Trespassing

Disclaimer: J.K.R. owns these characters, and I'm just using them.

Thanks go to my beta, NotSoSaintly. I offer her hugs and chocolate for taking the time to beta this story even though she doesn't care for the plot.

Warning: As with the first chapter, remember that this story depicts a situation where Snape takes complete advantage of Hermione. Please do not read it if you are bothered by molestation or rape.

It's so easy to watch you like this while you move about my home, keeping it clean and caring for the two old biddies that are here with us. You don't look at me often, and when you do, I simply ignore your presence, feigning reading or researching. It's been nearly a year since I found you in the infirmary huddled closely to Weasley's body, a dying Minerva, and an unconscious Poppy. The Dark Lord had found out that Potter had gone to the castle, and we'd moved to intercept him. The brat slipped away from us, but I don't care. He's off in hiding...coward that he is. He'll never get the nerve to try to find us.

As a reward for devising a way to get in through the Forbidden Forest without detection, I was gifted with keeping you to do with as I pleased. Your tears and blubbering disgusted me, but I knew that I could use you. Not having any house-elves, I figured your housecleaning skills would be particularly better than those of Wormtail's. After I summoned and broke all of your wands, I lifted mine and pointed it to Minerva, preparing to extinguish what little life there was left in her body. The woman opened an eye at that moment, and I faltered. It had been so long since I'd seen her, since I'd strayed away from the course I should have taken, since the night I took the headmaster's life. Slight guilt flooded my body for a moment, and I realized that by seemingly caring for their welfare, I would gain your complacency, ending the tears and perhaps making amends for past misdeeds.

I was correct, of course. You did everything I requested and have been doing so since then. Interestingly enough, a potion of my creation has given Minerva a rather impressive extension on her life. She hasn't the use of her legs, but she can now talk and feed herself. Just yesterday, she was able to play a game of chess with me. Poppy lives in a constant state of silence. Apparently, things happened to her that she chooses not to share with anyone, but she helps with the chores and the making of my potions. My home has never looked better; my ingredients have never been prepared so perfectly. Do you realize that the potions you help me with go to the Dark Lord and my fellow Death Eaters? Do you care?

Feeding you all rubbish about how I am still secretly working to help Potter to defeat the Dark Lord has enabled me to keep you all content. The three of you think that I am secretly hiding you away from the Dark Lord until Potter is victorious, thus giving you life when you might not survive otherwise. I pat myself on the back often. Who else but I could spin such a smooth tale and make it believable?

I often think of the first time that I touched your flesh, and I know our fates were sealed in that moment. You will never leave my home. There is much more that you are useful for. When you'd been at my house for only a couple of months, I saw that your candles were still burning in your room at a late hour. I went in to find you asleep, a book resting on your chest. The gown that you'd been wearing had moved up, revealing the curve of your arse, shaped by your knickers.

The sight of your exposed flesh sent a jolt through me and instantly aroused me. I had the urge to touch you, to see if your skin was as smooth as it looked. I moved across the room and extinguished your candles. It was then that I noticed that you hadn't moved a muscle. You hadn't heard the door, the rustling of my robes, or my steps. In that instant, I knew that I could likely touch you without you ever knowing it. What would it hurt if nobody knew?

Your room had darkened just enough that I could barely make out your face and body, as your window is mostly boarded, enabling moonlight to filter in only through a couple of small spaces between the slats. That night, I knelt down next to your bed and eased my hand out to rest upon the back of your thigh. When you didn't move, I inched it up very slowly, observing your body as I did so, noting that it was indeed soft and smooth. Finally, I was able to cup your arse and squeeze lightly. With each squeeze, my cock twitched. I knew that it had been too long since I'd had a woman, so I opted to relieve myself. Slipping a finger beneath the hem of your knickers, I allowed it to move along the bare flesh of your arse as I released my cock from my pants in order to stroke myself until climax found me.

The entire time, you hadn't moved, never noticing that I'd used you. It was a completely erotic feeling for me. It's an exciting and powerful feeling to get away with something so salacious. In fact, I enjoyed those feelings as much as I enjoyed my climax. I wondered what else I could get away with. As carefully as I could, I fixed my clothing and eased out of your room.

And so, it began for us. You never moved much when I came to you, sleeping heavily and mumbling now and then, and you never once woke to take me to task or mentioned it to anyone else...even me. I suspected that you knew, on some unconscious level, but I wondered if you thought me to be some dream lover? Actually, it didn't matter to me any longer after the first couple of months. So long as I took extra care to keep you in a foggy, sleepy state, you would remain submissive, allowing my hands and mouth to do as they pleased. What could you do anyway? Whom could you tell? Where would you go? You all need me to "help" Potter and to stay alive.

Being in complete control of someone is something that I relish. Even when I see you bustling about my house, I know that you are mine...my servant, my assistant, and even my whore. It's been many months since the first night that I touched you. Interestingly enough, I found out a few weeks ago that by tasting your flesh, I could force your body to find release. It was that night that what I had suspected was realized. You knew what I was doing to you, completely and consciously. Your muffled moan and the feel of your pelvis slightly grinding against me had given me one of my longest and most satisfying orgasms. It was as if I'd won something. You'll never understand how powerful I feel, knowing I can elicit a response from you that you are unwilling to give me. I returned the favor in kind by whispering your name as I came. I followed suit when you remained silent after, obviously pretending to be asleep.

That you keep silent works fine for me. I don't want to get caught up in some silly conversation. I only want your body in payment for keeping you and your two friends alive. There is something that I've been warring with since the night I first tasted you, and you tried to mask your orgasm. I want to fuck you. And I will... later tonight. Had someone told me a couple of years ago that I would be having relations with one of my pesky students, I would never have believed that I could stoop so low as to touch one of you. Not that I feel low for taking what I want from you. It's that it's you whom I'm taking it from. You've never appealed to me. Even now, I don't find you all that attractive. I simply enjoy that you belong to me and that I can do with you what I will. Your life is in my hands.

I notice that you are about to retire. It's time to let you know my intentions. "Hermione," I say more calmly than I feel. You come to me obediently, not quite meeting my eyes. I push a phial across my desk to you. "You will drink this."

Watching you as you pick up the phial and sniff it is intoxicating. I can feel my groin jolting when your eyes widen, discovering that I am ordering you to drink a dose of potion that will prevent pregnancy. You know what this means. You know without my having to say one word that I intend to have you.

As you lift your eyes to meet mine, I can see your fear and the horror you must feel. I simply raise a questioning eyebrow and cock my head to the side as if to ask if there is a problem. Your eyes never leave mine as you bring the phial to your lips and down its substance.

"If that will be all," you say, slamming the empty phial down.

"Do have a good night," I murmur mockingly, pleased that you have accepted your lot in life without any dramatic outbursts. I know you loathe me. So be it. Before you leave the room completely, you look back once, and I see that your eyes are shining. You'll likely cry as you bathe. I'll give you enough time to collect yourself and prepare for me. As I sit and wait for you to be finished and for your candles to be extinguished, a small pang of regret flits through me. Dumbledore would be completely disappointed. All of our plans have been for naught. He ordered me to fulfill my vow to Narcissa by taking his life so that his Boy Fucking Wonder could carry on. Ha! Potter will not win this war, I see that now, and I've taken two staff members and a student to live as my captives, though they believe me to be helping them.

I push those thoughts aside and go to my room to prepare myself. I can feel the excitement threatening to burst in my veins. What will meet me when I come to your room? Will you fight me? Will you remain submissive? Will you try to enjoy what I can give you? As I cross from my doorway to yours, I can see that your room is finally dark, and as always, I open the door very slowly, noticing your shape lying motionless on the bed as I do so.

Once I am next to your bed, I slowly sit down. You are quiet, and your face, as always, is turned to face the wall. I am slightly disappointed that you've decided to go the route of not acknowledging me, but deep down, I know that you want me. You'll just never admit it. If you openly respond to me or to what I do to you, you would be forced to face that you like what I do. I reach out to place my hand upon your bare calf and detect the diminutive stiffening of your legs.

Inch by inch, my hand glides up, and I smirk to myself as I notice that you've shaved. Both of my eyebrows rise in surprise as I notice you are sans knickers. I am not so arrogant as to believe that this is for my benefit. It is probable that you want me to do my deed and be done. However, I shall continue at whatever pace I deem fit. Ever so slowly, I reach the hem of your gown and begin lifting it, ultimately arranging it neatly near your shoulders so that it's out of my way.

I'm watching your face now, and I can see that your eyes are closed. I know that you are not sleeping, for I can feel the tremble in your body. You're nervous and uncertain of what I will do next. You are planning to not respond and ignore me. No matter. That will not deter me. Passing my hands over the soft flesh of your breasts, I leisurely slide them down to your center, parting your lips and using a finger to test your wetness. You aren't very damp, but that will change.

Wanting to feel my bare skin against yours, I move back and pull my nightshirt up and away from me. Just knowing that you are grudgingly giving me your unwilling body because you have no choice arouses me. I own you. I can do with you what I want. Nobody can stop me. I've never been the type to take a woman against her will, usually able to find someone willing to rut with me, but taking what is not freely given, desecrating the trust you have in me, makes me feel like a god. Your fate is in my hands, and sex...on my terms...is my payment. For the first time since I've been visiting you, I lie down at your side, careful not to move the bed much, making certain that I can feel your skin against me.

Casually propping myself up on one elbow, I use my free hand to lightly caress your body. You're tense and still trembling. I allow my fingers to begin working on your center and decide to use my mouth on your breasts. I like your breasts. They're not too small, not too big, and your nipples harden so easily. As I'm flicking my tongue over your lush mounds, I realize that I don't have to take such painstaking measures to be certain you don't wake. You know what I am doing.

Enthused, my tongue trails a path down to replace my fingers. You are pleasantly damp, and I feel that I could slide into you with ease. I feel you quiver faintly and wonder what's going through your mind. Are you afraid? Are you anxious? Locating your clitoris, I move my tongue over it, and when I feel your legs become rigid again, I know that you are trying not to react to my ministration. This sends a jolt down to my penis, making it harden even more. I don't think I've ever wanted a woman so much, ever felt such need burning down in my scrotum. I continue until your legs relax, flex, and lift ever so slightly. I would miss it if I hadn't started looking for it. The barely audible breath that you exhale abruptly tells me you've found release, though you try to hide it from me.

It's time. I move and crawl up your body, gently moving your thighs farther apart with my knees. I guide my erection to your opening and push in slowly. Your head is still turned to the side, and there is no reaction. Closing my eyes, I ease further into you, relishing the feel of your heat and wetness. You're very tight, and to my dismay, I realize that I am not the only man to have had you. I wonder how many have had the pleasure of your body. Weasley? Potter? That thought nearly puts me off, but soon, the need to seek my orgasm overrules any disgust I might feel. Weasley is dead. Potter will be soon. You may have been with either of them, but for now, you're mine.

My strokes are tentative at first because I want to enjoy you, learn you, and feel you, but it isn't long before I can no longer maintain such an unhurried speed. Now and again, I can feel you twitching around my cock, and I wonder how it feels to you. I open my eyes and see that you are now biting your lip. Interesting. I continue to watch you as I increase my thrusts in both speed and pressure. Your body feels so good to me. Better than I'd imagined. How long will it take before you can openly accept my advances? When will you eagerly part your legs and guide me inside of you on your own? I think I shall make that a goal. Perhaps. I may not even bother. It's all about me, isn't it?

The jiggling of your breasts, a slight rumbling in your throat, and the feel of your heat clasping me tightly brings about a sudden release. I spill into you completely, but I don't stop pumping until I'm entirely spent. I don't pull out, and I don't collapse atop you. I simply stare down at you, willing you to look at me. I want you to acknowledge what we are doing... what I am doing.

Finally, I am rewarded. Your face turns, and I can just make out your eyes. I tilt my head to the side and study you intently. You're angry and horror-struck. That's plain enough to see. I smile smugly, however, because even though you didn't find release whilst I was within you, your body still responded to me. When I notice a few tears escaping from your eyelids, I decide it's time for me to leave. I was never good with crying women. You could probably console yourself better than any attempt I could make.

Surprisingly, you speak to me as I pull my body from yours, breaking our intimate connection. "I hate you," you whisper.

"I know," I return evenly. I am not bothered by your admission. Most of the people that know me have spent years loathing me. This is nothing new. I firmly believe that what you hate is that deep down you enjoy what I do for you and make you feel. I find my wand, cast a couple of spells to clean our bodies, and quickly dress. When I reach out to pull your nightgown back down, you wrench away from my gasp and yank it down yourself.

"Leave."

I shrug and say, "Good night." I don't leave right away though. I stand there for a moment and gaze down at you, as I normally do. You belong to me. It's heady and pleasing. I sigh in contentment and go back to my room.

Once I am in my own bed, I think about what transpired between us. Perhaps tomorrow night you will be more receptive. I turn over and begin to drift off into a pleasant sleep.

Southern's Notes: Not a very nice Snape at all. I think having lots of power over someone is a very heady sensation, and he would be the type of man to exploit that.

Someone requested via email that I do a chapter that shows how Hermione gets away from him. I may do that. Thanks for reading and for all the feedback.