell of his skin. She wanted to rebel, to gag, and to fight the feelings that pooled in the pit of her stomach.
Instead she stood as still as she could. No one had ever been this close to her. She fought to control her breathing and failed miserably as he dipped his head closer. With a whispered spell her hands were left bound to the wall leaving his hands free to roam the length of her arms as he reached for her neck. With his forehead against the wall near her ear his fingers gently caressed the exposed skin beneath her jaw. The touches were tenuous, unsure and confused her. She could feel him battling against something.
Gripping the end of the scarf he pulled it from her neck and shakily inhaled the creamy skin of her exposed neck. He could feel her shiver at his closeness, the heat from her core ignited his traitorous body and it responded before he could pull away. He couldn't be weak.
She weakened him.
She had felt him harden against her. The hard outline of his cock was flush against her and her own body warred with her mind as it sought its pleasure from him.
Pulling back he looked at her, his piercing eyes penetrated hers as he closed the distance between them. His hands at her hips he tentatively rubbed himself against her as he pulled her closer, as his lips reached out to hers she murmured a spell and her wand shot into her waiting hands. Blasting him off of her body he landed sprawled against the far wall of the deserted corridor, his head bloodied from the collision with the wall.
Adjusting her robes she stood over him. Hand at her hip and the other pointed her wand to his face.
"I told you Severus Snape that you would only get one thing from me, and that's pity."
Rubbing his head he tried to stand only to find her backing him up against the wall, her wand pointed at his rapidly deflating erection.
"Never presume to take what isn't freely offered Severus Snape. You are my husband on paper only."
"I know what I saw witch!" he shouted at her retreating form.
She turned back and raged at him. "Who in the fuck gives you the right to invade my personal thoughts Severus Snape? What's the matter, did someone take your toy away?" Her sneer rivaled his own as she defiantly crossed her arms across her chest.
At that moment he saw the woman Hermione Granger could be and he feared for his very soul.
In two strides he was on her pulling her roughly against him by her arm. Her chest flushed to his as he looked down his nose at her. His other hand dug roughly into the hair at the base of her neck as he pulled her head up to stare at him. Lowering his head he licked her exposed neck from the base to the spot right behind her ear.
He could feel her tremble and gasp, her hand roughly gripping the front of his robes.
Pushing her away sharply as he licked his lips and smirked before turning abruptly and walking back in the direction of his rooms.
Hermione raised her trembling hand to her neck; she could feel the moist skin hot beneath her touch. Lost to the moment, Hermione turned as if disconnected from her mind and the retreating form of her husband and locked herself in her room. She fell onto the soft duvet of her small bed and frigged herself raw at the memory of how her husband's tongue had felt on her skin and how his hand roughly gripped her hair.
In the shower she scrubbed her body, she was dirty and no matter how much she tried it would not erase the shame she felt.
When she was done she collapsed onto the floor of the tub and cried.
'What was she going to do?'