Animal Magnetism

Disclaimer: I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

Chapter 10

-Six weeks later-

Hermione could feel the wings of Harry's borrowed magic fluttering inside her for about three days this time, leaving her little room for anything else as they stretched so full it was hard to breathe at times. It wrapped around her like a blanket, coated her skin with a sheen akin to diamond dust and left her warm, satisfied. But lately she knew better than anyone that nothing lasted forever, and she already felt the edges of insanity like sharp-nailed claws creeping back over her. The hunger; stealing into her mind again and digging in. It lasted for so long the last couple times- almost exactly a week apiece. Now it was dwindling. Her being needed something else to sustain it.

But what could be more than the sips of blood and energy she'd stolen? She felt guilty enough for that. She could always move on Harry again, take him for maybe the fifth time in the last several weeks and use her charm to make him think it another dream. Though with the lapse in between the periods of hunger shortening and shortening, who knew how much a benefit it'd be anyway? Well, besides the obvious. Next time though the period of needing might be only stilled a day, even with his power. Desperation started to rise once more. And did she really want to take advantage of her best friend again? Not that he seemed to mind at all, and not that it wasn't good… but it still felt wrong. Like it felt wrong to think of Snape when she was with him.

The added strength, speed, agility and etc. were fantastic, but this? Was there any relief? Was it even worth continuing this frantic existence? 'No,' the creature inside her growled. 'That's the talk of a weakling. We're better than that.' It was extremely frustrating for her, not having control over her own mind and body when before everything had been perfectly in check. Living day to day never knowing exactly what could happen and when, if she could hurt someone or not, lose her mind or not, was scary. For the first time, a life of research and the pursuit of knowledge did no good because her stores of memory were all but lost and her days were ruled by baser instincts.

Even having studied vampires and various demon strains in that previous life did no good because her case was entirely unique. What luck. And the gentleness in her friends eyes, their protectiveness and patience, tormented her- made her want something more that they couldn't give. It would've been easier if they'd treated her as a stranger, or as any other beast of the jungle. Easier not to want so badly. Then, they hadn't treated Remus like that, and he was in a similar situation. Did he struggle with two personas as she did? Sadness swept her. It was still hard to think about him without wanting to cry. He'd been like a second father to all of them. A great loss. Damn Voldemort. The young witch with vampiric genes thought back to yesterday.

When she'd been leaning against the heavy stone wall outside the infirmary talking to her friends and Professor Snape walked by… He'd looked over only briefly, sneering, but her skin sizzled where his gaze had trailed, eliciting a strange longing, an unremitting ache that throbbed deep within her. She'd resisted its pull by turning her head, turning her body away, but it had still touched her and affected her deeply. It was the image in her mind when she'd gotten herself off that night too… several times. It frustrated half of her to have these feelings, and the other half that she'd put up all these barriers to keep him away. The mental alarm bells that sounded every time she got too close, when he wasn't able to avoid her. Her primal, instinct driven mind couldn't understand it- and her rational mind was too boggled by the other to react any other way.

Believing herself safe covered in an armored jacket of Harry's magic, their mingled blood in her veins, she'd foolishly stalked the spy. Fading into the shadows and cloaking her magical signature with her new abilities, she'd spent hours watching him, studying him. Drinking him in with her eyes, breathing in his scent. Wanting him. Apparently the armour didn't work as well as she thought. A few times she'd even tempted fate by putting herself in his path. He'd hid his reaction to the site of her in shorts and a camisole well [her usual fair with her average temp. of 103 degrees], but she could feel the rise of tension, the suppressed desire. And maybe that's why she kept going back. Because something in her hoped enough exposure and his guards would drop.

She'd tried and failed to understand it, but maybe all baser instincts were just beyond understanding. Like why she suddenly viewed him as a hero and something to be desired. And if she couldn't stop it, shouldn't she embrace it? The one called Hermione licked her lips nervously. Calculated. She didn't know why, when, what or how, but something was going to happen- time was running out. Whether it tied into the increasing call for energy, the lack of hope with Harry, or not. She watched him like he held all the answers. Like he was the key. She sighed. Yet even if her rational mind would allow her to take it, how could he help her when he avoided her like the plague? It was even worse than before. Why? In the seconds between wondering and blankness she felt a new awareness creeping in. Then she heard the voice.

"Miss Granger, may I ask exactly what you are doing skulking around the dungeons?" She shivered at the effect of that deep timbre. She must've let her guards down now. Turning slowly, she found herself peering right into his face, and the entire world jolted and fell out of orbit. There was no sun, no moon, only him. The face from those fragments of nearly forgotten dreams. Her heart pounded in her chest hard as her body reacted suddenly and fiercely to his. 'Much more potent up close,' she noted to herself, fighting to contain the surprised squeak. He eyed her coolly, and she stared back with caution and defiance because that's all she could show. And that's all it took.

The air shifted again, colored with reds and streaks of yellow. She was so desperate now to touch him, taste him. Her former professor. She found it hard to speak, clenching her teeth to keep from lunging forward to bite him, hands curling into fists to keep from grabbing. The need hit with the power of an ocean storm, so dark and fierce it scared even her more primitive side. His hand on her elbow [meant to pull her forward or push her back she didn't know] sent an electrical shock through her. He lifted his head, eyes narrowing, and again she had that disconcerting sense of a predator catching the scent of his prey. And her hackles rose, a switch flipped inside her.

"I'm not your prey," she breathed aloud, surprising both of them. Unbeknownst to her, her eyes were glowing again. The thought she might be someone's prey, even his, was anathema to her new nature. "So it would seem. Perhaps I am yours." Shocking. The musical quality of his low-pitched voice surrounded her, wrapping her in a sensual haze that belied the starkly said words. Then the sheer force of the words struck her. How much of it was leashed in that tall, lean body? Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and leaned in to capture his mouth in a kind of guerilla tactic.

And the heat of him, the flavor of him, the very glory of it blew through her with the power of a percussive blast. Her eyes flew back open, sure Merlin himself must've shot a bolt of lightning at her. What was this, that drenched the arid wasteland of her soul? Pleasure and pain. Ecstasy swirling like a waterspout, filling in the parched and corroded corners of her being. Pouring from him. Were these her feelings or his? Severus jerked back, looking just as shell-shocked, and something told her she'd hit the nail on the head with the second guess. A small smile curved her lips and his gaze hardened. Then he stalked away without a word.

Her control lasted for one more night. Then in the way of most people magical or not, she caved and snuck out to the Hogshead for some liquor and interaction. Unfortunately. It'd been her hope that it would both help subdue the beast inside her, and get that kiss with the Potions Master out of her head, but it just made both worse. Especially since the object of her obsession was sitting in the corner of the same bar. The moment she saw him she was bombarded with waves of desire, her body tight with need. Her weakness came back to haunt her. Why had she so boldly tested her limits? A low rumble escaped her, a strange light in her eyes as her canines elongated again.

She was just barely able to stay in her seat, the instinct to pounce was so strong. She had to get out of there. With great anxiety she slipped from her stool to hurry down the hall, out the back door, around the building… and into a wall that hadn't been there before. With a gulp she staggered back and tried to run, but strong fingers caught the end of her robes and yanked. Arms flailing, she careened back into that familiar wall of muscle. Arms came up to lock around her, squeezing her ribs until she could hardly draw air. Even panicked, she was all too conscious of the way her breasts rose and fell against his forearm, of how heavy and achy they suddenly felt, of how her nipples hardened. The air deepened into shadows of hazy scarlet and plum, mirroring her rage and excitement.

The stranger pressed his mouth close to her ear and growled in a voice that sent shivers down her spine, "Back to torment me, witch? Haven't you haunted my dreams enough?" He twisted her arms behind her back further, pulling hard. An ache throbbed at the center of her thighs. Snape. It had to be, with that tone like thunder. But how could this be the same man that avoided her like the plague? The one that pushed her away when she kissed him? The proximity of his body, the male musk of him, even his rough handling, thrilled her. He thrilled her. God, she was demented. Stretching both of her wrists above her head, he flattened his body along hers. She reflexively stomped at his instep and shoved back, making him curse. "Enough," he barked. Nose to nose as he spun her around, they each glared.

His comment about the dreams still hadn't registered. Their breath intermingled, all sorts of sweet smells overwhelming her, his heart hammering between them. "Stop looking at me like that," he warned, onyx eyes wild. The catch in his voice created tremors. Her breath came in short spurts that had her chest rising and falling rapidly against his. "Like what?" "Like you want me to fuck you." He was most definitely drunk. Heat suffused her face, rushing through her entire body like a firestorm. Her mouth sagged open. His accusation was ridiculous, absurd, impossible. "Right," she choked out, trying for sarcasm but sounding more like an agreement. And it was too late. The damage was done, the fuse lit at both ends by the picture his words painted. A picture she wanted to bring to life but fought just as hard.

Cocking an eyebrow, he held her closely to him. "You're hot for it," he mused, his voice husky. She shook her head in fierce denial, her hair brushing her cheeks in soft strokes. "No?" His hand slid around her to inch up her stomach and ribs. Warm fingers closed unerringly over one nipple, testing, caressing, teasing through her bra. She stifled a sob as his touch grew firmer until he was rolling and twisting the aroused peak between thumb and forefinger. "What about now?" he rasped. Mouth watering, she shook her head, refusing to surrender one syllable even if her body already had. "No?" His hand dropped from her breast. She bit her lip to stop her cry of disappointment. In one deft move, he popped the button free on her shorts and unzipped her. She hated his manipulation but craved his touch.

The backs of his fingers brushed her navel, scorching her as he delved inside her panties, his touch swift, sure, conquering. The very nature of this act, the forbidden and impropriety just made it that much hotter. He probed between her curls, played with her, brushing the spot hidden within the folds of her sex. She jerked at the contact, moaning aloud, and subconsciously parted her legs wider. His aggression and dominance both chafed and aroused further the animal side of her. Snape dipped his head close, long strands of inky black hair brushing her face. Finding her clitoris, he rolled it between his fingers, exerting enough pressure to make her shudder against his hand. "Definitely hot for it." He thrust a finger deep inside her. Her head fell back, a silent scream locked in her throat.

"God, you're so tight," he muttered, easing a second finger, then a third, stretching her, the pleasure building sweetly inside. "See." His voice washed over her, drugging, hypnotic. "You don't want to go anywhere." His words sunk into her brain, an icy chill where there'd been nothing but heat before. She wrenched away, his hand falling from her gaping shorts. Something about his tone, that was more than smugness, set her off. For several moments she could only stare at those fingers that had wrought total havoc on her, longing for them to do so again yet horrified at the loss of control and her reaction. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He stepped closer, or tried, and instinctively her leg flashed out with lightning speed and struck him hard in the shins then again in the stomach. Snape fell flat on his backside and she ran off into the night, wondering why he unsettled her so much.

Next Chapter:

"I expect all this is still relatively frightening and new to you. But your two minds, two personas, have been warring against each other and you must find a way to unite them." The amber-eyed witch narrowed her gaze. "What do you mean Headmaster? What am I missing?" Those crystalline eyes twinkled back at her. "Why, love of course. Someone to share your life with."