The Voice
"Oh my God! Sweet Merlin and all gods!" It was all Hermione could think of when she saw the manor. It was nothing she had expected to be. Dark, dark-blue, blue-marine, dark-green, shady, shadowy, murky, sinister, obscure, threatening, disturbing, creepy, from place to place field with dark objects, anything but this.
The manor was an architectonic building furnished with taste, style, somehow modern, but combined with the old style. The house was huge, with many rooms that somehow were architectonic related one with the other. It looked like a whole. It was gorgeous. And she fell in love with it the moment she saw it.
"So this where I'm going to live for the rest of my life with Snape… no, Severus… no, Snape… arghhhh…what ever. I think its Severus now because since I'm going to marry him it would be strange to call my husband Snape because it would mean calling Me Snape. Now THAT would be a funny situation. I can't believe soon I'm going to be Mrs. Severus Snape… Hmm… Hermione Snape. Hermione Snape. Hermione Snape. That sounds nice. Mrs. Hermione Snape. It sounds cute… WAIT! … Nice? Cute? What am I thinking? It does not sound nice, or cute. It sounds… it sounds… " She pause the trail of thoughts. "It does sound nice, but also it sounds right. Why does it sound right? It shouldn't sound that way, anything but right. But it does. For a strange reason it does."
Why? She didn't know maybe it was faith. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was suppose to sound that way. She didn't know why it sounded right, like she didn't know she loved this manor even if she had been in here for a few moments. She felt comfortable, warm. It made her feel like she was home like she belong there, she felt welcomed. But she wasn't supposed to feel like this. Or was she? What was she suppose feel about this house? But the question was why she felt like this about this place, like she belonged in the Snape Manor. It was crazy. Right? She asked herself waiting for some kind of answers.
Her trail of thoughts was interrupted by footsteps from upstairs. It must be Lady Snape, Severus's mother.
"I wonder what she will think about me. OH MY GOD! What IS she going to think of me? Did I put to much make up? Does my hair look ok? Maybe I put to much perfume? Are my cloths appropriate? WOW. Stop this instant Hermione. What are you doing?"
"Why are you interested in the way you look all of the sudden? This is Snape's mother we are taking about." A voice said.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my head?" Hermione asked.
"Let's just say I'm your other side of you. Call me Enoimreh. Now answer the question. Why do you care?" Enoimreh asked.
"Well… this is Severus's mother we're talking about." Hermione said.
"Yeah. And? I ask you again. Why do you care? You want to impress her with the way you look, don't you? You want her to like you?" Enoimreh said slyly.
"Noooooooooo. I do not. I just want to look good."
"No? Then why are you blushing?"
"I am not. And shut up."
"You want her to like you because you want to get along from the beginning with your mother-in-law. So then maybe Severus will take a look at you. So then…"
"Shut up. That is so not true. I just want to look good. That's all. Why do you ask? It is a bad thing that I want to look good?"
"No, of course not. Only you weren't so concerned about your look when you meet Vladimir's mother." Enoimreh said in a sly voice.
"Well… well… will you shut up and live me alone. I can't believe that I am arguing with myself. This is crazy."
"You're right. You are crazy. Crazy about Severus."
"Am not. I don't even like Severus. And where did that came from?"
"Are to. And even from back at school. If not then why did you do everything in your power to make every answer every assignment, every homework, every essay as perfect as possible? If not then why did you want to do everything to impress him? If not then why did you take apprenticeship in potions and with him? If not then why did you want him to challenge you? If not then why did he and still does come into your head when you work on a potion project or a potion? Why do you work so hard in this domain if not to make him just look at you with admiration and appreciate your work if only for just a little? If not then why were you so excited when he accepted you as his apprenticeship? If not then why since two weeks ago when he was at your house he occupied your dreams? If not then why are you trembling in pleasure when you think about him and his looks and his long fingers and what those fingers could do to you if he touched you? If not then why do you ask yourself how would it be his kisses? If not then why do you have erotic dreams about him and let's not mention that one dream?
~*~ The dream~*~
He drew her into his arms and kissed her with unhurried thoroughness, treating himself to the feel of her hair in his hands.
"Would you like me to undress?" she asked. "I'd like to undress you."
He smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."
They stood in the middle of the quilt facing each other. Cradling her face between his hands, he kissed her mouth softly, with the slightest pressure of his lips on hers. Then her neck was awarded small nibbles that left a damp trail of ecstasy along her throat and collarbone.
"You smell so good. Taste..." His mouth melded into the modest cleavage in the V of her dress. He straightened, looked deeply into her eyes, and then began to undo the seven buttons of her bodice.
They fell away under his dexterous fingers until all were released and the sides of her dress loosely covered her. His gaze left the last button and charted its way up to her face.
He slipped his hands into the bodice and, moving them across her chest and shoulders and down her arms, peeled the garment from her body. She pulled her arms from the sleeves and waited for him to settle his hands on her hips and ease the dress down. Gracefully, placing one hand on his shoulder, she stepped out of it. The dress was negligently tossed on the sweet smelling hay.
His breath hissed through his teeth. "You're gorgeous, Hermione."
Her breast was a full, lush heaviness that filled his palm when he allowed himself to cup it. He moved his thumb and felt her responsive reaction through the sensuous fabric. He could see the result of his caress budding against the material. But he didn't want to exploit it now.
He slid his hand down to the gentle swell of her hip and then to the lace that bordered her thighs. It tapered to a fetching V. He forced his eyes from that hypnotizing delta to take in the long slenderness of her thighs. The lacy garters dangled vampishly on the smooth expanse.
Taking one between his fingers, he stretched the elastic toward him its entire length and looked at her with boyish mischief.
"If you do, you'll regret it," she warned.
"What will you do to punish me?"
Her eyes narrowed to sultry slits. "Strip off all your clothes."
The garter was immediately released to pop against her thigh. She jumped and let out a squeak of protest. "All right. I warned you," she said throatily.
She started with his shirt. She took as painstakingly long a time to get it off him as he had taken with her dress. But at last his chest was bare and her hands were moving over it with interest.
"I love all this hair. It feels so good under my hands."
"Does it?" he rasped. "I'm glad you enjoy it. I'll try to grow some more."
It was taking a tremendous amount of control for him to rein in his passions and indulge this love play. One strap of her lingerie had slipped off her shoulder to lie tantalizingly around her elbow. Her breast was trying its best to spill from the fragile cup. Only the peaked tip was keeping her covered and him sane.
She went down on her knees. "This is my favorite thing," she murmured.
"What?" Her hands were smoothing the corded muscles of his stomach.
"Jeans and nothing else. That's when a man is his sexiest to me. I love the lower torso of the male anatomy."
"You've admired many, I suppose." His breath was staggering up from his chest. She had unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his jeans, and was now in the maddeningly slow process of unzipping them.
"Sadly, more often than not, it's neglected and allowed to go to pot. Literally. But when it's hard and flat and dusted with fine hair as yours is, it's the most beautiful of God's creations."
His hands were in her hair, stirring restlessly, hopelessly searching for something to hold on to keep him in this universe. "I have a dissenting opinion, Hermione. And at least half the population would disagree with you. Still, I'm delighted you find me pleasurable to look at."
"I've looked before. Like the other night in the hot tub. That was most ungentlemanly and audacious of you.
He would have never thought it possible to laugh under these circumstances, but he did, a deep rumbling laugh that somehow matched the quiet riot going on in the rest of his body. "I was hoping to get your undivided attention."
"You did. I looked."
"But you didn't touch," he whispered. She gazed up at him. "Not then, no."
He stood in mute distress as she worked his jeans and underwear past his hips. Then, like a shy flower which had come too close to his heat, her hand wilted over him. It was so light, so dainty, so precious a touch to imbue him with such a surging strength. Her caress was not selfish, it loved. Then her arms went around his thighs and her palms pressed his taut buttocks.
"Severus." Her breath fanned him. She laid her cheek against his hard thigh. Then her lips. Light, fleeting, fairy-wing kisses. Three of them. As her head moved from side to side and her hair caressed his skin. "Love me, love me. Severus. Love me."
He eased her away gently, but there was nothing subdued in the way he tore off his boots and socks and kicked away the rest of his clothes. When he dropped to his knees onto the quilt, she was laying back, her arms flung over her head, her body totally accessible. Her legs were long and sleek and smooth in the moonlight. Her breasts were rising and falling in tremulous agitation that made their silk encasing flutter.
"You'll have to…"
She gestured toward the lower part of her body. Blood rushed to his head and caused cerebral capillaries to thunder when he realized what she meant. He sought the hidden snaps, unfastened them, concentrating with a vengeance on making his hands work right. The snaps were undone.
He eased the garment up. "God, Hermione. You thought I was beautiful." The sight of her feminine realm made him dizzy. His vision actually blurred, which irritated him because he wanted to drink in every detail-the perfection of her skin, the soft allure of the tawny curling down.
Her navel was a jewel that winked at him as he pushed the garment above it. Then her breasts, twin erotic desserts that begged to be tasted, savored.
She sat up slightly so he could peel the teddy over her head. Her hair sifted back down over her shoulders. He hesitated, afraid that if he pressed her onto the quilt, thoughts of that morning would return and she would shrink from him in dread. But her hands came up to his shoulders, and, as she lay down, she drew him with her.
"Cover me, Severus. Weigh me down, anchor me here forever."
Her urgent words could have driven him a little crazy, but they didn't. Instead, they pierced through him so sweetly; he was filled with an infinite desire to protect. He wanted her to know how much she was cherished.
He did cover her, but slowly, gradually, so she wouldn't feel smothered. And he did let her body absorb his weight, but took care not to cause her discomfort. As for being there forever, he felt that they very well might be. He knew he never wanted to leave. Not when her mouth was so generously giving, flowering open for his kiss and the rapid thrusting of his tongue.
He nestled in her moist warmth. He was hard, pulsing, and hot. He raised his head to see the effects of his presence. Her eyes opened drowsily, but they sparkled with golden flames.
"I've never been loved before, Severus. Not really. Teach me what it's like to be loved."
Lifting her head slightly, she touched the cleft in his chin with her tongue and he groaned.
He left a chain of scalding kisses down her throat and chest. As she watched, spellbound by the magic powers of his mouth, he pressed it against the tip of her breast and sucked.
With a shuddering cry she fell back. His caress went on and on, and with each flexing of his lips; she felt desire coiling in her belly like a tight spring. Her legs sawed restlessly against his hard thighs. The crinkly hairs tickled the insides of her thighs. That was only one of a million electrifying differences in their nakedness that made them yearn for fulfillment. Their exploring hands couldn't get enough of each other, couldn't record and catalogue the sensations fast enough.
Severus's mind was running wild and rampant, but his touch was gentle. His fingers slid down tier abdomen through the silky cluster to discover her. She was warm velvet. She was wet silk. She was woman ready for man.
He introduced himself by slow degrees until he was buried completely. Stroking rhythmically, he acquainted himself with the farthest reaches of her, the innermost mysteries of her femininity. She was small and tight and creamy, a fantasy breathing life, milking him with her perfect body.
And those marvelous little spasms that soon rippled through her were like answers to all his prayers. He studied her face, and the brilliance of what she was experiencing shone through her skin.
This was the woman. This body, this personality, this soul. This taste and scent and feel. This was the woman created solely, exclusively, unequivocally, irrevocably, indubitably, unarguably, undeniably for him. If he searched the world, he would not find another who suited him more. Whether he spent the rest of his life with her or was eternally doomed to live without her, he knew one thing. This was his woman.
He reached as high as he could and let his life jet into her. With it went all that he was-his manhood, his heart and soul, his spirit.
~*~ End of the dream~*~
"Will you shut up for once? What do you want from me? Ok. I admit I like him. Ok? I do all those things you said. Ok? I like him a lot. I lust for him. Ok? Is that what you wanted from me? To admit it? Then I do." Hermione said in a resigned voice.
"See that wasn't so hard." Enoimreh said with a triumph voice, while Hermione was blushing madly.
"Oh! Shut up and get out of head. I'm beginning to have a head-ache"
"All right. I'll leave you alone. BUT I WILL see you later. Count on it." And with that Enoimreh disappear leaving Hermione with a peace and a terrible head-ache in her head.
As the voice in her head said it, it's been two weeks since Severus last saw or spoke to her. She was now in the living-room of the Snape Manor on what it looked like a very expensive sofa, waiting for Severus's mother or any other member that currently lived in the manor, to talk to her.
When she arrived she was greeted by a house-elf who had escorted her into the living-room where she sat alone for the past few minutes. After a few moments an old woman, but a very elegant and still very beautiful one. She had jet black hair and blue ceil eyes. Hermione supposed the woman was Severus's mother.
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It's a very hot scene, isn't it?
In writing this scene I got inspired from somewere but I don't remember where so ... please don't kill me. I hope you like it. What do you think? Please let me know.
Till next time ... Sayonara