Purloin

per-LOIN, PUR-loin | verb

1: to take dishonestly; steal; filch; pilfer

"Severus, you look dashing this evening."

Severus Snape stared dumbly as she stood before him smirking, one manicured eyebrow quirked suggestively. He could admit to himself that she looked ravishing. Her deep red one-shouldered dress dove further between her cleavage than he dared to look. The creamy flesh there was like a fucking black hole. One glance and he'd be sucked in. "As do you, Hermione." Her smirk deepened and he had no doubt that she could read his thoughts like a book.

"Would you care for a dance?" Her hand reached out for his, her fingertips trailing against his skin. Merlin's balls, just the brush of her skin set him on fire.

"I am here with a date," he reminded her.

Hermione let out an annoyed huff. "I am aware. Madame Pygmy Puff."

Severus bit down on a smile. "Indeed." He was well aware of the moniker that had been bestowed upon Rosalie Stevens by the press. Probably because of the pink hair she was currently sporting – pulled up into an elegant twist for the evening, of course. "She's quite a possessive woman, you know."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her impressive cleavage. "You've been out with her, what, three times?"

It was Severus's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Have I?"

Realizing her mistake, Hermione blushed and said nothing. She had been watching jealously in the papers as they reported on Severus Snape's new flame. She was a bit stung that he had moved on so quickly from that night. "Where is she anyway?"

He gestured across the ballroom to where his date was engaged in catching up with her friends. Running his eyes along her form, he couldn't help but compare her to the woman in front of him. Where Rosalie was tall and lean, Hermione was fuller, more filled out. Being a bit of a boob man himself, he couldn't help but give the younger woman the point for that. Rosalie was far from stupid. She was a teacher of charms theory at a wizarding university in Brighton and had published an exceptional number of papers in the field. Hermione, though… He would be lying if he said that she did not fascinate him. The way her mind operated, non-stop, all day every day full speed ahead, intrigued him. His cock twitched as his own mind pushed forward a memory of the one time he had ever seen the young woman's brain completely shut down – writhing beneath him, stark naked.

"Surely she won't mind if I steal you for just one dance," Hermione coaxed with just a hint of heat in her voice.

Sighing, he acquiesced, holding out his hand for her own smaller one. Leading her out to the dance floor, he couldn't help but feel that this would not end well for him. Gathering the young woman in his arms, he felt the bare skin of her back against his fingertips and fought not to gulp. As they began to twirl in time with the music, there was only a short moment of silence before she started in on him.

"I have a proposition for you."

"By all means, do share," he told her dryly, which earned him a woefully unintimidating glare.

"Last month was… enjoyable."

He felt that same twitch down below at the mention of that night. It had been yet another of the Ministry's ridiculous black tie functions. He had spied her across the room in the absolutely delicious number she had been wearing and downed an embarrassing number of shots of firewhiskey before he'd been able to gather the courage around him to go and speak to her. He had found her to be surprisingly responsive to his attentions. They had left the event early at her whispered "My place or yours?"

The night had hardly ended there. Severus had thoroughly shagged her brains out and when he found himself too exhausted to continue, she gladly returned the favor. When morning came, he had slipped from her apartment with naught but a single line scrawled on a parchment and placed on the pillow, thanking her politely for her company the previous night. He'd had no desire to see her face in the light of day as she regretted the wild, carefree night they'd experienced. He preferred to keep the memories untainted.

"Yes," he agreed slowly, drawing the single syllable out in a way that made her shiver – he could feel it where he held her against him.

She looked up into his face, meeting his gaze boldly. "I would like to repeat the experience."

Once again he found himself staring dumbly at her. "Pardon?"

Her nostrils flared and she rolled her eyes at him. "I quite enjoyed myself with you and I would like to do it again. On a regular basis, in fact."

He realized that they had stopped dancing – how long ago, he wasn't sure – and quickly moved them back into the swing of the rhythm. Over her head, his eyes sought out Rosalie on the opposite end of the ballroom. She was watching him with a raised brow and a slight frown. He had not been toying with the little witch when he'd said that his date was possessive. With reason. They had, in fact, been on four dates, and had agreed just the week before that they would see each other exclusively. He liked her well enough. She was attractive, brilliant, and close to his own age. Severus was no cheater. Even when his cock was threatening to strangle him in his sleep.

"I am seeing someone, Hermione," he informed her, voice heavy with regret.

Letting out the breath she had been holding, she nodded. "I understand." And she did. Truly. But she would never have forgiven herself if she hadn't at least extended the offer. How could he know that she was interested if she never informed him of such? Still though, the rejection stung. She would be lying if she said she hadn't hoped that he would agree. Hermione was no virgin but Merlin, the sex had been unbelievable. The man was surely gifted with a wand – the real wooden variety as well as the metaphorically wooden variety.

They continued to dance in silence until, as the song drew to a close, Hermione murmured, "Thank you for the dance." She made her way across the ballroom to where Potter and his red-haired wife sat, and Severus couldn't help but watch the way her rear end sashayed as she walked away from him.

oOo

Hermione took a deep gulp of the tea she'd prepared before bed. Dropping into a chair in her small kitchen, she ran a hand along her scalp, scratching lightly with her nails and groaning a little at the incredible feeling of finally having her hair free after a night of being pulled into an up-do. Not being an emotionally wrought teenager any longer, she refused to allow herself to shed tears over her failure to sway Severus that evening. It did hurt, though. She supposed she could understand why he would choose to stay with her. She was ten years older than Hermione, more beautiful, and according to the papers, Rosalie Stevens was quite the intellectual. Severus deserved to have someone like her. Hermione wished she could let go of her logical mind and be irrational for just a moment. She wanted to hate the woman for winning his heart, but she couldn't.

A knock at her front door disturbed her thoughts. Her heart jumped into overdrive and she swore it had lodged itself in her throat. She stood so quickly from her chair that it toppled over onto the floor. Ignoring it, she hurried into the living room. She said a quick prayer to any deity that might be listening that he had changed his mind and threw open the door.

A teenaged girl stood in the doorway clutching a bedraggled piece of paper. "Miss, have you seen my dog?" she asked, thrusting the paper toward Hermione's face.

Squinting at the page and pulling her head back, she made out the picture of a scruffy looking little brown dog. She took back her prayer. This was not what she'd been hoping for. She shook her head. "No, sorry. I'll keep an eye out, though. What's his name?"

"Truffle," the girl said dejectedly. "If you see him, I live downstairs in apartment thirteen."

"Okay, I'll watch for him."

Hermione closed the door and sank down onto the floor with her back pressed against the wood. Damn her heart, but she'd thought it was him. She'd hoped it was him. She had recklessly allowed herself to believe that he had changed his mind and come to fuck her silly.

The tremor of the door against her back startled her as another knock sounded. Sighing, she hauled herself to her feet and wondered what the girl had forgotten to tell her. She pulled the door open again with a carefully sympathetic look schooled onto her face…. And was greeted by the sight of a black overcoat draped around a white-clad chest.

Her eyes widened and she snapped her gaze to his face. Without a word, he reached for her chin and pulled her to him in a spine-tingling kiss. She froze for a second, shock overwhelming her system, before she melted into him. His hands found their way to her hips, pulling her body against his. Her fingers found themselves gripping the front of his shirt frantically. When, finally, he pulled back from the kiss, she was putty in his hands.

"Would you like to come in?" she offered, heart pounding.

He entered her apartment wordlessly, glancing around mildly. It hadn't changed much since he'd been here last.

She closed and locked the door behind them. Biting her lip and hoping she wouldn't curse herself for this later, she asked, "I thought you were seeing someone?" His eyes burned holes in her with the intensity of his gaze. Despite waiting anxiously for his answer, she crossed to him and slid her hands up his chest.

"I was."

"But… you aren't anymore?" she pressed hopefully.

He shook his head wordlessly.

Her hands crept up further to twine themselves in the hair at the back of his neck and pull his face down to hers. "Good," she murmured against his lips. "Tonight, you're mine."

A/N: Thanks everyone for your congratulations!