1An Antagonist Within Her
She had been running for far too long. Hidden beneath many disguises, Hermione was troubled with the fact that she was losing herself with each passing day. She had once, long ago, repeated to herself, 'I am Hermione Granger. I am Hermione Granger.' But the person looking back at her within the mirror wasn't her, and slowly over the years she stopped her daily chants.
She became technically nameless, only picking up names that came randomly into her head. Tina, Louisa, Eddy and Laney: each of those names becoming a personality she would take on in order to survive. Everyone had to make sacrifices since they lost the war, but this sacrifice on her part was making her feel like she was losing her own identity.
Oddly, the only person who made her feel like Hermione Granger was her tormentor. He knew who she was, and he alone, knew where to find her.
Severus Snape was on the hunt, and she was his prey. A cat and mouse game had sprung up between them, and at every turn she had made he was there. Each time she stopped to start a new life, he would find her and she would have to escape him, just as she was trying to do right now.
She was running as fast as she could. Ignoring the burning within her throat, and the painful stabs in the side of her chest, she continued to run. The rain-soaked streets hindered her speed, her feet slipping on the slick pavement, threatening to send her sprawling to the ground, but she forced herself to go faster.
Ahead of her, a metal staircase ascended onto a platform, and as she attempted to jump the first few steps, fate had gone against her, and she lost her footing. She hit her head harshly upon the upper most step, making her vision blur for a moment. She didn't lose consciousness, but as she tried to push herself back up, a pair of hands gripped her around her waist, pulling her back and into his chest.
He had finally managed to catch her.
When she looked out the window a blanket of heavy rain had blocked her view of the street. It terrified her, leaving her feeling confined and alone despite the person that stood in front of her.
Severus leaned forward, and she could smell the liquor upon his breath. His lips were so close to the cut upon her forehead that when he sang his enchantment for healing his lips would ever so often graze her skin. Hermione remained still, shocked beyond the ability to form any sentences.
She wanted to ask why he had not taken her to the ministry, where she would become nothing more than a member of Azkaban like the other Muggleborns. And more importantly, she wanted to know why he brought her to a seedy hotel in order to mend the wound upon her head. He should have taken her directly, but he didn't, and she wanted to understand why.
Perhaps she did though; deep down she knew the answer, but she was heavily inclined to not believe it.
She could feel the cut healing; the sting vanishing as his song ended, and he moved away to reach over to the basin upon the table. A red, water-soaked cloth came into her view as he blotted away the left-over blood upon her forehead.
When he finished cleaning her forehead, and the cloth was placed back into the basin, he reached for her. His touch was strange, a slow, gentle caress that made her feel terrified and excited all at once. Horrified at her reaction to his touch, she let go of the breath that she was holding, and clung to the table behind her. His hand travelled down her forehead to her neck, and when his hand stilled just above her breast, she opened her eyes to see why he stopped. The taboo nature of her desire had wished that he would continue, and she became disappointed that he just stood there in front of her, staring down at a stand of hair that he had caught between his fingers.
She realized she wanted him to continue. Temptation fighting within her, she leaned forward and delicately kissed his dry lips. Yet, he did not kiss her back. Struck with shock, he could only look at her with astonishment at her actions. Quickly, she bowed her head, and cringed at the foolishness of her actions. She couldn't bear to look at him, but then she felt his hand upon her chin, forcing her head to rise up. She had barely time register what was happening when his lips were upon her own.
She deepened the kiss, her teeth biting gently at his lower lip as he pressed himself against her. For some reason she wasn't thinking of the consequences that this path would take her, and sadly this wasn't even an attempt to trick him into letting her go. Hermione actually wanted this, she wanted him to hold her, and have him within her. She wanted him to call her name out loud, even though this meant her ruin.
Her hand slipped to his waist, bunching his robes within her hand she brought them up until he realised what she wanted, and he took to doing the rest.
He tore at her clothing, removing it with such speed and daftness that it amazed her.
Lifting her up, Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved them toward the bed. She wanted to laugh – to cry at how she had come to have this desire over her tormentor – her stalker.
Once they settled upon the bed, she wasted no time in directing his cock into her. He let out a loud, pleasure driven moan, and his thrust began deep, slow but hard as he looked down upon her face. After a time Severus sat up, lifting her legs as he did so to placed them on the bend of his arms. The position allowed him a leverage to push himself more into her, and she moaned at the new angle. His thrusts become quicker as did his force at the sounds of her moans.
To get reprieve from the coarse sheets that burned her back Hermione attempted to arch her back. She placing her hands over her head to raise her shoulders off of the bed, but she failed miserably as Severus thrusts made her unbalanced.
He laughed at her, chuckling while he let go of her legs so that he could wrap them around his back, and then he pull her up and onto his lap.
"Hermione. Hermione," he chanted within a chuckle. This caused Hermione to sigh deeply, her eyes closed, and with relief, she smiled.
Severus allowed her to set the pace as she timidly took control of the thrust. She moved her hips, pivoting them as she grinded herself slowly upon him.
To him it must have come across as a tease because within a few short minutes he began to dominate the thrust as she tried to keep up. It became apparent that she could not move as fast as him, and she kept her hips still as he thrust up into her. She didn't care, it felt far too good to scrutinise her own inexperience, and she fully wanted to enjoy the wonderful ecstasy that was building within her.
Pleasure rushed through her, and she screamed while clenching his shaft tightly with her inner muscles. As it subsided, Severus still kept up his pace, and she was happy to feel it coming upon her again, when suddenly his thrusts slowed. He gave a few more stabs within her before he stopped completely with her name upon his lips.
In the morning it occurred to her that she did not know what happiness was, and to forge this belief as happiness was foolish as it was unwise. The body beside her was not her lover – this was her enemy.
Rising from the bed as carefully as she could, she tiptoed across the room, gathering her clothing as she went. She doubted that he would wake easily due to the fact he had continued to drink his Ogden's Old Firewhiskey heavily between interludes of their sessions of sex, but to be on the safe side, she tried to be as quiet as possible. He had been foolish to continue to drink throughout the night and now, unconscious, she could simply walk away. However, she doubted that he was an idiot. No, letting her escape meant that he would have to track her down again, making it a pleasure game for himself, and one that she was foolishly willing to play – for now.