A/N: Hello folks, I apologize for the wait and for supplying you with this short a chapter. But frankly, I'd rather give you this short chapter than make you wait for another few weeks - which is exactly what I'm about to do with the next chapter. :( Graduation and my new job are coming up, and I'll be leaving the country for a while for my training, so writing time will be scarce. But I promise, 'Accommodations' is practically constantly on my mind, and I'm not abandoning this.
On that thought, I hope you'll enjoy this little interlude. Please let me know what you liked / disliked / hope for the next few chapters to happen. I do appreciate hearing your opinions, and I thank all of you who commented on the last chapter!
But now, enjoy! :)
Marcella xxx
Friday, February 20th, 1996
"I wasn't certain you would come."
Breathing was easy tonight, seeing how Hermione didn't hover underwater, instead choosing to await the professor with her head firmly above the surface of the pool. How she was able to tell that he had entered the room, dark as it was, she did not know, but something had changed in the atmosphere, and she had gotten the distinct feeling that it was he.
"Are you so uncertain of your skills, Miss Granger?" the professor challenged. The sconces lining the bathroom walls flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the room. "So insecure about the abilities you acquired in my lessons? Should I take that as an insult to my teaching methods?"
Hermione sighed. Trust the professor to turn such a simple sentence into a sexual reference.
"You will take it as you will anyway, sir, so why should I waste my breath and try to tell you how to take it," she countered. "Of course, I had not thought you crude enough to stoop so low as to make use of such an innuendo, but I see that I've been wrong there. However, if that's how you want things to be, then they will be on my terms."
The professor chuckled darkly, and the sound sent cold shivers down Hermione's spine that countered the pleasantness of the warm liquid surrounding her.
"I am not one to relinquish control, Miss Granger," the professor asserted.
Hermione mustered him for a moment or two before nodding.
"No, that, you are not," she agreed. "You are one to steal control, but I am about to take it back."
"If you feel that you have lost control, Miss Granger," the Potions Master suggested, "then it appears that my lessons have failed."
This time, it was Hermione who had to chuckle.
"Or perhaps," she countered, "it is time for you to learn something for a change."
A single raised eyebrow was her only answer for a minute that took its time ticking by.
"Miss Granger," he eventually intoned, "it is important to know when one has lost, and to recognize when the time has come to stop fighting."
"In that case, sir," Hermione replied, "I suggest you give up now."
Severus found himself sitting on one of the benches lining the prefects' bathroom, immobilized, without any idea of how he had got himself there. Or perhaps, he hadn't got himself there at all. Perhaps the girl had something to do with that.
She was just now leaving the pool. Rivulets of pearly water ran down the hourglass of her body, highlighting the beautiful shape that fit so perfectly in his hands. Only, said hands were quite unable to fit themselves around anything at this time, seeing how he was apparently unable to move them from where the girl's magic had them pinned in place.
Despite the furious riot of her curls, her plain features, and her short statue, the girl was beauty incarnate to Severus. But no matter how arresting he found her beauty, his whole attention was caught by the sight of her tummy.
Her skin was criss-crossed with lines white and red. Silver shone the places in which the cuts from his 'painting' had turned to scars on her milky white skin, and angry red stripes illuminated her pale tone where the wounds had become inflamed.
"You have not healed them."
Neither of them was certain whether that was supposed to be a question or not, but it wasn't really important as the girl answered anyway.
"You did not explicitly allow me to do so, sir, so no, I did not heal myself," she explained. "I wanted to learn how to take the pain, and I've been learning. A lot."
The girl came to stand directly in front of Severus. Between his open legs, her breasts were at his eyelevel this way. He knew that it would be only too easy to free himself from whatever spell the girl had him under that was pinning him in place, but Severus found that he had no desire to do so. Too shocked was he by the wounds marring the girl's perfect body. Another part that had been untouched about her, destroyed by him. He felt that he was slowly robbing her of every kind of innocence she still had.
He had assumed that the girl would take care of herself. Or rather, he had completely forgotten about the wounds he had caused her. Their fight the prior weekend had rather unsettled him in a most unpleasant way, and her pain had been the last thing on his mind. But to find that she would neglect herself thus, would trust him enough to assume that he would remember to take care of her health even when furious with her, was just a little moving, and very, very stupid.
Severus might not have any desire to free himself, but his desire to heal the girl was immeasurable. That came as a surprise to him, but he could not summon any concentration to ponder that. He didn't ponder how he was suddenly able to move his right hand, either. He simply laid said hand upon the girl's taut stomach. His long, slender fingers spanned the flat expanse of her silky skin. His magic rushed from his fingertips into her body, warm waves of benevolent power imbuing her body with the skill to knit itself together, until there was nothing left of the red and silver stripes that had marred her white flesh before.
His gaze would not budge from where it was glued to the girl's now healed abdomen. Time rushed by, or crept by; Severus was unable to tell. All he could do was revel in the wholeness that was the girl's restored appearance of being untouched, unmarred by all he had been throwing at her.
"Surrender to me, sir," the girl's soft voice begged him.
His eyes flitted upwards to meet hers. The expression he found there was pleading, and he felt some of the ice surrounding his heart melt.
"Please," she whispered.
Severus complied. He opened his slacks and freed what lay underneath them. He was surprised to find himself hard and ready to penetrate the girl, but paid that surprise no mind. Instead, he allowed his hand back into its previous immobilized state, and watched as the girl straddled him.
His lips opened to release a quiet moan as the girl sank onto him, ever so slowly. Bracing her hands behind herself on his knees, she leaned back. Severus was in heaven. Even when her hips began to move, he found his highest pleasure in watching the waves of her lust ripple down her freshly healed stomach.
It wasn't long before she came, and the clenching around his cock drew Severus's own release from his loins. They remained as they were for a few seconds, or for several minutes, who cared, really? Eventually, though, the girl made to stand up.
"Thank you," she said in a quiet voice.
No, thank you, Severus's mind shouted.
"Don't mention it," he replied instead.
The girl hesitated for a moment.
"I just wanted to say –"
Severus cut her off.
"No, truly, don't," he repeated, "don't mention it."
The girl simply nodded her agreement, then she was gone.
Tugging himself away, Severus stood, stretching his legs to shake out the kinks the girl's weight had sneaked into them – not that he minded in the least. Furious as he had been with her, seeing the girl's marred stomach had taken all the wind out of his fury's sails. He had allowed her control, and it had been surprisingly satisfactory. Transcendent, almost. Too beautiful to analyse apart by trying to put a term to it.
A sudden sound disturbed the almost perfect silence in the bathroom. Severus had become used to the water rhythmically lapping at the pool's tiled walls, but a crack was not a sound to expect in the middle of the night.
Looking up, Severus found that a window had sprung. It was the glass painting of the mermaid, only the mermaid was now wearing a blindfold, her lips gagged, her hands tied. She was thrashing about, trying to lose her restraints, but it was no use. All her thrashing had caused, was a little tear in the glass she was painted upon.
A silent Reparo had the window whole again. Severus made his way to the bathroom door from where he Vanished the mermaid's gag and hand ties. Not that he had ever liked the too-happy chit, but it would not do to have her wreak havoc by destroying her own painting. For a moment, he wondered when the girl had found the energy and presence of mind to remember to get rid of unwanted witnesses, such as the mermaid. He felt almost proud of her. Almost.
He was gone from the bathroom before the mermaid could rip the blindfold from her eyes.
Monday, February 23rd, 1996
"One might wonder," Severus snarled a few days later, loud enough for the whole class to hear, "why you still insist on bothering Potter and Weasley with your incessant harping, Miss Granger, when the past four years have proven, ob-viously, that even the combination of book recipes, blackboard instructions, and your own 'helpful' advice will not render the results of their brewing any more useful."
While Potter's brew held some colour that might almost come close to the shade of reddish brown it was supposed to be at this state, it was far too thin. Weasley's concoction, while closer to the desired sluggish consistency as perfectly demonstrated in the girl's cauldron, was coloured a ghastly greenish grey that looked more like decayed mushrooms, half-digested and puked out again, than anything else. Longbottom's cauldron was emitting small puffs of smoke every now and then, as the blackened powder of what remained of his attempt at this potion was slowly burning to dust.
The girl had been constantly whispering to the three dunderheads, and seemingly without drawing breath in between instructions. All her efforts had been for nothing, though. Or, perhaps, not for nothing. Longbottom hadn't blown up the class yet, and that in itself was an accomplishment, Severus supposed. Not that he'd ever say so.
"Well, if you cannot be expected to sort out your classmates' potions, Miss Granger," Severus continued in his usual scathing tone of voice, "I suppose sorting out those leftover ingredients in the store room – without magic – will be more to your level of expertise."
A swirl of his wand Vanished the girl's perfect brew, and with a whispered 'Yes, professor,' her head low, the girl disappeared into the adjacent store room.
The girl's excitement had been impossible to ignore this morning, as had the onslaught of letters the Potter boy had received, or the fury of that pink-clad Ministry toad. When secretly perusing the copy of The Quibbler that his students had been quick to supply for their Head of House, without needing to be asked and, more importantly, without needing to be told to do so without disclosing their identity, as necessitated by Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven, Severus had come to the realization that this was what the girl had been so happy about on Valentine's Day. This, concocting this interview and having it published, was what had constituted as a 'productive day' for her. This was what he had suspected to be her secret lover.
Severus walked up and down the rows of tediously working students once more before casually – or as casually as he ever did anything – making his way over to the store room. He would never apologize to the girl, of course, for whatever she thought he had done wrong during their, say, difference of opinion that Saturday. But perhaps a good, nice orgasm or two, combined with her happy mood, might help bring her to the realization that conceding all control over their sexual interactions to Severus would be the wise road to take.
He opened the door to the store room to find the girl.
However, she wasn't alone.