Chpt12: Ritual Fire Dance / El Amor Brujo.
Engulfed by the familiarity of Hermione's lips, Severus pulled her close. After a lifetime of being alone, he had never expected to find a woman that would willingly approach him once, never mind twice, and being faced with such comfortable acquaintance was unnerving. Hermione shifted and pulled away, her breathing heavy as she brushed her hair aside to regard him. Her brows were furrowed deeply, her lips pouting, as she stared deeply into his eyes. "You're not so bad close up, you know." She stated matter-of-factly, reaching up to tug his hair. "And this," she wound it around her fingers, pulling it taut and inspecting it with close scrutiny, "is far cleaner than I would ever have imagined!" Grinning mischievously, she stifled a giggle, leaned up to kiss his forehead, and trailed her lips over the bridge of his nose down to his mouth. He snorted, "I'm not sure whether I should be glad that I am appreciated, or dejected because the expectancy for my appearance is so low that a closer inspection manages to exceed them." She pouted again, pretending to look scornful. "Tut tut, I hope that you aren't putting yourself down, Professor Snape." She smiled, and leaned in again, tracing her mouth over his ever so lightly, whilst continuing to teasingly pull on his hair. "Sorry." His words were muffled and lost beneath her lips, "Old habits die hard." Hermione was basking in the strange thrill of doing something that you shouldn't, but knowing that she was in control. She smiled again, and stood up, glancing around the darkened room. "I could probably have guessed that your rooms would be something like this." She approached one of the doorways and peered through, squealing with delight at what she saw. "A familiar!" She looked back at him. "You're full of surprises!" Standing up, Snape went into the room, and came out with a large hairy bird with feathers so black that they seemed to shimmer purple in the light. "This is Wystetia," he said, holding the huge bird up, "She's a Fwooper." Hermione gasped, reaching up to tentatively stroke the silken black plumes. "A black Fwooper. You must be very rare indeed, Wystetia." She cooed, and the bird turned to look at her, unimpressed. He smirked in reply. "Extremely rare. One of a kind, in fact." As though understanding every word, Wystetia decided at that very moment to stick out her beak and ruffle her midnight feathers.
Hermione laughed, and Snape allowed himself a small chuckle, scratching softly at the ridge under her beak. "She has quite a unique personality as well."
Lowering her voice, she looked at him and said, "She's not the only one." Snape quirked an eyebrow, and Hermione smiled, stretching out her hand to Wystetia's feathers again. The bird flexed its claws around Snape's arm, and let out a single high note, which rang sweetly around the room. Hermione pulled back. "Aren't Fwoopers meant to be under silencing charms.? I thought their song was meant to cause insanity." "Wystetia is very well trained. She hardly ever sings at all." He walked towards the armchair, and the bird jumped onto the back, pacing for a few moments, before tucking its head under its wings, and converting into a ball of black feathers. Hermione laughed slightly, and approached Snape, wrapping her arms around his waist, and staring at him in silence. "You're strange, you know that? I can't decide whether I want to figure you out, or whether I like your mysterious aura." Snape tilted his head. "And what makes you think that I would be prepared to let you figure me out?" "Because I already know more about you than would care to think." She smiled, and reached up to pull his head down to her own. Trying to be more confident than she felt, she nibbled softly on his bottom lip, and opened her mouth to him stretching up against him as she undid the fist few buttons on his collar. She felt him hesitate as he sensed her movements, but she reassured him, and herself, by languorously moving her hand down the length of his back, before finally allowing it to rest at the base of his spine. He shuddered, and pushed her robes off her shoulders, deepening the kiss The air was cool on her skin, and she shivered, unconsciously pressing against him in her search for warmth. Snape groaned and shifted, urging to establish more contact between them, clawing at the buttons at her neckline. He muttered something and pulled away, waving his wand before Hermione had even voiced her complaint, and dissolving their clothes. Voicing her delight, she did not hesitate to grab his shoulders and pull him down into her reach. His arousal was now firmly pressed into her stomach, and she rotated her hips against him, finding that her entire body seemed to have turned to lead from the weight of her desire. She took a step back, pulling him with her, and was met by the icy sensation of cold stone. Sandwiched between hot and cold, she arched into Snape, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pressed her towards the stone. // Sex against the dungeon wall.// Hermione mused, //who would ever have thought it! // Snape entered her, drawing sighs of contentment from both of their bodies as they became one, a writhing mass of thrusting and arching that tore through the silence. They turned, and sank to the floor, Hermione, wrapping her legs around him again as she pulled him closer, deeper, higher into the sky.
Professor McGonagall had once described the transfiguration of self into animal as simply "being" that animal, and right now, Hermione understood. At that moment, she was a dove, soaring through the sky, breaking through the clouds and flying on towards the sun. She arched again, groaning and thrashing into him, leaving deep grooves in his back, and searching out his mouth. "Heather." he muttered against her, his voice vibrating through her lips. "Wha-" she stopped. Heather. Of course. That's who she was: Heather Gates, a twenty-three year old woman doing a study on Wizard/Muggle behaviour. She screwed up her face in an attempt not to blurt everything out just so that she could hear him say "Hermione" with that voice, and settled for moaning out his own name as "Heather" continued to resound against the walls. ~*~*~*~ The fog had lifted. Above her, Hermione had been watching the swirling clouds of thick grey smog disperse and disappear for the past half an hour. Now, she risked a glance at the head on her shoulder. His eyes were closed, but she knew better than to think that he was asleep. In fact, he had been awake for a full twenty minutes now, but had not deemed to show it. "Severus?" she threaded her hand through his hair and pressed her lips into his forehead. He looked up; the unruly mass of hair looking like he had just been caught in a tornado, and his face looked relaxed. Comfortable, even. "Yes?" He seemed to be totally unperturbed that she appeared to have known that he was awake. Hermione couldn't help but smile. what she wouldn't do to get a picture of him like this! Oh, the fun she could have.! "I need to go." she began, trying to work out an excuse - 'My ageing potion is about to run out' didn't quite seem appropriate. Snape looked at her for a moment, and nodded, smiling as she leaned in to offer him a gentle kiss. "I'm a man of my word, you know."
Engulfed by the familiarity of Hermione's lips, Severus pulled her close. After a lifetime of being alone, he had never expected to find a woman that would willingly approach him once, never mind twice, and being faced with such comfortable acquaintance was unnerving. Hermione shifted and pulled away, her breathing heavy as she brushed her hair aside to regard him. Her brows were furrowed deeply, her lips pouting, as she stared deeply into his eyes. "You're not so bad close up, you know." She stated matter-of-factly, reaching up to tug his hair. "And this," she wound it around her fingers, pulling it taut and inspecting it with close scrutiny, "is far cleaner than I would ever have imagined!" Grinning mischievously, she stifled a giggle, leaned up to kiss his forehead, and trailed her lips over the bridge of his nose down to his mouth. He snorted, "I'm not sure whether I should be glad that I am appreciated, or dejected because the expectancy for my appearance is so low that a closer inspection manages to exceed them." She pouted again, pretending to look scornful. "Tut tut, I hope that you aren't putting yourself down, Professor Snape." She smiled, and leaned in again, tracing her mouth over his ever so lightly, whilst continuing to teasingly pull on his hair. "Sorry." His words were muffled and lost beneath her lips, "Old habits die hard." Hermione was basking in the strange thrill of doing something that you shouldn't, but knowing that she was in control. She smiled again, and stood up, glancing around the darkened room. "I could probably have guessed that your rooms would be something like this." She approached one of the doorways and peered through, squealing with delight at what she saw. "A familiar!" She looked back at him. "You're full of surprises!" Standing up, Snape went into the room, and came out with a large hairy bird with feathers so black that they seemed to shimmer purple in the light. "This is Wystetia," he said, holding the huge bird up, "She's a Fwooper." Hermione gasped, reaching up to tentatively stroke the silken black plumes. "A black Fwooper. You must be very rare indeed, Wystetia." She cooed, and the bird turned to look at her, unimpressed. He smirked in reply. "Extremely rare. One of a kind, in fact." As though understanding every word, Wystetia decided at that very moment to stick out her beak and ruffle her midnight feathers.
Hermione laughed, and Snape allowed himself a small chuckle, scratching softly at the ridge under her beak. "She has quite a unique personality as well."
Lowering her voice, she looked at him and said, "She's not the only one." Snape quirked an eyebrow, and Hermione smiled, stretching out her hand to Wystetia's feathers again. The bird flexed its claws around Snape's arm, and let out a single high note, which rang sweetly around the room. Hermione pulled back. "Aren't Fwoopers meant to be under silencing charms.? I thought their song was meant to cause insanity." "Wystetia is very well trained. She hardly ever sings at all." He walked towards the armchair, and the bird jumped onto the back, pacing for a few moments, before tucking its head under its wings, and converting into a ball of black feathers. Hermione laughed slightly, and approached Snape, wrapping her arms around his waist, and staring at him in silence. "You're strange, you know that? I can't decide whether I want to figure you out, or whether I like your mysterious aura." Snape tilted his head. "And what makes you think that I would be prepared to let you figure me out?" "Because I already know more about you than would care to think." She smiled, and reached up to pull his head down to her own. Trying to be more confident than she felt, she nibbled softly on his bottom lip, and opened her mouth to him stretching up against him as she undid the fist few buttons on his collar. She felt him hesitate as he sensed her movements, but she reassured him, and herself, by languorously moving her hand down the length of his back, before finally allowing it to rest at the base of his spine. He shuddered, and pushed her robes off her shoulders, deepening the kiss The air was cool on her skin, and she shivered, unconsciously pressing against him in her search for warmth. Snape groaned and shifted, urging to establish more contact between them, clawing at the buttons at her neckline. He muttered something and pulled away, waving his wand before Hermione had even voiced her complaint, and dissolving their clothes. Voicing her delight, she did not hesitate to grab his shoulders and pull him down into her reach. His arousal was now firmly pressed into her stomach, and she rotated her hips against him, finding that her entire body seemed to have turned to lead from the weight of her desire. She took a step back, pulling him with her, and was met by the icy sensation of cold stone. Sandwiched between hot and cold, she arched into Snape, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pressed her towards the stone. // Sex against the dungeon wall.// Hermione mused, //who would ever have thought it! // Snape entered her, drawing sighs of contentment from both of their bodies as they became one, a writhing mass of thrusting and arching that tore through the silence. They turned, and sank to the floor, Hermione, wrapping her legs around him again as she pulled him closer, deeper, higher into the sky.
Professor McGonagall had once described the transfiguration of self into animal as simply "being" that animal, and right now, Hermione understood. At that moment, she was a dove, soaring through the sky, breaking through the clouds and flying on towards the sun. She arched again, groaning and thrashing into him, leaving deep grooves in his back, and searching out his mouth. "Heather." he muttered against her, his voice vibrating through her lips. "Wha-" she stopped. Heather. Of course. That's who she was: Heather Gates, a twenty-three year old woman doing a study on Wizard/Muggle behaviour. She screwed up her face in an attempt not to blurt everything out just so that she could hear him say "Hermione" with that voice, and settled for moaning out his own name as "Heather" continued to resound against the walls. ~*~*~*~ The fog had lifted. Above her, Hermione had been watching the swirling clouds of thick grey smog disperse and disappear for the past half an hour. Now, she risked a glance at the head on her shoulder. His eyes were closed, but she knew better than to think that he was asleep. In fact, he had been awake for a full twenty minutes now, but had not deemed to show it. "Severus?" she threaded her hand through his hair and pressed her lips into his forehead. He looked up; the unruly mass of hair looking like he had just been caught in a tornado, and his face looked relaxed. Comfortable, even. "Yes?" He seemed to be totally unperturbed that she appeared to have known that he was awake. Hermione couldn't help but smile. what she wouldn't do to get a picture of him like this! Oh, the fun she could have.! "I need to go." she began, trying to work out an excuse - 'My ageing potion is about to run out' didn't quite seem appropriate. Snape looked at her for a moment, and nodded, smiling as she leaned in to offer him a gentle kiss. "I'm a man of my word, you know."