I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. I would like to emphasize that this story is here only because Glorioux – my good friend, an amazing author and a brilliant beta, not only had sacrificed her precious time (and sometimes sanity!) and edited it, but also supported me on every step of the way. A special thanks goes also to my consultants Ignaty and Lima Bean. All mistakes are mine, because I tampered with this poor chapter after my beta had checked it.

To Be a Woman

Chapter Fourteen

Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that's so hard to bear (Fever/Elvis Presley)

Everybody's Got the Fever...

Aflame

A few moments after bidding his good-bye to Severus, our Lord Malfoy stepped out of the Manor's Floo, his smug smile firmly in place. His eyes, however, had already lost their triumphant gleam. They were deceiving him, making his carefully chosen mask incomplete and useless. The icy grey lucidity of his eyes did nothing to conceal the flaming, boisterous fury that raged behind them. As if in a hurry, he hastened swiftly through the Manor, as his robes swirled in an expensive billow of cashmere and silk around him. Our blond wizard reached his library in a matter of minutes. Once there, he finally let the smile, now a pained grimace, to slip.

Tightly closing the library's door, Lucius leaned on it and closed his eyes. His rapid breathing and his flared nostrils, albeit slight, betrayed the true level of his inner-turmoil. You can imagine, my friends, that this particular wizard's upbringing and lifelong training didn't allow him to drop his mask earlier. Only there, in the privacy of his library, could Lucius Malfoy at last relax and allow his true feelings to surface.

Unsurprisingly, the intensity of the exchange between two former friends had taken an obvious toll on Lucius as well. It was never easy to manipulate a fellow Slytherin. To manage it with Severus Snape, on the other hand, was an arduous task, which demanded the mastery of exceptional skills. Yes, my dear darlings, Lucius was more than adept for the task. Yet, all the same, he felt downright drained afterwards.

The delicacy of the task was not the only cause of Lucius' fatigue. The revelation that Severus indeed was in love with the witch was even more troubling and worrisome for the blond wizard. It had awakened a wide spectre of different emotions in Lucius. These two wizards had known each other for quite a long time. To see his friend, even if he had been a former friend, in such a vulnerable state had surprised him. Malfoy hadn't expected that. Although it had made his mission somewhat easier, the undiluted agony in Severus' eyes had forced Lucius to recoil instinctively.

Please, my friends, let's not delude ourselves with a notion that Lucius was concerned for Severus' well being, because he most certainly was not. There was no place for repentance in the blond wizard's heart, nope, not at all. He needed the witch for himself and he would stop at nothing in order to have her, at absolutely nothing. The prospect of hurting the heart of his friend in the process did not concern our blond snake.

However, the fact that the fire and anguish in Severus' eyes did closely resemble Lucius' own feelings towards Hermione was unpleasant. It was extremely disconcerting actually. Lucius Malfoy was not supposed to fall into the same pit as his hapless friend. He had planned to have a comfortable, lukewarm marriage. Thus, developing of some idiotic, dim-witted, and yes, highly passionate feelings toward the little lioness in question was unfortunate. Apparently, fate had decided to play with him a little.

Sure enough, Lucius had been aware of the changes in his feelings towards the girl for quite some time. He had noticed the first disturbing signs immediately after their kiss at the Ministry. The second he had pressed Hermione tightly to him and invaded her sweet tasting mouth in front of the whole Ministry, he had known for certain that he would not be able to give up this witch. Nothing extraordinary had happened. There hadn't been any fireworks in his mind or stars in front of his eyes. He hadn't felt any electric discharges when they touched each other. No. She simply had fit so damn perfectly in his arms. Her luscious curves had felt so exquisitely delicate, enticing and alluring. Her petite, slender body had moulded into his so naturally, making it so impeccably, irrevocably right. There, at that exact moment, the vigorous ardour to possess had been born in the deepest part of Lucius' soul. The flames had risen inside of his heart, obliterating his usual coolness.

The second the kiss ended and Hermione fled after Severus, he spiralled down into the flames of irrepressible jealousy, passionate desire and anger at his inability to obtain the witch immediately. By the time Hermione returned to the room, after her Potions master's chase, our blond wizard was nearly blinded by fury. He knew that Severus had snogged the hell out of the witch – he saw her swollen lips and rosy cheeks, and it took all his self-control not to go after the damn wizard.

Surely, all those feelings were unjustified and caught our blond Slytherin unprepared, annoying Lucius immensely. They had been so ill timed and distressing. Moreover, these molten flames had been threatening to surface any minute and force Lucius to show his true feelings in public, which surely would destroy his well-engineered plan. Unthinkable! He had desired the witch before, but the strength of his desire now was all encompassing and totally uncontrollable.

The week was horrible and endearing at the same time. The wizard and the witch had spent an enormous amount of time together organizing, preparing and talking. He enjoyed their interactions and loved to be close to her. Taking into consideration that Hermione never mentioned the kiss they had shared, Lucius had returned to his à la professional conduct – no inappropriate touching, let alone kissing. Only, it had become much more difficult to keep that façade now. He was aflame most of the time. When Hermione was in the vicinity, he wanted nothing more than to drag her to his private chamber and to ravish her there until the world would end. You can imagine, my friends, that the fact that they spent most of their time working in the Manor didn't help to get rid of this particular dream scenario. When she wasn't with him, on the other hand, the flames of his jealousy were slowly turning his heart to ash, forcing him to ponder how to eliminate that infuriating black-haired wizard, to whom the little witch was so powerfully and inexplicably drawn. Luckily, Lucius Malfoy had enough strength to keep himself aloof. Still, this week was quite trying for him.

Today, he recognised Severus' condition instantly as he was almost there himself, maybe not to such extent, but still, he had sunk deeply enough.

After a few more minutes of a complete stillness in the quiet sanctuary against the closed door of his library, the blonde wizard opened his eyes, drew a deep sigh and growled, "Agh, shit." Then, he schooled his facial expression to appear calmand walked to his bar where he poured himself a glass of Firewhisky. With a drink in his hand, Lucius sat at his desk desperately needing to cool down and think. It would not do him any good to let his feelings and emotions get the better of him, the wizard knew that much. He still had the game to win, and the witch to acquire, and for that, he needed his cold and manipulative mind to be clear. He could not allow himself to be turned into a crumbling fool.

Lucius sipped the amber liquid slowly, savouring the taste and trying to relax. After twenty minutes of analyzing the situation, our Lord Malfoy decided that the act with Severus went quite well and moved him even closer to his goal. A thought about his impending success made him chuckle. Well, my darlings, he was Lucius Malfoy, after all, the one and only, the whitest peacock of all, one of a kind. He could not possibly question himself forever.

Before long, Lucius' thoughts strayed to Hermione's wild, chestnut curls, to her warm milk chocolate eyes and her plump, rosy lips. The recollection of her sweet taste made him groan. Shit, the witch was just too delicious for her own good, he thought, licking his lips.

Right at that moment, the door to the library had opened, and an old elf named Wrinkly announced in a squeaky whisper, "A letter from Miss Hermione, Master." Lucius turned towards his servant and gestured him to come closer. Wrinkly moved soundlessly towards the desk, and Lucius took the letter from the sterling silver tray the elf had been holding. A second later, after a slight nod to his master, the elf vanished into thin air.

Lucius carefully opened the letter and read it, still sipping his drink languidly. A minute into reading, he loudly slammed the glass on the table. His grip around the century old Austrian crystal visibly tensed, his knuckles turned white, his breathing become rapid, and his nostrils began to flare again. A moment later, the glass gave in and shattered into numerous little crystals in the wizard's hand. Immediately the desk's content was saturated with amber liquid mingled with sparkling pieces of crystal and crimson blood. Lucius cursed under his breath, threw the letter on the floor and drew his wand, cleaning the mess and healing the cut on his hand.

When the mess was taken care of, our Lord Malfoy bent down and picked up the letter again. He read it one more time,

Dear Lucius,

I am sorry to say, but I feel utterly drained and dead tired. I need a break badly. It looks like I will not be able to make it to the Manor today. I will meet you here first thing in the morning.

Hermione

The knowledge that the witch probably cancelled in order to make time for her lover inflamed our wizard even more. The overwhelming desire to destroy something or someone began to burn Lucius' insides and brought the taste of ash to his mouth. However, he didn't move from his chair. Instead, he just sat there, his face unreadable. Then, when his breathing calmed down a notch, he slowly stood up and in three measured steps came by his bar again. When a new drink was prepared, Lucius returned to his desk, took a small sip and sighed, not permitting his temper to get out for the second time. He was a Malfoy for Merlin's sake, and he knew his role meant waiting for his intricate plan to work. Who knows, maybe by the end of tomorrow everything would change and he, Lucius Malfoy, would have his chosen witch all for himself.

On Fire

Meanwhile, at the villa, Severus Snape was still frozen in his armchair with the damned invitation still in his hand. When he finally snapped out of his lethargy, his gaze fell upon the picture of Hermione and Lucius again, and a low growl lodged in his throat. Severus sprung up. His eyes began to smoulder with fierce fire, and in one violent flick of the Potions master's wrist, the offensive piece of parchment burst into flames. The fiery orange flecks played in his black eyes, reflecting the flame. In mere seconds, there was nothing left of the invitation except the weightless flakes of ash swirling languidly around the stormy wizard.

Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, the Floo lighted up, and Severus tensed, promptly pointing his wand towards the fireplace. He didn't expect anyone so his immediate suspicion was that Lucius decided to return and torment him some more. However, when the green flames of the Floo dispelled, and Severus recognised Hermione's tousled curls, the only thing he could muster was to mutter hoarsely in disbelief, "Hermione?"

"Severus," she whispered urgently. The witch quickly covered the distance between them. The tapping of her heels echoed throughout the living room, and Severus found the sound surprisingly soothing. How peculiar, the thought bolted through his mind. However, our Potions master hadn't gotten a chance to dwell on that thought, because a millisecond later he had his arms full of one Hermione Granger. Her lips were on him, begging, requesting, insisting and, at last, simply demanding his undivided attention. Severus was forced to oblige, of course. Undoubtedly, he couldn't actually leave the damsel in distress, my dearies, could he?

When the first few desperate kisses had come to their end, and our lovers just stood there in a tight embrace, catching their lost breath, Severus asked, "Is something the matter, witch?" His lips were gently tracing her jaw line. Hermione drew a shuddered breath and answered, "No," she sighed again, "yes, I don't know." Severus loosened his hold on her and looked into the witch's eyes, arching his eyebrow quizzically. "How eloquent," his gaze darkened, becoming somewhat wary and guarded, "care to elaborate, girl?"

"It's nothing, Severus, truly. I probably just overworked and stressed." Hermione began to babble, and our wizard knitted his brows together in confusion. "I wanted to see you. I needed to get out of there, Severus. I needed a break; I guess. Just to clear my head before tomorrow. See, it's nothing, just nerves," saying that, the young witch pressed her slender body flush against him. Her arms circled themselves around his neck as she purred, "Take me to bed, Severus Snape," and she kissed him again. Both groaned in anticipation, and our Potions master gathered his demanding witch in his arms and took her to bed, just as she asked.

When after a feverishly frenzied disrobing, they finally were nude and skin on skin, Severus found the little lioness so utterly and eagerly wet and ready, that there was hardly any foreplay. Apparently, the witch's urgency was contagious. Thus, quite understandably, less than five minutes after our lovers stumbled into the bedroom, he was inside her and moving. Soon enough, her muscles started to flutter around him, announcing an impending beginning of an end. Hermione's unbidden moans and cries forced him to speed up, and before long, they both were bawling their release. Our satisfied witch mewled something incoherent, curled comfortably by his side, making sure to finely intertwine all her four limbs with his, almost suffocating him with her untamed hair in the process. By the time Severus' breathing returned to normal, she was already fast asleep. The wizard stayed awake for some time, the state of his mind and soul being far from content. Shortly, however, the exhaustion took over, and he too succumbed to the slumber.

It was dark when Severus opened his eyes. Hermione stood near the bed. She was already half-dressed and buttoned her blouse. The wizard frowned, not wanting her to leave yet. Looking intently at the witch, Severus extended his hand to her and whispered, "Come." She smiled and climbed onto the bed. Slowly, she was inching the breadth of the bed, crawling towards him through the tangled sheets. Severus was watching her purposefully; his fervour for her very much awake and sizzling. Once she was close enough, he grabbed her arms and tugged. The next instant, she was securely tucked beneath him. His mouth was on hers, and his hands were unbuttoning the shirt she had buttoned a minute ago. "Stay," he murmured between kisses, his palms covered her fleshy breasts and his lips moved onto her clavicle, sucking and nibbling.

"I can't," she moaned and gently tried to push him off her. Our wizard remained unmovable, though. His kisses were becoming more heated by the minute. The Potions master was on fire again. All that happened earlier that day had dawned on him. His own tormenting doubts and concerns along with Lucius, who had come by only to stub a steel blade into his former friend's soul and then twist it there torturously. All of these brought Severus' insecurities and jealousy up to the surface once again and made him as eager, as Hermione has been, when she ambushed him a few hours before. Or, to be precise, my friends, Severus was more than eager – he was desperate.

"Stay," he groaned into her ear again, and then, not waiting for her answer, the wizard hectically pushed aside all the layers of clothing the witch managed to put between him and his goal, and plunged home. "Stay," he repeated the moment he found his voice again. The witch in his arms covered his chest with feather-light kisses, and still slightly out of breath, huskily whispered, "I can't Severus. I want to, but I can't. I need to go. I will work all night," Hermione glanced at him apologetically. "I am being paranoid, I know. But, this project is important to me. Tomorrow, Severus, I will stay tomorrow, after presentation. I am planning to take a little vacation starting Friday. We will have plenty of time." Severus didn't answer. He silently rolled off her, effectively freeing the witch and giving her an opportunity to stand up. She dressed in silence. He lay in his bed, watching her thoughtfully, contemplating whether to ask her 'to stay' one more time. Curiously, it seemed somehow crucial for Severus to be able to make her stay. Moreover, the fire was still slowly burning in his chest, not giving him any chance for peaceful basking in the afterglow.

When she was done dressing, Hermione came closer to him and after a short, awkward pause said, "Will you come tomorrow, please. I want you to be there." And with that, she put a little piece of white parchment on the pillow near him. A second later, with a little kiss to his forehead, she was gone.

Severus took the parchment from the pillow. It was an invitation to Hermione's final presentation. In bewilderment, the wizard carefully investigated it, already feeling the rage rising and pulsating in his temples and roaring in his ears. The invitation was almost the same as the one that Lucius had brought. Almost. There was only one minor difference. There was no picture on the cover.

I am sorry, my darlings. I know, I hadn't updated for a while. But, I promise, I will try to return to my previous schedule: a chapter once a week or so.

Please, review. I would love to know what you think.