Gone Too Far

Disclaimer: JKR owns the rights to anything you recognize in this fic. I wish I did, but alas! Life is like a box of Bertie Bott's. Sometimes you get chocolate fudge, sometimes you get earwax.

Credit: Credit goes to my wonderful beta, Tevildo, for cleaning up my horrible punctuation and grammar. Any errors that remain after he is done with a chapter, are solely my own. Feel free to pelt me with cauldron cakes for these.

AN: This chapter in four words? "Bad Snape! No biscuit!" This is my favourite chapter for various reasons. Hints of lemon, but don't get your hopes up just yet. Posting might slow down a bit as I am tying up the tail-end of this little story.

The icy flicker of jealousy in her chest startled Hermione. Severus had just said something in Rolanda's ear, which left the flight instructor guffawing loudly. He was smirking, his eyes glittering mischievously. His mood had apparently improved greatly from yesterday. Their heads were bent close together again, Severus nodding attentively at whatever Rolanda was saying.

Hermione stabbed at her baked beans. Had she misinterpreted him? Was he really not interested in her? After all, all her evidence was merely circumstantial. He could've just been trying to be polite by keeping her company as they patrolled. And everyone brushed up against you in crowded halls; it was simply unavoidable. And how else did you attract a person's attention at a noisy dinner table without politely touching their wrist?

She looked at them again. Severus' shoulders were completely relaxed as he accepted the cup of tea Rolanda had just poured him – no sign of the hunched anger that was there yesterday. He even favoured the yellow-eyed witch with a small smile.

Hermione fumed at her plate – her toast bearing the brunt of the glare she wanted to direct at the flight instructor. She couldn't have been mistaken! That night in front of the window... what was that all about? He hadn't actually done anything... he had withdrawn without even so much as touching her. She had been putting on a bit of a display... what man in his right mind wouldn't desire a young woman? Was she just inserting motives and feelings into the man's actions because she had a crush on him? Which explanation did she prefer – being hunted languidly or being pounced at random?

Hermione nearly choked on her own tongue when she saw Rolanda's hand wrapped in Severus' long fingers.

***

Breakfast couldn't have gone better if Severus had planned it. He had ended up next to Rolanda, the only witch in staff that was near his age. Perfect; he knew where her interests lay and deftly switched to talk about brooms. It turned out that Rolanda had been bamboozled by a 'friend' – a racing broom she had bought through the man had not only been delivered four weeks later than expected but also had an unusual fungus growing on the bristles. Severus smoothly suggested what he would do with such a person's rod-and-tackle, which amused Rolanda so much that she guffawed loudly. She had always liked ribald jokes.

Then the discussion had turned to the fungus itself. It sounded fascinating from an academic point of view and unlike anything he had seen before. They had conversed quietly until Rolanda announced that all the talking was leaving her parched, and offered him a cup of tea. Taking in Hermione's scowl, he gladly accepted, allowing himself a small smile at having salvaged his plan.

When Rolanda had admitted that she had touched the fungus and asked if he could take a look, he could barely contain the crow of triumph that was trying to escape his throat. He had made a show of inspecting her fingers, making sure that it was in plain view of Hermione.

The aggressive scrape of her chair across the floor and the slam of the staff door made him smirk.

He was back in control.

***

And that was how the dance between them began. What seemed like casual indifference rather than conscious decision landed him next to Rolanda at most mealtimes. He usually steered the talk toward brooms and Quidditch under the pretence of pulsing her for any Slytherin advantage in the Cup running, thus ensuring her avid attention. Covertly making sure that Hermione was watching them, he would participate in lively discussion – unlike he had ever done with the Defence mistress. He had thought she would physically turn green with envy within the week.

Passing her in the halls without touching her had taken a small amount of skilful footwork, but he had soon mastered the sweeping sidestep without being too obvious about it. He would always be very careful to rumble a "Professor Granger" as he passed, just to see her squirm. Much to his amusement, she had developed a sexy little diagonal sashay in an attempt to counter his sidestep and so they danced through the corridors, without anyone noticing.

Night patrols took on a whole new level of enjoyment for him. He would let her glimpse him at the far end of corridors and then stealthily slip into hidden nooks and crannies as she rounded the corner. He had even managed to get her to break into a run a few times, but her reaction was always the same when she was faced with an empty corridor – she would stomp her foot and utter expletives that impressed even Severus.

They would play cat and mouse like this all night – neither fully knowing who was who.

***

It was late May when she finally cracked. She had tired of the chase. She had been coiled like a jungle cat in the dark alcove, waiting for him to pass. She knew he eventually would, she had been there for three consecutive nights. When his soft footfalls approached, she drifted spectrally into his path. He couldn't avoid her... but it didn't look like he particularly wanted to.

When her mind finally caught up with events, his lips were firmly pressed to hers, his tongue demanding entry. His hands seemed to be everywhere; having managed to hook one of her legs over his hip, his left hand was firmly stroking up her thigh under her robes before clutching at her arse. Her hands were wound into his hair, her shoulders were pressed against the cold stone of the corridor, his chest leaning heavily against hers. She gasped wantonly as she felt him through his clothing – hot and rigid – grinding against her crotch.

Somewhere from the foggy depths of her lust, reason clawed its way to the surface. This was too much... too fast. They had to stop.

***

He growled deep in his throat as he sensed her reluctance. She was squirming in his grasp, her hands no longer tangling in his hair but on his shoulders, pushing him away. No! He was so close! Desperately tearing at her buttons, he pressed his member against the heat emanating from the juncture between her legs, wishing he had an extra hand to take care of the barrier between him and sublime pleasure. She was mewling, "Please... please..." into his mouth and he tried to convince himself that she was begging for it. He latched his lips onto her neck, sucking the skin hard enough to leave a red welt.

"Severus," she said in a suddenly firm voice, the hands pushing him away becoming more insistent, but he did not heed her words or her touch. "Severus! No!" Her fist was beating against his chest - he leaned forward to restrict her movement...

"PROTEGO!"

The shielding charm caught Severus full in the chest, flinging him across the narrow corridor and into the opposite wall. His ears were ringing as he struggled upright... He had gone too far. He should have backed off. Where the... How did she get her wand out so quickly? He winced at the ache in his shoulder. Auror defensive training was obviously still up to scratch.

Her wand was pointed squarely at his heart when his vision swam back into focus. She was visibly shaking but it was too dark in the corridor to make out her expression. "So you like hunting, do you Professor? Let's see what you think of it when the tables are turned."

His eyes widened in shock as the menace behind her words registered. He had made a dire mistake... His hand darted towards his own wand.

"Bywyd Ysgyfarnog!"

A spark of light erupted from the tip of her wand and slammed into him like a physical blow. His wand clattered uselessly on the flagstones, and he howled in agony as his bones cracked and reshaped themselves. Within seconds he was engulfed in a thick blackness.

Then all was quiet.

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