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 19

Hermione woke up the next morning in a bad mood that lasted throughout that day and the following. Her body had betrayed her all along, desiring what she should not desire; then her mind betrayed her in the same way, thinking of him constantly and deluding itself with the possibility of more. Now there was her failure to find and kill Lucius Malfoy. She'd killed off many of his circle, but this one eluded her and it frustrated her to no end- especially since he was the one behind most of the attacks, and the one who'd tortured Ron. She'd badly wounded him before though, and maybe that's why he was being so damn careful about where he showed his face now. It did not bode well for her temper. Their strategies were getting too good, and even with Harry with her it was almost too much.

She sighed and then kicked the library's bookshelf… then for good measure kicked it a second time. Her life, even before the Lake incident, had never exactly been a fairytale- but it had at least made some sense. It had never been more than she could handle, as tough as the loss of her family had been. So why was she struggling so mightily now? The largest part of her pouted childishly, 'Because this is harder. It's practically the end of the world. How am I going to survive this?' And while she technically should've known better, the witch wanted too badly to scream and throw a tantrum- so she did. What else was a girl to do when their favorite hobby was all but taken away and they were going through massive hormonal changes [especially when a guy was involved]?

Shoving all the books on the desk to the floor, she found it felt rather good, and pushed the chair over too. It was all his fault anyway, she decided. He was supposed to be the coolly detached one- stoic, unreachable and untouchable. The voice of reason when even logical, cautious-minded bookworms [like she used to be] lost control. He was supposed to hate her enough to keep his distance despite the mistakes they made, not seek her out for more. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment like her, but that was no excuse. She folded her arms. Self-destructive tendencies, that had to be it. So surely she could find a more suitable mate now, who didn't have such a glaring flaw. 'You're not going to find one,' the creature laughed, as if amused and amazed at her foolishness at the same time, 'That's why he's ours.'

"A snarky, evil old git?" she snapped, cranky. 'He's loyal and strong- Harry showed you the memories he'd unwittingly seen of Snape's torture sessions and all the spying for Dumbledore. So he's hardly what you accuse him of being.' "He's barely even human!" Hermione argued back at the voice, not caring if she seemed crazy anymore. 'He loved once, a smart Muggleborn girl like yourself, and that transformed him more than the decades under Voldemort. And don't forget how many times he's saved three pesky brats who were determined to ruin him- even from a werewolf he feared. Does that not make him more a hero? The faults are what make him human, and you eschew those.' She scowled. "Crazy logic. I was forced to put up with you in my head after I was attacked, I won't have him forced on me too."

'We are two sides of one coin. I exist as I am only because you fight me. Just as your malevolent image of him persists only because you embrace it.' She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at the invisible fiend. Everyone would think her even more insane if she admitted to conversing with it. It was just easier [and seemingly more reasonable] to blame the virus-like organism that restructured her genetic codes. If she ever found what had infected her though, she'd have a lot of talking to do. Were there more dangerous complications than voices? Would she start sprouting horns and a tail?

Malfoy had been convinced there'd been demon blood in with the vampire she wouldn't be surprised if there was. With blood-transfusion potions, cleansing spells and other such venues were out, it seemed as impossible a task to change that as it was to make her desire for Snape go away. Heat suffused her body at the thought of him. And she was so preoccupied on her way back to her room that she forgot to keep an eye out for the one who thus plagues her. So she bumped right into him. Damn distracting thoughts! His hands touched her shoulders as if to steady her. 'Oh God,'she thought desperately. 'Perfect timing.'

Eyes darting away from his almost fearfully, body tensed, she moved to push passed him. "I can't deal with this right now," she mumbled, unwittingly speaking aloud. "Hermione…" His smooth, deep voice rolled over her name like a caress, which shook her. "Don't call me that," she ordered softly [pleaded?], hating the way her voice broke. "Don't use my name that way." "I won't let you avoid me, Hermione. I know you want me, I could feel it. That night in the tower. In my office. Here." She tried to ignore the way his commanding tone made her feel. "Did I have much of a choice? You were rather… aggressive." A weak attempt to deflect from her feelings, and strip that night of meaning.

His knowing look told her just how weak an attempt it was, that he knew better. "And your kiss in the dungeons halls? The alley behind the bar? You wanted it then too. I was quite smashed, yes, but not enough to forget. Never enough. Willing or not, you seemed to enjoy each instance rather thoroughly. Do you deny it?" "You are out of my system now. I no longer desire you," she whispered harshly instead, not trying to refute his last claim. He'd been there to witness her pleasure, there was no use. But this she wanted desperately to be true. "I don't believe you." His dark, burning eyes flashed as he stalked closer. She nervously moved back, barely catching herself from stumbling.

Where was the Snape who hated the students, especially her? Where was the one who scowled and hid away in the dungeons? She suddenly, greatly, missed him. "I don't!" Her traitorous voice wavered this time. His slow smile was piercing, something primal in his gaze. "Then I purpose a test." "A test?" She all but squeaked, hitting a wall and realizing she had nowhere else to go. "Yes," he murmured, dangerously nearer, fingers capturing one soft curl and releasing it to spring around her face. "To see if you truly are done with me." His lips were just a hairsbreadth from hers and her heart stopped, feeling every puff of breath. "And if I win?"

"Then you have your peace, your distance. But if I win, than nothing on earth is going to stop me from having you again." The words zinged through her on thick electric currents and caused her to grow wet with wanting. Damn him. It was her last thought before he claimed her mouth in a kiss. She felt as if her heart were pounding a staccato beat that she feared he might hear. Her flesh felt as if it were on fire. His lips grinding down on her with a fever and passion that inflamed her senses, set fire to a longing that had before just been imagined, she thought it'd be so easy to give in. But her stubborn pride was stronger. For now. He touched her and only the pain of her own nails biting into her palm kept her from whimpering. He unbuttoned her blouse. She wouldn't react. She refused to react. It became her mantra.

He lowered his head and brushed the valley between her breasts with his lips first, then the tip of his tongue, drawing a hot, liquid line between them. His mouth traveled to cover a dusky rose nipple, tongue sweeping around it, flicking the peak. His head against her chest, he had to have felt the thunder of her heart. But that couldn't have given her away, could it? She lay so perfectly still, not protesting, not moving. He rose slightly above her. Her eyes were squeezed shut; her face was pale, her lips just slightly parted, breath sweeping quickly in and out. Also fear and nervous reactions, she told herself. But she felt his smile when he pressed his lips to her throat, cupped her breast into his palm and caressed it again with his tongue and the edge of his teeth.

He drew his hand down the length of her, seeming to savor the slim and beautifully curved form she wore, stroking and touching, moving against her. Her flesh burned as soft as silk against his hard length; she could feel his fullness vibrantly. He rose above her again, taking her lips. Her eyes stayed clenched, but she couldn't help her mouth parting to his coaxing, and she felt him hesitate as if humor tempered the fever. She tried to pull back, eyes snapping open, cursing herself and him for the knowing, mocking thoughts she imagined lying behind that smile. "See, nothing," she gasped out. But he wouldn't let her escape, hands tightening over her, pressing her further into that wall. He chuckled, "Oh, but the test isn't over yet, my dear. You will respond to me."

Mouth seductively sliding over hers again, he eased his weight to her side to allow him to keep his hold yet have freedom to know her. And he kissed her all the while with a deceptively soft, slow, tender thoroughness while the questing touch of his fingers roamed over her body. His mouth grew bolder, tongue delving, raking, plundering, drawing a little whimper from her throat. His touch became far more invasive as well, her clothes seeming to disappear piece by piece, his palm rotating over the soft honeyed triangle between her thighs. A needful throbbing began to override her anger though she clung to it.

He slipped his hand between her thighs; she started to clench them together, breaking the kiss to turn her face to the side, gritting her teeth. He shifted his weight again, forcing her limbs apart with the strength of his own body. His sex, fully erect, teased the tender flesh of her femininity and she couldn't conceal her sudden, wild intake of breath. She trembled fiercely, looking back at him with awareness and defiance, before she closed her eyes again, going rigid. The dutiful one- not fighting, enduring. One voice in the back of her head told her to end the experiment now before it went any further, but she didn't know if she currently had the power to. And he certainly wouldn't let her.

Her breathing was shallow but she once more lay perfectly still. He inched lower, re-creating liquid trails of kisses over her throat and breasts. Fondling her flesh, suckling it. Inching lower still, cradling her breasts while drawing his mouth against her ribs, waist, and navel. Inching still. Lying directly between her thighs. A long moment seemed to go by before he parted her with his fingers and plunged into the most intimate kiss with the seductive caress of his mouth and the searing implement of his tongue. Her eyes flew open for the third time; a desperate, stunned gasp escaped her. She wriggled to free herself, and did nothing but bring herself more tightly against him.

He caught her hands, his fingers curling against them as he continued to caress and seduce, feeling the wild trembling and surge within her that appeared to create an explosive fire in him. Her every twist and buck further inflamed him and he persisted, drawing her daringly higher. But he rose over her again at last, thrusting into her with fevered desire. He ravaged her mouth with a fierce hunger- as if imprinting himself upon her, as if taking her taste and feel and scent into him to have for now, forever. She clung to him and kissed him in return, knowing this couldn't last. A choked sobbing sound escaped her; her eyes wide as saucers, dazed and unfocused upon his.

She wondered how it was possible to feel such heartache even as she felt such pleasure and sweet, aching, spiraling happiness. She wanted to memorize him so badly. The breadth of his shoulders, the texture of his skin, the supple length of his back. The taste of his lips, the fire in his eyes, the feel of him… inside her, part of her. Her palms fell against his chest, fingers curling into his shoulders. She lay shaking, then clinging to him as he wrapped her tightly against him, pressing ever more deeply into her. The sight, the feel, the scent of him was intoxicating, scarcely bearable. His pace and actions seemed as controlled as hers had moments ago until her body tightened, constricted.

Desperately, she licked his neck, needing the taste of him, needing… more. Face pressed to his shoulder, she bit him again as she cried out in the throes of an orgasm and her limbs went limp. His potent blood flowed into her and searing, liquid warmth gloved his sex as he moved deeply within her. He thrust and shuddered violently as well, his face looking as if amazed at the explosive force her climax had drawn from him in turn. Wickedly delicious heat sizzled through them both as he finished, moving again and again, more gently within her until she too was filled with the mercury of their lovemaking. Then he drew her closer, despite her stiffening, to roll them over so it was his back against the wall as they slid to the floor together. "Hermione," he breathed, face nuzzling in her hair.

Severely weakened from the force of their passion, she just looked up at him- anger at being manipulated [seduced] warring with the softness in her eyes. Tentative affection? But she didn't want to be soft with him, no matter what they had done… multiple times. Nothing had change. Much. She pulled back, fuming as she grabbed her blouse and jeans. "This proves nothing. I am not yours." He grabbed her wrist before she could fasten them, pants hanging open and shirt only half-buttoned [Merlin only knew where her undergarments were]. "Then I am yours," he returned softly. She swallowed. "You don't mean that. You don't want to be mine. I am an animal. You have no idea what goes on in my head. I have no use for emotion; I can barely control my actions."

"You think I am any more experienced than you with such things? Even Dumbledore and Minerva, my only confidants, have their doubts about me- and I am far too used to atrocities you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares. Yet I am here." He pulled himself to standing as she had, tucked back into his pants but not bothering with a shirt. "Your ferocity doesn't frighten me. Neither do your teeth. Little does, in fact, after the last twenty years. I know what you are, and what you need. I know what I could be for you."

She blushed, remembering how she'd taken pleasure from sampling his blood and energy, getting high on it, thriving. Remembering the word she whispered in the dark where nobody else could hear. 'Mate.' The word echoed in her head and she had a weird feeling it did in his too. Fear permeated her mind and, gulping, she backed up. She wasn't ready for this, she couldn't- 'Fool,' her creature hissed, 'He's yours, take him!' She put a clamp on it. "I can't- I won't- I have to go. Goodbye Severus." Clutching her shirt closed, she turned and ran.

Next Chapter:

'Beg for me Hermione. Let me hear how much you want it.' Her thighs clenched tighter together at the sudden dampness there, and the sigh turned into a whimper. She needed to cool down. Fast.