A/N: All good things must come to an end, and this, my dears, is the next-to-last chapter.
Of course, you mustn't hold me to it, for the last of the story is not yet written, and until it's done, I cannot promise you that the Muse won't ... insist on more detail. As it is, I feel duty bound to let you know we are near the end, so that you may prepare yourselves, as I must as well, for the time when there will be no more Sunday updates.
For the Potions Master's Amusement
Chapter 86: Negotiated Unity
Severus opened the door and allowed Hermione to enter the room before following her and closing it behind him. Sunlight filtered into the room through the parted draperies and cast unflattering light on the pale faces of Hadrian and Claudius, who sat facing one another at a polished cherry wood conference table. Heavy ceramic coffee mugs, masculine, utilitarian, and completely unlike the delicate china used at Elinore's table, rested on either side of the wizard chess board between them, as if they had spent the night playing and ingesting caffeine.
'Welcome,' Hadrian said with a smile, gesturing to two chairs sitting side by side at the end of the table, a space most often occupied by only one chair.
Hermione and Severus approached the table, their hands clasped, but before they reached their chairs, Claudius rose and crossed the floor, stopping just beyond reach, his cool, gray gaze focussed on Hermione's face. She felt Severus stiffen at her side, as if in preparation for confrontation, and his hold on her hand tightened. She glanced up at his face, seeing how his lips pressed into a thin white line as he glared daggers at the blond wizard before them.
Hermione felt her own calm centre, solid and sure, and she reached for him with her mind, finding and enveloping his consciousness with hers.
It's all right
And though his expression did not lighten, his fingers loosened, and she stepped forward to Master Claudius, her hands outstretched in greeting. He took her hands readily, something like relief on his face.
'Good morning, Hermione,' he said, studying her carefully. 'Are you … well?'
Hermione squeezed Claudius' hands reassuringly. 'Happier than I've ever been,' she said honestly.
Now the grey eyes shifted to Severus, although the words were obviously addressed to Hermione. 'I was concerned for you.'
Hermione could feel the umbrage bristling from her lover, but Master Claudius did not persist. He turned aside, courteously pulled out Hermione's chair, and resumed his place at the table. Severus slipped into the seat beside her, and though he readily allowed her to twine her fingers with his, she felt him nudge her firmly from his consciousness.
'You're up early,' Severus remarked to Hadrian.
'We've not been to bed,' Hadrian replied affably. 'I suspected, considering our agreement, that you might be seeking me out quite early this morning.' He smiled, including all three of them in his glance. 'We needn't keep you for too long, but it is always a good thing to pay close attention to the details of a new D/s relationship.'
Hermione looked to Severus, whose careful lack of expression touched her heart—was it so difficult for him to subject himself to the inclusion of others in their plans? Of course it was. He would probably have been comfortable enough with Hadrian, but Claudius was not there to support Severus; he was there for Hermione, and there was a part of Severus Snape that would view the other Dominant with some reservation. Hermione knew, from what he had told her the night before, though he had not expressed it exactly this way, that it would be a long time before Severus would forgive Claudius for placing his collar on Hermione's throat.
Hadrian put on his reading glasses. 'Has Severus explained why you're here this morning, Hermione?'
'He said that his agreement with you was that we would enter into a play contract after my debut night was at an end,' she said promptly, ever the student with the correct answer.
Hadrian glanced up at her over the lenses of his spectacles, a slight frown on his face. 'Yes and no,' he said soberly. 'Severus and I have had many long, detailed conversations about his previous relationship with you—in fact, he has been remarkably forthcoming, which is not easy for an alpha male—and this, more than anything else, has convinced me that he is most sincere in his desire to have a proper long-term relationship with you. Are you of the same mind?'
Hermione heard these words with extreme gratification. He had confided in Hadrian? Everything? How difficult that must have been for him!
'I want it more than anything in the world,' Hermione said firmly, and Severus lightly caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, as if in agreement.
Hadrian sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. 'From our detailed discussions, it seems to me, and Severus agrees, that the physical part of your relationship always worked out very well—he was of the opinion that you never felt threatened or endangered by your play. Do you agree with that assessment, Hermione?'
She nodded earnestly. 'I do agree with that, yes.'
Hadrian's lips pursed for a moment. 'Severus has great proficiency in the technical aspects of Domination—it is the emotional component for which he requires training. This isn't just your first time in a long-term D/s relationship, Hermione—it's Severus' first time, as well.'
He smiled at them both, and Hermione had the impression in that moment that Hadrian was pleased with and proud of his protégé. After a moment, time during which Severus repeatedly stroked the back of her hand, Hadrian cleared his throat and continued.
'All right; I am not concerned with completing a formal play agreement this morning, providing you establish a safe word before any play commences. Do I have your word on that?' They nodded simultaneously and Hadrian said, 'Severus, I would like for you and Hermione to review the standard play contract together over the next few days, and a reflection of hard limits and such will be included in your contract. Do you concur?'
'I do,' Severus said.
'Good.' Hadrian sat forward again and made a tick mark on the topmost piece of parchment before him. 'We have established that you both wish to enter into a long-term relationship and that you will bring a completed play agreement to your next contract meeting. The next step, I believe, is for you to agree on the areas where you experienced conflict before.' Hadrian inclined his head toward Claudius. 'You had extensive counselling with Claudius, Hermione, and he can help you pinpoint troublesome issues.'
Hermione frowned, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. The three Dominants watched her, but she felt no need to hurry; these were the most patient men of her acquaintance, and she knew they would wait as long as necessary for her to formulate her thoughts and answer.
'Many of our problems arose because of the war,' she said, looking from Hadrian to Claudius. 'We're not at war, now, and I don't know why those problems would come up again.'
Master Claudius sat forward a bit, his forearms resting on the tabletop, and Hermione turned her attention to him, still responsive to the instinct of obedience to him.
'Problems arise between a submissive and her Dominant because of an underlying issue, in most cases, Hermione. For instance, in our discussions, you indicated to me that you felt Master Severus had discounted you at times, possibly due to age or sexual discrimination.'
Hermione felt Severus stiffen at her side, but she only stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, a loving touch. She kept her eyes on Claudius, listening to him attentively.
'You told me, if you'll recall, that you decided to return your collar to him because he made decisions and arrangements for you without discussing them with you. You may wish to include in your contract an agreement to talk about things before decisions are made.' He took up a quill, as if he were going to write on the blank parchment before him, the bronze feather dark against the fair skin of his elegant fingers. 'Your most pressing issue was that of Master Severus' decision to confine you to Roissy House for the duration of the war. It would be important for you to thrash out the issues at the bottom of his decision and your resentment and agree on a work around that would permit you both to feel comfortable, should such a situation arise again.' He dropped the feather quill and knocked once on the wooden table with a rueful grimace before saying, 'God forbid it ever should.'
Hermione turned from Claudius to look at Severus, who watched her intensely.
'I wanted to fight, but you wanted me protected at all costs.' Her brow furrowed. 'As Master Claudius said, God forbid we should ever be at war again, but what if we were? How could we do it differently?'
Severus lifted his free hand, and his fingertips passed lightly over her brow, as if to rub the frown away. He did it unselfconsciously, as if they were alone, and she captured his hand, nursing it to her cheek, loving him so much she could scarcely catch her breath.
'I did not believe your duelling skills were sufficient,' he said. 'Defence is not your strong suit, and it never has been.' The hand at her face now cupped her cheek. 'I have given it a great deal of thought, and I have a proposal to make in that regard—something to improve your proficiency at defensive duelling to my satisfaction.'
At the word 'proposal', her heart had tripped into double time, though she tried to make a recover and hide the reaction as he finished his sentence. But she had not been fast enough, for one corner of his mouth quirked up, and he stroked his thumb over her lower lip, a move so beguiling that she leaned into his cupping hand and closed her eyes like a cat.
'Remember,' he said softly. 'We'll not skip a single step, this time around—everything strictly by the book, yes?'
She opened her eyes, seeing in his expression the same emotion she heard in his voice. 'Yes,' she agreed.
There was no hurry, was there? They had the rest of their lives to get it right this time.
Hadrian spoke then, sounding intrigued. 'You haven't told me what your plan is, Severus—do you want to share that now?'
Severus turned to Hadrian, his hand dropping from her face. 'I'll discuss it first with Hermione, if you don't mind, Hadrian. If she agrees, it will form part of our contract.'
Hadrian made a note on his parchment and another tick mark. 'As long as you provide sufficient detail to satisfy Claudius and Violet, I have no objection,' he said agreeably.
Hermione darted a glance at Master Claudius, who met her gaze and nodded once, quite deliberately. He had invited her to join his family—to share his home, his wife, and his bed—but in the end, what he wanted most was her happiness. If Severus Snape was a necessary ingredient in that formula, Claudius would accept it, but he would negotiate very carefully on her behalf to prevent history from repeating itself.
'What about you, Severus?' Hadrian prompted, his blue eyes resting on Severus. 'What were your issues?'
Severus answered Hadrian slowly, a slight frown between his brows. 'Her disobedience,' he said. 'Repeatedly and after specifically promising not to do it—but it was around the issue of her safety in war.' He inhaled and turned his gaze to Hermione. 'It showed me that I had not trained her properly—that there were areas in her psyche that were impenetrable to me—and after months of thinking about it and discussing it, I knew it meant she would have to go to another Dominant for training if she were to become a submissive in this lifestyle.'
As he spoke, it seemed to Hermione that his voice became stronger, more confident, and at this point, he looked at Claudius.
'I owe you a debt of gratitude, for taking Hermione on as a trainee, Claudius.'
Grey eyes met black. 'You owe me nothing. I didn't do it for you. I did it for Hermione.'
Hermione cringed inside, expecting Severus to take this curt verbal rebuke as criticism, but after a moment of silence, during which the two Dominants held one another's gaze unflinchingly, Severus inclined his head respectfully, then turned back to Hadrian.
Hadrian raised his eyebrows and said, 'What else, Severus?'
Hermione watched her beloved's face, anxious to hear what he would say, but his answer was quick and spoken to her, rather than to Hadrian.
'I have no other issues to bring forward. I am … grateful for the opportunity to redress my previous deficiencies.'
Hermione felt tears prick her eyes, and she smiled mistily at Severus, who managed half a smile.
Hadrian nodded and set aside his quill. 'Well said,' he approved briskly. He Summoned an appointment book from his desk and consulted the calendar. 'I'll schedule our next meeting for Saturday morning next.' He slid a stack of parchment across the table to Severus and Hermione. 'Most initial contracts are for a relatively short period, such as six months or one year, after which renegotiation takes place. Before our next meeting, I would like for you to peruse these contract templates to give you an idea of what to include in your agreement. Claudius and Violet will be present on Hermione's behalf, Severus, and you may include others for yourself, if you like. Rafe, perhaps?'
Severus regarded Hadrian gravely. 'If you are here, Hadrian, I require no further counsel.'
The older wizard's eyes became quite bright, and he busied himself with straightening his stack of parchment. He cleared his voice and said, 'Very well.' He glanced around the table. 'Shall we go to breakfast?'
Severus stood, pulling Hermione to her feet, his arm drawing her against his side. 'We'll eat in the room,' he said.
The older Dominants stood as well, and Hermione heard Claudius say sotto voce, 'What a surprise,' to which she responded with a giggle. Claudius smiled at her, seeming to relax for the first time since she and Severus had entered the room.
They moved to the door, and before going into the hallway, Hermione looked up at Claudius. 'Did you … hear me, last night?' she asked, slightly embarrassed.
'Rather,' Master Claudius replied, drawing out the first syllable of the word drolly (raw-thur!), and Hermione flushed crimson, listening to the good-natured laughter of the Dominants receding toward the dining room.
Strong arms encircled her, and a large, hooked nose was buried in the hair behind her ear. Before she could process the feeling of Disapparition, they stood in their room.
'Finally!' Severus growled, and she was lifted from her feet by the violence of his embrace, his kiss aggressive and demanding.
She held desperately to his shoulders, the unmistakeable taste of testosterone ravaging her senses like the most addictive drug.
At length, his embrace loosened, and she was fully on her own two feet again, eyes fluttering open to find him looking down into her face with grave solemnity. Her fingertips rested on his chest as she returned his regard.
'Over my time of training with Hadrian,' he said, 'I have … become willing to learn about the proper manner in which one conducts a long-term D/s relationship, and I am committed to this course, Hermione—but there are things between us that are non-negotiable, and I want to be certain that you understand that.'
Hermione nodded, confident in her understanding. 'Deal-breakers,' she said. 'Everyone has deal-breakers.'
His hand stole into her hair, and she was prepared for—welcomed!—the way his fist closed about the tresses at her nape, exerting enough pressure to tilt her chin up, assuming control of her movements with practiced ease. 'My deal-breaker is this,' he said, his voice at once silken and menacing. 'I am a sexual Dominant, and I require your sexual submission. When we have the privacy to permit it, I require you naked, upon your knees with your eyes averted and your body available to me. These things are not negotiable, and if you cannot accept my terms, tell me now.'
Hermione felt the gooseflesh spreading from her throat to her fingertips to her toes, pebbling her flesh and weakening her knees. 'I can accept those things,' she assured him, hearing the tremor in her voice and unable to prevent it. 'I am attracted to you for those very reasons, sir—it is your essential nature, and I crave you for it.'
His eyes darkened, his eyelids drooping to half-mast. He forced her head back further still and encompassed her bare throat with his free hand. 'Yes, you're the perfect submissive for me, little one—but although you've told me you wish to offer your submission again, I won't give your collar back now. We'll wait until our mentors feel we have covered all the necessary steps to go there again.'
Hermione arched her neck more still, loving the feel of his long, agile fingers about her throat. 'You … you kept my collar?'
He released her and turned away, a non-verbal spell delivering the box from the night before into his waiting hands. The highly polished ebony wood was inlaid on the top in mother-of-pearl with an elaborately worked 'H'. He flicked open the lid on delicate hinges, and the top section elevated, just as her mother's old jewellery box had done. She saw into the depths, lined with crimson velvet. In the topmost rectangular depression her hairbrush nestled, and in the bottommost compartment, she saw the emerald green of her blanket from his Hogwarts study. In the square middle space, occupying the place of honour, she saw her black leather collar, its disc reflecting the light as if it had been recently polished.
Tears pricked her eyes, and her lips trembled with emotion. He had kept her things—cherished them—and he had done so not knowing if she would ever come back to him. The faith and steadfast devotion demonstrated by the act humbled her to the core.
'And now, my pet, I want to see you in your rightful place.'
Hermione knew precisely what he wanted. She stripped out of her clothes, allowing the jeans and the tee-shirt to fall upon the floor, and she knelt at his feet, tears drying upon her cheeks as the serenity of her submission anchored her there.
She was aware of his movement as he slowly circled her, and she could almost feel the heat of his eyes upon her as he orbited. It was like coming home as an adult to a place she had left as a rebellious adolescent, with all the humility, gratitude, and bone-deep thankfulness commonly felt by such homecomers. She luxuriated in her place of obeisance to the man she loved and craved—in equal measure.
'Rise and undress me,' he commanded.
She rose gracefully, and he watched her with critical approval.
'You have grown quite … adept,' he said.
Hermione flushed with pleasure, finding the button placket beneath the frivolously frilled shirt front and beginning to unbutton him. 'Thank you, Ma—' she began, then stopped in consternation. 'May I call you that?' she asked quietly. 'Even if I'm not yet wearing your collar?'
He bent his head and kissed her again, one hand warm on the back of her neck, the other cupping her breast, slowly teasing a nipple to pebbled arousal. 'You may,' he said, the hand at her breast stroking slowly down her flank. 'It is permitted at my discretion, and it pleases me … very much.'
Hermione hummed her happiness and continued to unbutton the pirate shirt. A thought occurred to her, and she darted a frankly flirtatious look from beneath her lashes. 'Where did you find this shirt, sir?'
A laugh rumbled in his chest. 'Once upon a time, Master Maximus declared that I attended Dungeon play parties dressed like a schoolteacher. He produced a pair of leather trousers and this shirt and dared me to wear them. The trousers are ridiculous, but I wear the shirt upon … special occasions.'
Hermione completed the unbuttoning and parted the shirt. It was her first look in some time at her Master's battle-scarred torso, and the sight made her heart beat faster. She pressed a kiss to his breastbone, then began on his belt buckle.
'You have leather trousers?' she exclaimed happily. 'Oh, may I see them sometime?'
He laughed again, and she dared a glance up at his face even as her fingers worked the buttons of his fly. He looked young—happy, really—and her heart contracted with gladness at the sight of him. Then her fingers brushed the coarse hair below his belt, and she realised that he wore no underwear beneath his trousers.
His hands stilled hers, a crooked smile upon his thin lips. 'It is time to establish your safe word,' he reminded her. 'Do you have a preference?'
'No, sir,' she answered. 'I've never needed one, and I can't imagine using it—could you choose one?'
He regarded her steadily. 'A safe word is for you to use in any situation to which you wish to call a halt. It could be during play or punishment or even a verbal disagreement. It will instantly bring the activity to a full stop.' The humour which had recently lit his eyes lurked. 'I have a suggestion: The name of your "best friend".' He spoke the last two words with something akin to disgust.
'Harry Potter?' she said incredulously.
He sneered. 'Precisely. The utterance of those syllables is guaranteed to bring me to screeching halt, regardless of our … occupation.'
Hermione grinned. 'It's a brilliant notion, sir. Henceforth, "Harry Potter" will be my safe word.'
He released her hands again. 'Then you may proceed, pet,' he said, suddenly stern.
Intent now upon her job, she began to pull the trousers down his legs, watching with appreciative glee as his cock was freed from its confines. Partially erect, it twitched, as if responsive to the cool air of the room or perhaps, to her rapt gaze. Now his hand was at the back of her head, urging her forward, until her face was pressed against him, and Hermione wrapped her arms about his upper thighs, her open mouth applied to his heavy scrotum.
He grasped her upper arms and pulled her upward with a groan. 'Into the shower, vixen,' he commanded, giving her a nudge in the direction of the bathroom.
Hermione entered the bathroom willingly, lighting the gas lamps as she did, and she was surprised to actually see a shower there. Had it been there before? She didn't recall …
He strode past her and entered the tiled shower stall to twist the taps, his erection preceding him, the smooth muscles of his buttocks rippling with each step he took. She stared after him in mute want, and her expression did not change as he held out a hand to her, a knowing smirk on his face.
'Wash me,' he said, his voice warm, seductive, and she stepped beneath the water spray with him.
She took up the cake of lime scented soap, but before she could apply it to his skin, he was kissing her again, the warm water cascading over them both, saturating their hair, rivulets streaming down their faces. In a twinkling he had the wall at her back, his teeth on the skin of her throat, his cock jabbing rhythmically against her stomach, his fingers buried in her quim.
'I'm going to fuck you, little slut,' he informed her, pulling back far enough to watch her face as he fingered her. 'I'm going to put you on my bed and spread your legs and fuck you through the sheets—for my pleasure, because you belong to me, don't you?'
Hermione allowed her head to loll against the tile, steadily humping against the fingers on her clitoris, one fist closed now around his rigid cock, pumping slowly up and down.
'Yes, Master,' she moaned, wanting him inside her now. 'Please!'
He removed the soap from the slackening fingers of her unoccupied hand and conjured a face flannel. With deliberation, he lathered the flannel and began to wash her, neither encouraging nor discouraging her caresses, the look on his face one of intense concentration. He squatted to wash her lower legs, and when she turned in answer to his urging, he washed her backside, with special emphasis on soapy fingers massaging her arsehole while he pinched her nipples and whispered filthy things in her ear. He ended by shampooing her hair, a process including a careful application of a conditioning rinse to remove tangles.
'Because I don't wish to spend an hour removing the snarls from your hair, little one,' he informed her. He moved directly beneath the stream of water and began to wash his hair. 'Wash me now,' he commanded peremptorily.
Hermione revelled in doing so, eschewing the face flannel so that she could feel his flesh and sinew beneath her hands. She washed his cock and bollocks, and he watched her with narrowed eyes.
'Rinse carefully down there, pet, unless you enjoy the taste of soap.'
She took him at his word, collecting water in her cupped hands and splashing repeatedly to cleanse him.
'Now,' he said, widening his stance, 'suck me.'
Eager, Hermione took him in her mouth, lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth.
'All of it,' he growled, one hand laced lightly in the wet hair atop her head. 'All the way down to the bollocks.'
Hermione continued down, unsure if she had ever managed to take his entire length into her mouth before and hoping not to fail now. It had been a long time since she had attempted fellatio. She knew she was woefully out of practice, and she hoped enthusiasm would make up for lack of technique. Soon, she was in sight of her goal, so to speak, her nose buried in wet black pubic hair, but her lips a few millimetres short of the base of his cock, and the head of it pressed against the back of her throat. It seemed he was aware of her dilemma, for he withdrew a bit before slowly beginning to move in and out.
'That's right,' he crooned, gently directing her motion with the hand in her hair. 'You're my cocksucker, aren't you, pet? On your knees with your mouth full of your Master's cock—what a beautiful sight.'
His movements quickened for a short time, then he stopped abruptly and withdrew all the way, his cock engorged and reddened. He indicated she was to rise, and he turned to twist off the taps. Quickly and wordlessly, he dried her off, and she dried him.
'On the bed,' he said tersely. 'On your back, legs wide for me.'
She hastened into the bedroom, only to be brought up short. The bedcovering had been folded neatly down to the foot, leaving the clean sheets, upon which were scattered … white rosebuds—dozens of them! He had saved the flowers from her hair for this—their first time together again. Feeling choked with emotion, she assumed the position he had ordained for her, and he advanced to the foot of the bed, looking at her upon the rose-strewn bed with an arrested expression on his austere face.
'I would tie you—and will undoubtedly do so next time—but I want your arms and legs around me,' he said, his voice full of the burning she saw in his eyes. He climbed on the bed and knelt between her thighs. Without looking away from her face, he penetrated her quim with one finger, as if to assure himself that she was sufficiently wet. 'You belong to me, Hermione,' he said firmly. 'I lay claim to you, body, mind, heart and soul.' He positioned his cock with the head at the entrance to her vagina and leaned forward on one arm, his torso over hers. 'Say it,' he ordered her.
Hermione raised her hips, lightly rubbing against his cock, feeling the import of the moment stretching between them, a gossamer barrier about to be broken. 'I belong to you, Master, body, mind, heart, and soul.'
Before the last word left her lips he thrust into her body, both of them gasping simultaneously at the foreign—but not forgotten—sensation of his cock in her cunt.
'Yes,' he hissed through gritted teeth, 'you do.' He closed his eyes, still holding himself above her on taut arms as he immersed himself in her, one plunging thrust after another. 'Sweet Nimüe,' he breathed. 'So tight—so sweet.'
Hermione held her legs wide, giving him ample scope for his movements, watching his face, his wiry arms, his lightly muscled torso, the combined visual and physical stimuli sending her with each gasping breath further into subspace and closer to orgasm. Instinctively, she reached for him, her consciousness sliding along his with the same delicious friction as his cock in her quim, and he enveloped her.
He opened his eyes and lowered himself until he sucked a nipple into his mouth. Hermione stroked his hair, her legs locking about his hips as his wild plunging settled into a slower, smouldering rocking motion. She rocked her pelvis against his, the action drawing a long, loud moan from her throat—dear Merlin, but she felt as if flames were licking along her nervous system, as if she had fire in her veins in place of blood—and this man, no, this god of her idolatry, was responsible for it. She would gladly spend her existence in this flame of ecstasy, possessed and possessing, rapturous to the point of delirium.
He shifted his position, reaching forward to grasp the bedstead, increasing the pressure he applied to her clitoris as he moved, and she cried out, the embers flaring to flame.
'Hermione,' he said, and she strove to hear him over the mounting inferno in her loins—in her mind.
But he was with her—he felt her—and as he allowed himself to merge with her
—mind and heart and soul
—the fire began to burn in him, blaze to conflagration, consuming him as well.
we are one
burning
my darling
consuming
love … love … love you
please
now NOW
And combustion transpired—two bodies, hearts, minds, and souls incinerated, ashes intermingled—and Hermione and Severus uttered blended cries, perhaps not so loud as the night before, but heartfelt and satisfactory, nonetheless.
Side by side, ashes now reforming, solidifying
—flesh of my flesh
—they fell into exhausted sleep in the first day of their new world together.
