Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: This fanfiction is rated M for both language and smut. From the beginning. Don't like it, don't read it. Thanks.


Snape was thinking about fucking. He was thinking about contorting this person upside-down in shackles and buggering his cock raw.

Snape's thin, albeit full, eyebrows twitched as he looked across the smooth tabletop at Remus Lupin.

He wondered if the werewolf had ever taken it in the butt before.

Not that Snape leaned toward cocks - rarely, really - but Remus was beginning to grate his already short nerves.

"This law is bloody outrageous," Lupin growled. Snape snickered - Lupin must be enraged, because that's about as far as his swearing reached.

"You've said that," Snape said and leaned back comfortably. If his throat was slick with brandy, he'd have his fingers laced behind his head by now. This was damn entertaining.

"Don't you sympathize at all with them?" Lupin said, glaring now at him.

"No," he responded lightly. "Do I look like a teenaged chit? No? Then…" Snape made a motion with his fingers like he was playing a small violin. At this, Lupin jumped from his seat and beat the table with his fists.

"Down, puppy," Snape grinned nastily.

"Enough," Kinglsey intervened tiredly. His massive fingertips rubbed his temples. Lupin sank down again, still trembling.

"I thought these idiocies were finished," Lupin said.

"Hardly idiocies," Kinglsey said. "Voldemort took more than half the Wizarding world with him when he died. There are so few now… We have no other choice. Besides perishing."

"Dramatic," Snape commented, but Kingsley ignored him.

"Now why did you want to talk to me?" the Minister said, his deep eyes setting on them.

"I," Snape began irritably, "was merely stopping by Grimmauld Place for a nightcap, as I left my best bottle here, when Lupin came in and refused to shut up."

"I just wanted to know what you thought-"

"But I… don't care," Snape smirked and looked over his shoulder. Where had he left that brandy?

"Alright then," Kingsley said. "Severus, feel free to leave. Remus?"

Snape pushed away from the table to search the cupboards

"This law puts the girls at risk," Lupin urged. "You've got to withdraw it. At least for some!"

Kingsley tapped his fingertip on the table. "You mean Miss Granger."

"Yes," Lupin exhaled, like the problem was solved.

"I cannot give Miss Granger special treatment, Remus. The Wizarding world is enraged already. Besides, doing so may put her at more risk. They would be vindictive."

"What about the Death Eaters who already want revenge for their Lord?" Lupin cried.

Behind him, Snape rolled his eyes. Lupin fucking whined like a dog, too.

"We will find someone to protect her. Someone who the Death Eaters fear," Kingsley said, still sounding unsure. He sounded like he could use Dumebledore's advice, but alas, that toad was dead.

"Ah, here she is," Snape announced, fisted the bottle, and threw a bit down his throat.

Both men at the table looked at him.

Kingsley rubbed his impressive chin. Thoughtful. Weighing.

Lupin tore his gaze back to the Minister. Frightened.

"No," Lupin said.

"Hm," Kingsley pondered, the noise of it rumbling in the room. Snape's black eyes peered over the bottle at them.

"You want me to marry her?" he asked incredulously. He had been listening, of course.

"Of course not!" Lupin hissed. "I will marry her before you!"

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Remus," Kingsley sighed. "You're already married. Would Tonks like one more warming her bed?"

Lupin flushed and his eyes shifted away.

Snape wondered if he was thinking of his wife and Hermione - both naked, sweating, tangled together and joined at their slick quims.

"You are an excellent possibility," Kingsley said. "What do you think?"

This was why Snape liked Kingsley exponentially more than he had Dumbledore. Kinglsey gave him choices - an opinion - a chosen path. He took a seat again.

"You are right in saying I could protect her," Snape said. "Any freed Death Eaters avoid me now. The more dangerous are in Azkaban, and in case of an escape, I could protect Miss Granger from them, too."

"That is the highest benefit."

"Indeed. But then there is the matter of her choice."

"Once she sees her suitors," Kingsley said, "I do not think she'll object much."

Snape drummed his fingertips on the table, noticing his ears were beginning to feel a little warm. Lupin had gone ashen moments before and sat silent.

"I'll think on it," Snape said finally. "And once I've decided, I'll propose the idea to her myself."

"Settled," Kingsley said. "Come on, Remus. We'll let Severus take his drink in peace." And the large Minister took Lupin's arm and led the pale man outside. Must be close to full moon.

Snape swigged, swished, and swallowed.

Marry Hermione Granger.

The chit had a mouth that hinged in the middle, but he bet he could nail it shut. On both sides.

Of course, he may have to do it literally if she proved difficult.

No, the Marriage Law would have rules against physical abuse and would likely alert authorities if the contract was violated. But he could discipline her in many, many other aspects. He could have her spanked.

Flogged.

Waxed.

Sobbing.

Snape smiled against the bottle, feeling a small spark of disbelief that he was actually considering the marriage. But a larger part of him wanted something to own again. For a long time, he had owned power over the two greatest wizards in the world. He could have killed them, betrayed them at any point.

Now he longed for that power over someone once more, only this time he could abuse it to his liking.

He wondered how flexible Miss Granger was.

The door to the kitchen opened and a girl stumbled in, wincing in the sudden bright light. It was Miss Granger, who'd obviously been in bed until moments before. She was barely clad in her nightshirt and nearly blinded in the sudden light, but she shuffled in. She hadn't seen him.

Still shielding her eyes, she retrieved a jar of peanut butter and a spoon and sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter. From this angle, he could see her blue panties.

"Miss Granger." The brandy made his voice even sharper than usual.

"Professor!" she gasped - thickly due to the peanut butter spoon.

The girl jumped down to her feet and pushed the jar and spoon behind her. The Professor's eyes dropped to her bare, curled toes. Her feet were small. Dainty. Sort of perfect.

He had a small fetish for feet. Then again, Snape had a small fetish for most things.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't know you were here - I wouldn't have interrupted!" Miss Granger reeled.

Snape rubbed one white fingertip against the rim of the bottle. He considered her legs now. Nice. Shapely. Not sticks, but she needed to shave. There was stubble, and Snape didn't like his women to feel like men.

The more important bits of Miss Granger were covered by a ridiculously large t-shirt with a band named after insects on the front of it.

The Professor smiled at her.

"We are to be married, Miss Granger," he said, very slowly. He drew out every syllable to prolong her reaction.

She disappointed him.

"I thought as much," she said. "My suitors… are preposterous. Lethal Death Eaters, the lot of them." She crossed her arms and frowned at the floor. Even at this time, Miss Granger's mind was quick.

So. Miss Granger had already thought of him as an alternative. Interesting...

But Snape still wanted a reaction - a gasp - something.

So the Professor stood, bottle in hand, and crowded Miss Granger against the counter.

"Take a drink, witch," he murmured.

"What is it?" Miss Granger said.

"What's good for me is good for you," Snape said. "Or are you afraid you can't take it?"

Miss Granger wrapped her fingers around the neck of the bottle and swallowed. Snape enjoyed the way her pink lips stretched around it, and the noise of her swallow.

She choked, covered her mouth, and shoved the bottle back at him.

"V-Vile," she sputtered. Snape chuckled.

"Are you going to marry me, Miss Granger?" he pressed.

Miss Granger wiped her hand across her mouth and inhaled.

"I believe that's what I decided, Professor," she said.

He would not warn her. He wouldn't tell her what he expected, what he liked, what he demanded. The witch would discover for herself, and she could not go back.

He would be her Master.


Hello all! I realized I've somewhat disappeared for a while, but my muse seems to have gone off to Fiji or somewhere so equally amazing that she hasn't come back yet. She did write me a letter today though, with this idea in the PS. Hopefully, I'll continue to grow some ideas for this story or any other story.

So I've turned to being a beta for a wonderful authoress named HermioneJeanSnape on AFF . Net . Her story's named "Bad Romance." You should check it out. ^_^

Let me know if you like it! I though I'd try my hand at something a little darker. Review please!

Love!

Soline