Stepping lightly from his shower the following morning, Severus grabbed a towel and began drying off. He'd never slept better. He felt positively energized.
Switching the towel to his back, he proceeded to pull it across his shoulders and froze. Frowning, he ran a quick hand over the fogged mirror and turned to look at himself over one shoulder. There, faded slightly but still quite clear, were two sets of six-inch scratches, running at a vertical slant across his back.
Images began flashing through his mind; images both mysterious and erotic. Shutting his eyes, and running a tongue over his lower lip, he could almost taste her. He leaned forward and looked deeply into his eyes as his frown turned into an angry scowl. These were no dreams. It was real! He knew it! Damn it all, he knew it!
How was she doing it? How did she get in? Had she really been here? Concentrating hard, he realized he had no memory of looking at her. Of actually seeing her. Any type of invisibility cloak would have been pulled off in the tussle. And his spell would have prevented her from entering his room. So, it couldn't have been Hermione, could it? Someone else, then. But … here he faltered … he knew her kiss. He'd felt her lips on his twice before. Although, the Hermione of his nights had grown experienced because hers had been the kiss of an enchantress.
Feeling a cold sweat break across his skin, Snape shivered and roughly finished drying off. Someone, some powerful wizard, had put a spell on him. Reaching back to touch his back, he shook his head in disbelief. A spell that was causing his innermost fantasy to come to life.
Now what wizard did he know powerful enough to pull a trick like that? Throwing on his robes, and snatching his wand up, he marched to his door and jerked it open, growling, "Albus-bloody-Dumbledore!"
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Hermione stood outside of Dumbledore's office, trying to compose her features into a look of bland innocence and waiting desperately for the butterflies flitting around her stomach to settle down. How could he know? He couldn't, could he? It must be something else.
The door swung open of its own accord. "Miss Granger, please come in."
Looking into his benevolent face, knowing the vast knowledge and wile it hid, she felt her courage falter.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
Pointing to a chair, he spoke lightly, "Have a seat, please." He leaned back in his chair and pinned her with a level look. "I had the most curious visit from Professor Snape this morning."
Swallowing, Hermione lifted her chin and looked straight back at him. "Did you, sir."
Faint humor entered his eyes, as he returned her gaze. "He seems to think I put a rather improper spell on him. " Pausing for a long moment, he continued, "I thought perhaps you might know something about that."
Forcing a frown of confusion, Hermione asked, "Sir? A spell? I would never put a spell on a teacher." She shot him a look of wide-eyed innocence. "That could get me expelled!"
Tilting his head to hide his smile at her poor acting, he moved papers around on his desk. "Hermione, many of your escapades over the last seven years could have gotten you expelled." Raising his eyes, he added, "Had they not been intended for the greater good."
He calmly asked her once again, "Are you telling me you have no knowledge of a spell on Professor Snape?"
Releasing a quiet sigh, she answered honestly, "Yes, sir. I've heard of no such spell on Professor Snape."
They held a long look; his probing, hers composed.
"I see." He continued looking at her, impressed by the fact that could face him without squirming. My, my. The child is growing up. Suppressing another smile at her nerve, he briskly changed the subject.
"On another note, there will be another student joining your tutoring sessions."
Hermione simply raised her brows in query.
"I think you'll know him." Looking down at his desk once, more, he dismissed her.
As the door opened for her, she was stopped by his parting comment.
"Be careful, Hermione. Playing with fire …"
Unable to turn around, she murmured, "Yes, sir. I'll keep it in mind."
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Severus Snape's discomfiture during Potions class that day was almost palpable. Hermione pasted a look of utter blandness on her features and sat through the hour, secretly delighted that she'd managed to unsettle him. A remarkable feat, indeed.
Smiling to herself, she patted the book in her purse Ginny had loaned her. The Karma Sutra. Hermione was nothing if not thorough. And thoroughness took knowledge. She would have hours to study before night fell. And this was a self-course she planned to master.
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Lying flat on his bed, and breathing evenly, Severus listened to the storm brewing outside of the castle. The winds roared fiercely, sounding as if they alone had the power to lift Hogwarts and toss it effortlessly onto another continent.
The Alert potion he'd swallowed mere minutes before sent a buzzing feeling through his nervous system. With an effort, he held his energy in check. He would know this night if she was a dream – a very real dream – or something else.
He couldn't think, couldn't function during the day with thoughts of her skipping through his consciousness. Her silken skin. Her long, luxurious hair. His fingers twitched at the memory of running his hands over her body. Dear Lord, it had been so long. So long since he'd held a willing woman. Could it be the thoughts of this young woman that had filled his head for the past week were somehow conjuring up his night siren? Albus assured him he'd had nothing to do with the nocturnal visits.
With his thoughts turned to the corporeal, perhaps his craving hunger had manifested itself without his awareness. Was he, like Pygmalion, bringing his ideal to life?
Feeling an impatient yearning course through his veins, he settled back to wait for his Galatea.
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At first, she felt nothing, then a tickle of cool air, followed by a rush of wind that stopped abruptly when she saw her surroundings change. Breathing lightly, she stepped to the bed and climbed beneath the covers, inching her way closer to him.
Laying perfectly still, he felt her soft lips glance briefly off of his before moving to latch onto his neck. Her moist tongue made lazy trails from below his ear to his shoulder, causing him to break out in goose-bumps. Reaching up, she placed one hand behind his head and returned to his mouth, letting her other hand roam, trailing nails lightly, while she kissed him deeply, waiting to hear the groan that told her he'd risen to join her from his dreams.
Feeling his body respond against his intentions, he snapped open his eyes, and focused dazedly on the ceiling. He was kissing … air? He could feel her body pressed against him. Her exploring hand, and lightly raking nails, sent very real shivers through him. Reaching both arms to clasp around her, he made a thorough exploration of her body with slow, searching hands, returning her kiss with an almost scientific ardor. How in the holy hell was he holding a woman in his arms? These feelings were very real. He was absolutely awake. And she was positively squirming in his arms.
With one hand grasping the top of one smooth thigh, he suddenly reached up to give a vicious pinch to the firm roundness above it.
"Ow!" Drawing back, Hermione found herself looking into the slightly unfocused but smoldering gaze of her professor.
"Hermione Granger." His low, silken voice growling her name sent delightful shivers through her. Biting her tongue, she furiously tossed possible responses through her head. None seemed appropriate.
He began tapping one long finger on the area he'd pinched, reminding Hermione of an annoyed cat thumping its tail.
"Refusing to talk?" Tossing back the covers, he brought his hand down sharply on her rear end, listening intently to her surprised yelp. Holding her to him, he rolled her over, and held both wrists immediately above her head, keeping his eyes open despite the disorienting feeling of floating slightly above the bed. "I knew it! I knew it was you!" Speaking with clipped precision, he demanded, "Tell me how you're doing this!"
Still more aroused than alarmed, Hermione reached up to nip at his bottom lip. "How do you know it's not a dream?"
The whispered huskiness of her voice sent a shot of lust through his system. Shutting his eyes, for sanity's sake, he moved his mouth to her left ear and whispered deeply, "Because I'm not a fool. " Parting her legs with one knee, he smoothly entered her, and began moving slowly, continuing to whisper, "And I'm far from stupid. You can't begin to imagine what I'm going to do to you when I find the truth."
Hearing his softly, murmured threats in a voice of raw silk nearly sent Hermione over the edge. Pressing his hot mouth on the side of her neck, he began sucking rhythmically with the movements of their bodies, and in very short order, managed to send her completely over.
In her remaining time, they managed to completely wear each other out. She felt the faint shimmer and cold air just as he fell into an exhausted sleep. Collapsing in her own bed, she quickly joined him.
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Staring into the mirror the next morning, Hermine gave a horrified shriek.
"That son of a bitch! That bloody son of a bitch!" There, staring rudely back at her from the right side of her neck, was the largest, most hideous looking hickey she'd ever seen.
"Son of a bitch!" Knowing it was done intentionally, she grabbed up a bottle of makeup and began hiding the evidence. So he wanted to play games, did he? Oh, she'd play games alright. She'd play them so well, he'd barely manage to stand upright the next day.
And cursing roundly, she dressed for the day.