Hermione found herself nearly glaring at the older man. "But I don't see how you can be so sure I'm not telling the truth, anyway."
Snape nearly laughed. "Hermione, you are aware I am a Legilimens? And I do not believe you've ever received any formal training in Occlumency, correct? In such a situation, it's not necessary for me to probe your thoughts just to sense an untruth."
Snape's first-ever use of her given name was not lost on Hermione, nor was his mocking but meaningful tone, roughened by the firewhiskey. She inclined her head in acceptance, and waited for his demand, uncertainty obvious on her face. She doubted he would be kind to her in his choice of a Consequence.
Snape, for his part, had never expected to be in a position of choosing one – he had assumed that both he and Hermione would stick to Truths in this game. He was aware than in its conventional form, the Consequences were generally embarrassing or obscene tasks, and he found little to appeal to him in that sort of humiliation, having been subjected to more than his share of it during his youth. Of course, he could require her to do something useful, like cleaning caldrons, but he intuited that such a task would break the momentum of the evening, wherever it was leading.
Watching Snape considering his options, Hermione felt her uncertainly blossoming into something that was almost like fear, if she had still been capable of being scared by the likes of Snape. She leaned forward to seize her glass, and drank deeply, inhaling the powerful fumes from the surface of the still-smoking drink.
Without intention, Snape mirrored her action, draining his glass in a large gulp. Suddenly, he found that his desired Consequence had popped into his mind, and he spoke it without checking to see how it sounded.
"Miss Granger, I wish you to stay sitting exactly as you are, and close your eyes for a period of one minute. Do you understand?" Even as he spoke he was unsure whether she would comply, and what would happen next if did.
She did not respond, but placed her drink on the table carefully, squared her shoulders, looked at Snape questioningly for a fraction of a second, and closed her eyes. For a few seconds, Snape was overcome by a feeling he only belatedly identified as pleasure – in her trust in him, her willingness to make herself vulnerable before him.
He moved over to sit next to her on his sofa, seeing her eyelids flicker when she felt the movement. A piece of her curly brown hair seemed to be tickling her nose, so he reached out to move it, but once his hand touched her skin, he found that it was necessary to stop and caress her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Her lips were parted slightly – from the firewhiskey, Snape thought. But as his thumb moved over her mouth he detected that she was also panting lightly, and his carefully-mixed cocktail would not have had that effect on her. How long had it been already? Snape had lost his sense of time, but her eyes were still closed, and she still sat stock-still – was she following his command to stay put, or was she shocked at his actions? Or worse?
But still, she was sitting still, and Snape knew he would not have this opportunity ever again, so he continued delicately along her jaw line, fingertips leaving a tingling sensation in their wake, a sensation he could guess at by the fine hairs raising up under his fingers. He allowed them to trail back towards her mouth, and was shocked when the very tip of her tongue was suddenly there to meet his thumb.
"I believe you were to sit still, Miss Granger," he whispered hoarsely into her ear. He sensed a shiver traversing her body, her pink tongue disappearing obediently. Snape's eyes narrowed; his body was close enough to be attuned to the change in hers when he'd spoken. He had wondered if she would recoil when she remembered who it was sitting so close and touching her face so intimately, but it was clear to Snape that her body had reacted to his voice with heat. His sensitive nose was even picking up a novel scent emanating from her warmth; he recognized her arousal and knew immediately that he would never, ever be able to forget that particular scent.
"Good girl," he told her, enjoying the way she seemed to need more oxygen all at once. "I believe your 60 seconds are up, Miss Granger." He made as if to return to his own seat, but her hand reached out to his arm.
"Professor?" Her voice was uneven, and higher-pitched than he remembered it being the last time she spoke. Her eyes were still closed, and her breath was quick and shallow.
"Yes?"
"Truth or… consequence?" Snape had to wait a moment for his head to clear a bit, before he was able to process her question.
"Truth," he murmured into her ear, watching her squirm next to him. Truth be told, Snape was squirming himself, trying to work his erection into a more comfortable position without disengaging her hand, or letting her know what his problem was.
"Is your cock hard, Professor?" Snape's eyes flew open in shock, as Hermione licked her lips, her fingers gripping his arm tightly. Had he imagined her saying that? If not, how had she pulled that out of his mind, given that her eyes were still closed? His mind was filled with an instant replay of the way her lips had formed around the word 'cock', and he almost forgot to answer her question.
"Yes, Hermione. You're a clever girl, aren't you?" He saw that his voice was sending shivers of pleasure from her ear right to her core. "Truth? Or consequence?"
She moaned under her breath. "Consequence." Snape's erection was becoming painful; here was a gorgeous and brilliant and independent young witch, in his quarters, breathless and hot, essentially begging him to tell her what to do next. Her nipples were hard through her clothing, and there was that scent again – she wanted something, badly. He needed to be sure, though – he wanted to see her initiate what she wanted, what she wanted him to do.
"Listen carefully, Hermione," he began, focusing her attention with a gentle flick to the nipple nearest him. She gasped, letting her head drop back, tempting him to give up on the game and simply ravage her soft throat. "I want you to see in your mind exactly what you want to do right this instant. I want you to sit here until it's clear in your mind, and then I want you to show me what you want. Do you understand?"
She nodded mutely, stilling her body, which had been moving itself restlessly, seeking contact. She dropped her head forward and sat in this attitude for several seconds. When she raised her head, her eyes were open and –gods!—so dilated with desire that he would have suspected a love potion, if not for the fact that she'd not left his sight for the last hour. Hermione held his eyes for a few endless seconds, then finally reached out to separate his robes, then his shirt, then his trousers. When she had succeeded in uncovering what she sought, she broke his gaze and swiftly positioned her head over the tip of his cock. Before Snape had a chance to prepare himself, her tongue flicked out to catch the drip already ready at the tip, and slicked the substance over her lips with a small sound of pleasure. His cock pushed itself up to meet her lips of its own accord, Snape being unable to move except to lean back and allow her fuller access. He was unsure how much experience she'd had, but was forced to revise his best guess upwards when she abruptly swallowed most of his length down her throat, loosening and relaxing her muscles along the way. On the other hand, she'd always been a fast learner, and had probably researched advanced techniques – he almost laughed at the vision, but contained it, not wishing to offend at this moment.
She released his cock, straightened up to meet his gaze. "Was that sufficiently clear, Professor?" Her lips quirked up in a satisfied smirk. Snape found the expression endearing, but thought he had preferred her earlier state of rapid unraveling.
"Quite, Miss Granger." He spoke in a stern voice, predicting that it would bring that helpless look back into her eyes, as it did. "Please remove your robes at once." His eyes, now completely black, seemed to penetrate under her clothing as she stood to remove it, leaving only a red, insubstantial bra and matching panties. He stood also, and directed her into his adjoining bedroom, whispering a spell to Vanish his own clothing as he followed her.