Well, hey! I uploaded quite quickly… did I not? Anyhow…I've written till chapter 14 and I promise I will write ch. 15 tomorrow; chapter 12 will be upload as soon as I receive it from my beta reader Lily Malfoy whose help I appreciate a lot.
I dedicate this chapter to my friend Kairi (Princess of Bertie Botts; check it out!) and CHEER UP, FRIEND!
So…well…without further comments, here it is; chapter 11… enjoy!
Chapter 11: The long and winding road to love
Snape's manor was no place for a girl like Hermione. Her values, her principles had nothing to do with the dark walls surrounding her. It was a place for Dark Eaters and make no mistake; Hermione had always hated the Dark Arts.
"I hope you find this room quite comfortable, Miss Granger," Snape said when introducing Hermione to her rooms for the week; a perfect replica of her chambers at the dungeons. Severus had tried to forget about everything involving his wife; her moans, her curls, her naked body, her rosy nipples, her soft voice begging for more and the sensual way in which she had stolen his turn to shower. He had tried hard to forget and so far, he was not succeeding one bit.
The whole place was decorated very much like Severus Snape's chambers. The colours black, grey and green predominated and for a Gryffindor Girl such as Hermione that place meant hell. But she was a pretender; wasn't she pretending to love Snape? She could easily act as if that place looked wonderful.
"Yes, Professor," she said firmly, "I find this room quite comfortable." She smiled while sitting at the edge of the velvet covered four poster bed, "Care to join me?" she challenged him. If Hermione was right, and she usually is, Severus Snape wouldn't refuse a good confrontation.
But of course, that was not Hermione Granger speaking. That was the stubborn Hermione trying to make him pay for his past mistakes. Yes. He shouldn't have called her a child. Yes. He shouldn't have called her stupid. Yes. That was going to cost him plenty.
Severus swallowed hard. What was she playing at? Why was she throwing herself at him? Why would a nice girl such as Hermione Granger ask him, Severus Snape, to join her in bed?
"You are already her partner," he reminded himself while slowly walking to where she was. Then, he added out loud, "Miss Granger I hardly consider this the appropriate conversation a student should engage in with her professor," he formally finished.
"But, sir, you are my husband and therefore I find joy at your bare presence. Why should I neglect my duties as a wife?" she formally addressed him.
He just stood still and stiff, unable to find a suitable reply. Severus wanted so much to touch her; the animal instincts living in him were desperately crying for release. His rational self, however, was coldly thinking the situation through over and over again. He could not do it. He couldn't specifically point out why, but a physical relation would be just too complicated, though pleasant as it may seem.
He was walking towards the edge of the bed when a rock made him land on the bed; on top of her.
"Hello," she sweetly said, a smile plastered on her face.
"Hello," he said, astonished by her beauty. Her big brown eyes were bewitching and her cheeks had turned a deep shade of pink. She was blushing. She was blushing because of him. He directed his hand towards her cheek and caressing her skin softly their lips met.
And that, my friend, started it all.
Their tongues greeted each other with passion, rustling fiercely as If trying to taste the other as much as possible.
"Miss Granger," he whispered while kissing her neck wildly.
"Oh, professor," she moaned. She was not pretending now. She was really enjoying his every touch.
"Miss Granger, you have no idea what you got yourself into. I can be very possessive," he threatened, "I am, indeed, a very dark man. I can teach you many techniques concerning the art of love making, but I am capable of making you do things beyond your wildest imagination. Do you understand that, Miss Granger? You are playing with fire…" he said while kissing her chest with desire in his eyes. He had, indeed, the eyes of a madman. And his craziness, in fact, was what made her nod. How could she refuse when his hand has travelled to that sensitive spot between her legs?
"Very well, Miss Granger," he said, quickly removing his hand from her moist cavity, "Please, sit down on that green armchair," he ordered, while walking towards the adjoining bathroom. She did as told and within five minutes, she had returned with a bar of soap and a razor, "Why did you button the first button of your shirt, Miss Granger? Please, stand up," he said while placing himself in the green sofa that had been Hermione's resting place.
"Please, unbutton your shirt and remove your knickers," he regimented, with a voice she had only heard while in potion's class.
Slowly, her hand travelled to her collar and then to the buttons of her shirt. When her chest was barely visible, she introduced both her hands into her skirt and only twenty seconds after, her knickers lay motionless in the cold, stone floor.
"Very well, Miss Granger. Come here, please," he ordered. She gradually walked towards the green sofa, afraid of the razor on his hand. Would he cut her? No. He couldn't.
She kindly sat on his lap. She started rubbing herself against his knee trying to gain his attention somehow. He was being very cold; he had never been this cold in bed before.
"But we are not in bed," she reminded herself. This was just sex. He made it quite clear. They were, merely, playing with one other.
With one quick move, Severus placed himself between her legs, letting her take the whole sofa as he had now his knees on the floor. They ached because of the hard stones, but the sight of her curls and her lips made everything worthwhile.
His stretched his hand in order to reach the piece of soap. She was scared; the razor in his hand was enough to both arouse and frighten her.
Leaning forward he traced a path of kisses all the way through the sticky cavity he had once broken. All the doubts in his soul were gone. The Dark side had possessed him, once again and sure enough, Hermione Granger would never be the same again.
"Professor," she said, her lower lip trembling, "What do you need those blades for?" she innocently asked, trying to make him confess.
"Miss Granger, could you please open your legs a bit more?" he politely asked.
"Like this?" Hermione said, spreading her legs apart a little bit.
"Not quite, Miss Granger," he said, shaking his head to the sides, "This, on the other hand," he started to say while grabbing her thighs and placing both her legs on the arms of the green sofa. Snape had left her completely exposed, "is the position I fancy,"
She was begging for him to lick every delicate piece of flesh, but he did not.
Using the piece of soap he had managed to find on the bathroom, he massaged her curls in perfect circles. She felt even more humid between her legs; she liked the feeling of being washed by her husband quite a lot.
"I'm teaching him a lesson," she reminded herself, despite the pleasure.
Thanks to the razor that rested on his left hand, he found the task of shaving her mass of curls quite simple.
The gentle movement of the blades on her most intimate places was amazing; Hermione Granger had never experienced such wonderful sensations in her life. He wasn't even touching her; he was just using an instrument to trim her hair but she found the situation extremely stimulating.
Once her hair was fully gone, he carried her to bed. Not because he wanted to, but because the sofa was wet from both Hermione's juices and the water he had used to clean the mess of hair.
"Miss Granger," He whispered into her ear, "You are about to experience pleasure first hand. Are you ready?" he asked. How could she refuse when the offer was so incredibly tempting? How could she refuse when he was looking at her with his beady black eyes? How could she refuse when he had used that tone she loved so much? How could she refuse to please her husband?
They were doing this just to content the desire they felt for the other; it had nothing to do with love.
Love, my friends, had always complicated history. Love, women and alcohol.
And things were going to get complicated, alright without alcohol being involved in the equation.