Finally, the Ball is ending. My god, this is going to be a long fic before its all finished!
The supper-party began to break up, the little plates of silvered chocolates appearing as a final dish on every table in the sparkling room.
Hermione glanced up at the high table, a discreet look from under her lashes. Narcissa was sitting back in her chair, everything about her as imperiously beautiful as ever. Once she rose, the the supper was officially at an end. Etiquette demanded that Narcissa look to one of the other women in the room as she stood, to encourage yet more to stand.
Hermione was very aware it should be her that Narcissa acknowledged. For the Lady of the House to look to Astoria Greengrass would be an incredible snub to her, a snub to tradition, a snub to the sacred role of the Ribbon and the Ring. Was she with Lucius in her disregard for tradition? Was she happy for her husband to make such foul and disgusting offers to any witch he fancied?
Sourness filled Hermione. Would Narcissa ignore her? No, this was one insult she wasn't ready to bear.
Her nerves tightened, her pulse jumping as her body made ready for her to stand. Severus's right hand beat out a slow, slow drum against the snowy white of the tablecloth, even as he continued on with that bloody… Madame Athcasta. Hermione looked up from his unceasing fingers and his dark gaze held a hint of mirth. Her mouth dried. She was annoyed with him, but that look... He was a totally wicked man.
Severus leaned in and the silken sweep of his hair brushed her cheek. "Anxious to be somewhere, Miss Granger?"
"Perhaps…" A smile started on her lips, but Athcasta's pale, slender hand slipped over his sleeve to pull his attention back to her. Cow. And Hermione hated how witches could touch him. Shouldn't he be off limits too?
"Please excuse me, Hermione." And his focus was on her again.
Hermione stopped herself from pinching the bridge of her nose and went back to surreptitiously watching the high table. There. Astoria popped the last of the silver-wrapped bonbons into her mouth and smiled at her no doubt soon-to-be mother-in-law. Narcissa rescued her gloves from her lap…and Hermione slid her hands to her own lap, easing on the silk of her gloves.
Smooth slips of her fingers pushed each glove up to her elbow…as her gaze stayed fixed on Narcissa. And there. The lean forward. The lift. Was that a slip of a look? Hermione didn't care. And it didn't matter. Narcissa Malfoy was on her feet. And so was she.
Hermione stood straight, her chin lifted. For a moment, she met the hostess's sharp blue eyes. Was that a hint of approval? But others were standing, blocking her view, so she couldn't be certain.
Severus stood, his mouth dipped to her ear. "Nicely done."
She ignored the little frisson at his touch and lifted her eyebrow. "I'm pleased you noticed."
His brows pinched together, but he eased out and pulled back her chair. He gave her a polite bow and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"
Hermione slipped her gloved fingers over his sleeve, a light press, as she shifted away from the table. The wizards around the table scrambled to their feet. She nodded her farewell, ignoring Athcasta's little aside about seeing Severus "very soon".
She was happy to get out. Get away.
And then the clapping started. A lone sound, but sharp and slow…until another joined it. And another. Hermione blinked as Augusta Longbottom smirked, winked and mouthed, "Tomorrow" to her.
With heat rising in Hermione's face, but with her spine straight and her fingers tight on Severus' sleeve, they wove their way out of the supper room to thunderous applause. Did Lucius Malfoy realise what a foe he had in Neville's steel-spined grandmother? Hermione was certain he was about to find out.
They moved through the twists and turns of the corridors towards the main doors, the slower exit of witches and wizards a clatter and buzz behind them. A host of house-elves stood nervously in the entrance hall and Hermione's belly twisted. Dear gods, she wanted to leave...
Pippy stepped forward, with Itzy at her shoulder. She dropped a bow and the rest followed in a creaking wave. "It's being our honour to serve you both. And now it's right to tell you as you go, never to come back here." The little elf gave an emphatic nod. "I knows that. To tell you that maybe now," Pippy's gleaming eyes looked to the ornate plaster of the ceiling and her brow furrowed, "perhaps now the magic will find its ease. You fed it, fed what he did, Ribbon-Wearer, but now you're making it right."
"I…?"
Itzy looked to her gloved arm, the one Mad Bella had scored with her blade. Hermione's stomach turned. Her blood had spilled at Malfoy Manor. Her virgin blood.
Hermione's mouth dried. Gods, had she made the horror of the magic coating this house worse? "I didn't know. I didn't mean…"
"We knows." And all the elves nodded hard, more than one clasping their spindly hands before them. "We cleaned the floor. Everything. No blood. And we never told. Never. We felt it…" Pippy bowed again and the rest of the elves mirrored her. "We knew."
The elves had kept her secret from their Master, even from Voldemort, protecting themselves and her.
"Knew what?"
Pippy beamed, looking from herself to Severus and back again. "Specialness."
The noise of the returning army of guests grew, echoing through the corridors. Severus looked to her. "If you wish to leave, Hermione…?"
The elves of Malfoy Manor had known. All along... She jerked a nod to the wizard at her side, pulling her thoughts from the gathering of elves. "Yes. Yes, of course." She presented a bright smile to the little creatures. "Thank you for this evening. It will always be my honour to protect you as you protected me."
An elf at the back burst into happy tears and Severus let out a slow breath. It was obviously trying his patience. So she nodded again, and accepted his discreet pull towards the opening main doors. Their carriage awaited them, thestrals stamping their feet and a strange snort of white misty breath wreathing around their skulls in the cold, night air.
Severus handed her up into the carriage, followed her and the thestrals set off at a brisk pace for the gates.
She let her head fall back against the soft padding. Over. It was over and she'd survived mostly intact. Silence hung over the warmed interior. There was none of the flirtation that marked the drive up to the house. She honestly couldn't find the energy. Too much had happened. The house itself and her past with it, twisting in a way she'd never considered. The attention of so many wizards, their looks, the obviousness of their leering thoughts. And overarching both of those, was the foulness of Lucius Malfoy, matched with the games of Madame Amelia Athcasta.
She wanted to take satisfaction –a comfort— that she was returning to the flat with Severus. Not another witch. Not his former fiancée…
"Hermione?"
After a long moment, she rolled her head to him, the soft light of the carriage gilding his sharp features. In the morning, she would wake up to that face…and a riot of conflicting emotions –a want and reluctance— warred within her. "Yes?"
"You did well tonight."
She huffed a sour laugh. "Truly? I feel as if I've been flattened by a rampaging hippogryph." A smile stayed on her mouth. "Augusta Longbottom was brilliant..." She wrinkled her nose. "I think she said something about tomorrow."
"I'll floo-call in the morning. It no doubt concerns Lucius."
Hermione snorted. "Him."
"You must be careful of him."
Her gaze narrowed on the wizard beside her and her pulse spiked. Yes, the dislike, the…the jealousy surging around Madame Athcasta was forever there, bubbling just under the surface. "Not just of him, Severus."
His mouth thinned. "Amelia is an old friend—"
"And this is something I should accept? In the way that Lucius Malfoy had no qualms in arranging to cheat on his wife with me?" Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Merlin's tits, she sounded as if she were his jealous lover. Not what she was. A…a short term project.
Severus chest lifted, anger there in his eyes, in the flush to his skin…but the carriage jerked to a holt. Hermione didn't wait for him. She dragged up the skirts of her gown and clattered to the path.
He grabbed her arm before she could half turn into her apparition. "Allow me, Miss Granger." He yanked her to him and the dark compression of his magic twisted and tugged her back to Prince Albert Mansions.
Gret was waiting for them in the hallway, but he said nothing as Hermione struggled free from Severus and kicked off her shoes. The little elf wrung his hands, his luminous eyes wide and worried. Guilt twisted her belly, but she had to get away. Find somewhere quiet. She was behaving as if Severus Snape in someway belonged to her. And he wouldn't. He never could.
My life is my own.
Those still-hated words rattled through her thoughts. She crushed them and stalking towards the stairs that would take her down to her rooms. "Goodnight."
Severus frowned at her. "Where are you going?"
"To bed."
"Yes, mine." Severus pressed his long fingers to the bridge of his nose. "As I said a moment ago, Amelia is one of my oldest friends. She knows what she did tonight was wrong and I will ask for an apology, from both herself and Tam."
She stopped at the top of the stairs not able to look at him. "I bet you'll be waiting bloody long time…"
"Hermione—"
"Lucius Malfoy said he was going to fuck me!" She pressed a fist to her chest, her heart thudding. "And I quote, 'Make no mistake, Hermione, when your ribbon breaks, I will be the first to fuck you.' And you weren't there! She did that…"
His arms were around her, strong and warm and she buried her face against the smooth silk of his robes. The familiar scent of herbs, of old parchment enfolded her and she clutched at him, even as her heart hammered. "I was so scared, Severus." She swallowed, her throat tight and aching. "I couldn't do anything because he was a bloody Malfoy."
Damn it, his touch eased every worry and yet, strained her to breaking. Warm lips pressed to her temple and she sucked in a shuddering breath. Enough. Enough.
His slow smile curved against her skin. "Anything you'd normally do, such as hex him with boils and plant a fist in his face?"
A half-laugh broke from her and the tight bands around her chest eased. "Yes, exactly that. Something egregiously muggle and, or Gryffindor." She looked at him, enjoying the play of light and shadow over his face. She wanted him, all of him, so very much. "Instead, I had Augusta Longbottom. How did that—?"
"You'll get the full story tomorrow. Right now…" Severus eased his arms away and offered his hand to her. "I promised you pleasure, Ribbon-Wearer."
Hermione slid her hand into his, her fingers brushing over the warm gold of his ring. A thrum chased through her flesh and her mouth parted. All other thought simply fell away. There was only him. Just him... "Gods, Severus…"
His smile was dark and wanton and his voice… His, "Come with me" had her stumbling after him, no thought in her head but that he was hers. Hers in this hot, delicious moment.
He glanced at her, his eyebrow lifted. His smile was wry. "Who knew that I could still that brilliant mind of yours simply with the offer of my body?" He drew her into his bedroom and the whisper of a spell dried the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her face and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. "I will divest you of this beautiful dress, have you bare before me…"
Another kiss, a tease to her upper lip. "Would you want that?"
"Yes…" She blinked at the almost moan that escaped He was weaving a spell around her and she wanted to fall. She wanted to fall, so badly. Forget everything in him. "Please, Severus."
"How should we begin?"
Her thoughts whirled. She remembered being brazen in the library at Grimmauld Place…but that escaped her now. She'd said those words in brash ignorance. And now, the more time she spent with him, the more her body knew him, the less she could ask. She wanted everything from him…and didn't know where to start.
"Here, then, I believe would be a good place to begin."
He eased her gown from her shoulders and it pooled at her feet in a swift, warm rush of silk. A hit of nerves raced through her. Gret had insisted on a barely there set of silvery-grey silk…and the little elf had grinned cheekily at her, all too aware that the Potions Master would see her dressed so. Her fingers twitched at his silence.
Severus stepped back from her, his dark eyes warm…and his chest lifted. He let out a soft sigh and a trembling hand cupped her jaw. "Merlin, sweet girl, you are exquisite."
Hermione pressed her lips together, her heart thudding at the sudden dark turn to his smile.
"It's almost a shame to unwrap you." His eyes gleamed. "But I'll do my best."
Her breath caught. That twist of darkness in him, under the urbane and mannered wizard. Gods… She almost swayed at the power of it. "And then?"
His mouth dipped to hers again, a ghost of a kiss. "I want you very wet, Miss Granger."
Oh, her mind went to such dangerous places... "Will we…?" She pressed her hand to the smooth front of his robes, the warmth of the silk there under her palm. Her pulse drummed. "Will we," the words 'make love' burned so sharply on her tongue no synonym followed, "tonight?"
"Not yet."
And that refusal pushed a groan, a curl of inchoate fury whipping through her, but his catch of a stray curl and easing it away from her forehead, broke it. His dark gaze fixed on her again and the gesture, his look scattered her feelings. Gods she wanted him. Couldn't he understand that?
"I will not be rushed. You chose me. And I'm a master of timing, Hermione. Knowing when a touch, a tease, a kiss should fall…" He covered her hand with his, lifted it and pressed his lips to her palm, and skittered a flash of unexpected pleasure between her thighs. "That is the talent you expect of me. And one I'm willing to share.
"Now," he turned and drew her towards his bathroom. His smile was so, so wicked. "I believe my plan is to get you very, very wet…"
I'm tumbling back into this fic. I think I got it right... *gulp*
Next week: Smutty, McSmut-smut! :D