The next day was a flurry of activity as teachers began their early preparation for the year-end exams. Nerves and excitement ran high.
It wasn't until Hermione settled in for the night that she looked over to her dresser and noticed the missing potion. She felt a roaring in her ears, and her heart plummet.
He took it! She knew it. The scientist in him refused to merely enjoy the benefits of the unknown … he was determined to understand it. Remembering the ease with which she'd fallen into a long, deep sleep the previous night, she stomped her foot in irritation. That arrogant bastard! Drugging her and sneaking into her room! She ought to barge into his quarters right now and call him out on it!
Storming to her door, she reached for the knob and paused, instantly recalling her last visit to his rooms – in the flesh. Wincing, she withdrew her hand and let loose a long, shaky sigh. She wasn't up for a confrontation with him. Not now.
She'd just have to make more of the potion. Feeling exhaustion sweep over her, mingled with a faint sense of dread, she decided it would not be tonight. Right now she needed a hot shower and sleep. Curling up on her bed, she thought to herself, maybe I'll just lay here a moment then take a shower and, relaxing on the soft mattress, fell promptly into a deep, troubled sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hours later, when only the sounds of crickets and night owls could be heard, Hermione started awake. Sitting up, she looked at the clock – 1:00 a.m – and realized what she'd done.
"Well, that wasn't quite my intent." Shrugging, she hopped off the bed and walked into her bathroom, stripping and dropping clothes on the floor as she went.
Standing on the far side of the room, Severus held his breath. He'd watched her sleeping for long minutes before reaching out to touch her hair and startle her awake. Listening to the shower turn on, he walked stealthily to the bathroom door, peeked around the corner, and froze. Clad only in a black scrap of lace, she was reaching behind to unhook the contraption. He watched her undress and enter the steaming shower with a curious fullness in his chest. Her curves, blurred as they were behind an opaque sheet of glass, were lovely to behold. He stood for a moment watching her wash her glorious hair and hum softly to herself before opening the shower door and stepping inside.
Feeling a large hand clamp over her mouth and a naked body press against her back, Hermione felt her lungs expand in preparation to scream, but the voice - deep, melodious, and achingly familiar – instantly calmed her. Then excited her. Then enraged her. Twisting in his arms, she prepared to rip into him for stealing her potion, but found herself looking at the shower wall.
"Unsettling, isn't it?" he murmured as, wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and lowered his mouth to hers. Long, slow, delirious moments later, he pulled away from her and grasping the bar of soap, he began to run it over her body, delighting in seeing with his eyes what only his hands, lips, and body had come to know so well. Eyes wide open, he reacquainted himself with her slick, soapy body … so familiar … so new.
Forgetting her anger, she sighed in pleasure and keeping her eyes open, ran her hands over his body, nearly able to make out his shape as the hot water bounced off of him. Stealing the bar of soap from him, she began to run it over his skin, laughing at the sight of a sudsy invisible man. Pouring shampoo in her hand, she attacked his hair, massaging his scalp and smiling at the image.
"What are you doing?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Washing your hair." She kept her eyes innocently wide-open.
"I already washed it."
"Well, I can't see that can I? And you did step into my shower!" She managed to keep the fact that the oily-hair type of shampoo would do him wonders to herself.
Pulling him under the nozzle with her, she stood precariously on her toes to kiss him lingeringly as the water rinsed soap and suds down the drain. Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed a towel to dry off and watched her pick up bottle of fragrant oil, pour a measure into her hand and begin rubbing it over her glistening skin.
"What are you doing?" He asked, fascinated by the sheen appearing on her toned legs and the highly erotic sight of her hands running efficiently over her own body.
"Drying off." Glancing up, she found she could no longer place him.
"With oil?" His voice held mild curiosity. Taking the bottle, he poured a small amount into his palm and rubbed his hands together. "How utterly bizarre." Reaching out, he began moving his hands over her back and shoulders.
Leaning into his hands, she shut her eyes, and responded lightly, "Water and oil don't mix, so it moisturizes as it chases the water away. Multi-tasking." She added, snapping her fingers.
His hands moved slowly around her sides to tickle her stomach and inch towards her breasts, and feeling his lips nuzzle the area beneath her ear, she softly sighed and tilted her head back, and turning, locked lips with him. Deepening the kiss, he dropped one hand lower to begin a gentle but firm exploration between her thighs that swiftly left her breathless. Turning in his arms, she molded her body to his, and let her hands run freely over him, delighting in the subtle sinuous muscle and texture of skin.
Straining at each other, ache swiftly turned to need, need to rampant lust. Picking her up by the waist, he huskily ordered, "Put your legs around me," and holding her by the haunches, pressed her against the wall and slammed into her forcefully.
Clinging to him, she shut her eyes against the disorienting sensation of floating, and hanging on to him fiercely, gave back as good as he gave. Crying out as she peaked, she dug her nails into his back and moved her lips to his throat, licking and nipping until he growled deeply and shuddered.
Pressing one hand against the wall, he searched for his breath and strength as she slowly unraveled herself from him. Reaching up, she ran her hands softly over his face, missing his piercing eyes. Catching her slightly bemused expression, he murmured, "What?"
Smirking, she said, "You can't glare at me, can you."
"How do you know I'm not?" He retorted.
Turning to saunter into her bedroom, she casually picked up her wand and waved it at herself and over her shoulder in a quick cleansing spell.
Falling back onto her bed she put her head in her hands, and wondered if he'd followed her in. Calling out to the room at large, she said, "You know. I don't find you nearly as intimidating when I can't see you."
"Oh, really?" His velvet voice at her ear caused her heart to leap to her throat. Pinning her body under his, he looked at her face, devoid of makeup, and thought to himself that she didn't need the adornment. Her large amber eyes, framed by thick lashes, high cheekbones, and wide, generous mouth gave her a classic beauty he'd only recently begun to notice.
"I would think you'd find it very intimidating. Never knowing when I'll strike next." And thus saying, he rolled over on his back and swatted her behind, and pressing his lips to her neck, sucked lightly.
Pulling back from him, she frowned. "Don't you dare do that again! You left the most hideous mark on me!"
"Worse than my fingerprints on your bottom?"
Finding his face with her palm, she smacked him sharply. "And don't you ever … " Rolling her over onto her back again, he held her wrists above her head, and stared deeply – uselessly – into her eyes. Amazed, as always, by her audacity.
Asking slowly, in melodious tones, "Did you just slap me?"
The disbelief in his voice almost made her laugh. Honestly, what was the worse he could do to her?
"Yes. Do you want me to do it again?" she asked cheekily.
A long silence ensued, broken by his quietly uttered words. "Obviously, you still need to be cured of that nasty habit."
Rolling off of her, he reached down to pull up her legs by the knees, and lifting her slightly off of the mattress, brought his open palm down heavily and repeatedly on her bare bottom, forcing gasps and cries of distress from her before stopping at the tenth blow. Letting her legs drop, he rolled back over onto her, reclaimed her wrists and spoke tersely.
"One slap will earn you up to a dozen swats on your bottom. Do you still want to slap me again?"
Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she considered her answer before speaking. It stung where'd he'd struck her, but it was his whole demeanor – the constant dark threat – that caused her heart rate to triple. Did she really say he didn't intimidate her only moments before? "No." she breathed softly.
Lifting her chin, he studied her flushed face quietly. Pressing a warm kiss on her lips, he whispered, "I don't think I believe you."
Watching her eyes widen, he backed off and away from her, walking quietly around the room to find what he needed.
Flat on the bed, Hermione fought to control her breath and listened intently to his movements.
"What are you doing?" She called out shakily. This was more intimidating than she realized.
Returning shortly with the tie to her robe, he tossed it on the bed and climbing next to her told her quietly, "Lay still so I can look at you. If you find it necessary to fidget around, I'll tie you up."
Trying to lay completely still, she felt his hands start a slow exploration of her body, beginning with her head. Turning it this way and that, tracing her ear and jaw line, trailing his fingers down her throat, shoulders, arms and studying her fingers and nails. Feeling highly unnerved by his quiet and thorough scrutiny, she tried her best not to move away from him. His hands moved around her breasts and briefly tweaked her nipples, before moving to pinch and prod other areas of her anatomy. Reaching the apex of her legs, he spread them apart, squeezing them when she unconsciously moved to close them.
Moving swiftly to her head, he had her hands tied together and linked to the corner bedpost before she could think to protest. Feeling at a clear disadvantage, she bit her lip to keep from saying something she'd regret.
Severus sat back on his haunches, staring, mesmerized, at her parted thighs. She was absolutely beautiful. Fascinated, he leaned forward to carefully examine her with a dedicated thoroughness that had her squirming in embarrassment. This was worse than her annual 'touchy-feely" exam. He wasn't really touching her sexually. It was more of a detached series of pokes, prods, and pinches. Flipping her over onto her stomach, he proceeded to continue his examination until she felt every pore on her body must be burned into his memory.
Leaning back, he felt took a deep, stabilizing breath and tried to calm his raging urge to take her then and there. There was still a lesson to be learned.
Untying her hands, he roughly dragged her off of the bed and hauled her over to stand before a tall, oval shaped dressing mirror. Standing directly behind her, he began slowly running his hands over her body, simultaneously soothing her strung nerves and heightening her arousal. He pressed her back against him and listened to her rapid breathing.
Moving his lips to her neck, he whispered deeply into her ear. "I want to see you touch yourself."
At her shocked intake of breath, he smiled.
Struggling with her reply, she squeaked, "I … I … I can't!"
Enjoying her severe embarrassment, he pulled back and brought his hand down on her buttocks with a resounding smack, causing her to jump.
"Touch yourself." He demanded softly.
She could hear the smile in his voice. The sadistic bastard was enjoying humiliating her like this.
"No!" she said forcefully. Another loud and stinging smack landed, this time causing her eyes to fill.
Placing his lips on her neck, he murmured again. "Touch yourself."
Breathing hard, she bit her lip and said nothing.
Smiling broadly at her predictable stubbornness, he continued making his requests, punctuating each refusal with a heavy smack.
Eventually realizing this was a game she couldn't win, she gave in, uttering a weak, "Stop it! All right! All right!"
Stuttering, she spoke in a tremulous voice, "But, I don't know how."
Pressing his lips below her ear, he whispered commands, all the while rubbing and soothing her stinging flesh.
"Put your hands on your breasts. Feel their weight. Pinch one nipple lightly. Now, drop one hand down to your belly. Now lower. Lower."
Standing behind her he watched her reflection avidly in the mirror, feeling his arousal grow to aching proportions. Blushing furiously, she tilted her head back and shut her eyes as her fingers found her swollen and sensitive flesh.
Hearing her gasp softly, he lost control, and swinging her up into his arms, turned and reached the bed in three long strides. Bending her over the end of the bed, he moved a pillow beneath her belly, and whispered hoarsely, "Keep touching yourself."
Standing at the edge of the bed, he lifted her and entered her slowly, relishing the exquisite silky tightness and heat. Feeling her jerk and moan against him and her own hands, he fought for control, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. No. That was worse. Then all he could do was feel. Snapping his eyes, they lit on her round bottom. Placing his hands over her reddened skin, he parted her and watched their mating, growing even larger at the sight. Moving his eyes slightly up, he almost unconsciously moved one thumb and pressed it slowly but firmly into her, feeling her shock and initial fear. Pumping slowly, he continued to press his thumb forward, adding his other thumb until both were pressed fully into her, as grasping her cheeks tightly, he began to slam into her fiercely. He heard her cry out sharply, as her muscles involuntarily tightened convulsively around him, and hoarsely growled out his own release.
Lying, spent and stunned, Hermione felt him slowly remove his thumbs and himself from her before collapsing next to her on the bed. The shock she'd felt when his thumb had entered her was nothing to the shock she felt when she realized she liked it. Her orgasm had ripped through her with an intensity that astounded her. Feeling her heart rate begin to normalize, she felt a sense of shame wash over her. She'd begun to realize that she actually liked to goad him into spanking her. And now this? What kind of pervert was she?
Lying next to her, feeling his heart rate return to normal, he struggled with his conscience. He was turning into some kind of sex-fiend. And now he knew he'd shocked her beyond belief. What kind of a pervert was he?
Both kept to their thoughts, but felt something should be said.
Rolling over on her side, Hermione made the first move. Placing one hand out to rest on his chest, she said quietly, "Severus."
Turning his head to her, he looked into her eyes and saw her flushed features. Frowning, he started to speak, when a cold breeze blew over him and he instantly disappeared from her side.
"Ahhhhhh!" Duel groans of annoyance rose from rooms far apart at Hogwarts as the rest of the castle slept.