A/N: S & M refers to sado-masochism.
For the Potions Master's Amusement
Chapter 52: Disclosures and Departures
Hermione opened her eyes and smiled to see her professor leaning over her. He had Disapparated them back to their room, where he had put her in the bath with a medicated oil to soothe the bruises on her backside, then he had tucked her up for a rest and sat in a chair beside her until she slept.
'What time is it?' she asked, reaching a hand to stroke his cheek.
He studied her face, his dark eyes intent. 'Six o'clock,' he informed her. 'I would like for you to accompany me down to dinner. Will you come?'
Hermione sat up, noting the soreness of her bottom. 'Of course,' she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She would have preferred to have dinner in their room—after all, he was leaving soon, something she had trouble remembering without wanting to cry—and hadn't t and Rafe stayed in their rooms for the best part of a week before going amongst their housemates? But her Master had his reasons, she was sure, and if he wanted her by his side at the dinner table, she wanted to be there. She was a little worried about how she would feel to see and be seen by those who had watched her punishment (seen her naked!), but she was mostly over that sort of concern. She had engaged in enthusiastic public love-making without a qualm, so it was rather ridiculous to worry about having shown her bum and fanny to people, wasn't it? They had seen her in far more intimate circumstances.
He dressed her with his own hands, and he apparently thought she needed very little to wear. He seemed to very much enjoy encasing her smooth legs in black stay-ups, lapping at her naked nether parts until she clutched at his hair, then leaving her aching as he stood to drop her black party dress over her head. The short skirt earned a smirk of approval from her Master.
'You smell divine,' he told her, bending to kiss her lips. 'You'll be sitting down to eat your dinner, and all you'll be able to smell is your own scent.' Then he opened the door and gestured her to precede him into the corridor.
Downstairs, Hermione was surprised to see that her usual place beside Kell was not available. Instead, her Master led her to the end of the table, to the place usually occupied by Master Claudius. He pulled out the chair immediately to the right of the end seat, as if they were at a formal dinner. She saw a spasm of amusement cross his features, and following his gaze, she saw a soft cushion had been placed on her chair. She looked quickly down the table, and Taffy gave her a tiny, knowing smile. With an answering smile of thanks, Hermione eased down onto the seat, her sore bottom sending a painful reminder in spite of her friend's thoughtfulness.
When her Master had seated himself, the house-elves began to serve.
Hermione found she had a good appetite, having eaten nothing but porridge all day, so she enjoyed her dinner. She was fascinated to observe the deference with which Professor Snape was treated by the others at table, and she listened avidly to the conversation going on about her. Hermione learned that Simon Curtis had been delivered back to Sussex by Master Claudius, directly to Master Thorn, who had written the letter of introduction Simon had used to gain access to Roissy House. Master Thorn had withdrawn Simon's visiting privileges to the Sussex D/s gatherings, and his companion, Jason, had been placed on probation.
'He got off lightly, if you ask me,' Reggie said, glowering at his plate. 'I would have been happy to give him a taste of the bull whip.'
Hermione darted a glance at Kell, who was beaming at Reggie, her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. Master Claudius bent to speak to Kell, and her face fell, her eyes averted.
The next topic of conversation concerned an upcoming meeting of the board of directors for Roissy House, and then there was discussion of a new piece of equipment for the Dungeon. By the time Hermione was polishing off her spotted dick, the Dominants were retiring to their Study for cigars and cognac.
Hermione felt at loose ends with the absence of her Master, so she was glad when t took her hand and led her to a sofa near the fire in the sitting room. Kell sat on Hermione's other side, as on Hermione's first night at Roissy House. The three girls were exchanging desultory remarks about the weekend when Elinore and Vi approached them, both looking purposeful. Vi squeezed in next to Kell, and Elinore situated her chair so that she faced the sofa.
Elinore nodded to each one of them individually before she spoke. 'Violet already knows my story, but I'd like to relate it to you girls.' She smiled wryly. 'It's a bit of a cautionary tale.'
Hermione sat a bit straighter, her curiosity piqued. Because of Elinore's significant part in Professor Snape's life, she had always been interested in Elinore Hunter.
'Although it's difficult for you to imagine it,' Elinore began, 'I was once a young and beautiful woman, just as you are.' She wrinkled her nose, to show that she meant the self-deprecation humorously. 'I was in a vanilla marriage and was the mother of two little girls, but I was dissatisfied with my life. I would go out at night to clubs, trying to find what seemed to be missing in me. One night, I met Hadrian.' A sweet, reminiscent smile touched her lips, drawing soft looks from all of her auditors. 'He taught me about myself, about what I want and what I need and how to have those things satisfied.'
Her expression sobered, and she looked into the middle distance, lost in the past. 'Hadrian's training made me a better wife and a better mother. I learned to consider the needs of others above my own, and my home life stabilised. I was only able to spend two or three evenings a week with Hadrian, but that time was what formed my character and held me together. In summer, my girls went to spend two months with their grandparents, and I would take that time to spend here, at Roissy House. My husband must have known I was involved with another man, but he pretended all was well, so we continued on as before.'
Elinore's attention returned to the faces of the girls before her, and she looked sad. 'After a few years, even under Hadrian's influence, I began to chafe again, wanting more excitement. Hadrian had never been overly strict with me; he allowed me to play with other Dominants, providing I had his prior permission. He was generous with me, beyond what many men would have been. Even so, I had a streak of wildness, and I went against his wishes. I sought out the S & M clubs, where some of the more violent acts are practiced.'
Hermione felt anxiety coiling in her at the relation of this narrative, realising that a cautionary tale wasn't going to be a happy story, but still finding it difficult to listen easily.
Elinore shook her head. 'It is difficult from this time in my life to look back and believe how reckless I was. I went to the club without telling anyone where I had gone. I met up with a very persuasive, charismatic wizard—a sexually exciting man with an aura of danger about him. I actually found that attractive.' Her hands twisted in her lap, as if in protest of her words. 'He convinced me to go to his home, where he claimed to have superior play equipment. I voluntarily surrendered my wand to him for safekeeping and permitted him to bind me. I had broken every rule of safe conduct I had ever learned at Roissy House, and I was about to become a living example of why one should follow the rules.'
Hermione heard a murmur of distress to her left, and then t slipped onto the rug on her knees, her hands capturing Elinore's in an effort to comfort the older witch.
Elinore looked down at t and stroked her soft, fair hair. 'You remind me of my older daughter,' Elinore murmured. 'Have I ever mentioned that before?'
Taffy nodded, tears falling from her blue eyes.
'Don't cry, dearest,' Elinore said. 'I was mad and foolish and got what was coming to me.'
Even Vi shook her head at this. 'No, Elinore,' Vi said quietly. 'It was irresponsible and stupid, but no one deserves what happened to you.'
Elinore sighed deeply, and Hermione and Kell exchanged looks of profound unease.
'I was shackled and beaten and violated and beaten again,' Elinore said, her voice hollow. 'I was suspended until injury was done to my arms, penetrated vaginally and anally by objects too large for my body, and kept prisoner in the rapist's cellar for three days, although it seemed like three years.'
Taffy was openly sobbing, her tears dampening Elinore's neat mauve robes, while Hermione and Kell clung to each other's hands, sickened looks upon their pale faces.
'By the time Magical Law Enforcement found me—answering a neighbour's complaints about strange sounds from next door—my captor had resorted to using his fists and his booted feet.' Elinore reached a hand behind her, fingers coming to rest near the small of her back. 'It was apparently a kick which robbed me of my ability to walk.'
'Oh, Elinore,' Kell said, her voice thick with unshed tears.
'Severus and Reg were right to step in to help you, Kell,' Elinore said. 'I'm sorry we ever let that young man through the door of Roissy House.'
Kell sobbed out loud, and Hermione was surprised to see Vi pull the younger witch into a hug. Hermione frowned; she still had questions.
'What happened to your attacker, ma'am?' Hermione asked.
'He was never apprehended,' Elinore replied. 'I worry sometimes that he'll come for me—to finish the job, you know—but I feel quite safe here, for the most part.'
They sat quietly together for a space, five women in deep reflection. Then Kell spoke again, sounding as if her throat hurt. 'What became of your husband and daughters?' she asked.
Elinore Summoned a box of tissues and offered it first to Taffy, then to Kell. 'My husband divorced me while I was still in hospital,' she admitted. 'The entire episode was in the Daily Prophet, and he could no longer pretend we were just a normal, average couple. My daughters haven't spoken to me since then.'
'They'll get over it,' Violet said firmly, sounding as if she had spoken these words before. 'They're grown up, now.'
Elinore smiled, and her features lightened. 'They are grown now,' she agreed. 'Severus had them in his classes when they were at school, and he kept me apprised of their progress then. Now, I send cards on their birthdays and each year at Christmas.' She took a deep breath and sat straighter. 'One day, they'll respond.' She was quiet for a moment, then she resumed her narrative. 'When I was released from hospital, Hadrian brought me here, to Roissy House, and I've been here ever since. We married after a few years, and I've been very happy.' She looked around at the younger women. 'You are all my family now. I have received a great deal of happiness from being a submissive woman, and disability has not put an end to my learning.'
A house-elf popped into the room with a tea tray, and as a group, the witches heaved a sigh of relief. 'I think we could all do with a cup of tea,' Taffy said, rising and going to take up the teapot.
Hermione accepted her cup and saucer from t and remained on her feet, drinking the comforting brew. For now, it was a bit more comfortable to stand than to sit. Kell stood beside her, meditatively sipping, and after a moment, Hermione spoke to her in quiet tones. 'Were you in trouble for what Simon did?'
Kell turned bright blue eyes to Hermione's face. 'No, I'm not held responsible for what he did,' she said, 'but I've been talked to quite a bit about signs I might have noticed which would have been a tip-off that he was impaired.' Her eyes slid to Elinore. 'I can understand now why everyone here is a bit hyper-vigilant about that kind of thing.'
Hermione nodded gravely.
'Elinore has history with all the Dominants here tonight, except for Reg,' Kell said. 'She took part in training Master Severus and Master Maximus, and she has played with Master Claudius. They're all very fond of her.' She sounded a little wistful.
Hermione touched her arm. 'I'm sure those who know you are fond of you, as well,' she said. 'I certainly am.'
Kell looked surprised, then leaned in to press a quick kiss to Hermione's cheek. 'Thank you,' she said.
Soon, the Dominants came into the room with a puff of cigar smoke, which Elinore dispersed with a wave of her wand. Hermione smiled to see her professor, and though he did not smile in return, the expression in his eyes make her tummy flip over. He sat in an armchair at the far end of the room and motioned her over to him. She placed her tea things on the tray and crossed to him eagerly. The slightest movement of his chin invited her into his lap, and she lowered herself to his legs. He tugged her against him, then his hand slid down her hip to the smooth nylon hold-ups on her upper thigh, giving her the lightest squeeze. Her lips parted, the sensation going straight to her clitoris, and in an instant, from naught but the sight of him, the scent of him, and his fingertips upon her leg, she was in a rage of desire for him.
'What?' he murmured, watching the emotions play over her face.
'You're like my own personal form of insanity,' she said.
He grasped the hair at her nape and pulled, tilting her head back and baring her neck to him. 'That may be the best compliment I've ever received,' he said, his voice amused, and then his lips were on her throat.
'I never thought I'd see such a public display from you, Sev.'
Hermione was surprised to hear a less than dignified snort from the region below her chin, then her Master's face raised, a sneer on his lips.
'This,' he drawled, 'from the least decorous individual ever to grace the Slytherin common room.'
Rafe dropped into the armchair across from Professor Snape, pulling t down upon his legs. 'Do me the courtesy of not recounting all of my youthful indiscretions for my wife's edification,' he complained.
'Don't invite the attack,' Professor Snape advised.
Hermione looked from Rafe to her Master and back again. She had supposed they would interact much as Harry and Ron did, plus twenty years of life experience, but watching her professor with his best mate truly was like seeing a different man altogether. She saw that t was smiling complacently as she listened to this interchange; obviously, she was used to it. Hermione felt a slight pang, that t knew so much more about Severus Snape that she did, but she pushed that notion aside. She had years of discoveries ahead of her, and she was thankful for that. With a purr of contentment, she pressed her face to her professor's neck and twined her fingers in his long, lank hair. She spent a timeless space in this way, safe in then shelter of his arms, his baritone rumbling beneath her ear, her hands upon his face, upon his throat, fingers threading through his hair. He lolled beneath her ministrations in the company of these people, his attitude demonstrating to her more clearly than words had ever done how he considered the denizens of Roissy House to be his family. In turn, he was showing them, by his actions, the depth of his regard for her.
She listened to the teasing, desultory banter between the two men, with occasional interpolations from t, and she was satisfied to be the fourth wheel of this vehicle—necessary for smooth operation but content in silence. She could visualise, in years to come, that she would be a full participant in these exchanges, but for now, she was supremely happy just to be included.
After a time, Professor Snape shifted, and he buried his nose behind her ear, taking a deep breath of her hair. 'I want to tie you to my bed and flog your breasts, then lick you all over, little one,' he murmured. 'Do you have any objection to that?'
Hermione deliberately squirmed her bottom over the stirring bulge in his trousers. 'None, sir,' she promised.
He chuckled and urged her to her feet before standing as well. 'You'll excuse us?' he said with mock courtesy to the Lestranges.
Rafe glanced up into his friend's face, a frown between his brows. 'It is getting to be that time,' he said soberly.
Hermione felt a clutch of dread at Rafe's tone, but she pushed it aside. She and her professor paused to wish the others a goodnight, but Hermione could not ignore the fact that her Master was not saying goodnight to them—he was saying goodbye. Sick with dismay, she clung to his left arm, and with his right he shook hands with the other Dominants, stooped to press a kiss to Elinore's cheek, and he bid a civil farewell to Vi and Kell. Then he propelled Hermione before him, out of the room, and she was stumbling along the corridor toward the stairwell, her eyes blurred with tears.
'Stupid bird,' Professor Snape muttered, and she dashed the tears from her eyes. He was glaring at Pigwidgeon, who fluttered about above their heads, hooting in merry excitement.
'It's Pig,' Hermione said, reaching a hand to Ron's tiny owl.
But Pigwidgeon answered the professor's terse, 'Here!' and offered his leg.
'It's probably for me,' Hermione said, watching her professor's deft fingers make quick work of the leather thong binding the letter to its carrier.
'Unlikely,' he snapped, and she saw with some surprise that he was correct; it was Severus Snape written on the parchment in Harry's uneven hand. The professor snapped the parchment open and read it through, then spoke to the owl. 'There will be no answer,' he said. 'Go.'
Pig twittered gleefully and flew in circles over their heads for a moment before shooting off down the hall, and Hermione supposed the house-elf that had let him in would let him out, again. Professor Snape grasped Hermione's hand and led the way upstairs. When they were in their room, he pressed her against the door, pushing her arms up and pinning her wrists with one large hand, thrusting a knee between her legs and applying pressure to her mons even as he nipped at her earlobe.
'Your friends simply wrote to report they did not find the book they sought at the place they looked for it,' he said, his free hand passing lightly over her breast, down to her waist. 'Now, if you please, I would like to have your focus on me.'
Hermione raised her lips to his, perfectly happy to give him her full attention. He kissed her hungrily, never letting up the pressure he applied between her legs, and Hermione unashamedly rubbed herself on his trouser leg, her clitoris aching for him to finish what he had begun when he dressed her.
At last, he stepped back, releasing her wrists, and removed her black dinner dress, letting it drop to the floor. Then he led her to the bed. 'Keep on the nylons,' he said. 'Take off the shoes. Lie down spread eagle. I've decided not to tie you, but I will if you can't keep your hands above your head.'
Hermione moved to her place in the middle of the mattress, her bottom smarting at the friction of the bedding against her skin. Still, she was glad her hands were free. That meant, if he fucked her—and surely he would—she would be able to hold him and touch him. It would be their last time for a while, and she very much wanted to feel his naked skin beneath her hands one more time.
He turned from the wardrobe with her flogger in his hand, and he gently trailed the strands along her tummy, then he swished the strands over first one breast, then the other.
'Lovely,' he murmured, and she saw that he looked at her hungrily.
Frequently, he disciplined her with his clothes on, but he stopped to strip naked, skin more golden than sallow in the candlelight. When his arm rose to bring the flogger down on her, she watched the ripple of muscles on his torso, and the beauty of the sight combined with the delightful sting of the flogger strands upon her flesh to draw a cry of enjoyment from her lips.
He worked her over thoroughly, not neglecting any portion of torso or pudendum, ending with a delightful volley of tingling blows to her quim, and at his command, she raised her knees and spread her thighs wide to receive the attention.
He moved between the vee-shape of her thighs and spread her labia wide with clever, knowing fingers. 'No cunt on earth smells like yours, pet,' he purred, nuzzling the swell of flesh above her slit, his breath ghosting over her needful clitoris, an exquisite tease. 'Dear Merlin, but I'll miss this.'
His wicked tongue darted out, the tip caressing her clitoris, bringing her hips up in protest.
'You need this,' he told her, using the flat of his tongue to lick her from perineum to clitoris and back again.
She cried out, 'Yes! I do! Please!'
His tongue lapped at the excessive moisture at her opening, then pressed inside, as if he were fucking her with his tongue. The bridge of his great, hooked nose rubbed over her pleasure centre, teasing, teasing, without quite satisfying. She squirmed at his ministrations, fingers scrabbling at his scalp, knowing better than to try to move his face. She had learned early on that he would not be hurried.
'Greedy little slut,' he murmured, licking higher, half stroking his tongue over the bottom of her clitoris. 'You need my mouth on your cunt every hour of every day, don't you?'
'Please, Master,' she gasped, undulating beneath his mouth. 'I do need you. Please.'
He slipped his first two fingers inside her body, curving and beginning the in, out rhythm she craved.
'Yesss,' she said, moving with him as he fucked her with his fingers.
'Now what, pet?' he asked, as if he did not know very well what she wanted next.
'Suck me, Master, please,' she begged. 'Please!'
His lips closed over the protrusion of her sex as if he were kissing her mouth, sucking gently on her clitoris as if it were her tongue, finally flattening it with his tongue and increasing the movement of his fingers. He thrust harder, his fingertips making contact with her sweet spot. Hermione screamed, unable to prevent her reaction, and she thrashed beneath him as he sucked and finger fucked her to orgasm, surrendering herself completely to the sensations he afforded.
He moved up her body as she shuddered with the aftershocks of coming, his hands and lips caressing and possessing. When he reached her mouth, he kissed her, and she clung to him, the tears which had come with her climax seasoning their kiss. He did not stop there, though, but he continued to move up, until his knees were on either side of her head, and the slick, salty tip of his penis was at her lips.
'That's a good girl,' he said as she greedily lapped at him before closing her lips over his knob.
As he moved carefully in her mouth, she watched his face, which showed both intense concentration and immense pleasure. Dragging air in through her nose, she applied more suction and was gratified by his groan and the sneering twist of his lips; he never looked so viciously dangerous as when he allowed himself to relax and take his pleasure between her lips. She raised her hands to grasp his arse cheeks, gently squeezing and urging him, but he kept his strokes shallow; apparently he did not mean to spill himself down her throat this time. With that knowledge, she contented herself with running her hands along his flanks, up his thighs, feeling those muscles move beneath her hands as she swirled her tongue along the soft underside of his cock, wanting to mark and remember every moment of this last encounter.
He pulled out of her mouth and sagged to one side, sitting upright against the headboard. 'Come sit on my cock,' he growled, and Hermione responded with alacrity. She straddled him, using her hand to guide him to her entrance, then she slid down onto his length with a sigh of bliss. Dear Circe, but she had been born to hold this man inside her body, to create with him the friction that brought them both to this place of such complete union.
His hands settled at her hips, guiding her movements as he jerked and thrust below her, piercing and cleaving her. 'Look at me, pet,' he commanded, and she willingly obeyed, looking into his endless eyes, reaching out for his consciousness even as she felt his passage into her mind.
When she reciprocated, slipping into his mind, she was met with a wall of emotion so fierce that she wobbled to one side, losing her balance. He pulled her back into position, never losing contact with her, and she was amazed to feel less resistance from him than at any other time she had joined with him in this way. He seemed eager to bathe in her emotions, and she could sense him slowing his movements to prolong their coupling, providing more time for them to be joined in mind, body and …
… yes, in soul, he confirmed.
Hermione cupped his face, moving up and down slowly on his cock, and his hands rose from her waist to cup her breasts. She sighed as he squeezed, and then his thumbs passed over her nipples, sending a shiver through her. Her vaginal muscles contracted, and his eyes closed in bliss. She did it again, deliberately, and he groaned. The doubling of sensation was mesmerising, everything she felt was broadcast to him, and he responded back to her, broadcasting his pleasure and her own, which she returned to him. The progression was like being spun in a whirlpool of emotion and sensation.
Hermione felt the moment when he could no longer hold out against the mounting pressure low in his abdomen, and one of his hands pinched at her nipples, even as the other dipped to her quim, delving for and finding her clitoris. She stroked her hands down his chest, fingertips teasing his nipples, and surrendered to his will, allowing him to draw her climax from her. She rode the swell of sensation, her gaze fixed on his, until they began, together, to fall, spinning and spiralling as one, her climax shattering all around her as the heat of his seed pumped into her body, and still, their eyes were locked, their experience irrevocably linked.
She sagged forward, suddenly exhausted, and he held her to him, their bodies still joined. His fingers stroked her back, and he pressed kisses to her sweat-damp face.
Do you have to go? She didn't want to ask, but she had to know. Their minds were still connected, and she slipped the question to him, rather than speak aloud.
At dawn, he answered, and she tumbled sideways, bringing him down half atop of her.
Hold me, she begged.
He pressed his sticky, sweaty body to hers and held on.
She dozed because she couldn't help it, but she didn't sleep for long. The dark of the night stretched beyond their windows, and she longed to push the dawn away, prolonging their time together. She knew from his breathing that he was awake.
'I'm the only one you ever collared,' she said.
He did not seem surprised to hear her speak. 'You are,' he agreed.
'Why didn't you do it before?'
He was quiet for a long time, though his breathing didn't change. She knew he hadn't fallen asleep, and she wondered if he had decided not to answer her.
'It was not an option,' he said at last, his voice clear in the firelit room. 'I spent summers here, when I was not required elsewhere. Elinore kept a room for me. It was my home. I could participate in the training of submissives who were under someone else's care, but there was no question of me taking long-term responsibility for another person. I had my job, which precluded that type of arrangement, and though I enjoyed the odd short Christmas or Easter holiday, where I might have a one-night encounter with a willing submissive, any training I did was for my own amusement, with the clear understanding that the submissive in training would pass into the care of another Dominant.'
Hermione still felt the thrum of the connection between their minds; she could no more be upset or take offence at anything he said than she could willingly walk away from him. She had asked, he had answered, and she could only accept his words.
'Training submissives was for your amusement?' she asked.
He moved her from her spot on his chest and slipped down so that they were face-to-face in the dim light. 'Yes,' he answered. 'There was nothing I enjoyed more, but my circumstances prevented any deeper involvement.'
She moved up on her elbow, looking down at him. 'I don't understand why you made an exception for me.' She spoke softly. There was no challenge in voice, no accusation—she was truly puzzled.
He didn't move but let her loom over him. 'I am a selfish bastard,' he reminded her.
'Tell me what your plans are,' she coaxed. 'It will help me, when you're gone, to have something to plan for.'
He sat up in one fluid movement, his back to her as he sat on the edge of the bed. 'I have made arrangements for you,' he said bleakly.
Hermione pushed herself up and encircled him with her arms, pressing her cheek to his shoulder blade. 'Tell me about them,' she invited him.
He remained stiff in her arms. 'You have all my privileges at Roissy House,' he informed her. 'You have a home here for as long as you wish it. In the case of my … demise, Hadrian knows what to do. I don't have much, but what I have will come to you.'
Hermione listened to him, still feeling the echoes of their union, and knew he was speaking the absolute truth. Releasing him, she slipped past him and took up her wand. 'Lumos,' she said.
He blinked against the bright light.
'You've made me your heir?' she demanded. 'You've made arrangements for me in case you die?' Her voice was rising in volume, but she couldn't help herself.
'Hermione,' he said heavily, and one long-fingered hand passed over his face. 'I will say this once, and then I want you to let it go—do you understand me?'
She bristled, recognising the tone of his voice. He was quite resolute: He meant what he said. There would be no further discussion. She bit her lip.
'There is a strong likelihood that I will not survive this conflict. You know how precariously I am placed. I will do my duty, and I will do everything I can to save my own skin, but we must face facts.'
'No!' she cried.
He rose and jerked her against him. 'We are not going to indulge in some ridiculous, melodramatic emotional scene,' he said forcefully. 'But I'll tell you what we will do. We will both do what we are supposed to do.' He had her face pressed to his chest, where her tears wet this skin; his free hand rubbed circles on her back. He continued to speak as if he were not cradling a sobbing girl. 'You will live here and remain safe. You will revise for your NEWTs. You will pay extra attention to the Ancient Runes text I brought. When Potter sends you the counter-spell, you'll decipher it and record it in your journal for me. You'll be a good, obedient girl, and I will come to you when I can.'
With superhuman strength, she pulled away from him. 'Unless you're dead!' she screeched.
He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom. 'Unless I'm dead,' he agreed grimly, pulling her into the shower and twisting the taps.
Swaddled in her warm dressing gown, she sat on the floor between his knees as he brushed out her freshly washed hair. The clock on the mantle ticked the minutes past, and Hermione felt as if it were a time bomb rather than a time piece.
'Elinore told her story tonight,' she said, the first words she had spoken since before their shower.
'Hadrian said she would,' he answered.
'It was horrible,' she said. 'Why wasn't her kidnapper caught?'
Her professor paused for a moment in his methodical brushing. 'I have my theories,' he admitted, almost as if speaking to himself.
Hermione attempted to turn her face, but he prevented her, resuming his brushing. 'Tell me,' she said.
'The timing was curious,' he admitted. 'Elinore was attacked the summer of eighty-one.'
Hermione pondered. 'That's the year Harry's parents died.'
'Yes,' he agreed.
'What are you saying?' He didn't speak, and Hermione succeeded in turning around. 'What?' she asked again.
'I think Elinore's attacker may very well have been the Dark Lord,' he said.
Her mouth dropped open. 'Severus!' she gasped.
He grasped her upper arms and pulled her up into his lap. 'Say it again,' he commanded, his burning eyes fixed on her mouth.
'Severus,' she repeated, and he kissed her. Hermione wound her arms about his neck, allowing herself to be lured from horror and alarm to the simple pleasure of being kissed by the man she loved. There would be time and enough for wondering, but the time for holding her Master was swiftly running out.
Too soon, he put her from him and went to the wardrobe, attiring himself in the clothes he had worn upon his arrival. Hermione scrambled into her own clothing, determined to stay with him for as long as she possibly could. He put on a heavy travelling cloak over his clothes, and she jammed her feet into her trainers, holding his hand tightly as they traversed the corridors down to the entrance hall.
Rafe and t were there already, locked in a fraught embrace, and the mere sight of them made it all more real to Hermione. Her feelings were a complete jumble, but rising to the top was her desperate desire for her Master not to leave her. She stopped on the second step from the bottom, refusing to complete the climb down, as if to do so would keep him with her for one more precious minute.
He turned to her when he realised she had stopped, and he plucked her from the step as if she weighed nothing. In desperation, she wrapped her arms and legs around him.
'I love you,' she reminded him, her lips on the pulse in his throat.
He didn't speak, but he took her chin in one hand and forced her face up so he could kiss her mouth. Then he broke her hold about his neck, and she released his waist, sliding to the floor.
'Be a good girl,' he adjured her sternly, glaring down into her face.
She studied his hawkish countenance by the light of the wall braziers, feeling day breaking beyond the walls of Roissy House as surely as do the night-blooming flowers. His black hair hung like curtains on either side of his narrow face, and his thin lips were pressed in an uncompromising, firm line—yet she was sure she saw tenderness in his expression.
'Come back to me,' she responded, her chin raised obstinately, determined not to cry.
Rafe and Taffy broke apart, and for a fleeting moment, Severus Snape's fingertips were upon Hermione's cheek in a final caress. Then the Roissy House doors were thrown open by the waiting house-elves, and a faint yellow light limned the bare tree branches of Grosvenor Square as Masters Maximus and Severus swept out into the new day.
And Hermione and Taffy fell into one another's arms, giving in to the tears they would not show their departing warriors.
