Severus led Hermione back to her chambers. He dismissed her with a curt nod before he swept rapidly down the empty hallway to the West Tower.
Hermione sat alone with her thoughts, second guessing her agreement with Snape. It was too late to take back her vow, but a lingering thought couldn't help but surface that she might regret this decision. Rationally, she knew that she was as good as dead without her wand. Olivander had been missing for months now, and any new wand order required proof of magical parents under the successor's requisition of his shop. She had no lack of distrust for Snape but committing to this agreement was a logical step to escape back to her quest for horcruxes with Harry.
A final thought reassured Hermione. While Severus vowed against harming her, she made no such concession back. She promised only to help his endeavor to locate Harry and purposely made no mention of his physical safety.
Hermione shivered against the chill of her room. She pulled the down comforter high over her shoulders and counted her breaths until she succumbed to sleep.
The next morning was met with dread and apprehension. Hermione calmed her nerves with a warm shower and when she emerged, she found an apparated plate of breakfast and juice in her sitting room. She ate breakfast in solitude, enjoying only the company of Severus's remaining books. One book caught her attention and pulled her to it as if she were fastened to a magical string. It had been sitting at the bedside table since she was initially confined to the room. Was this what Severus read before bed?
The binding was creased deeply, and the gloss of the cover was worn down by years of exposure.
The Count of Monte Cristo.
It never struck Hermione that Snape would read fiction, let alone muggle fiction. She gently lifted the book. She wondered briefly what book would intrigue him enough to draw him away from the rows of dark arts and potions books. She returned it to the bedside table in favor of a stack of arithmancy books.
It was a long shot, but Hermione figured that if arithmancy provided any chance, albeit slight, to estimate her friends' general whereabouts she ought to start there.
She spent nearly the entire day pouring over chapters and running formulas through specific dates and phrases. Complex connections between numbers and locations emerged over her parchment, yet arithmancy served only to befuddle her situation further.
The next day, Hermione considered adding numerology to divination. His collection of divination books was unsurprisingly sparse, considering his evident lack of respect for Trelawney. Her tea leaves proved unreadable and when Hermione compared her formulated numerology dates to sheep knucklebones her findings were indecipherable.
Hermione considered astrology on the third day locked in her room. She tried different combinations of Harry and Ron's birthdays to their last known location using arithmancy. Her findings were circular- They would eventually meet in the Forest of Dean if Hermione's birthday was included in the formula, but no date or outcome could be predicted.
On the fourth day in her room, Hermione was overcome by a wave of hopelessness. Her efforts to predict Harry's whereabouts were met with futility. She sighed and kicked her legs forward onto the ottoman in fatigue.
How did Severus expect them to find Harry and Ron with little to no knowledge of his whereabouts past the snatcher confrontation?
As if the mere thought of him was a summons, the fire of her room turned an emerald green and Snape coolly emerged from the flames.
Hermione turned toward his arresting figure. He stood silently, studying her reclining form on the plush reading chair. Parchment filled with arithmancy formulas laid scattered across the green rug, some crumpled, some neatly stacked. His eyes drifted over sheep knucklebones, cold cups of tea leaves, and a messy pile of books. His expression was unreadable.
"Miss Granger." He addressed her quietly.
Hermione swallowed at the sound of her name in his dark silky voice.
He stepped slowly over her notes, careful not to disturb the delicate piles of her parchment work. A wave of his wand sent one sheet of her notes into his outstretched hand and his piercing gaze fell onto her handwriting.
A minute passed before he returned the sheet silently to its stack. He stepped closer to Hermione so that his back faced the fire and its shadows etched fine lines across his face.
"I have known Trelawney's predictions to be false on all accounts except for one." He spat. "And I'd no sooner follow more predictions of Divination than I would trail a flock of geese to Potter."
Hermione sat quietly without responding. Hermione remembered Harry's account of Trelawney's interview with Dumbledore, when, seventeen years ago, Snape was found eavesdropping on the prophecy that predicted the Dark Lord's vanquisher. The threat of Snape's disloyalty sent a pang of apprehension down Hermione's spine.
He glid over to where Hermione sat, his robes nearly brushing over hers.
"To find Harry, I have an entirely different idea in mind." He continued.
Hermione's apprehension grew. She furrowed her brow.
A flick of Snape wand summoned a dusty book from the shelf. Hermione didn't catch a glimpse of the title before the pages flicked open to a ratty-looking chapter called The Mopsus Potion.
"Mopsus Potion is rumored to give its drinker seer-like visions." Severus said handing her the book. "But it will require the procurement of ingredients that make only rare appearances." His low voice growled.
Hermione touched her fingertips to the soft parchment as she read the brief summary.
A properly brewed Mopsus Potion is intended to provide the imbiber with seer-like visions of future events. The potion has been used most often by witches and wizards in search of lost family members but may sometimes reveal clues to the imbiber's own future. Effects can range from auditory, sensory, and visual hallucinations with less often dissociative effects where the drinker may be temporarily disconnected from one's own identity. An improperly brewed Mopsus Potion will result in a horrifying hallucinogenic trip in which one cannot tell reality from hallucination and may last for hours or days.
Hermione blinked at the page. It looked like a horrifying potion to brew wrong.
Severus gave her a minute to read and then spoke quietly. "All of these components can be found in the Forbidden Forest."
Hermione scanned the recipe, not recognizing nearly half the ingredients.
"Azurescens caps?"
"Mushrooms," He stated stiffly. "Often found near centaur dung."
"And Caapi vine? P. viridis?" She pressed uncertainly.
Severus impatiently snapped the book closed. "Of which we will never find unless you cease reiterating books word for word."
Hermione clenched her jaw shut.
"It is three nights from a full moon." His voice continued ominously. "We can avoid the werewolves if we begin tonight."
Her eyes widened. "We?"
"Yes, idiot girl, 'We.'" He hissed.
Hermione's stomach sank as if it were filled with stones. "Without my wand?" she asked incredulously.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Without the book as well. I'd hazard to say that you've already memorized it for later regurgitation." Snape said sleekly.
She blushed at his cheek.
"You have fifteen minutes to pack for two nights and two days. I suggest something warm." He said dismissively, then turned his attention to the bookcase.
Hermione left the sitting area to gather her belongings from the closet and bathroom while Severus cracked open the book containing The Mopsus Potion. He studied the potion intently, jotting down notes on a small scrap of parchment as he went.
At exactly fifteen minutes, Snape shut the book and sent a cloud of dust into the air.
"Miss Granger, I expect that you are ready?"
Hermione emerged with a large bag stacked with clothes and toiletries. "Yes sir." She replied meekly.
"Good." He said, removing his wand from his robes. Hermione instinctually stepped back as he waved the point above the crown of her head. She felt a coolness fall over her form, realizing that he had cast an invisibility charm over her body. "Follow me," He commanded. "And don't speak."
Heart racing, she followed the former professor down the hall to the potions office. The halls were empty of students, and the dark, windowless dungeon felt colder without the buzz of daytime student activity. Her invisibility charm dissolved as they entered the potions office.
Snape gathered glassware and solvents into a magical pouch that he removed from deep in his robes. The small pouch was enchanted to expand internally as it filled with supplies. Hermione recognized its likeness to her own bag before her capture by snatchers.
"Hand me the ceramic blade behind you."
Hermione jerked her head toward the knife block in which an array of knives laid. She slipped her hand around the ceramic handle, imagining how she might pocket a second blade. She paused. Was she to make an escape, could she bring herself to threaten, maim, or worse-kill him- to protect herself and her friends?
"There are four knives there, Granger. It is not difficult to notice if one goes missing." He warned as if sensing her hesitancy.
She removed the ceramic blade and sheathed it in a nearby leather case before handing it to him.
"You expect me to follow you to the Forbidden Forest, unarmed." She pressed. "You can't possibly think that I could overpower your wand with a knife?"
Severus turned back to her. His voice was low and smooth. "The stronger swordsman does not necessarily win, Granger. It is speed…Speed of hand, speed of mind."
He gently removed the blade from Hermione's hand and placed it deep into the magical pouch.
"Tonight, we'll search for the Azurescens caps. We'll spend the night at the warming hut before continuing the rest of our search in the morning." He said, pocketing the magical pouch.
Snape paced quickly to where Hermione stood and removed his wand from his robes. He offered his left wrist to her to hold, implying that they were set to disapparate.
Hermione breathed in before grasping the circumference of his taunt lower arm. Without another word, Severus disapparated the two of them into the chilly night air of the Forbidden Forest.
o-O-o
The sharp wind bit through her coat and stung her flesh. Hermione, still disoriented by the whirl of the disapparation, looked to Severus. Snape appeared unfazed by the cold night air.
He gazed down at the young witch shivering beside him and cast a warming spell over her tensed form.
"Do not wander." He ordered sharply before he set off. Hermione trailed behind him. Occasionally, he would pause to check that she was still in close proximity, but for the greater part, she was ignored.
Severus paced forward with determination. Once, he stopped and motioned her to listen quietly to the forest before waving her onward. Hermione recognized the screeching neigh of a distant night-mare and scanned the dark for its glowing red eyes.
At last they encountered a stomped-out trail. It was much too wide to developed by humans, and grazed by hoof-prints nearly twice the size of a Percheron horse. Severus stopped to study the trail and lit the end of his wand with a silent flick.
"Azurescens caps will glow faintly blue when they are touched." He spoke softly. "Follow the scent of manure to find them."
Hermione nodded in response. She breathed deeply through her nostrils to distinguish the unique smell of the forest from nearby excrement. She was unsure of what centaur or night-mare manure might smell like, but she was determined to find them. Every minute that she spent exposed wandless in this forest fueled the growing fear that swelled in her chest from the vulnerability.
A crack of a nearby stick made her jump. She jerked her head to where Snape stood stoically, observing the ground under the dark leather of his shoes. He tapped his wand against a cluster of light mushroom caps and the fungi reactively glowed a faint blue.
"Azurescens." He muttered. He gently removed the ceramic blade from his small pouch. He sliced a small sliver of the mushroom head off its stalk, and it glowed a deeper shade of blue.
"Collect the ones with caps beginning to lift from the stem. Discard the caps that are completely umbrellaed."
Hermione stepped cautiously to the patch of mushrooms to observe what he meant. "Would it affect the potion otherwise?"
Irritated by her questioning, Severus raised an eyebrow condescendingly. "Even Longbottom would know about the increased sporulation from a broken veil." Snape sneered. "More spores, less potency."
Hermione pinched her lips together at his cruel insult of herself at Neville's expense and didn't reply.
The two of them continued to pick the Azurescens caps in silence. Despite his sour demeanor, she had to recognize that he was an intelligent man that held a deep understanding between herbology and potion making. He would studiously inspect each cap for defects before placing them gently into his bag. Sometimes, he would discard some caps that Hermione handed him without explanation, and she knew better than to irritate him with further questions.
Nearly two hours of gathering had passed when a large creature emerged loudly from the wood.
"What purpose does this man and his foal serve, sifting through the waste of my herd?" A low voice belonging to the centaur, Ronan, spoke into the clearing where Snape and Hermione stood.
Severus turned quietly toward the voice. In response to Ronan, the dark wizard pointed his wand down and bowed deeply to the suspicious centaur. As he rose, he sheathed his wand.
"I have led this young foal to this forest in search of Azurescens caps." Severus stepped between the centaur and Hermione. "With your permission, I ask that we may part with only what we need to practice the art of Divination."
Hermione recognized a reverence for Divination in Severus's voice. To a stranger such as Ronan, the false reverence could not easily be distinguished from a genuine interest.
Ronan snorted loudly in amusement. "How futile human attempts at Divination seem. To sift through our excrement for a mere glimpse of what we've known for centuries…" Ronan gazed at the stars as his voice trailed off.
Severus stepped closer to Hermione.
"The stars had made mention of a lost half size…" Ronan continued. "But neither of you appear lost in these woods." He pondered threateningly.
"Lost by direction of stars." Severus responded coolly. "But through the aid of Azurescens do we hope to regain our direction."
"Ahh." Ronan frowned as he considered Snape's reply. "Lost not in place but by fortune. It could indeed be another interpretation of tonight's alignment."
Snape made no reply but a nod of his head in respect.
"Consider this your warning, lost travelers who are not lost. Find your way outside of these bounds and do not return. I will not welcome you so kindly the next time we meet in my forest." Ronan spoke firmly with a cutting edge to his voice. His message was clear.
"Understood." Replied Snape curtly. There was venom in his tone.
Severus turned halfway to Hermione while still keeping a watchful eye on Ronan. He signaled her to return to his side for disapparation. She knew better than to object.
Without another word to Ronan, Severus grasped Hermione at the wrist and the two of them disappeared from the damp forest.
o-O-o
Severus apparated back to the warming cottage with Hermione pulled alongside him. Immediately upon landing, he set straight to the fireplace where a fiery blaze shot from his wand and lit the firewood beneath. The room's candles ignited with another flourish of his wand, and eventually the small cottage glowed with a warm light that heated the room.
Snape apparated a small cooking cauldron next, and hung it over the new flames. He dumped a bag of vegetables and stewing meat into the pot and placed the lid over the rim.
Satisfied by the warmth that was growing throughout the cottage, Severus removed his outer cloak and hung it on the door's hanger.
"Tergio." He pointed his wand at the cloak and grime siphoned from the fabric.
Hermione watched him quietly. Without the obscuring dark cloak, Severus's form was silhouetted by a form-fitting robe. The woolen robe pressed against his toned figure and accentuated his tall frame against the quaint-sized cottage. His black hair contrasted with the pale skin of his face. Severus's sharp features appeared harsher against a hint of five o'clock shadow. Studying his face, Hermione reasoned that were he not such a cruel and spiteful man, he possessed some degree of unorthodox attractiveness.
As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned his gaze back toward her and motioned to a seat at the table.
Hermione worked up the bravery to finally speak. "Did we find enough caps for the potion?"
Severus turned his bag upside down on the table and a series of objects tumbled out. About two dozen mushroom caps rolled onto the table along with a ceramic blade and Hermione's wand. Glass vials and cork stoppers emerged next, along with an herb grinder, vials of warming draught, and some miscellaneous potion supplies for bottling ingredients.
"Enough for the potion and several years' worth of stores." He replied half-satisfied.
Hermione nodded in relief. She dreaded the thought of revisiting where Ronan had warned them not to return.
"Unfortunately," his voice cut as if sensing her relief, "The other psychoactive ingredients are found near centaur territory. We will have to conceal ourselves next outing or risk another unfriendly encounter." He shrugged as if a duel with a centaur was an expected part of ingredient procurement.
"You expect that we may have to duel with centaurs if we revisit the forest?" Hermione cautiously inquired.
Severus sneered. "When we return-" He corrected her, "-Not if we return. Lest the creatures of the forest provoke our entirely peaceful ingredient procurement."
Hermione looked at him incredulously.
"Your plan, then-" She pressed fervidly, "Is expecting me to return, unarmed, to the forest filled with angry, territorial centaurs with only you as my protection?"
For a long moment they stared at each other, Hermione frightened she had gone too far. But there was an unusual, almost content expression on Snape's face when he responded. "Yes, Hermione," he said, his eyes glinting. "That is my plan."
Hermione continued to stare at Snape in awe, unsure of how to rebut. The dark wizard appeared entirely disinterested in sating her repeated concerns.
Hermione didn't relent. "I fail to see how your end of our agreement is being fulfilled. This plan clearly puts me in the way of harm."
The corners of his eyes pulled together in irritation. He gently placed the bottling supplies aside and narrowed the gap between their bodies at the table.
"Do not confuse my concern for your safety with your inability to critically reason, Granger. A duel in the forest is no more of a threat than the Dark Lord's plan for you - should you choose to stand in his way against Potter." He spat Harry's name as if it were dirt from his mouth.
Hermione ran her tongue over her teeth in thought. After a moment's consideration, she hesitantly responded. "What-" She swallowed, "-What would he do?"
Severus froze at her unexpected response. He gritted his teeth and shook the long dark strands of hair away from his pallid features.
"Unspeakable magic. Torture that could only be contrived from the darkest of thoughts. Even to describe his capacity of harm would bring you the most harrowing of nightmares and would plague your daily thoughts."
Hermione briefly wondered if he were talking of his own experiences. She wondered what could draw a man to such dark magic and if redemption was even possible for Severus.
He stared at her, expressionless. Hermione was unsure if he was once again invading her thoughts or if he was merely assessing her reaction.
Severus spoke again, quietly. "For all evils there are two remedies – time and silence." (1)
Hermione tilted her head in thought. He didn't clarify if he meant for himself or for Voldemort.
"Do you expect that Volde-"
Hermione was sharply cut off by Snape's left hand thumping down upon the wooden table. The palm of his right hand pressed against the fabric where the brand of his Dark Mark supposedly burned. His teeth gritted down in apparent agony over the spoken name.
"Do not speak the name, idiot girl!" He spat.
Hermione jumped at his sudden reaction. Heart pounding, she eyed the spot where Severus braced his forearm. She noted that his reaction to Voldemort's name paralleled Harry's scar pain.
"Are you attempting to get recaptured, you foolish twit?" He released the grasp against his own forearm.
Hermione swallowed at the thoughtlessness of mentioning the name. His belittling gaze sent pangs of remorse and shame down to her stomach. She bit her lip and whispered an apology.
Some time passed between the two of them. Snape occupied himself with bottling the newfound caps, while Hermione's eyes danced between the fire and the expertise of his pale hands. Occasionally her mind would wander to their previous conversation, and she wondered if the Dark Mark's purpose extended beyond a summons or status symbol. Did his brand create a deeper connection to Voldemort in the same way that Harry's scar connected him to Voldemort? Why was the name painful to Snape if he was truly an ally?
Severus stood silently and walked to the simmering cauldron. He wordlessly commanded the wooden ladle to transfer the beef stew into two bowls and returned to the table.
Hermione thanked him and then gently blew over a steaming spoonful of stew. It smelled heavenly. After a cold night in the woods, she imagined that no other supper would warm her as well as this one.
Severus watched the curve of her lips as she let out a soft funnel of breath over her spoon. Behind her, the clock chimed midnight. He pulled his eyes away to the clock, welcoming the distraction from her rouged lips.
When the two of them had finished their supper, Severus enchanted a sponge to clean the dishes. A wave of his wand emptied the cauldron, and a second flick sent his bottled ingredients into his travel bag.
Severus stepped into the cottage's bedroom and lit a second fire. He reemerged with a single pillow and another folded blanket that he deliberately placed on the soft reclining chair of the sitting room. The blanket and pillow were all the direction Hermione needed to understand that her place tonight was safely away from his room, curled next to the sitting room fire.
Severus waved the candles out as he left for his own quarters. He did not wish her a goodnight but instead gave a curt nod before shutting the bedroom door behind him.
Hermione stared at the fire for a long time as she considered her position. Severus would assuredly order their return to the forest tomorrow, and a feeling of dread washed against her aching form. Ronan would certainly see their return as an affront, and the thought of being wandless against a ranging centaur or worse stirred an enormous anxiety inside of Hermione's chest.
Hermione shivered. There must have been some weapon within this cottage that she could conceal within her robes. She turned back to the dining table, and her eyes caught the outline of Snape's travel bag.
Heart racing, Hermione quietly paced across the stone floor to the bag. Perhaps he had stored her wand within its deceptively small contents. She gently lifted the hem of the bag to prevent the glassware inside from clinking. With her other hand, she slowly reached inside, searching for a long wooden stick that might be her wand.
The first compartment stored their bottled Azurescens caps. Hermione quickly pushed her hand past this compartment and into the second. The second contained articles of clothing, woolen fabric that Hermione imagined were spare clothes. A third compartment contained fruit, bread, and an assortment of packaged foodstuffs for their remaining meals. Hermione sighed as she reached the final compartment. A heavy, metallic object slid coolly into her palm, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Grasping the handle, she lifted the ruby encrusted Sword of Gryffindor from the bag and held it to the fire in awe.
She may not have found her wand, she thought, but there may be a way by which she may coerce it back.
Hermione brought the sword back to the recliner at the fire. Light danced brightly across the blade, flickering as quickly as her thoughts. She could return the sword, and Snape would never know what she had considered. Or she could brandish the sword and demand a recoup of her wand.
Hermione pondered the significance of the sword in his bag. Was he finding a new place to hide it since Neville's attempted theft of it? Or did this sword have a greater purpose in the hands of Headmaster Snape?
Nearly an hour passed as Hermione weighed opposing decisions. A final thought arose, which filled her heart with a final certainty. If the Sword of Gryffindor was said to have presented itself in times of need and valor, was this such a time?
Hermione grasped that handle and shakily made her way to Snape's door. Trying the handle, she found it unlocked. She gently pushed the door inward.
She peered in through the crack of the doorway, noting the even rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were closed, and his jaw relaxed his lips into a half-open position. Hermione stepped quietly closer.
She noted that the skin of his chest was exposed. The paleness of his bare skin contrasted against the dark hair that garnished his upper body to the mystery below a single sheet. The light of the fire revealed the outline of his muscular form. He was fit. Her eyes raked over his exposed form, and she wondered why she had never noticed what might have hidden behind her professor's robes all these years. Scattered scars laid over a lean, muscled frame, but Hermione had no more time to stare.
Hermione stood over his sleeping form; Sword of Gryffindor pointed down at his bare chest. The sword glittered with the light of the room's fire, mirroring the flames as if impregnated by their heat. She aimed at the center of his chest and carefully hovered the sharp point barely above the gentle wave of his breath.
In the background, the hot fire gave a loud pop.
Severus opened his eyes to the sound. He focused coolly on the Gryffindor Sword pointed squarely at his chest.
"Granger." His voice was a low growl.
He brought his hands down and opened them to show her that he was unarmed.
"Shh." She hushed him with forced courage, unsure of what to do now that he had woken.
Snape watched the blade silently, then dragged his eyes up the shaft to her face. She studied the blade like a problem of arithmancy; She was calculating.
"Give me my wand." She instructed him.
Severus raised his eyebrow.
"Make me."
Her mind played out the various scenarios of cutting him or ending his life, Snape reasoned. But something was stopping her.
The fire-light beside her threw her shadow onto the floor and over his form.
She stood silently, unsure of how to respond. He watched the end of the blade shake nervously.
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted, nevermore."(2) He gently quoted and again dragged his gaze from the blade back to her honey brown eyes.
It sounded familiar to Hermione, like out of an old muggle poem. Why was he reciting verses so casually against her front? She pushed the haunting sound of his voice aside, but the pull of his eyes drew her in. She could feel the soft push of him enter her thoughts.
Unable to push him out of her mind, she gripped the handle of the blade tighter as a threat. The tip met the pale skin of his chest.
Severus was still in her mind, she knew. He was feeling her panic, watching her thoughts race to what to do. She couldn't move the blade forward and she didn't know why.
"Do it." He whispered.
Hermione was still frozen in place. What did he mean, do it? She was paralyzed by her own mind, not understanding why he was provoking her.
Severus slowly reached a hand behind her knee and pulled her closer. She jerked the blade in surprise, and a thin line of blood trailed a mark across Snape's chest. He groaned softly.
"I said do it." He growled. The hand that gripped around her leg folded her knee beside his hip, which forced her against his body. Hermione adjusted the blade back to center and continued to hover it.
Snape gently prodded her mind, savoring her virtue. She couldn't murder, not even him, and she was panicking at how he might respond. She breathed quickly, realizing the next move was his. She couldn't muster the will to move the sword through him.
The hand that twisted her knee into his hip slowly grazed upward to her inner thigh. He was trying to elicit a reaction, another reason for her to run the blade down. Why was he provoking her? Did he want her to kill him?
"Just push." He said roughly. But it wasn't just a taunt. His thumb drew circles on her inner thigh, just the spot where her dress hitched as his hip. Hermione felt a warmth begin from her thigh and spread upward to her core.
Snape's other hand began to wander to Hermione's hip. He grabbed one thigh and the opposite hip and dragged her further on top of him. She swung the blade from his chest to the crook of his neck.
Severus arched his neck back from the sword, smirking wickedly.
"Where is your Gryffindor courage?" He said unphased by the sword at his throat.
Both of his hands were now on her, and she was positioned squarely over his hips. A firmness pressed against her inner thigh, and a rush of heat flooded her as she realized that a hardness had stirred from under her. His lips parted at the feeling of her weight against his groin and the light pressure sent his hips grinding against the thin fabric of her underwear.
Skilled hands ran down the hem of her dress and lightly folded themselves under the fabric. His fingers raked the length of her upper legs. Inside her mind, he devoured the lust that her body fought against. Her skin was prickling at his touch, her hips were aching to be filled. Her mind swam with sensations and her body betrayed her to move.
Her arms were weakening from the weight of the sword over his throat. Sensing her failing grip, Severus's hand swiftly tore the handle from her hands and dropped the sword to the floor. Hermione attempted to pull away from his iron clasp but instead fell back as Severus pushed himself over her.
One hand glided through her dress until it met the soft curve of breast. Hermione's breath hitched at the feel of his cool fingers against her nipples. They spun light circles around the tips of her breasts, occasionally pinching down to elicit a faint cry. His hips bucked at the sounds that escaped her lips.
"Pray, what did you have planned with that sword, Miss Granger?" He purred into her ear while pinching down on the soft flesh of her nipple. Hermione gasped at the resulting pain.
He grasped her neck with his other hand and turned her jaw so that her eyes were forced to meet his. "Was this what you wanted?" He said, and a hand ripped the soft cotton of her panties down. His open hand landed forcefully onto her bare backside. She gritted. His rough hand stung the flesh of her skin again. This time he elicited her soft cry. Severus flashed a wolfish set of teeth at her whimper.
"Perhaps…" He pondered to himself, "You missed the feel of these."
Wordlessly, thin and cord-like ropes wound themselves around Hermione's wrists. Her ankles were tied next, the legs separated to the bottom bed posts. Her eyes widened. She was completely vulnerable to his whims.
"Tell me this is what you want." He growled. He pulled her bound wrists together into his left hand. The dark brand seared into his left forearm contrasted against the paleness of his flesh.
Hermione ached for his hands. She wanted to feel him ravage her. She nodded feebly.
"I am going to take great pleasure in disciplining you." He spoke. "You impulsive…" he lowered himself in the bed, "unruly..." he rubbed a finger on the outside of her wet slit, "irritating…" his finger slid inside her. Hermione's knees jerked up in hunger for more. "…vixen." His fingers slid slowly in and out in rhythmic time.
Hermione arched her back against the thrill of his touch. She wanted to feel more of his skin against hers, to pull him in. With wrists tied together, she attempted to pull his waist closer but was stopped by a forceful grip.
"Hmm…" Was all he said as he shoved her bound wrists above her head into the bedframe above. One hand pressed against her wrists while the other continued its rhythmic motions under her dress.
Her breathing quickened with the rate of his fingers. She wanted the sensation to never end and yet had never wanted a release so bad. Severus dropped his head below her hem and a warm tongue worked its way up from her left thigh. His tongue drew circles over his rhythmic fingers, and she exhaled at the sensation. Responding to the bucking against her ankle restraints, he moved his tongue faster and harder to build the intensity. She wanted to push his head against her pelvis, but her hands remained fastened above by his tight gasp.
Snape lifted his body back over hers. He ripped the dress open to expose the rest of her body to the firelight. Hermione gasped. Shadows danced along their bodies and accented the lean muscle under his pale skin. A thin line of blood dried on his chest. Hermione was mesmerized by the cut grazed by the Gryffindor Sword. He seemed undisturbed by the remnants of the blade's kiss.
Snape returned to the untiring motions. His eyes lingered on her breasts as they continued to rise and fall with his resumed circles and thrusts.
She wasn't sure how much longer she could last against the power of his tongue and fingers. Bound by his grip and cords around her ankles, her release was under his control.
"Please." She begged, yearning that he would continue. A deep hum was his only reply as he continued his cadenced motions. Another wave hit Hermione in the back of her spine. It built heat as it traveled to the base of her neck in growing intensity.
"I'm-I'm-" She couldn't finish her thought before the largest wave of sensation crashed into her whole body. Her ankles buckled against the ties as her core tensed against the feeling. Her back arched as the wave rippled across her entire form. A moan escaped her lips at the sudden release of pleasure and filled the room with electricity.
The electricity faded to sparks which faded to a sensitive throb. Severus lifted his head and watched her labored breathing return to even. She laid completely open and vulnerable, her body and mind betraying herself to his.
He released her wrists and ankles from their binds.
She waited for another cue, perhaps for him to claim climax for himself. Hermione turned toward him. She wanted to rattle him like he just rattled her.
She began to lower her head to the firmness constrained by his trousers when he stopped her.
He burned with desire, but his voice was low and restrained.
"No."
She looked up at him as he looked down. He wrapped his fingers through her wild hair, imagining those lips closing the space between his lower and her upper body. Instead of pulling her in, he ran his fingers down to her throat and pressed her back into the sheets.
"Goodnight." He whispered.
Snape lifted himself off the bed and plucked the sword from the floor. He took a final glance at her exposed form, tattered dress thrown apart in the chilly night air. His lips curled slightly as he turned back and exited the room. The door locked behind him.
o~O~o
(1) The Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandre Dumas — 'For all evils there are two remedies - time and silence.' - A novel about revenge for stolen love and life.
(2) "The Raven." Edgar Allan Poe. - The speaker's inability to forget a lost love haunts him.