The Consequences of Avoiding the Inevitable

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

I'd just like to say that I'm ecstatic about the hits and reviews my little story has gotten in the first few hours! Those of you that responded I can't thank you enough! Those of you who read but didn't review... I love you all too! I hope this chapter meets your expectations.

Thanks, Delilah, for the unending support and encouragement!

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"There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning."

-Louis L'Amour

Staring back at him, her eyes clouded with something he couldn't place – not lust... something darker – was a face that he had not seen in ten – perhaps even fifteen – years.

Hermione Granger.

He would know her if it had been fifty years instead of a mere decade or so.

His reaction was instant and involuntary. He jerked upright and tucked himself back into his pants in a flurry of hands and buttons. "What's wrong, Tobias? Not going soft on me are you?" he heard her say in that decadent, husky voice. She started to crawl back into his lap, but he shoved her aside roughly. He shot from the couch and quickly retrieved his duster, preparing to leave. He wanted to put her and everything she represented far behind him.

As his hand was reaching for the curtains, he was once again overwhelmed with a helpless compulsion towards the woman lying on the floor. He bowed his head. He would not allow this to take control of him! Pushing violently through the curtains, he stormed towards the exit. He didn't get far. He had taken less than five steps when he was pulled up short, unable to move forward. It was like trying to walk through a brick wall.

Fucking shite! he swore to himself. He tried several more times to make it to the door, but his attempts were unsuccessful. A few people had even turned to stare at his odd behavior: one step forward, two steps back, as it were. He ground his teeth together in frustration before spinning around and storming back into the private room.

Hermione was still sitting where she had fallen, holding herself up with both arms. He could see that she was breathing rapidly. Her bare legs were stretched out to the side, and her head was bowed. Her long wavy hair hung nearly to the floor as it obscured her face.

She looked... helpless – defeated.

It was pathetic – and it made him furious.

He walked slowly to her side and looked down at her with a disgusted sneer. When he spoke, his tone was soft, but there was something else: an edge – cold, hard, and merciless. "How the mighty have fallen. Wouldn't you agree... Miss Granger?"

She didn't move, but he saw a shudder pass through her nearly nude form.

"Well?" he continued, becoming angrier with each passing second. When she didn't answer, he sighed heavily. "I knew this day would come... no matter how hard I fought against it." He knelt on one knee and leaned over to speak into her ear. His voice was cold, bitter and scathing. "I knew – knew – that our paths would meet again, despite my best efforts to the contrary."

He sneered at her once more as he let his eyes roam over her body. "What does it matter... my life has never been truly mine. Why should things have changed?" He pressed his fist to his forehead. There was a moment's pause before he spat: "Fifteen years?! Fifteen fucking years and it happens now?!"

Still she remained motionless, her heavy breathing the only indication that she was even alive. His rage had come to the boiling point. "Look at me, girl!" he spat, spittle flying from his mouth. When she was still unresponsive he snatched her by the hair. "I said 'look... at... me!'"

Hermione let out a small whimper of pain as she came to her knees under the strength of his hold. Her eyes rolled back to meet his as he pulled her head back harshly. His rage tempered as his blood went cold. Her face was inches from his, and only now did he realize the full scope of the situation. The eyes he remembered – soft brown, dotted with flecks of gold, full of compassion and intelligence – were empty. Her gaze was as emotionless as that of a porcelain doll.

He stood, pulling her by her hair. "Get up!" he growled.

She complied, tripping over her own feet and falling against him. He heard her laugh deep in her throat just before she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her mouth was warm and soft against his – his grip on her hair lessened. She groaned against him as her hands found their way underneath his open shirt, swirling through the dark hair on his chest before encircling his waist. He reinforced his grip on her hair as she slid her nails softly up his spine. He pulled her lips harshly from his, but not before her nails raked sharply down his back - she thrust against him again.

God, she felt so fucking good!

Again came her emotionless, throaty chuckle, "Is that how you like it? Rough?" She nipped his earlobe. A hand crept down his stomach and into his partially buttoned trousers. "Dirty?"

He gasped as her hand closed around him. He felt himself harden again. For one languid, desperate moment he debated letting her continue. An instant later he cursed himself for being so weak-minded.

Drawing upon all his willpower, he took her roughly by the arms and pushed her back down on the couch. She giggled. "Is it my turn?" And spread her legs invitingly. She licked her lips as she stared at him with those eerie, blank eyes. Furious beyond description, the man everyone knew as Tobias looked upon the girl – no, woman – before him and cursed himself inwardly as he redid his trousers.

After so many fucking years...

"God dammit!" he growled to himself as he finished with his buckle.

He threw his jacket back across the chair and paced the room several times. He mumbled to himself, gesturing violently. Finally he stopped, clasping at his hair as if struggling with some life-altering decision.

"Fuck it!" he said with finality. Turning slowly, he narrowed his eyes at the woman lying spread-eagle on the couch. Her lower lip was twisted between her teeth as she beckoned to him with a manicured index finger. He had to look away. He must not think of her like that! It was... is... forbidden. Closing his eyes, he steadied his resolve. There was a pregnant pause as he held his breath. He let it out quickly as he waved one long-fingered hand sharply in Hermione's direction. His voice was laced with contempt as he softly spoke two words he had not used for more than a decade: "Finite Incantatum!"

With a violent jolt that arched her back and made every muscle in her body rigid as steel, Hermione Granger was released from the confines of the Imperius Curse. He turned back to her and watched as her eyes slowly bled back to normal. When she finally looked up, the blood drained from her face as she found herself once again staring into the cold, black eyes of the last man she had ever thought to see again: Severus Snape.

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Hermione Granger was a smart woman. At least she used to be.

She remembered eating dinner – alone – at her flat. She remembered feeding her cat before she left for work earlier that evening. She remembered driving to work. Most of all, she remembered seeing him... sitting in the crowd, staring at her like all the rest. Strangely, she had been overwhelmed with a compulsion to let him know who she was. So, she had shown him her tattoo. He was a smart man, or had been – surely he would figure it out.

She shook her head, confused. The last thing she remembered was seeing Jack walk towards her as she was securing her earnings from her last performance. Then... nothing.

Until now.

As she slowly came out of the fog, she saw him again, staring down at her. His face was different than it had been earlier. Where before it had held a bit of softness – longing even – it now held a cold loathing – a hatred so deep that his eyes glittered with the heat of it.

She raised her chin, unashamed. "Professor," she greeted.

He narrowed his eyes at her as he began buttoning his shirt. "I think, Hermione, that since you were about to suck my dick, as it were... that we can do away with the pleasantries." He finished with his shirt and grabbed his duster. Reaching down, he hauled her up from the couch by her upper arm. "We're leaving," he said with finality.

"What?!" she shrieked as she snatched her arm away.

"Are you deaf as well as daft? I said 'we're leaving'!" He grabbed her again and dragged her through the velvet curtains into the chaos of the club. Nothing stopped him this time. He knew exactly the reason, as she even now struggled against him. His grip was like iron, and her efforts did nothing but bruise her skin.

"Let go, you arsehole!" Hermione screamed at him. She tried to pry his fingers loose with her free hand.

She was causing quite a commotion, and people were starting to stare. Severus really couldn't give a rat's arse. He continued to drag Hermione – nude Hermione – roughly towards the exit. He could see two big brutes starting to slowly move in on them as he drew closer to his destination. He still couldn't give a fuck. What were they going to do? Forcibly remove him? He snorted at the absurdity of it all.

"My things, Professor! I can't go about in public like this!"

He stopped short as she almost broke away. He reaffirmed his grip and snatched her closer. "It's what you get paid for, is it not?"

He barely had time to register the look on her face before her palm met his cheek. The resounding 'crack' had several more heads turning their way.

"Fuck you!" she snarled, pointed a manicured finger underneath his nose.

He closed his eyes as he let the pain from her slap subside. When he turned back to her, she was seething with a rage that equaled his own. He stepped closer. In a low voice, he whispered so only she could hear: "If you ever... hit me again... you will regret it."

This only served to make her angrier. "Will I? What will you do... sir? Punch me? Slap me? ... Rape me?" This caught his attention. The fucking bitch! Did she actually think... ?

"If I remember correctly," he sneered, "it was you who offered yourself to me, not the other way around."

"I was obviously forced! It would have been rape!" she screamed in his face.

He simply glowered at her.

"Let me go," she said. Her naked breasts heaved against him.

"I think not. We have much to..." he let her see him leer at her chest, "discuss, you and I."

"I know that, you fucking bastard, but if you think I'm leaving here without my things – or my pay – you're insane. Besides, now that you've found me – so to speak – I doubt either of us will be able to get very far without the other." Her eyes searched his. She really did need to get her money. She was broke. She needed it to get through the week. When he didn't say anything, only continued to glare at her, she sighed wearily. "Please..." she whispered desperately.

He glared at her for another pregnant moment before releasing her. She rubbed her arm where pale bruises were already starting to form. "Thank you," she bit out. She turned and started away. "Wait for me at the side entrance. Then we can go someplace and talk," she called back over her shoulder.

Severus watched her go, her skin shimmering in the lights of the club, and cursed inwardly. Things were quickly getting complicated.

He pulled another fag from his pocket before moving towards the exit. As he took his first drag, he spotted the two henchmen that had been waiting to kick his arse just moments earlier. They narrowed their beady eyes at him, committing his face to memory in case of any future encounters. He raised an eyebrow at them – and gave them the finger – before sweeping out into the night in a cloud of cigarette smoke, his black duster billowing behind him.

As he headed to meet Hermione, the only thought running through his mind was that his life had just gone tits up – literally. The question was... what was he going to do about it?

~TBC

A/N: Once again, thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think!