Enjoying It
Hermione sat back on the barstool, laughing softly to herself. She'd just seen him come into the bar and, if things went her way, it would prove to be an interesting night because of it. From her vantage point, Hermione could see an obscenely drunken woman stagger toward the Potions Master and try to chat him up. All she received for her troubles, however, was for the tall man to lean close and whisper something in her ear, which caused the woman to draw back and slap him (just before falling down in a dizzy heap).
Hermione spun amusedly on her stool. Tonight, she was short with razor cropped black hair spiked up the back. It was a good body; it felt good on her. She sat there for another half an hour, watching woman after woman approach him with the same intent, always making the first move. Hermione nursed a margarita as Severus continued to be slapped or rebuffed for whatever he was saying.
Mrs. Potter was perfectly happy to spend her evening brushing off men, drinking anything blended, and watching the Potions Master with interest. His continual search and failure amused her. After all, it wasn't like he was going to find her and she had six more hours of potion left in a flask in her cleavage.
After several hours of failing to find her, Severus slumped (gracefully) onto a barstool and ordered a gin and tonic from the bartender. God did he need it now. When the glass arrived, instead of drinking the liquor right away, Snape pressed the cold, condensation covered glass against his forehead and sighed happily. That was better.
A woman turned to him. She was several inches shorter than him, despite his slouch, and smiling, "Hey." The remains of a something strawberry were being nursed in her glass, "You look lonely…" One of her eyebrows went up as her eyes swept over him.
He looked her over closely, carefully. He took in the height, the hair, her demeanour, before leaning over and whispering softly into her ear, "Hermione?"
The woman laughed and shook her head, looking back at him with a wicked smile, "I don't know what you usually expect to hear, but you can call me anything you want, Babe." The woman leaned closer, chin resting on her hand, giving him an eyeful from the neck down, "Just make sure that you're screaming it by sunrise."
Severus smirked and shook his own head, I might as well enjoy this while it lasts. With that kind of invitation, it didn't take too long for the Potions Master to get her back to his apartment. During the ride back he kept her lips busy with his own. Locking the door behind himself, he grinned, "Don't want any disturbances, do we?"
The woman just laughed, "Definitely not, Babe." Severus grabbed her then and kissed her the whole way through his apartment. He stripped her clothes off carefully between hurried pecks.
Taking this woman to his bed was different than the blonde for a lot of reasons. Severus enjoyed her, made sure that she enjoyed herself. He was more tender with her, running his hands through her hair. They played with one another for almost an hour before finally falling upon one another and giving into lust.
Severus shuddered heavily as his hands slid through her hair, combing it out with his fingers, watching it lengthen and curl as it went. His hands slid down and rested on her hips as they moved, feeling them round out as her voice rose from a heavy, husky growl to a high, girlish scream of pleasure. "Hermione!" his own voice called out in response.
Relaxing, Hermione turned, sitting half on the bed and looking back at him, "How did you know, Severus?"
He grinned, "Hermione, I've been dating for an awfully long time and in all my years, only one person has ever called me 'Babe.'" He shook his head at her, "I've heard it now from three women in as many nights. It didn't take too much cool-headed deduction to figure it out."
He wasn't mad at her and, for now, and that was enough for Hermione. She curled herself up and snuggled into his side, just letting herself sleep. It felt nice, for the first time in a long time, to want to be herself.
The next morning, however, she awoke to a cold and empty bed. She hadn't even managed to land on the pillows; she was face down on the black covered mattress, "Sev?" Grabbing the top sheet, Hermione twisted it into a pseudo-toga and wandered out into the kitchen looking for her host.
"Eggs?" He looked back at her, dressed in a pair of black jeans as he had the last time she'd seen him here. His hair was still damp from the shower he must have taken earlier.
Hermione nodded and tied the toga more securely around her so she could move. She sat down at the table where a cup of coffee was already waiting for her and watched him.
A few moments later, he brought two plates over and sat down near her, "Okay, Hermione. You've had your fun and I let you sleep, but now we have to talk."
He dream world now shattered, Hermione looked coldly up at him from her coffee, "Fine, just be quick about it. After all, I have to get back home to my husband."
Severus' face turned hard and he sneered at her, "Alright, fine. I only had one question, anyway. What on earth happened to turn Hogwarts' valedictorian into a Polyjuiced Whore?"
He'd been planning the question and knew what he'd expected: he'd expected Hermione to throw the eggs at him (thus why they were scrambled) or at least her cup of coffee (which was relatively cool in comparison to his own). Instead, the woman just threw her head back and laughed, "I guess that would be accurate."
He sat back and looked at her, sadly. She wasn't going to tell him what happened, "If you won't answer, at least tell me why you didn't come to Hogsmeade."
She laughed again, this time harder, "Because I was getting married that afternoon, you daft fool!" Hermione stood up and walked over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, eggs untouched, "If you really want me, Severus, this is all you're going to get: a different girl in your bed every night. At least you can know that underneath it's always me."
Severus shook his head and broke back from her, "I can't do that, Hermione." In his own mind, though, he couldn't believe that he was actually say this to the only woman who made him burn like this.
"How can you help it, Sev?" She smirked, "You don't really have a choice. You've already picked up the habit of bringing these women home with you. You won't even know it's me until the next morning." Her eyes twinkled with a less-than-veiled mischief.
Severus stood up and grabbed her shoulder, shaking them roughly. Hermione's hip knocked the plate of eggs to the floor and they heard it smash, "For God's sake, Hermione! You're married!" He stepped back, feeling a little defeated, "This isn't something I can do."
"No." Hermione gathered the toga, which had unwound itself from her upper body. She twisted it over her shoulder and looked back at him as she headed to the bedroom for her clothes, "But I can."
Severus sunk limply into his kitchen chair, hands over his face. He couldn't believe that she had really asked him to sleep around with her behind Harry's back. Once was one thing, he was trying to prove something to her, but Snape had no desire to continue it.
Ten minutes later, Hermione walked out from the bedroom, now fully dressed. She leaned down and kissed his cheek. Her lips brushed against his ear (making him shiver), "I'll be waiting for you in the bar again tonight. Come join me, Sev. You know you want to." Her tongue flicked his earlobe before she turned and walked out. She was drunk on power and Severus' lack of resistance wasn't helping matters.
He watched her leave the apartment, saw her jogging down the stairs as the door closed slowly behind her. She was smiling as if nothing was wrong, This isn't the girl I knew at Hogwarts. What happened to create such a monster?
Hermione, for her part, was happily jogging home with a smile on her face. Too busy planning for that night, she missed the young man with shaggy hair leaning on the building and watching her. He'd seen her leave the apartment the night before and the night before that. He slipped in the door as it closed behind her and headed upstairs to apartment number 314.
A knock sounded minutes later on Severus' door as Ron leaned against it. The door swung open to show Ron a dark haired, haggard looking man who looked annoyed at the redhead's presence, "What are you doing here, Weasley? What do you want?"
Ron smirked, "I'm pretty sure that you can figure that out. It's not like we've ever talked about more than one thing." As if to punctuate his words, Ron's eyes wandered back over his right shoulder and down the steps that Hermione had recently trod.
Severus snarled slightly but said only, "Well?"
Ron looked back at Severus and leaned forward on the door jamb, "I do understand, Snape. Don't think that I don't." He crossed his arms, "I understand that you love her and that you want her. I understand that she's not happy, even if I'm not spending my time with her anymore. I understand too, however, that if someone doesn't tell Harry, my best friend is going to get his heart ripped out again when he finds the two of you together."
Snape watched the young man turn to leave. Ron looked back at his former Professor, "So, because I understand, I'm giving you a choice. Either one of you tell him or I will. He deserves at least that much, Snape. All he ever wanted was for his best friends to be happy." The redhead wandered slowly down the stairs as if he had nowhere to be.
Severus walked back to his kitchen table and looked around the room. Smashed plate on the floor with eggs spread across the tiles. There was cold coffee in mugs on the wooden tabletop. Was this really what he wanted to be left with every morning? An empty apartment and an emptier feeling in his gut?
With a sigh, Severus went through the motions of cleaning up: sweeping the plate into the garbage, throwing out the eggs and coffee, and scourgifying his dishes before putting them away.
He walked through the apartment to the false wall in his closet and, further, through there to his potions lab. It was charmed to look like his dungeons, usually a place of solace and comfort for the man. Today, however, it felt as empty and alone as the rest of his apartment. This wasn't going to do.
