Loopholes
Chapter 2- Demands
-))*((-
It was precisely seven days later that Hermione took her up on that offer.
I mean, aside from her mind constantly nagging that there was no way Bellatrix fucking Lestrange lived in the middle of a normal, Muggle neighborhood, in a normal, Muggle house, with normal, Muggle furniture; she needed to know how the fuck this witch knew how to counter all of her spells. Not only was it a goddamn miracle on par with Jesus himself, but it also put her at a dangerous risk. If Bellatrix was that powerful, what would stop her from turning tail and capturing her first?
So she invited herself right in by Apparition, thank you very much, and pulled her wand on a very… Busy? Bellatrix? Wearing an apron and kneading bread dough like Betty Crocker?
Um, what?
"Well well well, kitten," Bella called without looking up. Her hands were powdered with flour and really getting in there, pounding that dough good. She roughed it up on the counter one last time before she started banging it out. "Ready for round five?"
Memories of her whimpering for a break in between round three and four involuntarily surfaced through her mind and Hermione momentarily blushed. Lip pulled between her teeth, she tightened the grip on her wand and pulled her screeching ovaries back in place.
Focus, dammit.
"Not why I'm here this time, Bellatrix."
Bella finally glanced from behind her shoulder, not at all feeling threatened by the wand pointed at her back. She took her time eye fucking the delectable way those jeans hugged her hips before her gaze met Hermione's.
"Pity," she simply replied.
"Tell me how you saw through my spell," Hermione demanded, her wand angled like that of a thug holding a gun, "Nobody, not even Aurors, should be able to break the spell without me undoing it."
Bella had the dough rolled flat and cut in decent sized triangles by the time Hermione stopped talking. Completely ignoring her noisy intruder, she smiled to herself and started rolling each triangle sideways so they came out in crescent shaped rolls. Turning to the pan waiting on top of the stove she placed each one on a prepared liner, dabbed them with a little bit of egg wash, popped them in the oven, and set the timer for ten minutes.
"You shouldn't have been able to see me," Hermione insisted after it was clear Bella wasn't going to answer, "And my tracer is always jammed, so you shouldn't be able to sense my magic either."
Humming filled the kitchen as Bella turned and leaned against the door of the oven. She just stood there with a stupid grin and watched Hermione get all worked up. If she knew her kitchen would have suddenly become a dinner theater, she would have charged the kid admission.
But, even Bella could see the eyes of a frightened doe ready to attack hidden beneath that glare.
"Being a fugitive is tough work, isn't it?" It wasn't meant to taunt.
"Don't try to change the subject," Hermione was not in the mood to be tested, "And don't lump me in the same category as you."
The older shrugged. "I'm just saying, Granger. Perhaps our situations aren't all that different."
"I don't care," Hermione took a step closer, wand still ready, "I came here for answers, not to solve riddles and ponder life's mysteries with you."
The smile faded but Bella remained quiet. Once again she got a good look at this Hermione Granger standing before her, threatening her with a death stick when she herself was unarmed- in her own home no less. Either way, the situation had potential to go sour if she weren't careful, but Bella didn't really feel like being careful. Careful was boring. Granger, however…
"Then how do you explain the memory charm?" Hermione inched closer and closer, "I saw it work with my own eyes. I saw them gather and disappear."
"Did you?" Bella raised an eyebrow. "Things may not always appear as they seem."
"I don't want riddles, I want answers!"
Sparks of green shot straight at Bella, who screamed out of surprise as her body withered and demented itself by Hermione's will. A few moments later and she was laughing like she had taken a shot of helium. It had been damn near twelve years since she was last hit with a Cruciatus but she was pretty sure it was supposed to hurt. At least a little bit.
"I'm sorry, were you trying to curse me or tickle me into submission?"
Hermione sent another jet of green flying across the kitchen. Bella made a huge show of fakely dropping to the floor in pain.
"'Oh, no, I'm melting'," She mocked, "Harder, kitten, for fucks sake. Put your back into it."
"Crucio! Crucio, Crucio, Crucio!"
Once again Bella screamed, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body shook and trembled. Then the timer on her oven buzzed.
"Ahhhh-! Oh, my rolls are done!" She stood and peered through the tiny glass window at the risen bread that was nicely crusting at the tops. Her butt bounced from side to side like a kid eagerly waiting for cookies to come out.
"Your… Rolls?"
A flabbergasted Hermione watched as she opened the oven- mmm, let that freshly baked aroma fill your senses, don't fight it- and set the pan on the stove top. She turned the oven off and couldn't wait for them to cool to have one. Oh, but which one? They all looked so good. Bella picked one particular golden brown tribute from the center, plucked it with a spatula, and placed it on a blue plate to the side.
"Damn, that's hot," she hissed as her fingers had to barely touch the thing to break into it. But hot damn, it was worth it. Look at those layers! Those perfectly crumbly buttery layers! Oh God, the bread porn! She moaned from a perfect first bite. These things could raise the dead back to life just to get a taste.
"Um, what just happened?" Hermione stood there like a bump on a log watching Bella bounce up and down like a goddamn oompa loompa. Her arm finally plopped to her side with a 'thud'. "Did you break through my Cruciatus?"
"That's why we don't use dark magic on dark magic users, kitten," Bella mumbled. She turned and walked to the table carrying the plate now stacked full of steamy buns. "Want one?" She offered the other half to the one she first broke.
"Are you going to tell me anything I want to know?" Hermione looked between the plate and Bella with an exasperated sigh. What the fuck was this, Martha Stewart?
"I will, if you try one," Bella leaned on her arms over the table, her butt just a swayin'.
Hermione spent a good thirty seconds contemplating the value of her life.
"Jesus, kitten, they're just rolls," Bella nudged the plate closer, "They won't kill you."
Now that she thought about it, she was sorta hungry. It was hard to eat when you had a million and one anxieties knocking at your door. Oh, what the hell. Hermione took one. Alright, so far so good. No poison, her throat wasn't closing, her skin wasn't burning or rashy or boily. Nope, just a simple fucking dinner roll.
No, scratch that. This thing was fucking heaven in a bun. Crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, warm all over and just-
"Mmf, oh, my God," Hermione looked surprised, "That's actually... Good."
"Isn't it, though?"
"No, like that is really good."
"Take another," Bella whispered in a seductive tone and held one up.
"I can't believe this," she moaned around a mouthful, "I can't believe I'm eating the best goddamn dinner roll I've ever had and it came from Bellatrix fucking Lestrange's kitchen."
Bella raised an eyebrow. She held up a finger in the 'come hither' motion to feed her the last one. Hermione groaned.
"I hate you so much," the younger spoke as Bella made her actually lean down for the bite.
"You know what goes great with rolls?" The older gently stroked her finger down Hermione's cheek. "Sex. Just washes it all down."
"Nooo," Hermione whined.
"Oh yes," Bella purred while cupping her chin. "Remember round three? That thing I did with my tongue that had you mewling like a kitten?"
"I'm still sore from it," Hermione admitted, "But, seriously, Bella-"
"Ah ah, you know the drill," Bella spoke from her lips.
"You know, technically we aren't in the bedroom," Hermione smartly countered with a smirk.
The next instant she was being pushed back on those same satin sheets from earlier in the week. Huh, they were green. Like a dark shade of hunter green. Why didn't that surprise her?
"You were saying...?" Bella loomed from above, fingers already working the edge of Hermione's shirt up and over.
"God, I fucking hate you," Hermione pulled her down by the ass.
"Five minutes is all I need, kitten," Bella licked up her stomach with a dark grin, "You won't hate me then."
-))*((-
Late evenings on the eighth floor top office of the Ministry of Magic was a rare occurrence to find in peaceful arrays such as tonight. The sun had begun its descent into the clouds and had thus painted the sky in bright pastel hues of gold and pink, a phenomenon properly known as The Magic Hour; the time when all seems just right with the world and you feel like there may be some Higher Power at play to weave such an intricate message in the form of sunsets and shimmers.
Harry stood admiring the view from his office window when he was interrupted by a knock on the heavy oak door.
"Come in," he called without breaking his view.
"Minister, Severus Snape has requested an audience with you," a feminine voice called from behind.
Harry pursed his lips and swirled his glass- a tall Long Island iced tea. This should be good.
Well, no, probably not. Not good at all. Probably more like eating a bucket full of nuts and bolts for breakfast. Really tough and gritty, may make your teeth fall out, and half way through you start bleeding and wondering whose fucking idea was this bullshit, anyway? But you can't stop now, goddamn it, 'cos you're halfway fucking there; and then by the end you feel both proud and stupid as shit for eating a bowl full of metal and now you have no goddamn teeth and you wonder who's bright idea possessed you to do it in the first place? Like, did you ask for this? No you didn't, but here you are, making the best of it and somehow its your fault.
It's always your fault.
Yep. Perfect analogy to summarize all of his interactions with Snape so far.
"Send him in."
The woman bowed and was shortly followed by a tall man in long black robes. Always with the robes, Jesus Christ. The man was like a genderbent nun. His hair was longer than the last time he'd seen him, Harry surmised, as he checked his profile from the reflected glass.
"Ah, Mister Potter. Enjoying the scenery from your new throne, I see?"
Harry laughed and turned around to greet his salty visitor.
"It's good to see you too, Sir. What brings you by my office on this fine evening?"
Snape's brow twitched at the use of a title long past. At face value it may have seemed like respect, but Severus knew better. The years had not been kind to Potter, not by a long shot. He'd grown even more arrogant and pompous than his past teenaged years parading around as the "Town Hero". Well, Snape had had enough. It was time someone knocked him down a peg or two. And who would be a better fit for the job than himself?
He pulled out a brown envelope from his robes. Oh, he couldn't wait to wipe that smirk right off those pretentious lips.
"I believe this will interest you."
He set the envelope on the glass conference table and slid it down to the head where Harry stood. Harry grabbed the envelope and carefully unwrapped the back string. Out slid several large moving photographs. Harry gasped.
The nerve of that slimy git.
"How in the hell did you get these?" Harry growled as he thumbed through the rest of the photos.
"I have my methods," Snape replied with a subtle curl of his lip. He folded his arms and watched as Harry made the connection.
Harry went white. Oh, yes. He knew exactly what night these were from. The scene from a few months ago flashed by.
The night was still young; the lights flashed and music blared as Harry tossed back his third brewed lager from the bar. He sighed as his eyes scanned the crowds of happy couples dancing on the crowded floor. It was then that he heard a casual voice call from behind.
"Mind if I take this seat?"
He turned to see the origin of that voice came from a strapping lad about his own age with sandy blonde hair and a handsome smile like a cloud puff settled along his rosy cheeks. There was snow in his hair that fell as he shrugged out of his cloak.
"No, of course," Harry offered.
The young man sat and ordered two shots of gin. Harry watched him from the corner of his eye. From what he could tell, there was absolutely no magical residue lingering around him, which meant he was just another ordinary Muggle like everyone else around him. Which was all the same, as Harry himself were currently disguised under a concealment charm. The last thing he wanted was a run with the paparazzi on a much needed night off.
"Tough day?" Harry asked after he finished his second shot.
"Putting it lightly," the man replied. "But it's nothing a few drinks can't fix."
"That's the spirit," Harry gently pat the man on his back and called to the bartender, "Another round, on me please."
"Coming right up."
"You know, I don't usually share drinks with a stranger," the young man raised an eyebrow at Harry, "To be honest, I came here because I heard rumors about the rooms in the back," he paused and took his third shot. "Do you know about them?"
Harry hid his blush by tossing back his own drink.
"Yes, I know about them. Never tried it myself, though. Never had anyone to try with," He bit his bottom lip and hoped to hell he didn't look like a nervous wreck.
He could see the man eyeing him up and down with furrowed brows.
"I can't imagine why."
Harry smiled.
"You know... If.. If you wanted..."
The man gave him a peculiar glance.
"We could take a quick look, if you wanted," Harry finished. "Just to see what's back there," he quickly added in case he'd get shot down.
Once again the man looked him up and down, this time his gaze lingered down his back and especially long at his ass- guh. Harry felt the hairs on his neck rise.
"I think that's a wonderful idea."
"That was you?!" Harry snapped back in the present.
Severus raised his eyebrow. God fucking dammit, there it was! There was that fucking smirk! Son of a bitch!
"I can't believe this, I can't- how the fuck did you break my concealment?! And I- I checked! There were no traces of magic around you at all!"
Snape rolled his eyes. "Of course there were no traces, you bloody idiot. I cannot do magic, as you are well aware."
"Then how-"
Severus held a bottle up, "I believe you are familiar with Polyjuice."
"But it would have shown up!"
"I wonder," Snape folded his arms. "Now, in regards to those-"
"Incendio," Harry called. The pictures burst into flames and burned to a crisp. There, problem solved.
Or so he thought. The flames extinguished to reveal all pictures fully intact.
"-I wish for you to reconsider your decision-"
"Incendio! Reducto! Bombarda!"
"-On my personal request-"
"Goddamn it, shred you motherfu-" he grunted and resorted to ripping by hand. The papers didn't budge.
"-About reinstating my wand to my rightful possession."
"I will do no such thing!" Harry shouted, throwing the pictures up in the air.
Images of Harry giving shy expressions and cries of passion, and others clearly showing his ass stuffed balls deep with cock- one where he's even holding his ass open and crying, "Harder! Fuck me harder!", which was a personal favorite of Snape's- floated between them.
"My decision stands."
"Then I will go public with these," Severus held up a second envelope. Harry groaned.
"Fuck me," he slinked in the chair.
"I believe I already have," Snape smirked. Who the hell was he kidding? He was enjoying the fuck out of this.
"I can't believe this," Harry hung his head in his hands, "I can't believe the best shag of my life was with you of all people, you slimy fucking cuntwaffle."
Smug little bastard. Snape snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Potter, because that's where your priorities should lie," He tucked the envelope back inside his robes.
"Hey! It's a pretty big deal for me, okay?!" Of course it was a big fucking deal! He had only been back to that bar every other night looking for 'Steven', who he now knew as Severus Goddamn Snape. He fucking dreamed of that body, of that cock penetrating him again over and over, of those hands touching, of that mouth sucking- just FUCK!
"Whatever," Snape held up a hand to stop his drabbling. He moved to take his exit.
"I'll be waiting for a favorable answer," he called before he disappeared out the office and left Harry to his thoughts.
Harry angrily kicked a chair. If asked why he would simply state that it looked too happy to be a fucking chair and he felt like it was mocking him.
