Chapter Three


For the first time in days, Hermione wasn't put off by the inferno that seemed to be wreaking havoc on her body. Rather she found herself basking in its warmth. Enjoying the way it brought forth the feeling of a flush along her skin. Relishing in the deep arousal that pulsed between her legs and low in her belly. Reveling in the taut, responsive pull of her nipples as they kissed along the plush material of her blanket. Desiring to cave into the urge of touching and spreading the fragrant wetness that was gathering and spilling from her aching, fevered pussy.

Wrapped in the strong, soothing aroma of rosemary and mint and surrounded by a deep sense of safety, she remained floating between waking and sleeping as she rolled her hips along the firm object pressed between her thighs. Softly groaning at the eager jump of her clit upon receiving stimulation, she repeated her wanton grind with more pressure. Then she rubbed again. And again. And again still, until she was curling her lips in in a bid to silence the needy noises that were bubbling up.

Desperate for more–her thighs slick with her body's over production of lubricant–she stretched her leg further across until she straddled whatever she had been excitedly humping. Feeling it settle between her legs–thick, hard, and long–she sensuously dragged herself over it.

With a liquid heat licking up her spine, she picked up her pace until she was nearly bouncing along what was quickly becoming her favorite object for indulgent self play. Chasing her ever growing but still far off release, Hermione pushed her hands down on a firm, unyielding section of where she slept and brought herself up on her knees. Clouded with lust and addled by a clinging need for more rest, she was faintly aware that her surroundings were not that of her dorm. However as soon as the thought formed, it was suppressed and just as quickly forgotten.

Getting close to what she wanted, needed, she again quickened her pace, sending her head back and her curls tumbling down as her fight to remain quiet was lost. Mid-moan and on the precipice of free falling into a bone melting orgasm, she was robbed.

A startled yelp replaced her vocal pleasure as she was flipped off whatever she had been astride and effortlessly pinned, her ankles locking around the tapered waist of who, not what, she had been using.

Alpha! a distant voice squealed inside her head. Alpha has pinned us. We haven't displeased him. He's going to claim us!

Caught between panic and preening, Hermione rapidly blinked her eyes several times before screwing them up tight. Surely she was not hearing voices in her head. Though the more it prattled on, the less she could deny its existence. And as she unwittingly accepted its presence, the fog around her brain began lifting until she was left with no choice but to open her eyes.

"Miss Granger!" Professor Snape snapped, immediately drawing her compliance, her eyes honing in on the dark, unending shine of his own. "Let me go."

"What?" she questioned, embarrassment on levels she had never known possible coloring her face where fever and lust once had.

Huffing so she felt the caress of breath along her skin, he enunciated as if she were slow and he found her lack of understanding trying, "Your legs."

"Oh my God!" she shrieked upon realizing she was still using his body to get herself off.

"Any time now."

Dropping her thighs and forcing her muscles to relax despite a desperate urge to wrap herself back around him, she went to cover her face only to find her arms cuffed above her head.

Lifting his weight off of her, he slowly said, "I'm going to release you now. Try to show some self restraint and not take any further liberties with my person," almost as if he were reluctant to part from her.

Which admittedly he probably was. After all, she had just behaved like a sexual deviant, using him like a toy for her pleasure. He was probably concerned she would jump him again and be forced to resort to more drastic measures of subduing her.

Yanking her blanket out from under herself, she quickly covered her nudity and began rapidly and repeatedly apologizing.

Before she could get too far into seeking verbal penance though, his hand drifted through the air, her words instantly dying on her tongue.

"Your apologies are not needed."

"But—" she reflexively interjected, surprised to find he hadn't silenced her. Rather he was so effective at commanding his wishes to be met that even without conscious decision, she fell in line, ready to adhere to his every rule and demand.

"As I was saying, Miss Granger, your apologies are not needed, nor are they wanted. Your…" he drifted off, slowly inhaling and savoring the air around him, before accurately identifying, "worry and stress are beginning to smother my chambers and as you'll soon learn once you unite with your inner omega, the smells of fear and anxiety are quite strong and highly unpleasant."

"Professor," she quietly asked, her brows pulling together as she struggled to dig through her mind for the answer. "What do you mean, 'unite with my inner omega?'"

"You truly don't know do you?"

Pinching, pulling, and releasing her lower lip as she muddled her way through the haze that lingered in her mind and darkened her memory of the time spanning between falling asleep in her dorm and waking up with Professor Snape, she admitted, "It's there—or I think something is there—but I can't entirely grasp it. It slips away the more I focus on it like a fading dream. So no, I have no idea of what you're referring to."

Humming as he studied her, his eyes keen and unwavering as they looked into her own, keeping her attention fixated upon the swirls of dark browns and rich greens that coalesced into the appearance of being black instead of their brilliant multifaceted coloring, he murmured, "You're new, not yet entirely presented, so it is to be expected that your hind brain and fore brain have not yet merged into cohabitation. It is curious however…"

"What?"

Reaching out, he removed her hand from where she still fidgeted with her lip. Taking her chin between his fingers, he brought the two of them closer together. Despite knowing he was searching through her mind, she found her eyes fluttering and turning hooded and her mouth parting on a soft exhale as his breath fanned across her skin.

"Professor?"

"Interesting," he drawled, letting her go. "Your omega is very… dominant… mmm, no, that's not right. Protective, would be a better fit. She is highly protective of you and exceedingly assertive. Which makes a great deal of sense given our designations are an amplification, baser representative of who we are.

"Scanning your memories, it looks as though the moment danger presented, she went from entwining herself to coexist with you, to seeking control in order to push you into a modified heat coma. In essence, she did what you would have done for someone in that situation and became self-sacrificing, putting herself forth in order to protect the true captain of your ship as it were."

Canting her head to the side as she understood his words but failed to grasp the concept behind his explanation, Hermione attempted to re-work the problem with a more muggle understanding, asking, "Are you saying I had a Dissociative episode? That I have another personality in my head?" panic rising as she began wondering about the ramifications of such a diagnosis.

"Miss Granger, please. Your natural scent and pheromones have seeped into every nook and cranny of my chambers," Professor Snape snapped with growing agitation. "While I'm already offended by that fact and the lengthy process I will have to undertake to purge my linens of your presence, I find it far more favorable to what you are currently tainting the air with. So please, control yourself."

Taking a few deep breaths, she started to count the thunderous beats of her heart, her slender fingers working over and under the knitted weave of her blanket. Once she had coaxed it down to a more acceptable rate, she focused on keeping it steady by counting the stitches of her handiwork and searching out each flaw for potential improvements to apply to her next project.

Feeling calmer, though curiously still restless, she looked up from her plush, snowy white masterpiece ready to seek his validation in her success, only for him to lavish her in a sensual praise of, "Good girl, much better," making her efforts null and void as her heart jumped and skipped, her body going soft under the heady warmth of his words.

Drifting back into the pile of blankets, pillows, and under closer inspection, several articles of Professor Snape's clothing, she languidly stretched out, the armor preserving her modesty, slipping down her body. With the cool air kissing her exposed skin, her nipples pebbled and beneath her fingers grew erect as she strummed her thumbs over the coral tips. Each stroke sent the sensation racing down her body on electric waves to connect with her pussy, her legs falling open as a new rush of slick bloomed and perfumed the air, mixing with a heady fog of rosemary and mint that was beginning to roll in.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked, her voice thick and breathy. "Why do I feel like this?"

Steadfastly looking up at the ceiling and attempting to cover her back though she continuously tossed his efforts aside in favor of the chilled air, Professor Snape ground out, "There is nothing wrong with you; only with your lack of education due to your upbringing on the matter.

"You are reacting to my designation as an Alpha and thus experiencing a heat spike."

Hermione couldn't place where exactly it was, but distantly she knew he was masking a mis-truth amongst his words. What he had to hide she couldn't fathom, nor did she fully care in her current state. Not even her unanswered questions—of which there were many—about omegas and Alphas or her displeasure at his barb about her once again not understanding things in the Wizarding World others grew up inherently knowing lingered. All that remained as her back arched up from the floor in response to the harsh pinch she punished her breasts with, was the all consuming need to satisfy the burning desire that was crashing over her.

"Miss Granger, I must insist you stop," he groaned, as she rolled onto her stomach, shoving a pillow between her legs.

Rolling her hips so her clitoris dragged along the soft cotton, she whined, "Why isn't it working like earlier? Please make it better. I ache," throwing her hair over her shoulder to caress a pulsing patch of skin at the curve of her neck.

"You are not in a clear headed state, no."

She didn't know if it was the truth or her wanton imagination, but Professor Snape almost sounded as if denying her was a struggle. As if speaking his rejection were a Herculean effort, one that caused him physical pain to follow through with. And as his heady scent grew in the air, she felt confident—though displeased by his reluctance and growing distance—that he was affected by the situation as much as she was.

Coming up on her knees, her hands drifting back to her breasts to grasp and squeeze at them, she caught his shadowy visage reflecting back at her in the darkened window of his chamber, his features intense as he watched and tracked every movement of her body. Unsure of where she found such bold courage while in the throes of her current behavior, she allowed the sight of his clenched fists and hardened jaw to guide her actions.

Looking her shoulder at him, her eyes honing in on the straining bulge trapped in his trousers, she begged in a high pitched lilt, "Please Professor, I'll be good for you, I promise."

"Of that, I have no doubt, sweet girl," he replied, the slow syllables of his smooth voice making her shiver with anticipation.

"Then come—"

"NO!" he shouted, freezing the moment she had thought they were both wandering lost within. Closing his eyes and rubbing harshly at his temples, he quietly repeated, "No," his second utterance seeming more powerful than his first for the way it left her cold and jagged deep within when she had previously been soft and burning.

"Did I do something?" Hermione stuttered, her body beginning to fold in on itself as she reached for the sheets and blankets piled around her to conceal herself. Not wanting to meet his gaze either directly or in the glass, she chose to stare at a hairline crack in his stone floors. With the linens tightly clutched to her body as if they could prevent the shattering impact that came from seeing and feeling walls erect between him, she tried to sound confident but instead her words came out small and fragile as she as she asked more than observed, "You're clearly affected by what was happening."

"This," he angrily gestured towards the bulge in his trousers, "is merely biology, Miss Granger," the downgrade from being called sweet girl, to the impersonal and overly formal address landing the first hit on her feeble defenses, tears burning in her eyes as the voice he referred to as her omega whimpered and howled in distress. "I challenge you to find any Alpha of breeding age to not respond the same. So do not think a reflex of my designation makes you special."

Snatching a pile of clothes from the corner of his bed and throwing them on the ground where she knelt in a rigid huddle, he succeeded in obliterating what remained of her protection by sneering, "You are no less of a burden than any other omega I have been tasked with taking to my bed. In fact, you are the biggest, most unwanted inconvenience of them all and I cannot wait to be rid of you and the responsibility of your well being.

"Now get dressed and wait for me in the living room. Your presentation has brought on an emergency Order meeting this morning to which your presence is requested."

Not looking up until the door of his bathroom slammed shut, she watched her tears slip free of her cheeks to splatter on the floor. Even as she heard his shower sputter to life, she remained fixated on the growing number of spots, counting each one and matching them to the lashings he had carelessly left on the delicate creature inside herself she was only just beginning to know.

She didn't know why she was acting as she was. Why any rational response to her actions was gone. Or why his response to her behavior inflicted so much pain. She couldn't even place why it didn't seem to frustrate and perplex her as much as it should. All she could focus on as she tempted further wrath and disgust from him the longer she remained naked on his floor, was the omega in her head.

He had said, their designations were an amplification of themselves. If that was to be believed, she was far softer inside than she had ever wished to acknowledge. Far more driven by the need to be seen as worthy than she had known. Far weaker and more of a liability, of an inconvenience, than she had ever wished to be. She was still all the things she had strived to shed herself of over the years in a bid to fit in, to be useful, to be wanted and chosen first.

Taking a deep breath as the running water shut off, Hermione finally began to dress, her nose crinkling at how much of Professor Snape's scent clung to her uniform and more so how her omega appeared to pacify itself as it wrapped around them.

Need Alpha, the sad voice warbled.

"I don't yet know what all of this means or why you, I, we have respond to him the way we do, but I won't let him hurt you again. I'll keep you safe."

Need Alpha.

"Then we will just have to find ourselves a better one. Surely there must be others just as… entrancing. And if not, I haven't needed anyone prior to this and I don't plan on needing someone now," she said resolutely, seeing herself out to his living room and beginning to look around for anywhere else she could wait as a small act of defiance.

Spotting a glass dome of pastries, she made a beeline for the kitchen. Hoisting herself up on the counter she helped herself to a piece of apple strudel, the first bite of the cinnamon coated apples and vanilla cream drizzle drawing out a near pornographic moan from her. Opening the serving dish back up, she collected a second slice under the guise of restitution for his callous behavior, as she took a hearty bite of the one she had already claimed, this time a groan leaving her as her eyes rolled back under the explosion of flavor.

"I see you're making yourself at home," Professor Snape commented, his mood once again in stark opposition of how he had just spoken to her as he walked out of his chambers—the top of his slacks undone, his shirt partially tucked in, the buttons only half done up as water dripped from the ends of his hair.

Steadfastly ignoring the sudden urge she had to catch a bead of water that was rolling down his neck with her tongue, she asked, "Why is my designation Order business?"

"Because as you just experienced, when you are hit with a heat spike, you are no longer in possession of a sound mind. It will only get worse once your actual heat sets in. Can't have you endangering our Chosen One with a poor match," he answered harshly, his lip losing a battle against not curling up in disdain. Forcing his expressive mouth to relax as he looked away from her and busying his hands by grabbing his own slice of the pastry, he quietly added, "It is why I was so harsh earlier. I do not normally treat omegas with such…"

"Disregard?" she offered. "Scorn? General hatred, loathing, and belittlement?"

"Whatever word you wish to utilize," he conceded. "I'm merely saying, you were not in a position to give proper consent and who you spend your heats with will be vital to maintaining the secrecy of the Order."

Most certainly feeling suicidal, she spat, "Save me your noble shit, Professor. Self-sacrificing isn't a good look on you," her words escaping before she had even fully formed the thought in her head, let alone the ability to filter them.

Dragging his hand over his mouth, Professor Snape, raised an eyebrow at her and shockingly let her words go without reprimand, instead saying, "And here I had always thought it was Potter and Weasley that were the bad influence. Seems I owe Flitwick ten galleons. Unless of course I can convince you to keep this between us."

"Wouldn't want to further inconvenience you, sir," she flatly replied, brushing her fingers and skirt free of crumbs.

Leaning against the counter, he met her gaze and in what she knew had to be a rare moment of full honesty and open expression, he softly said, "You will learn, Miss Granger, I take consent very seriously. When you have been stripped of your own time and time again for the betterment of others, you do not take that which is not freely given to you."

"I'm sorry to have done that to you," Hermione murmured, her heart growing heavy under guilt for her own contributions and outrage on his behalf against the high handed assaults of others.

Reaching up to swipe his thumbs across her cheeks and catch the tears that were beginning to fall, he soothed with a rumbling purr, "It is not you to which I am referring, sweet girl."

"I'm still sorry."

"As am I for what you have been and will be subjected to."

Around them, the room took on a bright green glow as his fireplace roared to life, the placid tones of the headmaster drifting out from the floo.

"Severus, are you and Miss Granger ready?"

Watching as her professor once more shuttered himself from the outside world, he duly answered, "Yes, Albus."

"Wonderful, we'll see you both momentarily. Oh and don't forget, my boy, we wish to mitigate as many of the less favorable outcomes as we can. Yes?"

"Certainly, Headmaster," he drawled. "We'll need only a moment or two."

As the flames died out, Professor Snape stepped back from the counter and finished making himself presentable. Then as he grabbed his robes, donning them like armor, he turned to her and with hardly a flicker of the gentle warmth he had shown her earlier reflecting out of his eyes, he formally asked, "If I may have your wrists."

Presenting them to him, she started to ask what he was going to do but her words died off before they even began as she felt his tongue glide along her veins, swirling and petting the swollen patches of skin.

"What… what is that for?" she finally panted out, her teeth sinking into her lip as a sound to rival that of her first bite of strudel rose up within her throat.

Pulling off with a hard suck that left her skin tinted red, his cold eyes turned shiny as he growled, "Scent masking. Covering you in me will keep others away."

"Is it supposed to feel so…"

"This is a bit exaggerated," he purred, gesturing to her neck. "May I?"

Eagerly flinging her hair over her shoulder, she opened her knees to welcome him between her legs, her neck tilting to allow him unfettered access as she begged, "Please, Alpha."

For a brief moment he seemed to be at war with himself, but as she whimpered and clenched around him, whatever reservations he had broke. Cupping the back of her head and latching his lips around the gland at her neck, a deep, satisfying purr grew and echoed around them as he sucked and licked.

Her answering moans came out as desperate keens, her ankles locking around him. Feeling his teeth graze along her sensitive flesh, she dove her fingers through his hair to keep him attached to her, her lips ghosting kisses along his jaw and the shell of his ear in between breathless chants of, "Alpha."

At her waist, his fingers gripped and dimpled her skin, dragging her to the edge where he pressed his reawakened cock into her. Rubbing between her thighs as his tongue worked over her neck and their combined smells thickly perfumed the air, she was frighteningly close to completion. The built up, tightly wound arousal in her promised a release stronger than any before it if only she could grasp what remained elusive to her.

Then with a hard, possessive claim, he declared, "Mine," his mouth sucking with a bruising force that sent her over with a hoarse scream, her body chasing each wave with rough grinds of her soaked knickers along his covered cock until she was panting from exertion. Even as her body turned lax in his arms, he continued to lick and suckle until every ripple of her orgasm had subsided, her ever present fever finally sated.

As she began to drift off into a haze of partial sleep, cuddling her face into the hollow of his throat where faint purrs vibrated in a soothing rhythm, he slipped her off the counter. Stepping back but firmly holding her waist until she was steady, Professor Snape met her lazy, dreamy smile with renewed, icy indifference as he said, "That should suffice until you can be passed off to someone else," dousing her serene afterglow in favor of brewing indignation.

How dare he act so affronted after what just transpired? Again.

Yes, she was the one currently–and most regrettably–in need of him, but she had not been the one to encourage the dry humping of his cock along her knickers. Nor had she been the one to growl out possessive claims. And surely, he hadn't needed to attack her neck with such vigor that she was coming undone for him within minutes of it all starting, in order to properly mask her scent.

"Fucking arsehole," she muttered as she was engulfed in green flames and left stumbling out into the Headmaster's office, Sirius waiting on the fringe to catch her.

"I take it Snape wasted no time in finding a way to cloud your morning, princess," Harry's godfather chuckled.

Glaring at the man in question as he ducked out the fireplace, his own gaze shooting daggers at where Sirius's arm had snaked around her waist, she snarled, "You have no idea," steadfastly ignoring the voice of her omega as it protested her proximity to another wizard, or rather another Alpha. Its rage over the act beginning to wash away Professor Snape's previous attempts at concealing her for the duration of the meeting.