Disclaimer: No matter how hard I wish, they are still not mine.
SS
After his long discussion with Minerva, Severus was feeling... well, he wasn't sure how he was feeling.
It's not hopeful… The Dark Lord is still far too strong for hope.
Severus sighs as he exits his office to make his way down to the dungeons.
It feels almost like relief, but that is not quite right either. I'm glad to finally share the burden, but I'm fairly certain I will never see 'relief' in this lifetime, He sneers to himself. I guess I feel… lighter. That is the only way to describe it.
Minerva had listened intently to his tale, not saying one word until he was finished. Although throughout his story she hadn't needed to say anything; her expressions said it all.
She showed interest in his leaving the Dark Lord, respect when he turned spy for Dumbledore, anger when Dumbledore expected so much, sadness at his expression of failing, admiration for him protecting Granger, but overall she showed her guilt.
It absolutely killed Minerva that she had been blind to what had been really happening, especially when after hearing the truth she noticed how obvious it should have been to her. She begged and begged for forgiveness even after she was repeatedly reminded she was supposed to think those horrible things about him. She left his office for dinner on a promise that they would speak again in the morning before her classes.
Severus is very much looking forward to their discussion in spite of himself. He is eager to find out what the Order's next plan of attack is and how he can help.
He reaches the door to his old chambers and sets a mental reminder to put a full strength silencing charm on when he leaves; he forgot to tell Minerva to leave Granger out of loop.
Stepping into the room Severus finds it empty and lets out an annoyed sigh.
Please don't be in the bath again… It was hard enough to resist you the first time, Severus thinks. Followed quickly by, where the hell did that come from?
He had been doing pretty well denying his body's reaction to the girl.
"Granger?" he calls, not wanting to go in the bathroom again.
"Yes?"
"Dinner is ready," he tells her, trying to keep the relief from his voice.
At least she is awake.
Severus pulls a chair away from the table and is just preparing to sit down when she exits the bathroom.
Oh, my dear sweet Merlin…
Severus' mouth goes completely dry and very nearly falls open.
Standing in front of him wearing a very, very tiny towel is a dripping wet Hermione Granger.
"I had rather hoped we would skip right to dessert, Professor," she says silkily as she approaches him.
When did I fall asleep? Because this has got to be a dream…
Granger swings her hips seductively and his eyes are drawn down to her delicious legs. Months on the run had kept her incredibly fit and toned.
"What do you say?" she asks, reaching out to run a finger down his many buttons.
Even through all of the layers of clothing Severus feels the burning trail of her fingers and he realizes he is not dreaming.
I… what…
He finds himself unable to form a coherent thought due to the fact that what is currently happening does not make any damn sense.
"What on earth do you think you are doing?" he asks in his best attempt at cold indifference, at which he fails.
"You said you wanted me," she purrs leaning into his ear, "that I'm appealing. I've been dreaming about you, wondering when you were finally going to claim your prize. You have been quite the tease."
Her lips almost graze his ear and Severus finds his body responding immediately. He can't think of what to say because his brain refuses to function while all of his blood is racing towards his massive erection.
Hermione, because he can longer just think of her as Granger, leans back and looks up into his smoldering eyes. He realizes she is trying to project a memory to him and looks into her mind. It is a dirty dream…
With her… and me… and her… and she is enjoying it!
"Please," her dream-self begs.
He is almost too distracted by her wicked dream to hear the thoughts she believes she is hiding.
Almost.
He sees that she is testing him. She is trying to prove that he is on the side of the good. She believes that he will turn her down thus basically admitting he did not save her for selfish, devious reasons, but instead because he is… a hero.
A hero? Miss Granger please, he scoffs inwardly. This was a risky move, girl. I will make you see that.
"I didn't realize you have been so… affected," he enunciates, not having to fake the husky edge to his voice.
Severus trails his fingers from her wrist all the way to her bare shoulder noticing the shiver that runs through her as he does so.
Revulsion… that is why she shivers.
"I have not meant to tease you, my little muggle born. I merely didn't wish to rush you."
He uses his hand still resting on her shoulder to guide her backwards to the nearest wall. Once she is pressed against it he captures both her wrists and pins her arms above her head.
"While I do love to hear a witch screaming beneath me, I am no rapist, I prefer them to be screams of pure… pleasure," he whispers seductively.
Hermione's chest is rising and falling rapidly, her breath hitching on its way out. Her chocolate eyes are wide and glazed as she stares up at him. Surprise clearly etched on her face.
Scared, aren't we? You certainly aren't having trouble catching your breath for the same reasons as me.
Severus tells himself that he has probably gotten his point across, but he can't seem to pull away.
Best be sure she gets it.
Very slowly he lowers his head to nuzzle into the hollow of her neck, kissing and nibbling, working a path up to the tender flesh of her ear lobe. He kisses her ear and nips at the lobe, noting Hermione's sharp intake of breath as he does so.
Don't get so excited you foolish old man, he chastises himself, that is not desire you hear, but derision.
Despite knowing that there is no way the sounds she is making are out of arousal, Severus cannot control the fire that flares through him at each gasp and tremor from her. He barely registers that he releases her wrists until he finds himself pressing her body firmly between his own and the wall. He snakes his hand into her damp curls and commands her head to lean back, giving him access to her lush, slightly pouty, mouth.
He means to kiss her teasingly but his intent is shattered when their lips meet. Severus is so intoxicated by her that he has to kiss her deeper. Her mouth opens in response and he probes her with his tongue, wanting to explore everywhere.
Hermione presses herself harder into his body, grinding against his bulge. Her arms wrap around his neck and he feels her push up on tiptoes to reach him better. Her fingers roam across his shoulders and she lets out a small moan.
Yes, push closer. Ah, put more pressure right… ah, there. Severus urges wordlessly.
Wait… what the hell is she doing?
He groans into her mouth as she continues grinding against him.
Oh, Merlin, I know what she is doing. But why? How far is she willing to take this test?
Severus is tempted to let her keep going, to see how far she really is willing to go to find the truth, but he fears if they go much longer he won't be able to stop at all.
He abruptly pulls away from her, barely registering the whimper that escapes her as he does so. Severus reaches out and takes her hand, then proceeds to lead her into the middle of the room so she is facing away from the door.
He moves to stand behind her, so extremely close but without actually touching her. Before Hermione can say anything, Severus reaches around her and quickly un-tucks the corner of her towel causing it fall around her ankles.
Her breath catches audibly again and Severus reaches up to sweep her hair over one shoulder. He then leans in to whisper quietly in her ear.
"While being forward is an extremely sexy trait in a woman… the next move is mine. I decide when to 'claim my prize' as you put it. The wait makes it that… much… sweeter."
Quickly, before his resolve can shatter once more, Severus barges from the room in desperate need of a cold shower and strong drink.
HG
Standing in the middle of the room she can sense Professor Snape right behind her. All thoughts of her 'test' are gone from her mind and she wants to tell him to hurry, that she can't wait much longer or she'll explode.
He reaches around her and with one pass of his expert fingers her towel is on the floor. Her breathing becomes even more labored than it was a moment ago.
He flips her hair over one shoulder and leans into her exposed ear.
"While being forward is an extremely sexy trait in a woman… the next move is mine. I decide when to 'claim my prize' as you put it. The wait makes it that… much… sweeter."
Hermione shivers and waits… and waits… and waits.
When she hears the door slam she flips around quickly.
He… left?
Hermione stands there, chest heaving, feeling her anger rise to a boiling point. Unable to control herself she lets out a screech of pure rage.
She can't decide what makes her the angriest: the fact that she still doesn't know where his loyalties lay, the fact that her entire body is coursing with need and desire, or the fact that in this moment she doesn't give a damn about his loyalties and all she wants is for him to touch her.
Ever since she has been locked in these damned dungeons Hermione has had to force herself to do everything. She has felt lost, unsure, forgotten, and like she has no control over her own future anymore.
She had come up with the test only to confirm her belief that Professor Snape was on her side. She was positive the he would back away, call her a silly insufferable girl, and leave. Then she would know.
But he hadn't. He met her invitation with fire and passion.
At first she was nervous, hoping he was just playing with her or upping the ante like he had when he found her in the bath.
But Professor Snape had been insistent, and she loved it. It made her feel alive, truly alive, for the first time in days. Then when she felt his… well, you know… she felt powerful and in control. She had done that to him, to Professor Severus Snape the King of Indifference.
Hermione paces back and forth across the room unable to prevent herself from reliving what just happened. The more she goes over it the more aroused she gets and ultimately the more frustrated.
Damn him! Damn these dungeons! Damn McGonagall, Ron, and damn Harry Fucking Potter!
Whoa there, you don't mean that.
Yes, I do. McGonagall didn't try hard enough last night to free me and she has practically abandoned this war. Ron is a self-serving, spoiled, little prat rivaling even that ferret Draco.
"And Harry," she growls out loud.
He just had to go after the damn Hallows! If he would have listened to me he would be alive, Ron wouldn't be in the running for 'Prick of the year,' and I wouldn't be trapped here…
Longing for your ex-professor to shag you senseless, the annoying other voice provided.
Oh shut up, she ordered angrily.
Normally pacing helps calm her down, but not tonight. Her anger is out of control.
Ignoring the fact that she is still completely naked, Hermione grabs a teacup off of the already set dinner table and chucks it at the stone wall. Satisfaction runs through her as it shatters.
Next she grabs an empty plate, followed by another, then another glass, and finally a tray of food. She grabs the edge of the heavy table and burst of uncontrolled magic helps her flip it. Hermione picks up a chair and smashes it against the wall nearest her, then quickly grabs the second chair and does the same. Her rage is nowhere near burnt out but the only things she really has left she could destroy is her bed and the books.
Even in her rage she accepts that she will have to sleep sometime, and she knows that she could never be angry enough to destroy books.
Did you not notice that burst of magic a moment ago? Wake up, Hermione.
An idea dawns on her and she realizes what to do with her pent up anger and frustration. Hermione picks her way through the broken glass and retrieves the book on wandless magic.
When she gets to the bathroom Hermione quickly flips to chapter two: Alohomora.
She closes the bathroom door harshly and sets to work, determination screaming from every cell in her body.
SS
Severus is in bed trying desperately to pretend he will be able to fall asleep, but knowing that even if he does actually manage sleep, Hermione Granger will most definitely be haunting his dreams.
Dream… wait. She showed me a dream today, didn't she? He thought suddenly. Yes, she showed me a sex dream about her and I. But there is no way she could have fabricated that without a wand, which means… did Hermione have a real sex dream about the two of us?
A loud, sudden, pop interrupts his startling discovery causing him to sit straight up in bed. The little house-elf, Mazy, is bouncing from foot to foot in front of him, clearly anxious about something.
"Headmaster Snape, I is sorry to bother you, but you must be coming quick!" she urges.
"What is going on?" he asks sharply.
"It's Missy Hermione, sir. She isn't breathing!"
Author's Note: I just want to note that while Hermione's anger may come across as extreme compared to her behavior and reactions in the story so far, it is essential. This is really a turning point for her. Also I want to thank everyone for the reviews and ask that you keep them coming! I want to know what you think about the direction the story is headed. Next update will be soon, I promise not to keep you hanging with this cliffie!