Animal Magnetism

Disclaimer: I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

Chapter 16

Morning again found her in the Room of Requirement beating the stuffing out of the very same Death Eater dummies. Her internal clock had thankfully woken her at precisely four o'clock- which gave her plenty of time to make a quiet, graceful exit. Her observations had told her that Severus [Snape?] usually got up around five. Even with the events of the previous night, she had no way of knowing how that 'morning after' thing might've gone. And she had no intention of finding out. But in those few precious moments when she first woke, before common sense kicked in… She sighed.

Just remembering that night she was flooded with desire… and that something else she couldn't, wouldn't, put a name to. The golden rays of the light filtering in from the ceiling touched her, and so had a strange tenderness. It didn't detract from the hunger, just somehow softened it. It was so unlike the primal edge of the passion they'd shared. His features in sleep were so much… gentler, as odd as it seemed to apply that word to him. Younger. She'd marveled at that difference for a long while, and she had to stop herself from fondly stroking her cheek. There was no place for that fondness here, and the urge had been disconcerting. How she had itched to brush back those thick black locks from his face!

After that she had hurriedly dressed and ran out of there like the dogs of hell were on her heels- with only ten minutes left before he usually woke. She couldn't believe she'd been staring that long, lost in her own little world. Now it was after lunch and she was still hiding out there again. Though at least she remembered to leave a note for Harry, so they wouldn't worry. Wiping her brow, she waited for the meal provided by the magic of the room. It had scared her to see and feel all the things she had with Snape, no matter how pleasant they'd been at the time. It was a shame her new abilities didn't affect him- she badly wanted to erase those hours from his head. Hers too, actually. The strength of her response to him was almost embarrassing. And the ramifications could be disastrous.

Her cheeks flushed recalling the memory of what he saw in her head the night he'd patched her up. That had been both embarrassing and disastrous too. But it was his reaction that she'd been interested in. Amidst the shock and disgust, there'd been a tinge of jealously- and possessiveness. Strange for someone she thought hated her and didn't really want her. She'd been wrong, and that was amazing to her. Her old professor, who'd spent so many years tormenting her, wanted her. And she wanted him back. He'd been upset at her for almost killing herself, even cleansed her of the poison in her soul that had led to the decision, and then he'd ravaged her. And it had driven him crazy to think she was romantically entangled with Harry, had chosen him as a mate. What did that mean? He cared for her? What next?

He saved her life three times just in the last few months. Did she owe him a chance? Delivering her signature spin kick and taking off another dummy's head, she saw the table with the food appear. Lunchtime. Steak, how perfect. Too bad the Room of Requirement couldn't conjure up a solution to her problem for her too. "Not very nice to take off on me before I get to talk to you Miss Granger," an all too familiar sardonic voice drawled as footsteps padded towards her on the wood floor. Hermione jumped up in her seat, wide-eyed, and knocked over the table in her haste. "What-you can't-I locked the door!" she gasped out, ending in a very undignified squeak. This was her solution? Suddenly her eyes narrowed as the phantom reached her. It was a phony, it had to be.

Grumbling while struggling to resist the dark charms, she closed her eyes, gulping and wishing him gone. Panic set in when she felt those hands stroking over her. But then as quickly as he'd arrived, Severus Snape was gone. Or at least the phony version was. "Some idea of stress relief- it had quite the opposite effect," she complained. As expected, she got no response. Just as she'd have it. Maybe she should just live in here. She could definitely get used to having her every whim carried out. Though it might start to get incredibly weird waking up every morning to a Snape doppelganger arousing her to unimaginable heights, or professing his love…

The reverie she'd slipped into broke off. Wait… Yea, that'd be awkward. And uncomfortable. And totally unwanted. Hermione nodded her head to punctuate the point. 'Not to mention it'd be completely, utterly bonkers. Snape would never do anything close to professing such nonsense- especially to the likes of her. Just because she wasn't much of a know-it-all these days and he had sex with her didn't mean she wasn't still insufferable to him. Hell, probably more so now because she made him lose control with her actions. Sighing, she flopped down on the bed with a full stomach and, exhausted after about eight hours of grueling exercise, she slept.

She was floating in a sea of the tranquility, the beauty of it entrancing her. Then she felt something. Hands. Large, powerful hands. On her, gripping her, touching her. They encompassed her waist, slid like mercury to her breasts, cupped them, palms over her nipples, fingers then stroking downward over her abdomen, then lower still into the triangle of hair between her legs. To strong and bold to be any of her other lovers. But who else would've come to her like this? Suddenly his arms swept completely around her as he hauled her flush against his equally naked body, making her go still. His body was all but meshed with hers and she could feel the crispness of his chest hair against the softness of her breasts, touching her so tightly in the cloud-bed.

It was such an acute sensation she wanted to scream. And there was more to feel. More of him. Oh, it was all so much worse? She could feel the hardness and heat of his muscled form, feel his hips, his thighs…. Feel… Her cheeks burned. The very length of her body burned. Oh God. Before she even heard and felt the timbre of his voice at her ear, whispering of the things she did to him, she knew who it was. Severus. She had to get away. She couldn't take any more of this. Feeling him. The heat, the fire, the sheer strength of his hold. How could he do this to her? She wanted to lash out so badly, the sea turning into solid ground.

She suddenly felt so absurdly on display, feeling the breeze so keenly now about her naked flesh, trying not to move or tremble, to waylay the heat that burned so fiercely in her. She would not feel intimidated, yet she was shaking… Awaiting… His touch. She couldn't talk, couldn't move, and was both very afraid of what he intended, yet trembling with the fire and anticipation of it. She couldn't bear it. She'd just decided to run when he caught her arm, and she was spun around and swept cleanly from her feet. She landed flat upon her back on the ground, breathless, staring into his charcoal eyes. His thumb moved in a soft line across her cheek. "I won, you lost." "I refuse to be defeated. The fight is not done, sir. When you fight for your integrity and honor, you do so until the last."

"Well think of it this way: Those taken in battle must accept the victor's conditions." She started to argue further, but no words escaped her lips, for his mouth formed over hers with a stark demand that both angered and aroused. The pressure of his body bore her down; she was keenly aware of the rough wool of his pants against her flesh and the soft sweet musky scent of the waters embankment beneath her. More than anything, she felt the hot fire of his mouth, the savage demand of his tongue, invading and caressing, brutal, sensual, violating, coaxing, stroking again… Her fingers stroked his hair; her lips met and melded with his in a fiery explosion in which she gave the entire tempest she received.

Then his hand curved around her breast, thumb against her nipple until she would've screamed with the sensation had she been able... She writhed with the encroaching whiplash of fire that seemed to dart through her, burning from those points where he touched her. His mouth flooded her body with warmth; his touch upon her naked breast seared through her center and spiraled somewhere deep within. She gasped for breath, digging her fingers into his hair as his mouth left hers to suckle her nipple where his thumb had teased.

He turned her within the embrace of his arms, drawing her palms and fingers down the length of his chest, bringing her fingers in a curl around the throbbing length of his erection. She gasped and her gold eyes met his briefly, incredibly wide, then she buried her head against his shoulder, trembling as her body pressed to his and she… experimented. Her hand rubbed over the length of his in an instinctive stroke. Her fingers feathered his flesh and he groaned deeply, gutturally, as she reached lower, cupping and caressing his testicles, delicately hesitant, more and more surely…

She wanted to make him as crazy as he made her, if not more. She'd show him who the one in control was. But his mouth found hers again, the kiss turned violent as his touch plundering the dips and curves of her body, savoring the heat of her flesh beneath the chill the air caused. Then he began to caress… kissing the droplets of water from her breasts, the hollows at her hips, her thighs, between them… She tried to form words to protest, but her mind failed to oblige her- she continued to do nothing more than gasp and twist and writhe, tearing at his thick black hair, dismayed to realize even that touch seemed oddly sensual to her fingertips. His hand slid slowly along her side, curving around a hip.

Slid between the two of them, and then between her legs. The pressure of his thumb slid intimately down through the triangle of golden brown hair, parting her, stroking the most sensitive and intimate of female places. She tensed like a jackknife, a scream forming in her throat but only coming out as a whisper. Yet her harsh intake of her breath brought him over her again. Her golden eyes met his, dazed and somehow still challenging. His mouth covered hers again with a frightening ardor and passion.

She realized she'd not begun to estimate his strength until that moment when she lay pinned beneath him, realized his every movement was not guided by passion alone. She pressed her palms against the hardness of his chest, but the force of his weight was such he didn't begin to feel her protest. Nor could she cry out, for his kiss soon consumed her words. She twisted and writhed anew, on fire, seared by sensation, yet wild to escape the threatening pressure of his body. Her knees were thrust apart by a sudden supple movement of his body and the insistence of his weight.

His chest and legs remained clad in wool; his hips were naked. She felt his hand and sex and sex rubbing against her. A massive shudder swept through her. Then his pants were gone entirely and he burst into her with a single hard, smooth thrust that instantly broke all barriers. The falling light became a blood-red passion that burned into the landscape, and into their flesh. Beneath him, she met the storm of his rhythm, rode the lightning of his hunger. She never screamed, for she could not. Involuntary tears instantly pooled in her eyes and she clenched them tightly together, turning her head to her side as his lips broke from hers at last. She felt him looking down at her, just as she felt the fierce burning at the juncture of her legs.

She wished fervently she had the power to buck him off. She hadn't wanted to give in again, hadn't wanted to feel. But when it came to him, the choice was always taken away from her. And she knew it was useless to wait for an apology. He began to withdraw and she was counting herself lucky… only to have him plunge into her again. She bit fiercely into her lower lip… then felt his hands on her face, drawing it forward. She opened her eyes and met his. Even as she managed at long last to croak out "No!" she felt herself somehow stilled by the blazing fire in his eyes and rigid tension in his face. She tried to part his lips to speak again, but then his mouth fit over hers.

Still demanding. Coaxing. Bringing liquid warmth. Slowly, the warmth of his mouth seemed to ignite the burning between her legs once more. The heat was almost unbearable, and she found herself enfolded closer into his embrace, hands sliding down the length of her back, forming over her buttocks, drawing her more flush against the increasing furious pulse of his thrusts within her. Her fingers curled into his shoulder, nails digging. She'd prayed for it to end, but something else had begun to grow within her. A different kind of fire, a different kind of warmth and passion. 'Love? No. Unwilling and unwanted, whatever it was. She'd hated his touch for what it did to her, and yet…

She knew she couldn't live without it. She'd wanted to escape it, but now she twisted and arched to feel it, to feel the growing sweetness pervading her. 'Mate.' A rigor seemed to seize him; then a violent thrust brought him so deeply within her that she shuddered with the force of it. Then once again… and the mercury of his climax filled her anew with a sense of liquid, burning fire. She was mere seconds behind, teeth clamping over his neck, drawing his saccharine blood inside her body and setting off the cataclysmic reaction. The beast inside her purred her satisfaction, glowing golden eyes seeming to peer out at her from behind the veil. 'Mine. Forever.'

The night, in darkness, began to grow chill, and she wished for a moment she truly did have the warmth of his body… though she covered it with a wish for a fire before the Room could close him again. She still felt shaken from her dream, trembling. It was frightening to fell such violent, desperate sensation. She was amazed by the way he made her feel, the strength of the emotions awakened in her through this intimacy that still seemed so new and strange. When he had pressed her to the ground, she'd been willing to feel the heat of his desire forever. And she didn't like the way she felt buffeted along. She didn't want to want him; she certainly didn't want to need him.

But her hunger put her beneath his power in a way, forced these feelings upon her. When they'd had sex, she thought at first he demanded what she didn't want to give, but she was wrong. Somewhere in the midst of this, things had changed. Now it seemed that the very sound of his voice could stir a warmth in her, the lightest brush of his fingers could ignite a burning. But what he hadn't given her was his regard. Affection of sorts. Love. Those she knew she would never get from him. Not that she wanted them. Not entirely. It was her creatures' wants that had shifted, demanded more. Not hers, really. So she had to stay far, far away from Severus Snape.

Next Chapter:

'I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!' Roiled furiously in her mind as she stomped down the corridors to his office. 'If I were to splay you out on my desk and thrust my fingers into you right now, I think I'd find different,' echoed back, shocking her so much she froze outside his door. Especially as it was said with *his* low, sardonic tones with a strong hint of sensuality.