Inside the Blackest Heart Part 11
"I'm sure I don't know what you intend to do, Miss Granger," Snape replied
She looked at him hard for a moment, then sighed.
"Even though I know you wouldn't hesitate to force your will on me, Professor…I can't bring myself to do such a thing to you, as deserving as you are of a taste of your own brew. My whole life in the wizarding world was based on manipulation. That is why I am in the situation I am now, because I wanted to be free of it."
"You've had to serve others against your will for years, and told me your only desire is to be free of Masters. I won't become another one to you, no matter how tempting it is. It isn't right to take away another's freedom of choice, especially for selfish reasons."
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I suppose if I want to know what it is to have a man treat me with gentleness during sex, I could seek out another deatheater, maybe one who is married. He would have been tender with his wife. I could ask him to be as tender with me as he would be with her."
Snape looked at her. Another deatheater? He felt an unpleasant tightening in his chest as he watched her considering letting another man possess her. It was her right of course. He certainly didn't have any qualms about shagging other women, and in fact had indulged himself since breaking the Primordial in, without any guilt. But it bothered him that she thought another man could give her what he couldn't. It cut right into his ego.
Hermione summoned the house elves. They winked in, smiling until they saw Snape. They began to quiver with fear.
"What's wrong?" she asked them.
The elves didn't reply. They simply looked at Snape with flattened ears and continued to shake. Snape didn't help. He fixed both the elves with his blackest scowl.
Hermione turned to look at the Potions Master.
"Stop scaring them!" she said to him irritatedly, "they're my servants and I don't want them feeling menaced. Now, stop Professor."
Snape looked at her, and set his face in a neutral expression, though his eyes still glinted at the elves a bit.
"He's not going to hurt you," Hermione said soothingly to the elves, "I won't let anyone hurt you in my presence. I promise you."
The two elves stopped trembling so violently.
"H-how may we be of service, Miss?" Hansel asked, his eyes still flicking toward Snape.
"I was wondering if you could get me a list of married male deatheaters. Preferably those whose wives are not servants of the Dark Lord," she said. "The most recently married listed first."
Hansel looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Yes, Miss. We can do that," he said.
"Well please do, as soon as possible," Hermione said, smiling at him.
The elves winked out. Severus' scowl returned to his face. She was really going to do this. And in her normal, calculating way. If the wives weren't servants of the Dark Lord, more than likely they did not have the twisted sexuality of deatheater females, so their husbands would have to relate to them in a 'normal' fashion, so were capable of being gentle, thoughtful lovers.
"Doesn't it bother you that you are thinking of sleeping with a married man?" he asked tightly.
"Not really. They all participate in the Revels I imagine. I'm not so big on guilt as I used to be, Professor. My needs are more important to me then they once were, particularly since I might not be on earth much longer," she replied non-chalantly, surprising herself.
"So what do you plan to do once you get this list?" Snape asked her, his eyes hard as diamonds.
Hermione sat on the sofa.
"Ask Voldemort to summon the ones I am considering, and have interviews with them. I'll pick the one that appeals to me the most," she said, "plus it will give me something interesting to do."
Hermione was reverting to her research mode. She still clung to the idea that everything could be sorted out logically. Even choosing a deatheater to engage.
"Don't you think it could be the aura of this place making you want to do this?" Snape asked, his brow furrowing, "the Dark Lord's carnality spell could be affecting you."
"It could be, Professor. But I'm curious to see what it is like to be made love to, instead of being pummeled within an inch of my life. I'd like to know what it would be like to be kissed all over, to be touched and caressed…to have real foreplay, something other than unresolved lust like I had with you. I would be curious about that even without the influence of the spell. Of course I am hoping for a powerful lover when it comes to the act itself, because that is what I like, but one who will take time to make me feel beautiful and wanted."
"I make you feel wanted," Snape said, his voice low, "you can't say I don't."
Hermione gave him a small, tight smile.
"Yes you do, Professor. You make it very clear that you want to get inside me. But with you I might as well be one big orifice than a woman. You are only interested in dominating me and using my body as thoroughly as possible. You know that, Professor. It's the way you are. I don't blame you for that. I just want to experience something more than a good hard shagging," she said. "The only way I could do that with you is to order it. And I won't do that. This is my only other option. Let's face it Professor, you aren't versatile enough to meet my every need. You are simply too selfish."
Snape felt insulted. He made her climax, didn't he? Numerous times, too. All the rest of what she was referring to all really led up to that, to the orgasm. He just went directly to the objective. To get pleasure from her body, come and make her come. Yes, he was selfish, but he was thorough enough that she wasn't left behind. He continued to scowl.
"You don't look happy about this, Professor," she observed, her amber eyes narrowed slightly. Was he jealous? No, he couldn't be. He shared women with other deatheaters all the time. He had made it plain to her that to him she was just like any other woman.
"I just think it's foolish. I can give you what you need, Miss Granger," he said, frowning at her. "I know what you need."
"No, you think you know what I need. I just told you I needed more than you can give me, Professor," Hermione said tightly. "Anyway, you suggested I find another deatheater to do me. You said it would be safer," she retorted.
He just looked at her. It was true. He had planned to give her the ride of her life if he got hold to her, but he never dreamed she'd actually consider taking on another wizard. He realized he didn't want anyone else to take her. He had no right to feel that way, and he didn't have any particular affection for her…but he was the first one to do her. She was a Primordial, destined to be the most powerful witch in existence and only he had touched her. That pleased him as well as elevated him in the eyes of others. Even the Dark Lord envied him. If he let Miss Granger shag another deatheater, he would lose his status. No doubt she would lose something too.
The Dark Lord would probably target her immediately if he found out she was looking for another lover. As cold as he was, even Snape wouldn't wish that on the witch. Voldemort was a true deviant, and a chance to dominate a Primordial would bring out the worst in him. By the time he was finished with her, Miss Granger would probably have taken a Wizard's Oath to serve him in order to stop the pain. A Primordial probably would be as bound by the Oath as an ordinary wizard or witch, since it too was primal magic. Plus, he didn't want to take the chance she wasn't yet strong enough to protect herself from Voldemort if placed in that position.
Snape was not a wizard to make concessions. But in this case, it was in his own self-interest to do so. What she wanted went against his nature, but if she followed the path she was on, eventually Voldemort would have her in a position that could ruin his plans for good. If playing the attentive lover would help him reach his ultimate goal, then that's what he'd do. At least it was his choice. He took a deep breath.
"Miss Granger, I wish you would reconsider this idea," he said to her.
"Why?" Hermione asked.
"Because…because…I would be willing to do what you want done," Snape replied, looking very put out about his concession.
"You look like someone's twisting your arm, Professor," Hermione commented on the pained look on his face, "why the turn around?"
"Suffice it to say, Miss Granger, that you have made me feel rather inadequate," Snape lied, "I think that I can supply the extras you need to feel…fulfilled. All I need is the opportunity."
Hermione cocked her head at him.
"You just don't want anyone else to have me," she said, her eyebrows raised.
"This is true. You afford me some status among the ranks, Miss Granger. If another deatheater were to have you, that status would be lost," he said. Well, it was a partial truth. No need to put her more on edge by telling her what her search for another deatheater would mean to Voldemort.
"So, your motive is purely selfish, rather than just giving in to what I want," she mused.
"Yes. Exactly, Miss Granger. I am willing to 'take time' as you said. That in turn should sate your curiosity. And as to your wish for a powerful lover during the act, we both know where we stand there," he said smoothly.
He could still ride the shit out of her afterwards. It made the concession easier to take.
"And you would kiss me?" she asked him, her amber eyes searching his face, "Caress me? Give me real foreplay?"
Snape sighed.
"Yes, Miss Granger. All the little nuances that go along with this kind of thing," he replied.
Hermione snickered at the way he said "this kind of thing" as if it were totally distasteful. But he was willing even if for his own reasons, and wasn't a stranger to her. That would have been the only hitch about having sex with another man. And she knew he met her need for domination.
Hansel winked back in, holding a rather long list in his claw.
"I have the list you asked for Miss. There are over two hundred deatheaters that meet your specifications," the elf said, holding the list out to her. Hermione took it and looked it over. Snape tensed a bit. Was she still going to go through with this madness?
"Thank you, Hansel. You may go," she said to the elf, who smiled with delight at being thanked again. He winked out.
Hermione eyed Snape again.
"Do you even know how to kiss?" she asked him.
Snape snorted indignantly.
"Of course I know how to kiss. I wasn't always a deatheater," he spat.
Hermione looked doubtful.
"Yes, but you've been a deatheater longer than you haven't been one," she responded. "You may have forgotten how to kiss a woman with…tenderness," she replied.
Snape stalked over to the sofa she was sitting on.
"Stand up," he said, his eyes hard.
Hermione took a little too long, so he yanked her up by her arm.
He stared down at her, anger written all over his pale face, his black eyes glinting. Hermione thought he couldn't possibly be gentle or tender looking like he was.
But she was wrong.
Snape leaned and captured her lips in a soft, warm kiss, gently sucking on her lower lip, then moving his mouth against hers slowly and sensually. Hermione closed her eyes against the sweetness, and felt warmth spreading throughout her body. He pulled away, looking at her with the same hardness in his black eyes. Hermione swayed toward him a bit, before opening her eyes.
"Wow," she said, looking at him and wanting another kiss, "How about open-mouth kisses? Are you good at those, too?"
Snape considered the witch, and smirked.
"You will have to see when we commence on your little fantasy, Miss Granger. I am not about to start something that won't be finished…unless, you want this now," he said, moving closer to her, his body barely touching hers.
She could feel his body heat through his robes, and felt like she was melting. But if this were going to happen, she wanted plenty of time for it to unfold. Tonight would be better. She backed away from him with some difficultly.
"No…tonight," she said a little breathlessly. Snape lifted an eyebrow.
"Very well, then. Tonight, Miss Granger," he said. Then he looked at the list in her hand.
"What do you intend on doing with that list? You have no need of it now," he said.
Hermione smiled at him wickedly.
"I'm going to keep it, just in case you can't deliver," she responded.
He leaned toward her so his lips were close to her ear.
"Oh, I will deliver all right, Miss Granger. Let's just hope you can receive the package," he whispered silkily, his warm breath tickling her ear.
He drew back and looked down at her. Hermione felt wetness trickling between her thighs.
Snape smirked knowingly at her, turned in a billow of robes and exited her rooms.
Hermione stared after him.
She didn't think tonight would come fast enough.
When Draco returned to Slytherin house, he went directly to his room, closed and warded the door, and placed a silencing charm around the room. Satisfied he was secured, he went to his wardrobe, and took a small two-way mirror out of a robes pocket. He walked to his bed and sat down on the edge of it. He held the mirror up.
"Lucius Malfoy," he said.
He waited a few moments, and the handsome face of his father appeared in the mirror. He was frowning.
"What is it Draco? I told you not to use the mirror unless it was an emergency. I was in a meeting with the Minister of Magic when you called, and was forced to leave early. This better be worth my while or I promise you…"
"It is father!" Draco said eagerly, "Potter wants you to take him to the Dark Lord,"
Lucius blinked at Draco a few times, then stuck a finger in his ear and wriggled it as if it were clogged and he didn't hear his son clearly.
"Come again?" Lucius said, a perplexed look on his face.
"I said Harry Potter wants you to take him to the Dark Lord, father," Draco repeated impatiently.
"Potter? Why?" asked Lucius, looking suspicious.
"Because the Dark Lord has his friend, Hermione Granger. I think he wants to try and save her," Draco said excitedly.
"Most likely the boy would be killed immediately," Lucius said, "Why would he risk himself?"
"Because he's an idiot with a hero complex. I don't know why, but he is serious, father. He wants you to take him," Draco said, "Imagine the reward you'd receive."
Lucius' ice-blue eyes narrowed. He could ask a boon of the Dark Lord if he delivered Potter. He knew just what he'd ask for. Narcissa to be put off-limits to other deatheaters. Joel had bruised her body quite badly when he took her. Lucius loved his wife, even though they both had other lovers from time to time. They never disrespected each other in public and were discreet in their affairs, never flaunting them. It was an odd relationship, but it worked well for them, and they still enjoyed each other immensely. Seeing his wife like that tore at Lucius' heart. He swore Joel would pay, but he would like to insure it never happened again.
"Tell Potter to meet me at the Hogwarts gates at six tomorrow evening, Draco," Lucius said, "I will talk to the boy and see what this is about, if he is sincere. If he is…"
"Yes father, I will tell him right away," said Draco, smiling evilly. No doubt the Dark Lord would acknowledge his part in delivering Potter to him, and the Boy Who Lived would finally be out of his hair for good.
"You do that Draco. You've done well," his father said, fading from the mirror as Draco swelled with pride.
"You're an ass Potter," Draco said to himself, "I'm surprised you lasted this long."
It didn't take long for the news to spread that Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' Golden Girl had gone over to the other side with Professor Snape. The halls were abuzz . Students were gathered in small groups discussing the Head Girl's fall into darkness. Professor McGonagal was in shock, being treated by Pomfrey in the infirmary. The Gryffindors were all in denial. It couldn't be. Not Hermione. Not Potter's best friend.
The Slytherins were ecstatic about the news, gloating publicly that a Gryffindor had been drawn to the side of the Dark Lord. A few duels had broken out between Slytherins and Gryffindors, but were broken up without incident.
Harry stayed in his room, Ron with him. Ron was just flabbergasted. He couldn't believe Hermione would change sides like that.
"Why would she do it, Harry?" he asked the silent wizard brooding the next bed over.
"She wouldn't Ron. If Hermione is really with Voldemort, she's there for a good reason. Maybe to destroy him."
"But you think she would of told us, Harry," Ron said, scowling, "she would've said something. And to run off with Snape! That greasy git. She hated him."
Harry didn't want to tell Ron that Hermione had been shagging the Potions Master. Ron would have exploded, and in his anger, probably would have said something about Hermione that would cause them to fistfight or even duel. Harry wasn't up to that right now. He was sick to his stomach. Dumbledore planned on killing Hermione. He turned over and looked at Ron.
"I talked to the Headmaster this morning, Ron. They want to kill Hermione before she comes to full power as a Primordial. Now the Order is after Voldemort and her," Harry said, his eyes sober.
Ron turned several colors.
"They want to k-kill her?" he asked, "Why kill her. Can't they arrest her and find out why she did what she did?"
"No, she'll be too powerful. Even if she had a good reason for going to Voldemort, the Order would kill her because she doesn't want to serve them. She wants to live her own life," Harry said, shaking his head.
"I never thought I'd ever see the day I didn't want to be a member of the Order," Ron said quietly, "I've wanted to join them since I was a fourth year. Now, I don't know…it seems so unfair what they are doing. Hunting down Hermione like a criminal."
"I just wish I knew why she left with Snape. Dumbledore says Snape persuaded her somehow," Harry said, rolling over in his bed, and running his hand through his unruly black hair.
"What could Snape have possibly said to her, Harry?" Ron asked
Harry didn't know. All he knew was the night she left he woke up on the floor by the dungeon corridor entrance. The last thing he remembered was leaving his surveillance spot by Snape's rooms after seeing Hermione go in after her rounds and not emerge again, like she had done the previous two nights. She hadn't looked any different, and didn't have any things with her. He had felt out of sorts as he made his way back. Maybe he had fainted. But the way he woke up on the floor like that, left him feeling something wasn't right about it.
Suddenly a folded paper airplane flew in through the open window and landed on Ron's bed. Ron picked it up.
"What's this?" he asked, unfolding the plane. He looked at it, and turned purple.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!" he yelled, staring at the parchment. Harry sat up on his bed.
"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked.
Ron continued staring at the parchment, his eyes tearing, his mouth set in a grim line. He handed the parchment to Harry, and watch him as the green-eyed wizard looked at it and blanched.
It was a rather realistic drawing of Snape and Hermione. They were shagging in the Potions classroom, Hermione bent over Snape's desk. It was a wizard's drawing so it moved, Hermione's mouth forming an "O" every time the Professor entered her. There was a caption that read "The Head Girl Taking Snape's Head." Harry sighed and shook his head, crumpling up the parchment, taking out his wand and setting it aflame.
"What the bloody hell was that, Harry? Are they saying Hermione was letting Snape shag her? Is that true? It can't be true, can it?" Ron asked his friend, looking for some confirmation that it couldn't be. When Harry didn't say anything, and wouldn't look at him, Ron recoiled in horror. He'd known Harry long enough to tell when he was trying to hide something from him.
"It's true, isn't it Harry?" he said in a deceptively low voice, "Hermione was shagging Snape, wasn't she? And he turned her."
"No!" Harry said, "he didn't turn her!"
"But he was doing her wasn't he?" Ron asked him, staring at his friend, daring him to lie to him.
"I think it's possible, Ron. But I don't know for sure," Harry said evasively.
"Why do you think it's possible?" Ron asked him with narrowed eyes.
Harry told Ron how he had followed Hermione for three nights, and how all three nights she entered Snape's rooms and didn't leave. She'd spent the night.
"Fuck, Harry! Why didn't you tell me?" Ron yelled at him
"What would you have done, Ron? Asked Hermione was she shagging the Potions Master in front of the whole school? Challenged Professor Snape to a duel for her honor? Hermione is the age of consent, Ron. She can sleep with who she wants!" Harry said evenly, "It wasn't my place to tell you, when I hadn't even asked her what was going on yet. Unlike you Ron, I try to find out the truth before I make my accusations," Harry said darkly.
"We could have found out what she was doing with him down there in that bat's cave all night!" Ron said, "We could've made her tell us. Then we could've told Dumbledore and gotten the git fired. He never could have taken her then!"
"Dumbledore already knew about them," Harry said quietly.
"WHAT?" Ron shouted.
"The Headmaster knew about them and confronted them, but neither would agree to stop," Harry said. "Since Hermione is the age of consent, there was nothing Dumbledore could do."
"Bloody hell, Snape probably gave her a potion or something. Hermione would never be attracted to someone as ugly and old as he is," Ron said.
"Professor Snape is brilliant too, Ron. Maybe that's why she was with him. No one else her age could keep up with her mind," Harry said, searching for straws. "Besides, her dad is twenty years older than her mum. She doesn't have a problem with age differences."
"Just because someone is smart and older is no reason to shag them, Harry," Ron said.
"Ron, it was her decision," Harry said.
"And look where it got her. Now she's serving Voldemort," Ron spat.
Harry sat up in his bed, and looked at Ron murderously.
"You take that back," he said evenly.
"I won't," Ron said angrily, "Hermione was nothing more than the Professor's slu…"
He never got a chance to finish the sentence. Harry flew from the bed and punched Ron in the mouth as hard as he could, knocking him off the bed and on to the floor.
Ron popped back up. He wiped his mouth and blood was on his hand. He looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.
"You shouldn't have done that Harry. Not for her…what she did, with him…she's not worth it," Ron said, standing up and walking toward Harry with his fists balled. Harry raised his fists in a defensive position.
"Some kind of fucking friend you are, Ron. Hermione does something you don't approve of and you turn on her. Call her names. Accused her of joining Voldemort. So what she did Snape? It was her business, not ours. Not yours." Harry said, moving slightly to the left as Ron approached him.
Ron charged and caught Harry around the middle, bringing him to the floor hard. Both wizards started wrestling and swinging, connecting with whatever part of the other's body they could. Harry scrambled from beneath Ron and punched him in the eye as he struggled to get up. Ron gave him a good uppercut to the stomach, and Harry doubled over as Ron stood up, breathing heavily.
"Yeah, but it makes sense she'd turn after sucking Snape's c…" Ron sneered
Harry hit him again and again, throwing a flurry of blows at his friend, who threw his arms over his head to protect his face from the irate young wizard's attack. Finally Harry backed off of him, tired, bending down and placing his hands on his knees. He looked up at Ron, his chest heaving.
"I hope nothing bad ever happens with me, Ron. If it does, I'll know I can't count on you to stand by me," he said, panting.
"Harry, you'd never willingly go to Voldemort," Ron said, wiping at his bloody nose with his sleeve.
Harry looked at him.
"You don't know what I'd do, Ron," he said in a low voice, "but I will never abandon Hermione. Ever. I don't care what it looks like she's done. And I'll tell you another thing…"
Harry stood up and looked Ron dead in his eyes.
"No one is going to kill Hermione. If they try, they're going to have to kill me too," he said. Then he turned and left the room.
Ron sat heavily on the bed, brushing his hair down with his hand and looking after Harry.
Did he just declare war on the Order?
Harry stormed through the common room. His housemates watched him pass without saying anything to him. Hermione was his best friend. No one wanted to get him upset. Harry pushed his way out of the common room entrance with such force the Fat Lady gave a whoop. He started walking, not knowing where he was going. He just needed to get away from Ron, from everyone.
"Hey Potter!" a familiar voice called. Harry spun to see Draco Malfoy approaching him, sans goons. Harry stopped.
Draco walked up to him and looked him over with an appraising eye. Harry's robes were half unbuttoned, the buttons gone, and underneath his shirt was pulled out of his pants, a few buttons also missing. Harry also had a bruise on his cheek and his hair looked messier than normal.
"Fighting for Granger's honor, Potter? A little late for that," Draco snickered.
Harry grabbed him by his robes, his green eyes blazing behind his glasses.
"Easy Potter, easy," Draco said, "You don't want to kill the messenger. I talked to my father."
Harry released him roughly.
"So what did he say," Harry said.
"Meet him by the main gates at six tomorrow evening. He wants to talk to you, make sure you're not trying to set him up," Draco said, his blue eyes hard, "don't fuck with my father, Potter. If you get him in trouble, I swear I'll kill you."
Harry met Draco's eyes.
"Don't worry about that. I'm not interested in getting your father caught. I just want to find Hermione," he said evenly.
"Well, I'll be trailing you anyway," Draco said, "just to make sure."
"Fine," Harry said.
"If I were you, Potter, I'd go find Weasley's sister and get myself a goodbye shag. This is probably your last night on earth," Draco drawled, walking away.
Harry looked after him, wondering how he knew about him and Ginny. Then it clicked…Ginny was a bit loose sexually, but not so much that Ron heard about it. He'd go berserk.
Harry sighed and decided to head for the owlery. It was quiet up there.
He could clear his head and think about tomorrow.
Hermione had a quiet lunch in her room. As she ate her mind kept wandering back to the sexy promise the Professor had given her about delivering tonight. A delicious shiver ran through her. His kiss had surprised her. Although he had kissed her because she challenged him, and had been angry, the kiss had been tender, sweeter than she would have ever imagined him capable of. His mouth was soft and warm, belying the coldness he radiated. She wondered what an attentive Professor Snape would be like. Would he really take time with her or do the bare minimum to get to what he really wanted? After that kiss, she didn't think she would be able to tell that he was acting. Hermione shifted her position on the bed. She was getting herself all worked up thinking about the Professor. She decided to focus on her powers instead.
She stood up and looked around her room. Her eyes fell on the wardrobe and she willed it to move. At first nothing happened. Then suddenly Hermione felt power flow through her and the wardrobe slid forward so quickly she was forced to jump on to the bed to avoid being squished.
"Wow. I have to learn to regulate this," she thought as she climbed off the bed. She moved the wardrobe back in place. So she could move objects. She willed the brush on her dresser to float. The stream flowed easier, and the brush rose. She directed it all around the room by thinking where she would like it to go, then made it tumble over and over. She floated it back to the dresser. She wondered if she could move something heavier. Hermione looked at the dresser and once again she felt the stream of magic flow through her. The heavy dresser lifted several inches off the floor easily. She set it back down. She walked into the study and began practicing lifting furniture and found she could levitate several objects at once. The sofa, coffee table and armchairs floated effortlessly above the floor. The best part about her power was there was absolutely no strain to her system. Using her Primordial gift was completely different than casting a spell, which required effort. She would be able to use the magic indefinitely if necessary. Hermione began to spin the furniture in place, enjoying herself immensely.
In his throne room, Voldemort felt the power Hermione was emanating flow through him. It was strong, raw power.
"She is growing more powerful," he thought, tapping his wand on the gilded edge of his throne. This was good. He knew that Albus and the Order would soon be upon him, and since acquiring Hermione, he had decided to stand and fight. It was time for the Final Battle. Albus had made a grievous miscalculation attempting to kill Miss Granger's parents. Now it forced him to move before he was ready, and he had no idea how strong the witch was. This put him at an extreme disadvantage. The Headmaster would have to approach the Dark Lord's forces with caution and restraint instead of a full head-on assault. The Primordial would be able to wipe them all out at once if they moved en mass.
Voldemort's ranks were over six thousand strong, but with the Primordial, he might not have to use them, though he would have them prepared for battle. Every deatheater was proficient with the Unforgivables. It had been required of them to be able to cast the deadly spells. The punishment for a bad showing was very painful and the deatheaters worked hard at learning the spells to avoid being tortured. In a matter of two months, he had personally witnessed each and every one of his servants cast all three curses with skill. He was quite satisfied with them. He still had the pensieve of Albus attempting to murder the Grangers. He was saving it to show Hermione at the last possible moment, to increase her ire against Dumbledore and the Order. He wanted Albus' betrayal fresh in her mind.
Concerning the Primordial herself, Voldemort wondered if the charmed clothing was doing its job on her libido. He wanted to speed up her descent into the carnal. It irked him that Snape was bedding the most powerful witch on earth. The deatheater didn't deserve such an honor. He was an animal. Completely unworthy. Voldemort was a sexual deviant but he believe in giving a woman as much or more pleasure than she could stand before he took his own brutal pleasure. He knew Snape's MO when it came to women. Penetrate them as hard as he could, in as many orifices as he could. He cared nothing about the finer points of taking a woman to the height of pleasure and making them beg for the next level of bliss. The Primordial only knew the brutal side of sexual pleasure with the Potions Master. Voldemort knew could show her so much more. There were spells and incantations that would lift her beyond the sensual, preparing her body for the deep, dark pleasures of an even darker Lord. He longed to show her the depths of his desires.
Hopefully, the combination of the aura of carnality suffusing his stronghold and her charmed clothing would make her bored with Severus' brutal and unimaginative attentions and lead her to seek out other sexual experiences, experiences he would be more than happy to give her. Voldemort had his pick of both females and males among his ranks, and he occasionally indulged himself. Mostly though, he derived pleasure watching his deatheaters brutalize, rape and kill in his name But he would enjoy taking the Primordial, and it was his main intent outside of securing her promise to help him defeat the forces of Light.
At that moment, Severus appeared and walked across the throne room toward the Primordial's room. He paused and bowed to Voldemort as he passed. The Dark Lord's red eyes followed him. Just before the Potions Master reached Hermione's door, Voldemort called him.
"Severus, come here," the Dark Lord said.
Snape turned and returned, stopped before the throne and bowed to the Dark Lord.
"How goes it with the Primordial?" he asked him.
"She is happy, my Lord," Severus replied.
"And you, are you happy serving her? Or are you still feeling resentful?" Voldemort inquired, his red eyes searching the Potions Master's face for signs of discontent.
Snape looked at the Dark Lord. He could see envy clearly on his scaly face.
"We have come to an understanding my Lord. All is well between us," Snape replied
This displeased the Dark Lord, but he did not react.
"Let me see, Severus," he said, rising from his throne and descending.
The Potions Master raised his occulmency shield, blocking his and Hermione's conversation about the Dark Lord and her plan to seek out other deatheaters. He left only the kiss and his promise to fulfill her needs. The Dark Lord pressed his scaly fingers to Snape's temple.
"Legilimens!" he lisped.
Voldemort watched the tender kiss Snape gave the Primordial, and her reaction to it, and to Snape's promise of fulfillment. It seemed the Potions Master was capable of providing a woman pleasure after all, when so inclined. The Primordial was as taken with him as ever. Damn him.
Voldemort released Snape's mind and walked back up the stairs to his throne. He sat down and studied the Potions Master.
"I see you are changing your methods toward the Primordial, Severus. I thought you showed women no quarter when you took them. Are you developing feelings for the Primordial to treat her to so gentle a kiss?" Voldemort asked him, his eyes glittering.
"No, my Lord. She expressed the desire to experience more than my usual brutal possession of her. She wishes to be kissed and caressed before and during the act. I am simply following your command concerning her. I am developing no feelings for her, my Lord. I am simply servicing her needs," Snape replied, "I gave her that kiss to show her I could be gentle. She had some doubts my Lord."
"I don't wonder. She confided in me at breakfast this morning that your taking of her virginity was quite brutal and thorough," Voldemort said, "so thorough that you triggered her Primordial powers and forced them to manifest years before the normal awakening."
"She desired me greatly, my Lord. I did not plan to ever touch her again, so I took my fill of her and educated her thoroughly," Snape replied.
"And she willingly accepted this treatment from you?" Voldemort asked the Potions Master.
"Mostly, my Lord. She had to be 'persuaded' on occasion, but she submitted to me, my Lord"
The Dark Lord looked at his servant.
"How did you persuade her, Severus?" he asked.
"A bit of physical violence, my Lord and threats. My usual reaction to being disobeyed when seeking my pleasure of a woman. As I told you, my Lord, she has a dark need within her. She has had too many responsibilities forced upon her. The result is she has masochistic tendencies. Which suit me, my Lord," Snape responded.
The Dark Lord rested his chin on his hand.
"So tonight, you are going to suspend your usual brutality with the Primordial?" he asked.
"No my Lord. But I will provide for her other needs before I take her with my usual…gusto. She will be appreciative, I am sure," Snape answered him smoothly.
Severus sounded sure of himself concerning the satisfaction of the Primordial. Again, Voldemort felt a stab of jealousy at the Potions Master's intimacy with the young witch.
"Very well, Severus. You may go," the Dark Lord dismissed him.
Snape bowed. "Thank you my Lord," he said. Walking away quickly, relieved he had not been Crucio'd because of the Dark Lord's envy.
Voldemort watched him go, his red eyes slitted with displeasure.
When Snape walked into Hermione's room, he drew up short, his eyes round as he saw Hermione, standing in the center of the living room, smiling like a child as furniture spun like tops around her. He watched as the heavy items bobbed low then drifted high, all moving in a circle around her while spinning. It looked a bit like a merry-go-round. He studied her. He could see no sign of effort or strain. The magic was doing all the work.
Hermione noticed him, and her smile broadened. The furniture stopped spinning, and each piece neatly returned to its original resting place. Severus was impressed, though he maintained his cool composure. His black eyes fell on the grinning witch.
"Your powers are growing stronger," he said, remarking on the obvious.
"Yes, they are. I can consciously control them," she said excitedly, bouncing over to him. He looked down into her happy, flushed face. She reminded him of the student she used to be, exclaiming over a perfectly brewed potion, or new spell she'd learned. Hermione's face grew serious.
"What's wrong?" she asked him. He had an odd expression on his face.
"Nothing," he answered her, "I was wondering if I might utilize your library for a while. My room is sadly lacking in reading materials."
His room? Hermione hadn't realized the Professor had his own room here. But then, he must, since he was in hiding too.
"I didn't know you had a room here, Professor. You don't have a library?" she asked him.
"No, Miss Granger. I do not," he said shortly, a bit of bitterness in his voice.
Hermione caught the note of discontent in his voice.
"You're welcome to use the library any time you like, Professor. Mi casa es su casa."
"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said, turning to go into the study.
"Um, Professor?" Hermione said. Snape turned and fixed her with his black eyes.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment. Snape looked at her with impatience.
"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight. I thought it would be nice to eat together before we…before we…
Snape raised an eyebrow at her.
"Before we do the do, Miss Granger?" he asked helpfully.
She blushed and nodded. The Professor smirked. So she wanted to make it a romantic evening. Well, he could play the part.
"Yes, Miss Granger. I will dine with you if that is your wish," he replied.
She smiled.
"What would you like to eat?" she asked him.
In response, the Professor's black eyes swept over her slowly.
"What 'food' would you like to eat, Professor?" Hermione amended, again blushing furiously. She felt a little heated at the hungry way his eyes raked her body.
"Anything will be fine as long as it isn't overcooked," he replied, "and some wine as well."
"All right," Hermione replied.
The Professor walked into the library.
Hermione did a little dance and summoned the house elves to plan their meal.
Snape sat across the table from Hermione, looking down at the medium rare steak on his plate. Hermione was watching the Potions Master anxiously. The Potions Master picked up his knife and fork, and cut through the meat easily. He lifted a piece to his mouth, inserted it and chewed thoughtfully. He nodded.
"Very good," he said to Hermione, who almost slumped with relief. She had been worried he wouldn't like the steak and vegetables she had ordered for dinner. She thought it best to stick with the basics. She dug into her own meal, and the two ate in silence, Hermione sneaking little peeks at the Potions Master as she ate. She took one more swift peek to find him looking directly at her, a little frown on his face.
"Miss Granger, why do you keep peeping at me? It is very annoying. If you want to look at me, then just do it," he said, pouring himself a generous glass of wine.
Hermione blushed, then she got a little mad.
"I just wanted to see if you were enjoying your food, and I didn't want to seem like I was staring," she retorted as he drank his wine,
He sat the glass down.
"You simply could have asked me," he replied, "I have no problem saying what I like and don't like, Miss Granger, as you should know from the years you've spent as my student."
"Well, actually Professor, you never liked anything as far as I could tell," she said, taking a bite of her steak, "except taking house points, assigning detentions and berating your students, that is."
The Professor looked at her evenly.
"See, you were paying attention Miss Granger. Those indeed were a few of my favorite things," he said, smirking at the memory. Then his black eyes took on a bit of heat.
"You should have other memories of what I like," he said in a low, meaningful voice, "Outside the classroom. I was quite vocal about it, as I remember."
Hermione felt a pulse of heat in her lower belly. He was referring to their first night together. As he took her, he did tell her how good she felt to him, though the language he used was hardly tender. He had quite a dirty mouth and Hermione had reacted to his words wantonly, wanting to hear more as he pounded into her.
Snape watched the witch's eyes go half-lidded as she remembered and smirked to himself as he began his dessert, a delicious slice of chocolate cake with frosting. He had a thing for chocolate.
Hermione watched the Professor eat the cake with obvious enjoyment. She couldn't eat another bite. She was too full of anticipation. The Professor quickly polished off his cake. She slid hers across the table.
"Would you like my dessert, Professor? I-I can't eat it," she said, with a small nervous smile.
He looked at her, then the cake. Then he pulled it over to him.
"Thank you Miss Granger. I have a weakness for chocolate," he said.
"I have a weakness for you," Hermione thought as she watched him tuck into the cake.
The Professor made short work of the cake, then poured himself another glass of wine, and looked at Hermione, who was sitting a little stiffly now that dinner was over.
"You look rather nervous, Miss Granger," the Professor purred. He liked her nervousness. It was having an arousing effect on him. She could hardly look at him.
"I'm all right, Professor," she said, trying to put up a confident front. It was so much easier to deal with him when she knew what to expect. Tonight was going to be different and she had no idea just how different it would be.
"If you're not all right Miss Granger, I assure you, you will be," he said silkily.
"I think you need to loosen up, Miss Granger," he said, pouring her a glass of wine.
"I'm not old enough to drink, Professor," she protested, watching the glass fill up.
"Nonsense," he said, "you're no longer a child. Plus, it will help you relax. I can see you are very nervous."
The Professor slid the wine over to the witch, who sipped it and smacked her lips.
"It's delicious," she said, draining the glass as the Professor watched with raised eyebrows.
"Would you like a bit more?" he asked her.
"Yes. Yes I would," Hermione said. The Professor poured her another glass. Hermione made short work of that as well. Hm. This could be interesting.
"Feeling better?" he asked her after a few moments.
"Yes, I really do. I think I'd like to have a little more. I am certainly feeling more relaxed, Professor."
There was an attractive little flush to her face. Snape knew he should cut her off, but he was Snape after all, and not above taking advantage of an inebriated woman. One more glass should give her a good buzz, but not make her so drunk she wouldn't be responsive.
"One more glass, Miss Granger," he said, pouring her a healthy amount, "then we'll move on to the real dessert…"
"And you'll kiss me, and touch me," she said in a low husky voice, "and make me feel good all over…"
She was looking at him rather hungrily now.
Snape looked at her, surprised. Evidently the wine had loosened her tongue significantly. He wondered what else had been loosened. He passed her the glass of wine.
"That is the last glass, Miss Granger. I believe the wine is going to your head," he observed as Hermione stretched sensuously before lifting the wine and just…draining it.
Her amber eyes fell on the Professor.
"Your kiss today made me feel hot all over, Professor. I never dreamed you could kiss like that. You're so cold all the time. Even when you take me, you're cold. Distant. It's like you are as close to me as you can get, but still far away from me," Hermione said. She had her elbows propped on the table, and her chin rested in her hands as she looked at him, as if studying him.
"I guess that's because you really don't care about me," she said.
The Potions Master listened to her, but didn't reply. He was interested in knowing what she really thought about him, about what he did to her. It seemed that he might find out.
"But that's all right. I care about you," she said, "and when you're inside of me, I feel close to you even though you take pleasure in hurting me. But I'm just as bad. I probably wouldn't want you if you didn't hurt me that way, Professor. Maybe you help get all the hurt out of me, you ever think about that?" she asked him.
"No," he answered quietly.
"Yeah. I have a lot of hurt inside me that no one knows about. Sometimes I felt I would just explode if I couldn't get let it out. But a strong leader doesn't show they can be hurt or they are perceived as weak. They wanted me to be strong at Hogwarts, to fulfill my duties and responsibilities with strength, do my job with dispatch no matter what anyone thought of me. I just swallowed the painful things they said down," Hermione said, her eyes unfocused now as she thought about all the hurtful comments she had taken and filed away.
"Maybe I'm attracted to you because I know you know what hurt is, Professor. What pain is. Maybe that makes it easier to take pain from you, and why I find release with you," she said softly, her eyes focusing on him again.
Her amber eyes moved slowly around the room.
"This is the greatest pain of all, Professor," she whispered, "being driven from a world I loved, by those I loved, and targeted for death by them. It hurts so much, Professor," she said, beginning to cry.
Oh Merlin's balls! He hadn't known the wine would turn on the waterworks. It was time to get the witch in the bed. Snape rose from the table and walked around it, pulling Hermione up from her chair. The witch looked up at the Potions Master with tear-filled eyes. He wasn't moved by them. There was no pity. Everyone had to live with pain. She needed to be stronger than this. Tears would get them both killed.
He placed his hands on either side of Hermione's face to get her full attention. He looked down at the distraught witch
"Miss Granger, now is not the time for self-pity or tears, but for strength," he said quietly, "I will help you forget your pain."
Snape backed Hermione up against the living room wall and pressed his body against hers, lowering his head and kissing her, moving his lips against her mouth softly, capturing her lips between his. He moved against her gently, his hands caressing her sides lightly, trying to pull her out of her hole of self-pity. She sighed, and responded, kissing him back, opening her mouth and inviting him in as she rubbed her body against his.
Snape slipped his tongue into her hot, little mouth, grinding his erection against her as he tasted her. She was sweet. The heat of her mouth made him think of the waiting heat between her thighs, and he let out a low groan, and claimed her mouth more fully, his tongue delving so deeply it was almost in her throat.
Snape was ready to possess the Primordial right now, and she would probably let him. The wine and her emotional state made her vulnerable and needy. But she wasn't drunk. She'd know that he didn't keep his word. She might still seek out another. He had promised her to take time. He would keep his promise.
The Professor slid his lips from her mouth to her throat, sucking it softly, letting his teeth graze her flesh lightly. Hermione groaned with pleasure, tilting her head to give him more access. He slid his hands up her sides, and cupped both her full breasts, fondling them through her robes, flicking his thumbs over her hardened nipples, the peaks so tight with desire he could feel them through the fabric. Hermione responded wantonly, whispering "Oh, Professor" over and over, pressing her body tight against him, rubbing hard against his erection.
The Professor returned to her mouth, with more ardor now his hands still on her breasts, humping against her almost uncontrollably. Suddenly he pulled back from her, his eyes hard with lust. She moved forward for more contact and he held her back with one hand.
"I promise you time, Miss Granger," he panted at the writhing witch, "but you are tempting me almost beyond my endurance. Divesto!"
He removed Hermione's clothing wandlessly. The witch was so aroused, she didn't notice. Snape's eyes swept over her hungrily.
"Divesto!"
Now he was naked also. He pressed against her again, trapping his swollen member between their straining bodies. He fell to her throat again, running his lips, tongue and teeth down her heated skin, over her collar bone, slipping his hands behind her, grasping her by her ass and pulling her against him urgently. He bent his knees so he could access her breasts and as he enveloped a nipple, he felt her hands come up and wrap gently in his hair. He didn't protest as he laved each of her full firm breasts in turn, sucking and nibbling, rolling her flesh between his teeth, relishing her gasps of pleasure as his other hand slipped down to her belly, rubbing it softly. She was arching off the wall to him now, and he stood up again, once more sliding his body against hers, groaning with need, his erection pulsing against her belly. He didn't dare touch her pussy. He would be unable to resist thrusting into her if he did so. The scent of her arousal alone was driving him mad.
Hermione slowly and tentatively begin to caress his back, her fingertips running over his scars gently, and he shuddered beneath her touch as they dropped to his lower back, then below, exploring the flexing muscles of his buttocks This was the first time the witch had explored his body, and he found the touch of her small, inquisitive hands pleasurable. He locked his mouth to hers again, brutally this time, raping her mouth. Hermione slid her hand from around his back to caress the tight rippled ridges of his abdomen beneath her palm, then grasped his member and slid the silken skin up and down its length with her fist. The Professor hissed and bucked against her hard, before pulling back to watch her small hand work itself over him. He wanted more than her hand.
"Miss Granger," he said hoarsely and plaintively, his black eyes meeting hers hotly before looking down at her hand then back at her face.
"Take me to the bedroom, Professor," she gasped, her amber eyes glowing, "I'll do it there."
Snape swallowed as Hermione released him. He took her hand and started to lead her to the bedroom, but she was walking too slowly, so he swept her up into his arms and strode with her into her room, placing her not too gently into her four-poster and climbing in after her, his body taunt, and nostrils flared. He started to straddle her, but she sat up and pushed him back. He stopped, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he looked at her.
"Lie down, Professor," Hermione said softly.
He wanted to force her back down to the bed, but he caught himself and fell to his back, his brow furrowed. Hermione crawled over him and straddled him. She lowered her head and kissed him. The Professor resisted for a moment, then let her have her way, opening his mouth to receive her. She was on all fours, and his body longed for contact. His hands came up and grasped her waist, trying to pull her down as her tongue delved in his mouth. She resisted him, and trying to keep his word, he contented himself with running his hands over her back and buttocks, throbbing for something, anything at this point.
Hermione ran her lips over the Professor's jaw, and over his throat, kissing him gently. He closed his eyes, and let the feeling of her mouth moving over his skin sink in. This was something he hadn't experienced with a woman in years. He sighed as she fell to his collarbone and slid over his chest, nipping at him and looking up to see if he took any pleasure in it. His black eyes met hers hotly, and she smiled at him continuing. She took his nipple into her mouth and sucked it gently, then flicked it with her tongue as he had done to her. The Professor hissed, encouraged, Hermione began to lave both nipples, making Snape arch upward just as she had. He was gasping as she climbed lower, moving downward, her mouth sliding softly over his belly.
"Yes, Miss Granger," he panted as she approached his throbbing tool.
Hermione lifted his engorged member, her small hands wrapped around the base as she examined the tool that caused her so much pleasure and pain. Snape lifted his head and watched her as she pressed her lips to the head and kissed it softly. She planted kisses up and down the length of it, then her limber tongue traced the map of veins beneath the sensitive skin of his shaft before she engulfed the swollen purple head between her lips and sucked him hard. He groaned and automatically placed his hands on her head and began to guide her down on him, growling with pleasure. Hermione remembered what he liked and he began to lose control, finally pushing the witch to her back and straddling her shoulders in his favorite position, and driving himself into her mouth frantically, his mouth slack with pleasure. Hermione brought her small hand and cupped them against him, squeezing gently.
That was all he needed, that simple warm touch to send him over the edge. With a cry he ejaculated, shuddering and staring down at her biting his lip as she drank him in. Hermione was phenomenal. He pressed his hand to her head as he pulsed, holding her steady for several moment, then groaned as he slowly pulled out of her mouth, her amber eyes soft as they looked up at him, her lips glistening. Snape slid down on the bed and laid beside her, his chest still rising and falling as he looked at her.
He could tell she wanted to be kissed, so he kissed her, making it slow and sensual. She turned and pressed her body against him, and his hand slid down her body, pausing to squeeze her breast before sliding over her belly and touching the wetness between her legs. She groaned and humped against his hand, her kiss becoming more frantic. He began to massage her, and she cried out into his mouth as she writhed. He pulled back.
"You want to come, Miss Granger?" he whispered, flicking her nub and watching her face contort with need and pleasure.
"Yes, Professor," she groaned.
He locked his mouth to hers again and slipped two fingers inside her. He began to gently thrust them into her, twisting and angling them slightly while mashing her button with his thumb. She arched against his hand, thrusting her hips rhythmically, trying to help him bring her to the point.
"Come, Miss Granger. Let it go," he said against her mouth, swirling his tongue around hers.
Already close, Hermione buckled wildly, then stiffened as she clamped around his thrusting digits. She let out a low, long whimper as she came, her juices flowing around his fingers and coating his hand.
"Yes," Snape encouraged, removing his fingers and tasting them before rolling on top of her, sliding downward until his head was between her thighs, lapping up her release, causing her to buck and moan as his tongue caressed and thrust inside her, and his lips and teeth working their magic.
"Damn, Professor," she gasped, her hands again wrapped in his hair. He didn't mind it this time as he pleasured her until she erupted in another smaller climax, and she cursed quietly as bliss washed over her, the obscenity causing a throb of new life in the Professor's spent organ. He began to swell. He looked up at Hermione, who was in a half-raised position, her shoulders and head against the headboard. She was looking down at him with a sated look in her amber eyes.
"That was amazing," she breathed, her heart still pounding.
The Professor rose and rolled to the side a bit, catching Hermione by her waist and pulling her down flush to the bed. He kissed his way up her body to her lips, which he captured gently, before thrusting his tongue in her mouth, sharing the taste of her. He then rolled back on top of her, looking down, his black eyes blazing. He pushed a lock of her hair away from her face so he could see it clearly.
"Have I pleased you, Miss Granger?" he asked her, his voice low.
"Yes, Professor, you've been wonderful so far," she said.
He searched her face.
"So far?" he echoed, frowning a bit.
She looked at him as he shifted a bit, his hard cock pressing against her leg.
He looked down at her, comprehension dawning on him.
"Oh, you think I will forget your needs when I take you," he said, running a pale finger down her throat and making her shudder. "I won't, Miss Granger. I assure you. I don't want you seeking out anyone but me," he said, kissing her.
Yes, he would meet her needs all right, but he hadn't forgotten her callous use and dismissal of him this morning. He smiled against her lips.
It was time to ante up, Miss Granger.
A/N: Thanks for reading