Bottle by JustJeanette
Summary: A wizarding game gets out of hand at 12 Grimmauld Place, when it ensnares two unwitting participants.
Categories: Humour/Parody, Non-Consent, PWP (Plot-What-Plot)
Pairings: Severus/Hermione, other
Author's Notes: Read Hermione's POV from LadyOfTheMasque; it is well worth it to be found on Ashwinder . net.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had finally been vanquished. Voldemort was dead. The Dark Lord was no more. Tom Riddle was worm-food. Ol' Voldie-butt was permanently pushin' up the proverbial daisies. Snake-Face was fish-food. A fact that would have gladdened the heart of Severus Snape, if he still had one, but after a lifetime spent as a double agent, he honestly doubted his heart still existed; and if it did, like the Grinch, its size would have been a few sizes too small. Still, the rest of the Wizarding World was celebrating and Albus had made it patently clear that Severus was to join in the fun.
'Fun,' he hurrumped to himself as he watched from a shadowed corner of Grimmauld Place, 'more like an orgy of drunkenness.' Severus had not voluntarily imbibed spirits for over twenty years, at least not without having taken a detoxification potion before hand; a drunken spy was a dead spy. Just because Snake face was no more was not sufficent reason to change a survival habit of many years; after all the place was full of people, way too many people for a man who was likely to be listed on any surviving Death Eaters' to-do lists as 'Task 1: Kill Severus Snape'.
Looking around, he noted—as expected—that the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-Arse was the centre of attention. Severus hadn't seen so much boot kissing since the last Death Eater Revel; now there was a comparison very few would like to have had made public. Add in the various members of the Order of the Phoenix, their partners and family, Ministry Officials, their hangers on, and the entire Seventh Year Gryffindor cohort plus a contingent of their friends, and you had a building full of too much cheer and definitely too little brains. 'Funny,' Severus thought to himself, 'the promised accolades weren't appearing, either.' If the truth was told, everyone had generally noted the attendance of Severus Snape and then promptly decided to ignore the man in the hope that he would go away, and take his wet-blanket with him.
Severus, who normally would have left without a moment's hesitation, was overwhelmed by a stubborn desire to stay and observe the proceedings; maybe he could obtain enough suitable blackmail material to ensure that he never had to attend another of these functions during his lifetime, or any other lifetime for that matter. The various snogfests currently going on, while interesting in a mildly voyeuristic manner, were between already acknowledge couples and unlikely to be of any value on the blackmail market. Still, if the imbibing continued at the current rate Severus was certain he'd have something worthwhile by the evening's end; fickle Fate agreed, but not quite in the way he intended.
Noting a general movement towards separate rooms, Severus took a moment to enjoy the peace that finally descended on the ground floor; now at least his shoulder blades weren't continually itching and he'd been able to move away from the wall. He'd even managed to ignore the intrusion of Gryffindor's only example of intelligent life in the last fifteen years, as Hermione Granger, nose stuck in a book. She appeared from upstairs, where if his suspisions were right she had been chased out of whatever room she had been in so that some lucky couple could copulate, and took refuge in the downstairs parlor.
Severus began to take a more active interest in the goings on in Grimmauld Place when he noted the re-appearance of the drunken Gryffindor cohort that had been that last group to leave the ground floor to make their way upstairs. The group reappeared not long after Miss Granger's appearance, various bottles still in hand; obviously there was no free space upstairs to play their juvenile games.
"Merlin's Balls," Severus snarled to himself after a few moments having noted the elder of the Weasley twins—yes he could tell them apart—had a glowing bottle in hand ready for spin-the-bottle, "just what I need." Long associating with Slytherin house had taught Severus a great many things about the Wizarding version of 'Spin the Bottle', none of it good. The fact that the game forced participants into acts that they otherwise would not consent to should have made it a 'Dark Arts' game, but everyone tended to make a joke of it; that is, everyone who hadn't been forced beyond a little 'slap and tickle'.
The sight of Miss Granger trying to leave the parlor barely a minute later, unsuccessfully, caused Severus' conscience to kick him.
"Damnation," he growled at himself. He should have seen this problem coming; he knew that parlor was so small that no matter where the girl sat, she would have found herself unwittingly caught in the spell's trap. Knowing Miss Granger to be oblivious to the outside world when her nose was firmly planted in a book, it was unlikely she had even noticed the intrusion until it was too late. If he'd acted then he wouldn't have to come to the rescue now. 'Bloody conscience,' he muttered as he strode over toward the parlor, all the while ignoring that bitter part of him that was asking just why he was going to the rescue. His conscious thought processes were so involved in ignoring that little internal argument that he didn't have time to stop and consider the types of consequences that came from breaking in on a Wizarding Spin-the-bottle game already in progress…until it was too late.
Hearing chanting as he reached the parlor door Severus grabbed hold of the door handle and yanked it so hard that the door nearly fell of its hinges. "—Would you stop that infernal chanting?"
His deep-voiced command froze everyone in place; unfortunately it failed to stop everything in place. The bottle, which obviously had been spun by Miss Granger, was still turning, slowly, inevitability towards some poor fool who would be forced to endure close contact with the Brains of the Golden Trio. Finally it came to rest pointing straight at … Severus.
Severus watched as Miss Granger struggled against the compulsions the spell laid upon her; after all who wouldn't if they were suddenly required to kiss the dreaded bat of the dungeons?
"Miss Granger, what is going on here?" he asked even knowing full well what was going on. Still, he was shocked when the girl actually grabbed him by the ears and pulled his head down to her level.
The press of her lips on his froze him in place, voluntary or otherwise, his lips had not been engaged in this type of spell-enforced action since his days as a teen. That lack, however, shouldn't have accounted for the fact that he let her invasion take place. Her tongue was thoroughly exploring his mouth, flowing over his teeth, teasing his taste buds, caressing his gums. Realizing he was beginning to enjoy this act far more than he ought, Severus reached up and prised her hands from his ears and then bodily pushed her away.
"—Miss Granger! What is the bloody meaning of this?" he thundered at her, his face red from anger and embarrassment.
"I…It's wizarding spin-the-bottle, sir," Miss Granger managed to gasp.
Severus, angry still at the fact that he had actually enjoyed the play of her tongue, released her from his gaze and, with shock draining the blood from his face, lashed out at the closest available target. Her, even through he knew she was probably just as much a victim. "You…you involved me in a bloody game of wizarding spin-the-bottle?"
"I didn't exactly ask to participate in the first place, and if you hadn't been there when the bottle stopped, I might've escaped scott-free! And if you're going to continue to yell at me like that, I hope you have to kiss Neville bloody Longbottom, next!" Granger yelled at him, visibly angry at the game, angry with herself, and very angry with him.
Severus blinked at her, unused as he was to anyone shouting back at him. Recovering his composure he turned away from Miss Granger, and her talented tongue, focusing instead on the rest of the gathering. Ignoring Hermione Granger, and giving her a bit of space to recover, Severus turned his anger towards the gathered fools.
"Of all the misbegotten, stupid, harebrained, puerile pieces of idiocy that I have actually come to expect of the house of the Gryphon and its imbecilic representatives, this one absolutely has to take the prize. By the time I'm finished with you your grandchildren will be sorted into a House still in negative points. That you brainless pieces of mediocrity would engage in a game so closely aligned to the types of Magic Voldemort preferred—during the very celebration of his destruction—only goes to illustrate the total and utter lack of intelligence that has long characterized Gryffindor House. And do not presume to think that, just because half of you are no longer students at Hogwarts, that I will not find a way to punish each and every last one of you appropriately for this reckless little farce! Certainly I will make a note of this evening to personally deduct one hundred points from each of the Houses present…per person, student and alumni!"
He leaned forward at the end of his hissed, vicious threat, making the dunderheads in the circle around him flinch. Severus grasped the bottle, rolled it back and forth for a moment within the cage of his fingers, then set his hand just so. As the others watched, wide-eyed and shocked semi-sober, Severus paused, glanced around the circle, and spun the bottle with a carefully calculated flick. He spoke again as it rattled faintly, spinning over the slightly uneven floorboards.
"If the lot of you are lucky, my expertise in handling bottles will free you all from this asinine foolishness, when this thing points itself directly at me. Which is what it should do, if I've put the proper spin on it. If it does not, the soul who winds up the target of my torment will rue this day…if they survive. Pray to your ancestors, Potter, that it will not point at you," he sneered, glancing at the dark-haired young man just past Hermione, watching him blanch at the thought of having to kiss the long-dreaded Potions Master. "I assure you that you will not survive the consequences of your drunken folly!"
The bottle slowed in its revolutions, riveting their attention. Slower…and slower…it rotated. Audible sighs of relief were heard as it spun past the Patil twins, and the youngest Weasley; past Justin Finch-Fletchley and Dean Thomas; Neville Longbottom sighed as well as the bottle past him, but it strangely wasn't in relief. The mouth of the enchanted wine bottle finally pointed towards the Potions Master, and a look of triumph flashed across his otherwise stern countenance; that was until an irregularity in the wooden flooring caused the bottle to rock as it stopped, then roll back a few inches, finally coming to rest pointing at the now stunned Hermione Granger.
Severus, in horror, felt the magic of the bottle take hold; it was only his formidable self control that prevented him from jumping the poor girl as she struggled to break away from the spell's area of influence. The sheer fact that he would have to perform some level of intimacy with the Gryffindor brain did not mean he had to do so publicly; he was damned if he was going to give this load of voyeuristic fools any satisfaction. Reaching down, he snagged up the bottle even as he reached for the fleeing girl. Literally throwing her over his shoulder, he demonstrated easily that, whatever was hidden beneath those voluminous robes, there was a degree of muscle involved.
Sneering, his face set in classic Potions Master disdain, Severus addressed the alcohol-addled crowd.
"I will personally hold down each and every one of you, for a front-row view of all the various, and likely to be highly inventive, hexes Miss Granger will undoubtedly hurl upon the pathetic lot of you; I might even suggest a few of my own, for forcing her to participate, and by doing so, involving myself in these asinine, juvenile activities," he ground out, fighting hard against the magics that were making him want to do all manner of things that were inappropriate to the girl slung over his shoulder; he just hoped he survived whatever Albus and Minerva did to him once they found out about this evenings activities. "I will even offer to provide testimony, if she cares to take your irresponsible behavior to the Wizengamot, to sue for any damages or psychological trauma incurred by our unwilling involvement in such a childish enchantment.
"And I will further punish the lot of you by inviting you to imagine exactly what the two of us will look like when we rip off our clothes and make love to each other like a pair of rabid kneazles in heat, under the forceful influence of this bloody spell…because all of you deserve to suffer for this!"
Whirling away from the room full of dunderheads, Severus stalked through the hallways of Hogwarts; one hand held the spinning bottle, the other balanced a shoulderful of ex-Head Girl. The fact that both hands were full and he was therefore incapable of opening any doors seemed to matter not one bit; a palpable aura of menace surrounded the angered Potion Master, and any and all doors that wished to maintain integrity were almost breaking themselves in their haste to open for the man. He ignored the bobbing and weaving of his passenger as she ducked lintels and doors; his aim was to get to his quarters as fast as humanly possible. Reaching Grimmauld's kitchen, its fireplace burning merrily, he placed the magic bottle on the mantle just long enough to grab a handful of Floo powder and throw it into the fire. "Hogwarts, Potions Master's office!"
Firmly grabbing the magic bottle he stepped into the fireplace, and stepped out of the floo. Quietly, he growled the password that unveiled the door into his quarters; from there, he continued on into the bedroom, kicking the doors shut behind him. Lighting his way with a muttered Incendio, he placed the bottle at a point that ensured he and his companion would be within 20 feet of it whether they were on the bed or in the water-closet.
Satisfied, Severus turned and almost threw the startled witch onto his bed. He smiled with amusement as he watched her take in the color scheme. '…I suspect she was expecting an orgy of green and silver,' he thought to himself. Still he was surprised at how quickly she took stock of the situation; he could almost see her lustful thoughts as she observed the library, until his own lustful thoughts decided they'd had enough of being ignored.
After checking the nearby rooms for house-elves or any other strays he turned to his unwilling companion and stated blandly, "Now, Miss Granger, about our unwitting geas to have rabid kneazle sex—"
The sight of the girl literally yanking her clothes off as a look of panic danced over her features alerted Severus to the fact that while he might have his baser instincts under control, even if only barely, Miss Granger did not have the same level of control. Rather than disdaining her for this lack—after all his was hard won in the school of tradition of Slytherin with a graduate program with Death Eaters Incorporated—he found himself reaching out to catch her hands and almost as if he were dealing with an injured bird. Severus spoke in a soothing and calm tone that under any other circumstances she might have considered out-of-character.
"Calm down. Stay still, and do not struggle against what we must do. The spell laid upon us is very specific: the more you resist, the more you do not want to do something, the more the spell will force you to do it anyway. Only by seizing the initiative and participating willingly can you hope to control the outcome of each action."
She blinked at him. "You…you've played this game before?"
Not really wanting to go into great, or for that matter any, detail, Severus surprised himself by explaining, "Miss Granger, though the origins have been lost to the proverbial mists of time, wizarding spin-the-bottle is very popular in Slytherin House. I made the mistake of being too near when a game was struck by several of my Housemates, as a young man…and I wound up losing my virginity to Gerald Nottingdon. Yes, to another male," he repeated as he moved away from her, flushing as red as Hermione's own cheeks felt. "I assure you, I do not prefer men over women, under normal circumstances."
In point of fact he was thinking that under any circumstances, Gerald Nottingdon had cured him of any interest in sexual relations with men. Having started to explain, however, Severus decided it behooved him to finish; with information came the means of dealing with situations effectively, after all. "But the more I struggled, the more sexual activities I found myself doing, entirely against my will, until we had fulfilled the spell's objective. Which is that both parties must experience an orgasm. Through penetrative activities.
"Of course, if you tell anyone what I have just told you, I will not only deny it, I will make your life a living hell via means worthy of my Death Eater days," he added in cold coldly having realized the extent to which he had opened himself to scorn, and worse yet, pity.
"As if I would," Miss Granger spat back. "You really think I want people to know I was magically forced to make love with you?"
Like a slap from Hagrid her words pierced to the centre of his own sense of self worth, of course she wouldn't like that fact touted about; that, after all, was what he'd been informed on numerous occasions by not so numerous amorous partners. "—Make love with Severus Snape? I'd rather be buggered by a hippogriff!" one partner had claimed viciously, rather than admit to having spent the night being lavished with his truly talented tongue. Stepping away from the bureau, he stalked back towards the bed, snarling, "While I realize my reputation precludes most people from thinking I have the same needs as any other human being, I am a male, and I am going to enjoy myself. I, for one, refuse to be a victim of this spell. Been there, done that, as you Muggle-borns like to claim. And before you think you'll be able to scream 'rape' at a later date, because of our enchantment-enforced intimacy…I fully intend to make you beg for your fulfillment. So even under the effects of Veritaserum, you will be forced to admit honestly that you wanted it."
"And you?" Miss Granger actually had the gall to ask. "Do you want to make love to me?"
"Do you really think, Miss Granger, that I would actively pursue a relationship with a Gryffindor?" Severus growled, not even thinking about the words he used or the secret desire that kept him awake at nights.
Miss Granger's eyes opened wide as she processed his comment; grabbing hold of the one word like a drowning man to a rope, she asked, "Why, Professor—you actually want a relationship with me?"
"Why—I—You—" Severus spluttered as he realized that he'd lost control of the situation; how much control he'd lost was soon fully evident as Miss Granger twisted onto her hands and knees and began to crawl across the bed towards him, somewhat like her house's mascot stalking its supper. The smirk that graced her face would have done any cat proud, Severus thought to himself, though he found the idea he might be the cream a tad disconcerting. Disconcertion however fled as Miss Granger squeezed her arms together, making her already delectable looking mounds into something a starving man would die for.
"What's the matter, Professor? Did you think I would shriek and scream and wail like some shy, retiring virgin? I think you're quite right, now that I'm getting over the shock of our situation. We must seize the day, so to speak." The look that was currently assessing his frock coat was pointed to say the least, the effect also.
"And to be honest—" she continued as he felt himself rise to the occasion, "—I've had fantasies about you that were utterly inappropriate for a student to have for one of her teachers."
Severus, well aware of the just how 'spin-the-bottle' worked, was for perhaps the first time in his adult life literally at sea; Miss Granger surely could not have been implying what he thought she was implying. The problem was, any attempt to gather his scattered wits was defeated by a combination of the spell's actions and his own hormones, which were now kicking into overdrive. Worse, he felt himself swallowing reflexively as he was hit by a bout of nerves normally only seen in a green youth; as he'd said earlier, he was a man with a man's desires…but Severus Snape was not the sort of person that the universe actually granted their wishes.
He was jarred out of his stupor though when he heard his name spoken aloud; the girl dared address him by his given name. He'd have delivered a scathing torrent of abuse, expect for the fact that she moved in such a way as to catch his hormones' attention, and all thought of vitriol was chased from his mind as he focused on her cleavage. Whatever she was doing to emphasize her attributes, it was working. Just as those parts of him that had been forced into dormancy were starting to perk up, he finally noticed the stance she was seated in. "Would you be displaying such Gryffindor Bravado Miss Granger, were you tied that way?" He asked, velvet over steel.
Any further comments were forestalled as Severus noted the physical evidence of desire that his last comment had elicited. It appeared that Miss Granger was now fighting a losing battle with the spell's compulsions, given that sweet scent that had just reached his discerning nose; that was true ambrosia, and he found himself licking his lips in anticipation of the rich bouquet of flavors it promised. The sight of pert, taut, nipples standing to attention, begging for a gentle caress nearly undid him where he stood. Severus unconsciously stepped forward, wanting to get closer to the bounty on offer.
Too busy noticing the play of her tongue over her lips Severus was thus taken by surprise as she lunged forward and grabbed his frock coat. The light play of her fingertips as she prised button after button open was reminiscent of a small mouse scurrying around in one's pockets; that she was working from the center out amused him. 'I'd have expected greater efficiency,' he thought to himself. Then thinking stopped completely as she finally laid bare the skin over his stomach. He heard a muttered question about buttons but was unable to answer. The sensation of a soft breeze as she laughed, caressing the skin about his navel, sent some fairly explicit messages to his pleasure centres. Severus had actually been so long absent from the pleasures of the flesh that even this gentle touch was enough to make his genitals quiver.
"Get this ruddy thing off!" Miss Granger finally snarled as she came up against the last of his defense mechanisms; after his experiences with the Marauders, he was never going to be a position where someone else got to control whether he was clothed or not, and some of his buttons were literally enchanted in place, preventing him from being fully disrobed against his will. Severus finally relented and muttered under his breath the cantrips that would release the buttons and allow them to fly free. He rather gracefully accepted her admonishments about their relative states of undress with a quirk of his rather expressive eyebrow. "I don't know," he said in his driest tone, "I see nothing wrong with the current arrangement."
That he was enjoying the view straight through her cleavage line to the lacy pants below might have had something to do with his attitude. Given how he'd felt earlier, the sight of Miss Granger apparently gobsmaked into silence was an image he could see himself to the grave.
"…What, no questions?" he asked with a wry humor as he watched her stare unashamedly at his waistline. Still it brought to his attention one vital fact: the next move was his.
Remembering his earlier promises to make her beg for it, he let his left hand drift slowly towards the waistband of his trousers; with slow, deliberate and precise movements, the sort only a practiced Potions master could demonstrate, he began to undo his trousers buttons. Unlike Miss Granger's approach to his frock coat and shirt, Severus was methodical, savoring the control he held over the impatient young Gryffindor, her eyes literally glued to the slowly unfolding material.
The touch of Miss Granger's lips on his chest and stomach momentarily interrupted him in the task of undoing the fourth button; he stopped to enjoy the feel of tender lips nibbling at his waist. As she started down the centerline of his body, Severus began to undo the rest of the buttons, maintaining the distance between her lips and his hands. He was required to nudge Miss Granger's hands aside so that he could slip his trousers off over his buttocks. Her ministrations meant he was also required to perform a little 'manipulation' to get his trousers to drop and pool at his ankles. Finally, Severus stood before Miss Granger wearing his opened coats over a pair of many-buttoned boxer shorts, and his boots.
Hermione would have been surprised to find out that Severus knew exactly what Velcro was, and there was no way he was letting anything like that near the hair covering his bits and bobbles. The very though made him wince distracting him momentarily from Miss Granger. A fact she took advantage of: suddenly he found himself flat on his back, staring at the canopy of his own bed, the weight of Miss Granger pressing him down. His gaze sought of the young woman, but before he had a chance to speak he found her lips pressing against his.
He later would like to have said it was the magic that made him opens up to her invasions, but in all honesty his lips moved of their own volition to catch her tongue and draw it into his eager mouth. The flavors he'd tasted only briefly before, he now took the time to savor and characterize: ginger, chocolate, and a sweet after taste of cherry. Severus was a man starving and it was only a lack of oxygen that caused him to break the contact, panting harshly.
When Hermione's lips didn't return to his own but began to nip and nibble at the base of his throat, he was caught up in a haze of pleasure. The haze became a maelstrom as she nibbled and kissed her way around and across his collarbones before grazing on his sternum. When her lips began to move towards his breasts he found his entire body tightening in anticipation. The touch of her tongue as it flicked across the tip of an already straining nipple caused him to let out a low deep moan.
"Hermione," he finally voiced her name, the tone resplendent with desire.
The storm of desire, instead of abating, escalated to a full blown hurricane as Hermione—he couldn't continue to think of her as Miss Granger—moved her attentions to his other nipple. The playful bite had him shuddering beneath her. His breathing becoming more and more ragged as she continued to play with the tender bud, Severus' hands finally broke free of the stasis that had apparently held them in check; he grabbed for her head and found himself trying to force her down his body towards his pants.
Almost mindlessly he whispered the words that would release the buttons on his boxers. He's claimed earlier that she would beg, but it was Severus who was mindless with need. "Please," his voice was rough with desire, "finish it."
The touch of her tongue at the very tip of his being had him crying out in sweet pain, that heart-stopping ache that signaled he was on the brink of cumming. His manhood tightened and it was only his own phenomenal control that stopped him from thrusting his hips up and attempting to impale Hermione's mouth. His control was sorely tested as she licked him a second time, and the feel of her mouth as it descended over the tip actually caused Severus to faint momentarily. The release of his manhood startled him out of his stupor.
"…Hermione?" he asked gently, the tone asking more than just 'are you alright?' In that instant, he ceded control to Hermione; if she were not ready he would hold back.
Severus' question was answered by deed rather than word as Hermione slid off of him to pry him out of his boots. Whilst she was employed removing his trousers, he levered himself up onto his elbows and took a moment to marvel at the girl who was currently kneeling on the floor. Severus stood with all of his serpentine grace until he was fully erect before her and smiled somewhat sardonically as she peered up at him; his vision of her was obscured by his own manhood, which refused to be caged by anything as flimsy as a pair of boxer shorts. Indeed, said shorts sled to the ground as he stood, leaving Severus displayed to the world, though the display was short lived. Hermione, looking like a phoenix from the ashes, rose up on her knees and captured his manhood in her hands…and then in her mouth.
In shock, Severus stood straighter as his chest unconsciously tightened and his arms splayed out beside him. Anyone coming upon the two of them then would have seen a vision not unlike a dark angel; his head was thrown back and his eyes closed as a wave of sheer pleasure washed over him. Rather than falling back onto the bed, Severus brought his hands forward until they grasped the sides of Hermione's head. Whether she wished it or not, he was now past the point of self-control; thrusting forward, he tried to bury himself deeper in the cavern that was Hermione's mouth.
When she didn't draw away but rather grabbed onto him and moved her head forward, drawing him deeper in, he let out a small moan. Nature began to demand an end to the torture, and he began to dance with a rhythm as old as time; his breath became labored, his buttocks were clenching and releasing as they massaged the perineum muscles, his balls felt heavy with seed ready to release. He heard a whimper and realized it was his own voice. Losing all semblance of control, he thrust once more, deeply, penetratingly into the warmth that surrounded him.
"Oh Merlin, Hermione. Don't stop!" he cried as he shuddered, feeling the spurts of semen that shot up though his penis.
And she listened, unfortunately. A sensation, almost like Crucio, swept through him as she suckled for a third time, drawing out the final dregs of his seed. He cried out, the sound half way between a moan and a scream as pleasure and pain warred for ascendancy. He felt sparkles forming behind his eyes, and as he was almost blinded by the sensations, he collapsed back onto the bed, the very picture of the dead: she had slaughtered him with the petite-morte.
After an unknown time, Severus woke, though the phrase implied a quicker transition to consciousness than he actually achieved. What woke him was the sound of running water emanating from the bathroom; it appeared Miss Granger had retreated to the other room rather than face him. Not surprising really considering the circumstances. He also noticed the lack of compulsion upon him to chase after the girl and attempt further bouts of rabid kneazel sex. What he couldn't quite fathom was the rush of territoriality that washed over him, he'd marked her in his mind, and for some obscure reason he felt the need to keep her. The problem was that he was rather afraid that if she were released from the compulsions that still held her, she would likely run screaming from his quarters before Apparating to Pago Pago as soon as she was off the school grounds.
"…I'm going to kill those morons," he muttered under his breath. He'd just experienced a most mind blowing orgasm, the type he hadn't had in so long that he wasn't even sure if he'd ever had one this good, and he was unlikely to get another one again if fickle Fate behaved in her usual manner. His Slytherin mind kicked into gear; yes, he had to release her from the remainder of the spell, but if he did it the right way… He'd sworn he was going to make her beg, and he would. Just as soon as he could stand.
He was given no more time to ponder the problem; Hermione Granger stalked out of the bathroom, still clad in her underwear, and looking for all the world like a Valkyre on the war path. Until she reached the edge of the bed. She blushed slightly as she moderated her expression, and more or less ordered Severus to reciprocate in a feminine growl; at least she was polite about it.
Raising his eyebrow at her, the Potions Master allowed his eyes to wander appreciatively over her barely-clad form before fixing his gaze on her knickers. "Those will have to go, you realize?"
She appeared to agree readily as she quickly hooked her fingers into the waistband of the pair of rather gorgeous, and remarkably sexy, silvery-grey knickers she was wearing. He watched in appreciation as she bent forward, allowing him a delicious view down the line of her cleavage in its matching pale grey bra. Hermione began to draw her panties off, then she stopped and blushed from the tip of her pert nose all the way over her face, and down into her neck and cleavage. For a man used to Slytherins and their reactions when caught out with a secret, her reaction was as subtle as Albus Dumbledore-in other words, not at all. Severus was rather curious; what sort of secret did the brain of Gryffindor have?
"Why Miss Granger," he asked blandly as he leant to the side slightly, as though to gain a better view of her rear, "what ever is the matter?"
She looked rather delightful, he decided as he casually observed the deer-in-wand-light look on her face. Delightful that is until his brain, which was rather taxed at the moment, kicked into gear. His eyes dropped to his left arm where he still bore the mark of his regrettable, youthful rebellion. If he had something embarrassing on his body, so might she. He wondered what hers was. He was so caught up in the mystery that he missed the sight of Miss Granger removing her brassiere; instead his mind chased a solution to the puzzle presented him. Logic would presume it to be a tattoo of some sort; muggle females, at least those he had observed being held for various torments at various Dark Revels, tended to place a tattoos on the bum or shoulder. Perhaps it was something like that. What ever it was, it was obvious that she did not want him to see it.
"Surely you have not been so foolish as to proclaim your undying love of Mr. Weasley upon your derriere?" he asked in a tone calculated to cause her to react. He didn't think she loved the ruddy, freckled git—who could?—but he did intend to provoke a response.
Her reaction was all that he could have asked for. "No, I would never be so foolish as to proclaim some sort of undying love for Ronald. He has never satisfied me on any level other than platonic friendship…and I should know. I stupidly dated him for three weeks, well over a year ago."
She said it in a cool, calm way; her very tone declared loudly that she had something embarrassing decorating her rear end. That, and the way she was attempting to subtly edge around the bed towards where her clothes—and wand—were. He watched her silently as she moved around the bed almost to the other side. As he predicted, when she reached the point near where her garments were, she turned and lunged for them…but she was caught short due to the spell's radius-rules. Her discarded garments were just beyond the twenty-foot-range. Taking advantage of the fact that she now faced away from him, Severus lunged across the bed, snagged her panties at the waistband, and allowed the laws of physics to do the rest.
Her panties came down easily, displaying a well-formed rump. The size was just right; the pair of buttocks were nicely balanced in size, luscious in their curvature, the writing eerily familiar… The WRITING?
Your Dungeon or Mine?
His writing! His writing on Hermione the-know-it-all Grangers buttocks. That message, in his writing on Miss Granger's arse! That message, that tattoo was not new; it hadn't been new when Moldie-Voldie had fallen just last week, it probably hadn't been new when the winter had set in, it had only probably been new at the start of the scholastic year—he knew she hadn't left the castle over the winter and spring school holidays, and there were no tattooist shops in Hogsmeade for her to have visited. Miss Hermione the-know-it-all Granger had therefore spent the last year with that tattooed upon her rear. The whole message that tattoo sent confused him; so much so that he could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. But his heart hadn't stopped, in fact it was beating faster than it ever had; she could be his!
Taking advantage of the fact that Miss Granger was still straining to reach her jeans, a vain endeavor now that her secret had been...revealed, Severus began to firmly draw her back towards the bed. Raising himself up as he did so, until he sat almost yoga style on his knees, he pulled her close enough for him to snake his left arm around her waist, drawing her bodily up onto the bed and into his lap. There he held her with her back in contact with his chest.
"Miss Granger," he whispered seductively into her ear, "it seems it is to be my dungeon, tonight."
As he released the hold he had on her panties, freeing his right hand, he noted with pleasure the way she shivered slightly in his arms as he'd whispered in her ear. Knowing the lobe, and the area of skin behind it, to be extremely sensitive, he pressed a light kiss to her skin while he let himself purr her name again; a low, deep, rumbling purr that rolled over the r's in her moniker. Nipping gently, he continued his assault on her senses, as he let his left thumb draw lazy circles over her belly. She'd demanded reciprocation, but it was going to be on his terms.
Deciding that there was more to graze on than just her earlobe Severus began to work his way slowly, very slowly, down the line of her neck, across the line of her shoulder then down to the tips of her shoulder blades. His hands, with those long, flexible, and talented fingers, also began to enter more fully into the game of seduction. His left hand continued its lazy movements of his thumb whilst his right hand moved to caress her waistline, journeying around to join his other hand resting on her belly; both hands then moved in tandem, traveling up over her ribs until his palms gently cupped her breasts.
Severus smiled into her shoulder at the quick intake of breathe as his elegant pointer fingers slid up the underside of her breasts. They travelled to her areolas, which began to pucker; from there he traced his nails around the tightening surface; around and around, he traced his fingers, until he was satisfied that Miss Granger was sufficiently aroused. Only then did he let those fingers touch her nipples, and only as a quick flick, stimulating a soft sound from deep in her throat.
"…I take it you like, Miss Granger?" he breathed the question into her shoulder blade.
Noticing the boneless way Miss Granger was beginning to slump against hi, Severus turned himself slightly to one side and drew Hermione more fully onto his bed. With the care he generally showed when handling the most delicate of potions ingredients, he laid the almost boneless girl down across the foot of his bed. Lying on his side, he raised himself up slightly, using his right elbow to support his head.
"Shall I continue, Miss Granger?" he asked with a gentle smile, though he began to trail the fingers of his left hand up the inside of her thigh before she even had a chance to respond.
Her reactions, so primal, were driving parts of him that he thought had atrophied. The sight of her laying there, her breast like mounds of jelly pointing skyward, the areolas distended, the nipples pert, had him unconsciously licking his lips as he thought of how they'd taste, of how she'd react. Her growled response to call her 'Hermione' went through him like a rogue Bludger. Clamping down hard on a need to ravish the girl, Severus forced his hand to travel slowly up the line of her thigh towards the crease dividing torso and leg; here, he exhibited the restraint of a skilled lover, rather than diving for her secret depths as a young, more inexperience man might—at this thought, he found himself growling deeply at the thought of the fumbling touches she must have endured from those fools that though themselves men, such as Potter and Weasley. Severus let his fingers rest only at her mound, cupping it for a moment before they continued to trace the line of her panties to her waist.
Severus snickered at the cascade of expressions that were dancing across Miss Granger—no, Hermione's face. She was such a novice at this, the art of seduction, that she was almost telecasting her very thoughts. 'She thinks I'm a bastard does she?' he thought as he heard a soft whisper to that effect.
"I'll have you know Hermione," he said in a low, deep growl stretching her name out, "my parents were unhappily married when I was born." Then, as if to prove her point, he allowed himself to snicker, a little more loudly than before. A deep snicker, this one filled with promises.
She whimpered, and he hadn't even started yet; the feeling of holding such power over her was euphoric and drove him to consider new ways to heighten her senses. Learning forward he bought his head down to the curve of her hip and nipped at the skin just above the waistline of her knickers, before he gently inserted his nose under the silk and began to nuzzle. The scent was almost overpowering at this distance, whether it was as a result of the spell or his ministrations, Hermione Granger was definitely aroused. His tongue touched her skin as he licked his lips in anticipation of drinking at the well of ambrosia that he knew awaited him.
Hearing her breath hitch, Severus continued to nuzzle, but now he nuzzled with a purpose. His lips, having tasted the sweat already pooling on her soft flesh, began to kiss their way back down her bikini line; he breathed out carefully, deliberately, exhaling through his nostrils and sending little burst of air across her mons. Continuing to nuzzle, he soon felt the short, tough hairs that guarded her partly shaved pubes tickle his nostrils; he was getting closer to Nirvana. Rather than removing her knickers, he lifted his head slightly, nose nudging the fabric up nd over, causing the crotch of her panties to fall to one side. Finally, he could see the slick, dew-covered lips of her labia, parted from the sprawl of her thighs, exposing the cleft of her vulval region. His tongue darted for the clitoral hood just visible between her lower lips; a single lick was all he allowed himself before lifting his eyes to study Hermione.
Her reaction was magnificent; he saw the shuddering breath she drew, he felt he legs tighten involuntarily about him, he saw all the earmarks of lost of control; she was on the brink and it would only take the slightest touches to push her over. Taking pity on the girl Severus again turned his attention to her sex, particularly to her clitoris. He let his tongue wander languidly back and over the surface, while he rubbed his nose into her mound.
"More?" he asked.
At her demand of "Eat me!", he was happy to oblige. Diving back into the slick, scented folds of her inner core, Severus went to work feasting on the dew she had offered. His tongue lavished attention on her clitoris before he move his head downward to lick at the entrance to her. His fingers joined him in the quest to break the Gryffindor lioness, first his pointer finger, that long, magical digit that had done such wondrous things to her breasts, traveled up the seam of land from her perineum to the base of her vagina; once there he gently inserted it into the moist opening, teasing its way in through the soft, wet folds until he felt the rougher skin on the inside. With the skill Harry displayed finding the snitch, Severus sought her G-spot, that mythical spot that would grant him complete control over her. As soon as he located it, he flicked it, he teased, and he played it like a virtuoso, enjoying the feel of her as she tried valiantly to still the effects of his invasion.
He bought a second finger to her, pressing it in beside the first while his other hand sought out the clitoris that was trying to hide deep in its hood. the tightness of her surprised him; he could have sworn that the fumbling fool Weasley would have tried to get into her pants long before now. After all, his elder brothers had all been randy little sots. Taking note that she probably was a virgin, Severus slowed his attack; with car, he began to slowly, gently, yet almost mechanically thrust his fingers into her, all the while lapping up the sweet juices that were flowing out.
As she began to buck and writhe under the onslaught of his ministrations, he rolled slightly and moved to bring his left knee in beside her neck; from this angle he was able to press part of his body onto hers, trapping her partially beneath him. As her movements grew move violent, her hips rising to meet the thrust of his fingers, he used more of his weight to hold her down. Severus continued the onslaught; changing the rhythm of his thrusts, he shifted his head to bring his tongue closer to the edge of her vagina so that he could taste her on his fingers as they withdrew from her tight depths. Each stroke was making her buck and writhe more; sensing she was on the verge, he thrust once more, deeply, penertratively into her…and was rewarded by screams of pleasure.
The moment after she began to scream, he eased off; the spell was broken, and as much as he'd have like to continue—Hermione's reactions being all that an affection-starved man could ask for—his own sense of honour would not permit him to take any further advantage of the situation. Instead, he eased his weight off of her, allowing her full and free movement; movement he fully expected to include bolting for the bathroom and locking herself inside until she turned one hundred. What he didn't expect was laughter. As the sound reached his ears, memories of other Gryffindors laughing at him surfaced and he stiffed, wrapping about himself that cold cloak of disdain that had kept him free of emotional entanglements for the last decade.
"Just WHAT do you think you are about Miss Granger?" He asked through gritted teeth, his tone the very essence of Severus Snape, Potions Master and Gryffindor-hating bastard; his bullocks might enjoy another tumble in the hay, but he was not about to weaken. His body rigid with anger, he pushed the girl away even as she tried to fasten herself back upon his loins.
He started to turn away, but was checked by her query, "What's wrong?"
Turning back to face Miss Granger, his emotions now tightly under his control, he was struck by the look of confusion on her face. "I'll tell you what's wrong," he started to say angrily but he tone softened when he saw her flich as though struck, "I have been the butt of enough Gryffindor jokes to last a lifetime, Miss Granger. I do not care to add to the tally. You might have found my ministrations amusing; I, however did not."
He expeceted angry denials, or various tried-and-true platitudes. What he got was something completely different. He heard her saying, "I'm sorry if my happiness and joy offended you. I-I realize I probably wasn't what you're accustomed to, being a…being inexperienced. I apologize for thinking you wanted to continue. I'll, erm…I'll just gather my things and go."
But he couldn't understand what she was saying. Did her statement really imply that she had wanted to continue, voluntarily?
For perhaps the first time in his adult life Severus Snape was confronted with a situtation for which his past experiences gave him no clue how to react. Severus was so thoroughly stumped that he actually paid no attention to his surrounds, so much so that Lucius could have Apparated in and hexed him and he probably wouldn't have noticed. In fact his attention was so caught up in trying to decide if Miss Granger meant what she said that he didn't notice Hermione quietly gather her clothes, until she was actually walking towards the door of the bathroom; from where he sat he could just make out the slight quiver of he bottom lip, indicating she was on the verge of tears.
"Oh hell," he snarled at himself as he realised he had totally misread Miss Granger's reactions. "Hermione!" he yelled as he lunged off the bed towards her, hoping against hope that she'd at least pause. Once she entered that bathroom and shut that door, she probably would indeed lock herself in there for a hundred years. In his flight he totally forgot about the bottle still sitting quiescent on the bedside table…
"—Morgana's Tits!" he exclaimed as he felt his elbow clip the blasted bottle on the nightstand, the same blasted bottle that had started this farce in the first place. He watched in horror as it toppled sideways and fell to the floor while he was still scrambling off the bed, dreading where the bottle would point. For somewhere it would point: the bloody thing was enchanted to always point to someone.
He watched the mouth and narrow neck as it turned and slid past him. He continued to watch, as it continued to turn, gliding past Hermione. He stared at it, willing it to keep revolving, to go past him and point again at the girl who was trying to escape, so that he'd have a spell-guaranteed chance to explain. Fickle Fate, however, was not so kind and the bottle slowly came to a rest pointing at his toes.
He looked at his feet; they looked back up at him, naked and vulnerable. Raising his eyes, he caught her glancing at him, too. He saw something in Hermione's eyes that he didn't want to lose, but how to keep the bird? He knew Muggles had this stupid saying about if you love something you had to let it go, but he was Slytherin to the core; letting something go on the off-chance it might come back was fraught with danger, but then if he let her go, without any sign that he wanted her to stay, he was certain she'd never come back. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes for a moment, then leapt off the preverbal cliff.
"It seems Hermione that you are free to go." He said it gently, then added, "Though I wish…"
Here his courage failed him; of course she wouldn't stay. He ducked his head so that she wouldn't be able to see the naked longing that he knew was in his eyes, and he listened for the footfalls that must surely come as she turned and walked out of his life. They didn't come.
"…Do-over?" He heard her say as her petite toe came into his lowered line of view and touched the bottle.
His left foot, of its own volition, moved to touch the top of the bottle. Stopping the movement of his foot before it could actually touch the glass, Severus looked up into Hermione's eyes and waited. When she didn't draw away, didn't retreat back into the safety of the bathroom, he crouched down and placed his fingers atop the bottle. His toes couldn't control the spin, but his hand could. This was a spin the Potions Master knew he didn't want to leave up to fickle Fate. He looked up at her one last time, trying to gauge her reaction. Breathless with anticipation, if he was any judge. Lifting his eyebrow, he allowed a sardonic grin to cross his features.
"Your dungeon, this time?" he asked as he set the bottle spinning…