AN: The results for our survey, ('pick one, a, b, or c') are: a - 11, b - 108, c - 21, d - 11, e - 2, f - 1, and 'none-of-the-above' - 4. Combinations of all of them had to be discarded, and yes, worrywart, I got your vote correction. lol. "Best of" goes to VerySmallProphet for her wonderful entry in the non-existent 'e' category.
You guys are awesome.
Hermione was in quite a state. She was deeply confused, and deeply regretful for the several glasses of ratafia she'd imbibed to numb the humiliation of being left in the middle of the dance floor by this very gentleman.
The very man who was now looking down on the garden as if he was about to leap through the window and kill someone.
The fact that this same gentleman was, to her mind, also more than a bit foxed, added to the tension of the moment.
He turned to her, pulled out his wand, and lit every candle in the room at once, revealing the depth of his rage to the light. The sheer amount of anger in his face made her straighten up and step back. This wasn't her Professor, fuming at some stunt pulled by a foolish student in the hallways. She was looking up at someone she didn't know at all, and he was furious.
Her heart started to pound, and she backed up another step.
"You will explain this to me at once," he said in a deadly voice.
"What is there to explain? I thought you approved the match. Simon said you gave him your blessing!"
"My blessing? Oh, I gave him my blessing. I fucking choked on it, but I gave it, by God! But that was when I thought he was marrying you!"
"Me?" She stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head. "Why on earth would you think Simon wanted to marry me?"
"Why? I've spent the last few months watching the two of you fawning over each other, Miss Granger. Swallowing down my bile as you strolled through the grounds, riding off together every morning, laughing together through dancing lessons… The two of you were practically shouting your feelings to the world. And now, when I had surrendered to the idea that a match between you was inescapable, I find my son plighting his troth to some other woman entirely!"
She couldn't speak. He had gone very still and was staring at her with his head cocked to the side and a malignant sneer on his face.
"Has this all been a game to you?" he hissed. "Did you think to try and toy with me, Miss Granger?"
He began stalking her. There was no other term for the way he slowly flowed across the carpet toward her as she backed further away.
"I don't understand! I don't know why you are angry!"
"Do you not?" he shouted.
"Please, sir, I beg you to lower your voice, the children—"
He lifted his wand, and she flung her hands over her head, twisting away from him, but all he did was spell the door shut with a bang and cast a charm that silenced the room. The muffled sounds from the guests downstairs ceased instantly, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing.
"I would never hurt you, Miss Granger," he said in a tight voice. "I just want an explanation of what's happened here. Have you played last minute match-maker with another discarded beau, like poor Fredrick? Is Simon just another, like your parson's son, who was unworthy of more than fifteen minutes of your time?
"Or is it all just a lark to you? Do you enjoy toying with a gentleman's affections?"
She realized he was intentionally trying to intimidate her as if she were one of his students. She was supposed to cower in fear. Hermione's fear evaporated in that instant, replaced by a sudden bright and blinding fury.
"Have you gone mad? Or are you truly that blind? How dare you? How dare you, sir!" She jabbed her finger toward the window. "He's been in love with Clara for nearly a year now! I knew it the first week I was here! How could you not see it? I know he tried to hide his attraction from you because he thought you hated them all, but he is not that good at dissembling. Surely you must have seen something!" She flung her hands wide; stunned anew that he could have been so obtuse.
"And Fredrick? You dare throw Mr. Janssen in my face? Yes, I could have been married to him by now. I could have been in London somewhere struggling to find meaning in my ability to plan a meal and hold dinner parties to impress his superiors, hoping to help his career, but can you really see me being content in that life?" She dropped her hands down to her sides in utter defeat. "Do you even see me at all?"
"No," he hissed, stepping close and looming over her. "I cannot see anything!" He jabbed his hand back at the window behind them. "I admit I have been blind, Miss Granger. But I cannot have been the only one. How can you not see how your behavior would have been interpreted? Even the bloody head groom in the stable was expecting a marriage announcement between the two of you!"
She lifted her chin, struggling to not cry at this bizarre turn of events and the shattering dream. What had she been seeing on the dance floor? She had been convinced he cared for her. Now he was acting as if she disgusted him. She was so upset she couldn't breathe right. "If the idea of a match between Simon and myself is so odious to you, why are you so angry at me to find out your assumptions were false? Why dance with me then? Why—" Her voice broke and she scrubbed at her eyes, as she lost her fight with her tears. She looked up at him, and in a soft voice asked, "Do you hate me so much?"
He flinched, and his eyes flew wide. His anger seemed to dissolve in an instant. His voice sounded hoarse, as he said, "No, Miss Granger. I most certainly do not hate you."
She sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly to try and clear her jangled thoughts and push aside the powerful surge of hope that was trying to cloud the issue even further.
"Then what is the issue? Why are you so upset?" She reached out and touched his arm. "Tell me what is going on inside your thoughts. I cannot read your mind either. If you don't explain, I will never know."
He didn't answer. He just stared into her eyes with frightening intensity. He cursed and spun away, pacing in a little circle while scrubbing his hands through his hair.
She watched his frustration with an equal measure of her own. "Tell me," she said. "For the love of God, just tell me what you are thinking right now."
He spun back to her and opened and closed his mouth several times before he let loose with a low growl and grabbed her by the arms. She didn't have time for more than a small yelp before his lips came crashing down on hers.
Her reaction was instantaneous and beyond her conscious control. She reached up and grabbed his neck and pressed her lips against his. He made a sound like a small wounded animal, as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight against his chest.
As his lips slid across hers, she felt as if she was sliding out of her body. The only thought in her head was, 'Finally.'
He broke the kiss and stared down at her, his fingers digging into her back. He looked terrified.
"I shouldn't have done that," he whispered.
"Yes, you should have. I have dreamed of doing that very thing."
His eyes closed with obvious relief. When they opened again, the expression in them made her knees weak.
"I couldn't tell. I wasn't ever sure. I have wanted to kiss you for a very long time, Miss Granger."
She beamed at him, feeling dizzy from this final admission.
She closed her eyes and sighed. There had been so much confusion. There were still so many questions. It occurred to her that there was still room for misinterpretation. She decided to finally declare her feelings, in order to dispel any lingering doubts he might have.
"Do you really want to know what poor, noble Fredrick's biggest failing was? He wasn't you." She lifted her chin and looked straight into his beautiful eyes. "I love you," she whispered. "I've been in love with you. Forever, it seems."
With her hands still resting on the back of his neck, she felt the shudder that ran through his body.
He kissed her again.
His hands cupped her face as if she were made of delicate china, and his lips lightly brushed hers, as if belatedly seeking permission. She could smell the spirits on his breath, and it added to the peculiarity of the moment.
He pulled back just the slightest bit, searching her eyes again, and she felt that same dizzying falling sensation she'd come to crave.
She let herself fall.
Her eyes slid closed of their own accord, and she leaned closer until his lips touched hers once more. The explosion of breath through his nose tickled her ear, as she pressed her lips against his, mimicking his movements until instinct took over.
His fingers gently stroked her face, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. A quiet mewling noise rumbled in his throat.
A soft moan escaped her as she abandoned thinking, as the reality that she was finally here, in her professor's arms, overwhelmed any other thought. For an irrational moment, she panicked that it wasn't him, and she pulled back and stared at him. His eyes were on fire, as he looked at her with the purest desire she had ever seen. She slid her hands up into his hair and kissed him again, feeling his fingers tighten on her back.
A line had been crossed; silent understanding replaced confusion. His kisses became more urgent, as he blazed a path across her cheek to her temple and back again. The sound of his ragged breathing, the hoarse little growls that escaped him, turned her belly to fire and weakened her knees. She clung to him and her own, throaty groan escaped and shocked her with its primal nature.
He pulled back and stared at her again, panting heavily. He brought a hand to her face and stroked it down her cheek slowly. "So beautiful," he murmured.
His thumb brushed her lip, and she kissed it. He tugged at her lip, and she looked at him with uncertainty as she opened her mouth slightly. She watched his own lips part, his mouth dropping open just slightly, and feeling emboldened, she closed her lips around the tip of his nail. She felt a thrill course the length of her body as his breath hissed out in a rush, and then he was kissing her again, violently, passionately. She made a noise she didn't know she was capable of when she felt his tongue sweep into her mouth and steal her breath. Again, she mimicked his actions, until delight took over and dictated her response. She went utterly boneless from the pleasure.
She explored his mouth with her lips and tongue, while her fingers roamed through his hair, caressed his ears, his cheeks and the slight stubble along his jaw. She reveled in the sound of his growling purr.
He pulled away with a final, claiming kiss and stared at her with blazing eyes. His hair was wild from her hands, and his chest heaved as if he had been running.
She felt her own desire turn into a fire deep in her belly from the look he gave her.
Him.
Severus Snape.
He wanted her. There was no more room left for doubts.
"It's late," he whispered. "You should find your bed. We will speak more in the morning when we are both less… intoxicated."
She frowned and stroked his slightly swollen lip with her fingertip.
"This is where you become a gentleman and warn me from my folly?"
His face flushed, and his eyes took on a slightly drugged look. "Do not count on my ability to remain a gentleman, Miss Granger. You will feel that support crumble away beneath you if you lean on it. My resolve has been tested to the breaking point."
She stroked his mouth again before pressing a small kiss against it. "Would you send me away if I were a witch? Because after all of this time wishing, now that you are here I would very much like to stay."
He clasped the back of her neck in one hand and pulled her in for another passionate kiss before pulling away again and turning her towards the mirror above the fireplace. He stepped behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
She stared at the two people in the mirror, shocked at the untamed expressions on both of their faces.
"You do not actually understand what it is you want," he said in a deep, rough voice that pierced her to the core. "You are innocent. I never was." His hand brushed against her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. His lips came down on her exposed neck, and she cried out as he lightly bit her and then kissed away the sting.
"I crave your innocence, Hermione. It draws me like a drug." He traced his lips along her neck and up to the shell of her ear and whispered, "If you stay, I will take it."
She felt a moment of panic at his words. His hands loosened, but did not let go. He was giving her the choice. She swallowed down her fear and leaned her head back against his shoulder.
"I do not wish to leave," she whispered back. She felt a jolt run through her entire body at her own audacity.
He pulled out his wand and whispered, "Finite." Her dress changed back to garnet and gold that flashed and sparkled in the candlelight. He dropped his wand to the floor as his hands came up and pulled at the combs and pins in her hair.
"Say my name again," she whispered, as he pulled at her hair, causing it to cascade down past her shoulders. Silk ribbons and roses tumbled down her body to the carpeted floor.
He leaned his head until his mouth was just barely touching her ear. "Hermione…"
She shuddered, and her eyes slid closed.
"Are you afraid?"
"A little," she whispered.
"You are so very foolish," he murmured. "You trust me too much. You always have. You should have been afraid when you saw me in the park those months ago. You should be terrified now."
He carded his fingers through her hair, and they both watched as it shrugged off its former restriction and rose up around her face, expanding and flowing down past her bosom. She looked at the naked desire on his face and felt powerful.
"Why should I fear you?"
"Because I didn't need a damned governess," he said, as he stared at the hair sliding through his hand. "I stole every scrap of information Nigel would ever need within a few hours of arriving here. Servants know everything, Miss Granger."
The lock of hair slid out of his hand, and he looked at her in the mirror.
"I just wanted you near me. I've not been able to get you out of my mind since that blasted night at the Ministry."
He stroked his hand across her bosom, dragging more of her hair into his hand and twisting a curl around his fingers.
"And yet you were willing to let me marry another. Why?" she asked.
He flinched and looked at her in the mirror, before wrapping both arms around her and resting his cheek on her hair. In that moment, his drunkenness became more apparent. So did his palpable loneliness. "Simon would have made you happier. The parson's son, as well."
"Why? How can you still say such a thing, when you know you are the one I want?"
"Because they are pure, like you. I will soil you. I will defile you. I will drag you down into the mud with me and destroy you."
"You cannot do any of those things to me."
"But I can, Hermione. I hurt the women I care for. If you had any sense, you would run far away and not look back."
She twisted around in his arms and whispered, "No," before she kissed him.
His arms tightened around her, and he replied with gentle beseeching kisses that slowly escalated, until it seemed as if they were frantically trying to merge into one being.
"Hermione," he whispered between kisses. "I have wanted you for so long."
"Ohhhh," she sighed, as he suckled on her neck. "I have so longed to be wanted."
He pulled away and looked at her in confusion. "How can you say such a thing? Do you not understand how desirable you are? At that ball last year, it was as if you were the only woman in the room. Tonight as well. Nearly every man there wanted you."
His eyes burned into hers. "And now I have you."
He kissed her again, and any other thoughts she had flittered away like startled birds.
One of his hands slid up into her hair, fanning out across the back of her head and massaging her scalp as the other made its way slowly down her back until he cupped her bottom and pressed her against him. She moaned, as the pleasure chased away her momentary panic when she felt his hard length through his breeches.
She let instinct take over and pushed herself against him, driven by her increasing need. The cooler air on her arms made her realize that he was sliding her pelisse off. She stopped and shrugged out of it before bringing her hands to his chest and slipping them under the lapels of his coat. He let out a heavy sigh as her hands roamed across the planes of his silk-covered chest. She moved them up to the sleeves and began pushing his coat from his shoulders. There was no way she would allow herself to play the shy maid. Not after everything she'd been through. She'd always wished to be bold and hell's bells, now that the moment was here, she would be bold in spades.
The tension increased as he tugged at the buttons on her back with one hand and struggled out of his coat with the other. He finally snarled and broke off his kisses to tear off his coat and fling it behind her. She heard it land on the table and slide to the floor beyond.
He lifted her up and carried her down to the settee, and she wrapped her arms around him and welcomed his weight.
His kisses grew frantic, driven, as his passion flowed like a torrent, and she was swept along by the current. She felt his hand on her waist and her body responded with an almost audible thrum, as his touch ghosted along the silk of her gown toward her breast. Her whole being focused on those long fingers she had spent so many hours mesmerized by. She found herself squirming, trying to hasten his touch, and he pulled his mouth away from hers and chuckled darkly.
"So eager," he purred. "I knew you would be."
His hand closed around it, and her breath came out in a long, slow sigh of satisfaction.
"Does that please you? I want to please you, Hermione."
"Yes," she moaned. "Please…"
"Oh, gods… Don't beg, my sweet, this will be over far too soon if you start begging before we've begun."
She didn't respond with words, she just turned and kissed him, as she unbuttoned his waistcoat with clumsy fingers, before reaching to untie his cravat.
He quickly captured her hand in his and kissed her fingers, before pulling her hand away and kissing her neck. The message was clear, and she didn't make a further attempt to undress him.
His lips scorched their way along her neck to her collarbone and then dipped lower down to the top of her breasts. He shifted his weight, and she felt him tug on her dress, it resisted his efforts until with the sound of a small tear, the bodice ripped and the last button came loose. He untied the top of her chemise as if unwrapping a present, and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed when he pulled it aside and revealed her nakedness to his gaze.
"So beautiful…" he whispered.
She kept her eyes clenched shut as she felt his hot breath across her skin. She was swept up in a whirlwind of need and ache and thought she might die if he didn't touch her there soon. She cried out when she felt his mouth close over her, and his deep growl of response nearly made her faint. She clutched his head to her breast and arched up off the cushions, dimly aware that his hands were pulling at her skirts.
He surged back up her body and claimed her mouth in a fiery kiss. She wrapped her hands around his back and held on tight as he settled between her legs. When he pressed his hardness to her center, even the layers of clothing still between them couldn't diminish the powerful reaction. She cried out and twisted up against him, and he moaned into her mouth and rocked against her.
It felt so amazing, so daring and forbidden and so unbelievably thrilling. She ground herself against him as he rubbed himself against her. Her need began to intensify, centering in this one illicit place on her body. Everything centered on it.
His hands seemed suddenly everywhere, and she turned her head and kissed his jaw, licking and biting him, as her body began to thrum and vibrate. She felt his fingers threading their way into her unmentionables, untying the laces and pulling them apart. Another fleeting surge of panic was met by unabashed need and unwavering trust. Her head fell back as she began to pant. Skillful fingers found her folds, and she wailed and nearly threw him off of her, as she bucked up off the narrow couch.
He let out a ragged moan and began to whisper to her. "Come for me, sweet. Let me give you this… I've waited so long…"
She had no idea what he was asking for, but she did know that if he stopped she would die. In fact, she might just die anyway because surely paradise waited just beyond one more flick and caress.
The intensity built until she was shaking violently, arching her back and tossing her head as he bit down on her neck just the slightest bit.
"Oh!" she cried. "Oh, please… More! I need more… Oh…"
"Let go for me, sweet. Just let go."
She feared for the briefest of moments that she might burst…
…and then she did.
It was glorious. She felt as if her body exploded with pleasure and her very mind expanded beyond the confines of her head. She felt him slide his fingers inside of her and heard his ragged moan as if from far away. When she came back to herself, she looked at him and whispered, "More. I want more…"
His face seemed to scrunch up into a look of pained joy. "Oh, Hermione. There is more. There's so much more I can give you…"
He called his wand to him and cast a quiet spell. Tossing his wand back to the floor, he kissed her with wild abandon. She pulled at his shoulders, wanting more contact, but he arched up off of her, and she realized he was fumbling with the drop front of his breeches. He settled himself on top of her again, holding his weight on one elbow, and kissed her again, as she felt his cock pressing against her.
It shocked her senses clear.
This was it. This was the point of no return. This was the moment when she whole-heartedly embraced the fact that she was a witch—regardless of her loss of magic—and in control of her own fate, her own body, and her own choices, or admitted she was only a Muggle governess and was about to allow her virtue to be utterly destroyed by her drunken employer. One more numberless casualty in the cruel conflict.
She looked into his face, and the raw need, the unguarded emotion, the unmasked soul she found looking back at her with a question in his eyes overwhelmed her doubt. This man desired her, above any and all others; there was no mistaking the naked desperation on his face. He didn't just want her; he needed her to want him.
She closed her eyes and replayed his ragged voice in her mind, saying, 'I have wanted you for so long.' She was sure that she had wanted him for far longer. There was no question of turning back now. This man was her life. This man was her everything. Beyond her ongoing battle between Hermione the Witch and Hermione the Muggle, she was first and foremost, the Hermione who loved this man right here.
She lunged up and kissed him.
He moaned and began to push inside. He broke off the kiss and pressed his head down onto the cushion next to her. She could hear his teeth grinding together, as he slowly sank himself into her.
She was lost in a mixture of thoughts and feelings. First, it was rather uncomfortable. Second, it was the most empowering sensation she'd felt since she'd first held her wand in Ollivander's shop. From the groans and gasps, she knew he was utterly enthralled. She wrapped her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his back as he worked his way deep inside of her.
"Gods," he groaned, through gritted teeth.
"Is something wrong?" she whispered, suddenly worried.
He let out a shrill laugh before lifting up his head and looking down on her. "No."
She wiggled, trying to adjust to him, and his eyes fluttered closed, as his mouth dropped open. He resumed his slow withdrawal, and then slipped the rest of the way in with a rough cry and went still. His entire body was trembling.
She felt incredible. She was filled with him and felt strangely complete and whole. She was utterly at peace with her choice. A buzzing started in the center of her being, and as he pulled back out, she cried out for the loss. He surged back inside and a wave of new pleasure flowed across her. She threw her head back and let out a deep moan that he answered in kind.
He set a slow and steady rhythm, and it didn't take her long to become frustrated with it. She pulled her legs down and braced them against the couch so she could thrust up to meet him, and he quickened the pace. Soon he was moaning and panting and she could feel the damp sweat seeping through his waistcoat and lawn shirt. She scrabbled at the fabric, dragging it up his back to cool him, and when she felt the hot silk of his naked skin, she let out a soft sigh. Her hands caressed his back everywhere she could reach and this drove him to even greater frenzy.
"Too much, my sweet! It's too much!"
"Oh, but I like it, sir."
His eyes flew open, and he looked at her with a trace of incredulity mixed with his lust.
"Bloody hell, woman, call me by my name," he growled.
She smiled, and knew it was more feral than sweet. "Severus…" she said, tasting the forbidden syllables on her tongue and finding them luscious.
His face changed then. It was as if something broke loose inside of him, and he began to burn.
He leaned down and kissed her, plundering her mouth with his wicked tongue, before pushing both of his arms straight and looming over her. His hips snapped faster and faster, and she felt the tension begin to build inside of her again. A subtle buzzing raced along under her skin and seemed to concentrate in her spine, building up and making its way slowly towards her head.
She saw him above her, moaning with his head thrown back and his face a rictus of pure sensual pleasure and thought she had never seen a sight more thrilling.
He was beautiful. He was magical. He was hers.
She felt herself tighten inside, as a new wave of desire flooded her frame, causing him to cry out again.
"Gods!" The word was choked out in a strangled moan, as he shoved himself deep inside and cried out his pleasure. She pulsed around him, pushed over the edge by the glorious sight of him reaching his peak.
He collapsed down on top of her like a felled tree. She held him tight, as his heart hammered and his chest heaved like a winded horse. He lifted his head from the cushion next to her and kissed her shoulder, her neck, her jaw and finally her lips. They shared a long, languid kiss, before he rested his sweating forehead against hers, still trying to catch his breath.
She smiled, feeling powerful and possessive and overwhelmingly female.
He shifted, pulling out of her with a quiet hiss, and pushed back until he was sitting up. He twitched her skirts down to cover her legs, before he made a half-hearted attempt to adjust his own clothes and button himself back up.
He dragged a shaking hand through his hair and stared down at the floor as his breath evened out.
She lay there, bemused by her happiness and overflowing with her love. She tugged at her dress, trying to fix her clothing, but was too preoccupied by the realization that the buzzing in her spine had not abated. In fact, it was intensifying. Was this another side effect to lovemaking? She sat up, clutching at the top of her dress, as the buzzing gathered strength. Her bones began to ache from the sensation in her back.
She turned to him, thinking to ask him if it was normal, and realized something was wrong. He seemed rather too far away on the settee and his face rather too ominous for what they had just shared. Was he affected by the same disturbing sensation?
It wasn't until he stood up and walked away, that she began to understand that somehow the dynamic had changed, and not for the better.
She held her bodice in place with one hand as she leaned over and worked her feet back into her dancing slippers. She reached over and gathered her gauzy pelisse and a handful of ribbons off the floor.
Rising up off the settee, she walked over to where he stood before the unlit fire, but his cold voice stopped her approach.
"It has been a day of much excitement, Miss Granger. You should retire." He braced a hand against the mantle and stood looking down at the unlit fire. She tried to see his face in the mirror, but his lank, sweaty hair hid it from view.
She stared at him in shock. What had happened? They had just—she looked back at the settee and then back at him, so stiff and unapproachable. How could he just disappear so quickly and still be in the same room? It was as if his heart had Apparated.
"Sev—sir?"
He waved impatiently at the door and dismissed her, saying, "You need to go."
She stood there, mute in the face of this cold abandonment.
She wanted to cry out to him, to plead, to somehow draw him back out from wherever he was slipping away to, but the pressure of her disappointed tears was conflicting with the buzzing that had now reached her head and together were creating a terrible migraine. The pain was becoming blinding, and she would soon be in no shape to launch an offensive against the seemingly unscalable wall that was his back turned toward her.
He turned his face toward her but stopped half way. "We will talk, but now you should rest."
Tears slipped from her eyes as her heart stuttered to a numb halt. She clutched her tattered clothing to her chest, snatched up a candle as she turned, and left the room quietly, feeling like her head was going to explode along with her heart.
I didn't say he would make a hash of things right away…