Lemon alert.
Chapter Eleven: Jaws That Bait
An hour before dawn, Hermione lay awake in her bedroom, her mind racing with images from the night before. Thoughts flooded her brain as she fought to get a steady night of sleep. He just kissed me. Professor Snape, the Death Eater, kissed me in the bloody lab. She knew she would feel emotional because of the spell, but she didn't even imagine the loneliness that would creep in on her when she was away from him. After their intimacy, Hermione had felt like she would burn from the inside out if he didn't hold her again. She had to stop herself from reaching out to him, and actually leaving the potions lab was a feat of strength.
But why did she feel like she was missing something? When she first saw him this summer in the alley, he had shielded her from Lucius and the look on his face confused her. She had just witnessed that gaze again, just as she had in the library, and when he carried her to her room. Has he had feelings for me, even before the curse? It scratched at the back of her mind, even though it was hard for her to admit or even begin to understand.
In class, she had only wanted to succeed. She made the grades, but only after a hard fight. Other professors would be impressed with her most basic successes, but the only thing that pleased Severus Snape was unblemished perfection. Yet, her papers bled nonetheless. She had read Lavender's essays, and they were barely legible, but she still passed with decent marks. Hermione knew her own papers deserved better grades, but what could she say? So, she kept at it. Then, when the OWLS came around, she was the only one with an Outstanding in potions, the only one who was able to best the hardest exam in wizarding education. Then, she took the N.E.W.T.s and passed with flying colors. That day, her opinion of Snape had changed. He forced her to push herself, and she started to look into his research in depth. She started to admire the man who she had loathed for so many years.
But, she had never thought she would be experiencing these feelings for him. He was no Prince Charming, and he had always been a thorn in her academic side. Now that they were colleagues, Hermione had begun to see him as her equal - even if he was arguably the one of the world's most powerful wizards alive. She was certainly not his match in power, but perhaps in wits she could hope to meet him someday. Then there was the question of his allegiance. Did the Death Eater snake and skull inked in his skin run deeper than she thought? She refused to believe that a man who put so much care and concern into her life alone would throw away all of his values in order to appease the Dark Lord. He was a murderer, she knew, and a part of her didn't want to acknowledge that part of his life. If anything, knowing that he slept by her side when she was barely wounded, she had a sinking feeling that he would have rather died than hurt those innocent people, and now he had to live with his past deeds.
So, what to do? She had told him she needed to think, but she hadn't achieved anything except dragging herself around in a cyclical argument. She wanted to be with him, even if he was her thirty-nine year old, murderous, unapproachable, former professor. Even if she didn't appreciate him as a human being, if she couldn't live with his marred past, she still needed him in order to see the end of Lord Voldemort. Thus, the endless circle of explanation and excuse plagued her thoughts until she saw pale pink sunlight slowly creep over the horizon.
Hermione yawned, pulled on her hoodie and tied her curls to the side. Ashes was chewing on a dried pineapple slice perched atop the mantle piece. She passed some time by cleaning up a bit, and as she started to run a bath, she caught a glimpse of her scar on the shallow bone of her chest. She traced it with one finger, feeling the pale ridges of flesh around the rune. One of the lines was jagged, from Snape's shaky hand in the midst of his excruciating curse. She rubbed it, as if it would straighten out beneath her thumb. Hermione looked at it and swore that before all this was over, Lucius would pay for the horror that he had unleashed upon Severus.
"Good morning," Snape's dark voice was muted by his copy of the daily prophet that flapped in front of his face as he flipped back to the front page. He folded the paper beside his plate and began to generously butter an English muffin.
"What's this?" Hermione picked up the discarded Prophet, "It says here that an anonymous donation was made to the International Auror Office at the price of...two hundred thousand galleons? Who in the world has that much money?"
"More people than you think. A lot of pureblood families have extensive wealth, old wealth...powerful wealth," Snape's tone was full of implications, "If you were building an army, and you knew that there was a convenient group of wizards who were heavily armed and ruthless in their methods, wouldn't you want those wizards fighting on your side?"
"You think someone is trying to pay off the Aurors? Who?"
"It can only be a few different families. The twins' revenue doesn't fit with sums like that, and the Weasleys would play the Potter sympathy card anyway," Snape spat, "But the Blacks? The Malfoys or the Crabbes? Who knows."
"But, the Aurors wouldn't turn on the Ministry," Hermione dismissed Snape's conspiracy theory.
"Not the whole group, no. But, one or two? Maybe. That's all anyone would need in order to train the rest of the army," Severus's brow furrowed and he sipped his tea.
"The order meeting is tomorrow night. Do you think we should bring this up?"
"We?" Snape let out a sarcastic scoff.
"Right, I guess I'll have to do it," Hermione had forgotten that even though Severus would be present, he'd be hidden in the shadows.
"Moody will not welcome your speculation."
"Well, I don't really care what Moody thinks. Aside from turning Malfoy into a ferret, which wasn't even the real Moody, I'm not sure he's done anything productive for the war at this point," Hermione had no time for politics. Harry needed to know that Voldemort was building his power with every available wizard, even Aurors. No one would like to admit to this atrocity, but they would have to.
Snape chuckled at her insult. His hatred for Alastor Moody was well-known. After his rescue from Barty Crouch Jr, Moody had tried to blame it on Snape somehow, refusing his health potions or remedies in spite of Albus's prodding. They could barely be in the same room together without Mad-Eye flinging some sort of curse.
Later that morning, Hermione spent some time with Poppy in the hospital wing, fixing Quidditch wounds mostly. The season had started up with a game between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, with the snakes coming out some hundred points ahead. The Ravenclaw players were considerably more injured than usual, and after Hermione mixed up her fourth batch of Skele-grow, she cleaned up and spent some time going over the medical records. After Poppy was gone, everything would be up to Hermione to organize, and familiarizing herself with the students' records was intensive work.
"Are you sure you won't change your mind and stay for the year?" Hermione said jokingly as she moved around huge stacks of forms.
Poppy smiled,
"Even if You-Know-Who wasn't around, you couldn't pay me to stay here. I love these kids so much, but after so many years of going through these piles of paperwork, I'll be glad to never fill out an admittance form ever again. It's all yours, my dear."
Hermione sighed. She said her goodbyes to Poppy later that afternoon, her brain thinking about wards and filing systems. At her parents' dentist office, their patients had identification numbers and everything was logged into the computer system. Hermione missed the convenience of the Muggle world, but she was excited about having the hospital wing completely under her control.
She knew she was supposed to meet Severus in the lab later that evening, but she wanted to get a head start on her stasis potions. She needed to perfect her Wolfsbane as soon as possible. The effect that it would have on the lives of werewolves was too great to pass up. It was an incredible theory, and if it worked, she could only imagine how much this would contribute to a possible cure.
But, when she headed down the hall to the labs in the dungeon, she was greeted by a nightmarish sight. Severus was in the corridor with LaBeaux and the Malfoys. Draco and Lucius wore matching grins on their faces, and she could feel their eyes on her as she descended the cold stone steps. There was no turning back now. She put on her bravest face and continued her trek into the dungeon. They were still almost twenty meters away from her, and if she could just get by them, she could duck into her rooms without incident.
As soon as he saw her, Severus could feel his heart pound hard in his chest. Only moments before, he had been listening to Lucius's latest tale of how he abducted a Muggle girl from her home in the middle of the night, against the Dark Lord's wishes. Malfoy's sexual appetite was more violent than any act of sadism performed by other Death Eaters. It was barbaric. Narcissa was the least of Lucius's concerns. She was a trophy, not a toy. He preferred to hunt on his own, away from the ritualistic sacrifices that the Dark Lord employed for powerful potions at the revels. Snape knew Hermione was a prize stag to the other men around him. Having Harry Potter's best friend as a notch in their bedposts would be a badge even Lucius would admire. But, Severus did not share. He felt irrational jealousy flood his senses as she approached. Does she have to sway her hips like that? Merlin.
"Hermione," LaBeaux oozed, "It must be my lucky day."
Severus hated the way he said her name. Her-mah-nee. His accent was ridiculous.
"Professor LaBeaux," Hermione's tone sliced through the space between them like a razor blade, "I believe the last time I saw you, your paw connected with my face. Not very lucky for me, I suppose."
"Oh, darlin'. I am so sorry for that. I hope you can accept my most humble apologies. But, when I saw you with that cur, I'm afraid I just couldn't help myself," the smile never left his face, but his eyes burned with malice.
She didn't respond to him. Snape watched as Hermione simply pulled out her notebook and headed for the lab.
Draco grabbed her arm, knocking the book from her hands,
"Where do you think you're going, bitch?"
"Now, now, Draco," Lucius bent to retrieve the book and handed it back to Hermione, "Where did you leave your tact? We are in the presence of what Severus assures us is...a lady."
She shot a cold glare at Snape. Why did he even mention my name in the presence of these monsters? She pulled the notebook away from Lucius's grasp and tried to straighten her notes.
"Granger," Snape barked, "Don't you have work to do? Or, are you just in the habit of wasting our time?"
Her heart sank. She expected the biting remarks from the Malfoys and LaBeaux, but not from him. He had better have a good excuse, or tonight will not be pleasant.
She shouldered Draco out of the way and shut the door to the lab. Fuming, she pulled her cauldron out of the closet and tried to get her mind off of her encounter. About an hour later, she was interrupted by Snape barging into the lab like an angry bull.
"Oh, Severus," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Do come in."
"It's a miracle you're in one piece," he growled, "I'll have to live with the images they had in their heads for the rest of my life."
"Well, maybe you should have kept your mouth shut before you mentioned me to Lucius bloody Malfoy," Hermione stirred her potion a bit too vigorously, "Didn't he try to kill you last weekend?"
"He came by to apologize in person, his pitiful son in tow. When he heard about our work on potions from LaBeaux, he became a little too interested in your role here at the castle. Apparently, the Dark Lord has asked that I use you to get more information on Potter. And after your appearance today, Lucius was suddenly more than helpful in deciding just how that should be accomplished."
"I could get used to a world without Lucius Malfoy," she sighed.
"Well, that might be sooner rather than later if Potter has anything to say about it."
"Yeah, don't remind me," Hermione tried to hold onto her anger, but now that he was here, it just didn't seem as important anymore. She watched him pull the silver clasp from his cloak as he began to organize his potions equipment. He looked over at her table,
"What is that?"
"My stasis potion. Once I am able to successfully brew the Wolfsbane, then I can start to combine them. Unlike a traditional stasis, it will focus on prolonged potion effects rather than physically rendering the drinker static. I've been working on them over the past few weeks, but I have no idea how it will react with the host potion. Aconite is just so..."
"Fragile," Snape nodded, "but it should work with some adjustments. You'll be famous. The witch who cured lycanthropy."
"Werewolves are such good targets for media blame and scrutiny. I doubt that my makeshift concoction will even make the last page of the Prophet."
Severus exhaled sharply,
"We shall see about that. No colleague of mine would ever be snubbed by any of the popular journals. Not on their lives. When you're ready to publish, let me know."
"You would send in my research?" Hermione was shocked, "But, I'm not even your apprentice." The fact that he would put his name on the line for her and risk his reputation was unthinkable. The only professor who had ever given her embarrassingly low marks was willing to back her research? She couldn't believe it.
"I've looked at your stasis potions, and it's solid work. As long as your follow through is exemplary, I'd have no reservations about recommending your paper to any publisher you'd like. Provided you don't cut corners," he raised a warning eyebrow at her.
She tried to suppress a smile,
"Thank you so much, Severus. I'm honored."
She didn't get a response. After she had set up a second brewing station, she watched him carry out the Wolfsbane ingredients. He worked slowly beside her, adjusting his speed to allow her to emulate his skilled preparation techniques. Eventually, both of their potions were sputtering at a low boil, and for the first time in her life, Hermione was able to admire her very own viciously silky batch of blue Wolfsbane.
She sat back on her stool and let out a long sigh. After such a let down on her first attempt, she reveled in her success. Beside her, Snape sat with his arms crossed against his chest, surveying her work.
"Don't scald it," he muttered, reaching across her to move her pot farther from the flame. Hermione watched his fingertips carefully ease the cauldron around, patiently searching for the right spot. He looked at her,
"Well, you're in the club."
"The club?"
"I only know of five other wizards who were ever capable of this potion. There may certainly be more, but not many."
Hermione smiled,
"I'll be very proud when I can manage on my own."
"So will I," his voice was quiet and reserved, "These need another hour. Are you hungry?"
"We can't leave these boiling," she frowned, "But, I can run down to the Hall if you'll stay."
"That's fine," he nodded, wiping down the table.
Hermione left the lab and headed to the kitchens.
"Dobby!" She saw the elf helping sort the dishes and flatware.
"Hello!" The elf beamed at her, "Dobby is very happy to see you."
"I'm very happy to see you as well," she hugged him and helped put some dishes on the top shelf that he was barely too short to reach, "Can I grab some food for two, Dobby?"
"Of course!" He poofed out of existence for a few seconds and returned with two bags of food.
"Thanks, Dobby. Don't forget about meeting with me sometime soon. I've got loads of questions."
"Dobby will be sure to visit Hermione this week. See you soon!" He waved to her as she left the kitchen, her hands full of boxed food.
When she returned to the dungeon, the steam was still rising out of the containers. It smelled wonderful, and she hoped Severus wasn't a picky eater. She knocked on the lab door and heard him call for her to enter.
"I brought take away," She held up the bags proudly.
"Take what away?" Snape narrowed his eyes at her.
"Nevermind. Here," she handed him a box of food.
They ate in silence. Hermione watched him chew and drink, the lights from the burning candle chandeliers flickered along the walls of the room and across his face. He glanced over at her, and she turned back to her meal, suddenly very aware that she was staring.
"So, what did Lucius say about Harry's plans?" She asked.
"He's been offered dementor guards, but Narcissa is reluctant. Instead, he has warded the manor against any intruders without listed permission. Without some intense fire power, he'll be untouchable."
Hermione's thoughts went immediately to the twins' arsenal. Sure, they had bombs, but she knew that as soon as Lucius knew the exact night of the attack, the manor would be a sea of Death Eaters and dementors.
"Do you have the stasis potions prepared?" Snape began to bottle the Wolfsbane from his cauldron.
Hermione flicked her wand, removing the heat from the bottom of her pot, and started to bottle hers as well. She nodded, retrieving her potions from the cabinet.
"Any advice?" She stared at the two bottles; one cobalt, one clear. Hermione had no idea how to combine potions. Her research told her that it had been done before with multiple varying strength healing spells, some poisons, but never with two completely different potions altogether.
Snape pulled the two vials from her hand and went to the back cabinet. He rummaged in the top shelf, removing a small gleaming bowl from an old, black, paper box. He carried the bowl carefully over to a clean table and Hermione sat beside him. He handed her the stasis potion, his own fingers clasped around the Wolfsbane.
"What's this?" She asked.
He ran a long finger around the edge of the bowl. It sang out a high pitch, like a silver bell.
"This," Snape sighed, "was a gift from the Dark Lord upon my induction into the Inner Circle. It's one of a set of three. This is the largest. They're known as the Gift of the Marid." He pulled out his wand and made a small circle around the bowl as he explained, "Marid are legend. They are supposedly summoned only by immense offerings of human blood. When a Marid is pleased with his gruesome flattery will he bestow one wish upon his loyal follower. However, these bowls are not silver, nor platinum. They are what the Dark Lord calls pure magic, as if he knows what pure magic looks like," Severus scoffed, "We murdered the man who possessed these bowls and took them for the Dark Lord. He keeps the smallest as a symbol of generosity, Lucius has the second, and I have the largest; a reward for my impenetrable loyalty."
"But, what does it do?"
"I have no idea. I don't know what will happen. But, it's worth a try, yes? Pour on three," he waited until she uncorked the stasis potion, "One...two...three."
As they poured the potions, the streams combined in a spiraling tower. But, as they poured, the potions vanished, leaving the bowl untouched. They looked at each other, matching expressions on their faces.
Hermione flung her empty vial into the waste bin,
"Sod it!"
"Easy, Granger. Come on. Help me take the rest of these vials to the cabinet before you break the whole lot."
She watched him place the bowl back in the closet, organize their potions beside the others, and cast a swift cleansing charm on the lab. He eyed her for a moment, then, without reason, he asked her if she wanted to come by his quarters for a drink.
"To celebrate," he said, "It's a great thing you've done tonight."
She thought for a moment and nodded at him,
"Sure. I'm going to change out of these boots though. Be there in a minute."
He didn't respond. As she ducked into her rooms, she started to get nervous. He invited me in for a drink. This can't be good. Hermione thought about sitting in his living room, laughing, joking over butter beer...Six months ago, if she would've known she would be slipping into something comfortable to have drinks with Snape, she might have admitted herself to St. Mungo's. She pulled his necklace, with the now brightly glowing crystal, over her head and headed into the den.
After she fed Ashes, she trotted down the hall, and knocked on his portal. It opened for her, his wards yielding to her presence.
"Severus?" She rapped on the frame anyway, politely announcing her entry.
"Here," he stepped out of his bedroom with a bottle of liquor in one hand and two goblets balanced in the other, "Come in. Sit."
She watched him as he poured her a glass of fire whiskey.
"A toast to your first batch of successful Wolfsbane, a feat that few wizards can claim to have accomplished."
Smiling up at him, she tossed back the brown liquid and felt the burn of the alcohol as it slid down the back of her throat. She tried to calm her nerves, but after such a great accomplishment, her confidence got the best of her.
She sank into the sofa beside him, watching as he studied her. Should she have worn such a revealing blouse? Maybe not, but she was on a roll tonight.
"Shouldn't you get comfortable?" She gave him an innocent grin, "This is your living room, after all. You can't tell me you relax in that coat."
"My word," Severus mockingly replied, "How ever did you deduce that this wool, forty-button jacket was anything but luxurious comfort?"
"They did say I was quite clever," she grinned, bravely gulping down another swallow of liquor, and trying not to grimace.
"Yes, they did. Well, Hermione," she swore she could listen to him say her name a thousand times and never tire of it, "the coat is for your benefit. I'm afraid that the life of a criminal is one that I wear permanently on my person...in more ways than one, as you have no doubt seen during your healing endeavors. The scars it has left behind are...especially fetching."
"Right, because I'm clearly daunted by scars," she pulled away another button of her shirt and brandished the rune on her chest like a challenge. He stared at it, suddenly immobile. "Here," she set down her glass and carefully reached out for the first button, "I'll help you. I'm a professional at buttons."
"It's good to know that your inane ability to master tasks put before you extends to all factions of your life," his voice darkened as he joked with her, "So, you've had some experience in the matter of gentlemen's buttons then?"
"More than once," she shrugged.
It was no secret. She and Victor had spent more time snogging than they did talking. In fact, Hermione had preferred him with his mouth shut. After some time together, she let things get a little out of hand, and the deed was done. Not nearly as scary as she had been led to believe, and more enjoyable than she expected. While she might not have been a seasoned pro at men's...buttons, this was certainly not her first attempt.
Her heart pounded in her throat with each pop of a soft button. He remained perfectly still, studying her, full glass in hand. He watched as she pulled away at each of the clasps, but then he stopped her, pulling out his wand to accomplish the task in one fell swoop. Beneath the stiff jacket was a white men's shirt. He flicked his wand and hung the jacket on the hook of his coat rack.
He rolled up his crisp sleeves, and for the first time, Hermione was able to study his skin. As he tied his hair behind his head, she could see the Dark Mark as well as a number of different inked symbols and incantations on his forearm. But, jagged scars ran like long snakes through many of the tattooed designs. She reached out and touched a tiny scar on the inside of his elbow that was cut like a half circle.
"A banshee," he explained, "Bellatrix thought she could keep it as a pet. Nearly killed her, but unfortunately she survived. It was my job to dispose of it. Easier said than done."
"I have one just like it," Hermione kicked off her sandal, pulled up her bare foot, and showed him her heel, "But, I got mine from a bicycle. Fell right into a ditch. Nearly gave my mother a heart attack."
"Sounds dangerous," he mocked her.
She laughed,
"It was!"
He chuckled, summoning the carafe of whiskey to their spot on the sofa. He poured a large serving of it into her tumbler, and took a long drink from his.
"So, let's see the others then. Mine are all from...nasty experiences, not to be repeated over polite conversation. But, I'd very much like to hear about this one," he ran a soft finger across her eyebrow.
"Well," she managed another sip of fire whiskey, "during my first year, these bastards decided to build a life-size version of wizard's chess in the basement of a school..."
He let out a full laugh knowingly. The trio's misadventure with the Sorcerer's Stone had become a well-known legend.
"I believe I am one of those bastards. Pretty pathetic chessboard, if you ask me. Couldn't even keep out a couple of first years," Snape finished his cup in a single gulp and leaned back against the couch. He watched her take a sip from her glass. His eyes narrowed and his voice strained in an odd tone, "What about this one?" He pointed to her chest, "What happened there?"
He ran a thumb lightly across the rune, and the backs of his fingers brushed hotly against her skin.
She took a deep breath, "I guess you and I have more than one mark in common."
"Hermione," he said, "When I heard what Lucius wanted to do to you after he saw you in the hall, I had to fight the urge to end his life right here in these rooms. The way you moved to save my life, even if it means putting yours at risk... your energy, your kindness. I am often less than polite, but never have you wavered in your loyalty. You have a habit of...untying the knots which I have tried to keep in place. I have been attempting to refrain for some time...but, I'm not sure how much longer I can...bridle my emotions."
He set his glass on the table and reached out for her hand. Her breathing shuddered in her chest as she felt his warm fingers encircle her wrist, pulling her into him. His breathing quickened, and he was holding her close enough that she could feel his pounding pulse. He was staring at her mouth, and he confessed,
"I have failed to control this impulse. I want to be inside of your skin. I want to plunge into you. It's your smell, those lips..."
His fragmented speech was silenced as she pressed her mouth to his, and he inhaled the scent of her vanilla skin. She ran a slick tongue between his lips, and he pulled her into him, crushing her body against his.
"So," he whispered into her ear, running his fingers through her curls, "You've been with boys before, is that correct?"
She nodded, her body tightening in anticipation at the threatening tone of his voice.
"Well," he growled, "tonight, you're with a man."
He jerked her hair back, mercilessly exposing her neck and bare collar bone to his mouth. As he explored her skin, she felt a sharp heat rise up through her core, an unmistakable promise of what was to come. The man searched her body for any signs of reluctance or fear. Moments of terror mixed with moments of excitement. His age hid his nervousness, but she had seen enough doubt to know the look.
Without the restricting jacket, he ceased to be unapproachable. He looked so much younger without the coal uniform. The excitement, the apprehension, the urge to be a part of someone else smoothed out the worry lines from his brow, and hope spread across his visage like butter in a pan.
As she plucked at the first mother-of-pearl button on his shirt, it folded under the pressure, and popped away from the hole. The second, resisting at first, relented with a deft tug. She moved for the third, her hands slipping through the deep-pocketed opening, fingers brushing the rune carving etched at the warm join of his rib cage.
His hands pulled at her sweater like wrapping paper, tearing her bra straps down her shoulders. The cotton cups fell away from her breasts, and he peeled her skirt over her head, hair and clothing blinding her vision. She was unwound, freed like a walnut from its shell. Snape stared at her, his brow furrowed at the sight of her nakedness.
"Oh, fuck me. Look at you. Merlin..." he lamented, cursing his own inadequacy at the mere sight of her. He breathed in sharply, deeply in awe of her ocean of olive skin, dotted with tawny freckles, and burning hot to the touch. As he gazed upon her form, her hips as they swayed in front of the small fire, her mounds and trunks spread across his sight like a dusky plain. Her youth became glaringly apparent. He moved to blow out the candles' flames, but Hermione stopped him,
"Don't. Please."
"Hermione, you don't have to see...this. My scars aren't rakish or aesthetic in the least. I'm... a monster."
She saw the regret rush behind his eyes, but she continued to pull his shirt off his back, arm by arm in abyssal silence. Her hands brushed over the thick, knotted scars that she had healed on his rib cage, purposefully touching them as if to wipe the pain away.
"You're no monster. You're a hero." Her voice deepened in the same way that batter thickens in a bowl. Rich and suffocating, it folded into his senses and stirred the pieces of him left over from a time before his plagued existence. A time when his pieces were parts of a worthy whole.
"No, I don't think I am," he smiled, then he rushed her; a one man stampede. The smile melted into a hungry snarl as he bit at her jaw line. His hands held her, and enclosed in his fierce grip, she was helpless to his whims. If she had wanted to flee, she knew he could halt her escape simply by tightening his grasp. His graceful brutality shocked her. He continued to hold her, pinned, like a lamb in the arms of a shepherd, prey in a bird's talons. She felt helpless and safe at the same time. But, as he moved toward her, she felt a pull from deep within her, an urgency.
He stared at her, still reeling from the shock of beauty. She was unlike anything he had ever seen. Snape had been with women, more than he was willing to admit. As a Death Eater, it was impossible to avoid. But, he always tried to display his disgust at revels, pretending that Muggles were beneath him so that Lucius would ignore him as he tried to cast silent charms to stop their pain. Hermione deserved so much more than what he could give her. Her wit, her heart, her skin...it was almost too much for him to handle. He was no hero. He was a man taking advantage of this kind, innocent girl. He was the villain. But, he was helpless to the call. Had he wanted to, he wasn't sure if he would be able to walk away with his sanity in tact. So, he reached out for her instead.
His fingers were long and thick, calloused from potions work, and as he petted her breasts in big downward sweeping strokes, she felt the strength in his hands and the warmth of his palm. Like building a hill in the sand, his movements pulled her body up and into his reach like clay, like snow. Her taught skin and young lips made him painfully aware of his own age.
True, he was no Adonis. But, she couldn't tell the difference now. To her, a flawless form would have ruined the experience. One less wrinkle would have made her pause. He existed as he was, as she did; without edits, with rough edges, without statuesque preconceptions, and rife with life that was being lived.
As those hands smoothed down her curves, she felt his deft finger tips search through her shock of soft fur to find her wetness. When he did, she saw the change run through his head. His eyes darkened, driven by instinct alone. He was no longer just a man, a professor, a Death Eater. Those things had vanished. He was a beast with an appetite.
She felt herself being lifted, positioned onto his lap on the sofa. He pulled away his slacks, and her hands found his warm cock. As she touched him, something within her flickered, like an old light bulb, like a broken film strip, a record that was beginning to play. She bent to suck the early moisture from his tip, and kissed the hood tentatively, waiting for a reaction. He let out a slow exhale and his sigh was like a flog, too much for her to ignore. She took him in her mouth and lapped at his edges. She began to need him to sigh again.
Snape watched her tongue fold over his head, felt her lips surround his girth, and for the first time that he could remember, he lost himself to her ritual. He had forgotten this feeling, the ecstasy of a true partner. When he was younger, few girls had fit the bill. But, Snape needed Hermione more than he thought he would. Her whole existence became his top priority. Whatever he needed to do to make her his, he would do it, or he would die trying.
She looked up at him for a moment, her big brown eyes bright with anticipation. Severus raised her up, grabbing her haunches and placing her across his spread legs. Her own legs crossed behind his back, holding her in place. He pulled her to him, hard, a strong tug filled with need. She eased his glistening head into her body like a finger into a glove. Hermione felt him carefully fill her up, her muscles relaxing to accept the intrusion. She watched him shut his eyes in bliss. There was another lovely sigh, and as she began to rock back and forth, she curled an arm around his neck.
Then, he kissed her, tasted her waxy lip balm and traces of whiskey, felt her teeth with his tongue. She pressed her nose beside his nose, ran a hand up his neck and jaw, his five o'clock shadow razing her wrist like grains of sand. Feeling his breath escape his nose, and watching his brow knit and furrow made her thirst for more of his heavy grip, more of that power.
He felt her surround him, her honeyed heat dripping down onto his thighs and balls, matting the hair, clear and sticky. With each thrust, he felt her contract and quiver. He smelled her wet scent on his hand as she licked his finger, and he fought to focus. Placing his finger tips on her clit, he felt her grind into his touch. Then, her soft hands began to push on his collar bone. He leaned back and lay against the smooth leather sofa. She slid her softness up and over his shaft, circling her hips at the peak, and swallowing him in her body again. The fire he felt when he filled her rent him like a canyon, and her gasps of pleasure ripped through his mind. He knew he had to hear her scream and watch her writhe. Severus wanted to see her melt, dissolve like smoke over the top of a flame. He needed to witness her inhibitions decompose underneath him.
As he shifted his weight and moved behind her, Hermione gasped. He held her to him, kneeling over her like a hound, his forearms pressed into her hip bones, trapping her movements. Without waiting for her to settle, he pounded into her, pulling her body fiercely onto his cock and pushing it into her walls. Her cries sent waves of energy up his back and down his loins.
In her ear, he whispered to her, panting, "I want to tear you apart."
She was on her knees, her toned back stretched out before him like a long flatland, the shadows of the room dusting her skin like clouds above an empty field. He reached under her and vibrated her swollen lips with his knuckles, watching her seize and moan. Her screaming filled the room. She cried out to him,
"Please, don't stop. Please, Severus..."
She fluttered. He felt her come coat his shaft as she gushed out an orgasm. He couldn't help but groan in sweet agony at the feel of her muscles squeezing around him like a delicate vice. Hermione turned to look at him as he thrust into her, and as she did, he let out a deep, guttural shout. Shoving himself deep into her body, he sprayed thick, hot ropes of come onto her walls, his stomach tight and his hips shamelessly bucking to fit more of his cock inside of her.
Carefully, he fell away from her and collapsed, gasping. His body was electric, and her gentle kisses on his neck intensified the warm tingle. She lay beside him, her chest crushing against his ribs, their breath and hearts heaving from the stress. He twisted to look at her face, with eyes closed and parted, flushed lips. He smiled, and let out a soft chuckle; on the edge of being genuinely happy for the first time in years.
But, she didn't hear him. Half-asleep on his arm, dozing from the endorphins, he could feel her soft breathing brush across his chest. Severus made a silent wish that the sunlit dawn wouldn't make her regret their night together, and an even darker prayer that he wouldn't regret trusting her. He pulled a blanket up and over their bodies, doused the lights, and allowed himself to sink into a shared slumber, his face half-buried in her vanilla curls.
Thanks to everyone who made it this far. More to come. Be sure to review if you have comments. I don't have a ton of experience, so I'd appreciate the input. #LadyLash#