Chapter Three

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. Huge thank you goes to my beta – Glorioux.

Chapter Three

One Wrong Move, Prelude's Continuation

It was Friday night, somewhere around eleven. The dancing at the Victory Ball was still in full swing. However, for two familiar participants, the evening had propelled to the... hmm, shall we say... next level?

Severus Snape was rather insistently kissing Hermione Granger, and she was quite enthusiastically reciprocating. To say that Severus was surprised that the evening had come to this would be a massive understatement. Careful analysis of events, however, identified two decisive moments and one wrong move that had determined the outcome of the entire night. Here, my dear friends; see for yourselves.

It all started when Severus noticed that a certain curly-haired young witch was briskly walking toward him. A bright smile played on her plump, rosy lips while sparks of stubborn determination flickered in her eyes. For a minute, our Potions master was completely lost. You see, there was one problem. Even though the sole purpose of being at these soirees every year was to see this particular young woman, her former professor had been decidedly avoiding any interactions with the young witch. He simply did not see a point to them. There was no hope for him here, so why waste the heart?

Hence, Severus had always observed Hermione from a distance. During the first four years, this was easy enough to achieve. Then, after Harry Potter's death, it became slightly trickier, and with the lack of Ronald Weasley by Miss Granger's side, the previous year had proved to be the most challenging to date. Noticeably, her whisky-coloured eyes had appeared to scan the crowd more frequently in these recent years. It was almost as if she, Hermione Granger, looked for him. Sure enough, Severus did not allow himself to believe in this utter nonsense even for a minute. It was not possible – she would not, not ever, not after all these years.

Thus, when our black-haired wizard recognized the danger of Miss Granger's entrance, an alarm went off in Severus' mind. He was ready to turn on his heel and make a quick exit. It would've been the right thing to do, don't you think? To wipe that smile from the witch's face would have been cruel, mean, and abundantly in character, exactly what everyone would expect from him. Yes, that undoubtedly should have been the way to do it. Only, that damned smile and those sparkles in Miss Granger's eyes, along with the pale violet silk that shamelessly, sinfully hugged her every quite enticing curve made Severus' eyes linger. Yup, they lingered just a little bit too long and, as a result, Severus Snape hesitated. Can you imagine? He hesitated! Darn!

Suddenly, the motley, talking, laughing, dancing crowd that surrounded them became colourless and voiceless – there was only she, Hermione. Her smile, her eyes, her feminine curves, which were wrapped so nicely in silk, and her thin, delicate ankles with cobalt blue satin laced so alluringly around them. The image was quite striking, and our professor was essentially done for.

And that was it – the fateful moment, after which everything went straight down to the pits. This one little hesitation – one wrong move, if you will – had ultimately decided not only the destiny of the evening but the direction of the whole story as well. Severus did not leave the ball when he had a chance. He missed a window of opportunity, and by doing so, he had sealed his fate.

When, at last, our former professor was able to tear his eyes from Miss Granger. When the crowd, and the music that surrounded them, returned to existence, it was already too late for a retreat. Hermione stood right in front of him, and her breathy, "Professor Snape, how are you?" caught him and pinned him to the floor.

Shit!

Indeed. All that followed was a complete train wreck.

One Wrong Move, Interlude

Professor Snape only managed a curt nod, and when his thin lips opened to retort something appropriately sharp and menacing, he was superseded by the honeyed drawl of his platinum-haired friend.

"Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise. We are fine; we are fine. Severus is fine. How are you, darling? How is your new initiative going? I presume you have Minister Shacklebolt as your supporter?"

To a casual observer, it might have looked like a perfectly innocent, little exchange at the official function. However, with one side-glance at Lucius, Severus could see that his supposed friend was up to something. All Malfoy's features resembled the poise of a powerful feline on a hunt – muscles taut, body posed in a predatory stance – ready to pounce. His sharp grey eyes were unblinkingly focused on his prey, Hermione Granger. Subconsciously Severus tensed as well, while Lord Malfoy continued with his perfectly orchestrated friendliness, "Would you like to dance, Miss Granger?"

"I am quite fine, Mister Malfoy, thank you. I am not really up to dancing," began Hermione, but Lucius didn't give her an opportunity to decline.

"Oh, please, it would be a perfect opportunity to discuss the Ministry news. I have a few ideas about the new law I would like to share. Dance with me, Miss Granger."

And with that, not allowing anyone to hinder or oppose, Lucius took Hermione by the elbow and unequivocally led her to the dance floor. The young witch threw Severus a frustrated glare and allowed herself to be guided, leaving her former professor seething. Apparently, Lucius Malfoy found Miss Granger engrossing, and Severus did not like it, not even one bit. Our Potions master's mood was getting darker by the minute. A whole range of surprisingly outrageous feelings filled the professor's hardened heart.

Severus watched the dancing couple thoughtfully. The deep black and green colours of Lucius' outfit accentuated the rich chocolate of Hermione's untamed curls and the pale violet silk of her dress perfectly. Lucius' arm encircled the young witch's waist a bit too possessively. Moreover, when Hermione and Lucius were dancing the second dance, Severus was sure that he saw a slight smile playing on the witch's lips.

"Damn you, Lucius!" Swearing under his breath, our black-haired wizard nearly turned to leave. However, a new development on the dance floor made him hesitate again. It was the second time in one bloody evening when Hermione Granger had been the reason for his hesitation. This time, Kingsley Shacklebolt caused the commotion. The Minister interjected and stole Hermione from Lucius. Malfoy huffed but stepped aside. Hermione looked flustered. Evidently, she didn't want to be passed around like a goblet, not in the slightest.

By this point, our poor Potions master was aflame. Somehow, it was rather difficult to watch Miss Granger twirling in the other wizards' arms. Over the years, Severus had become used to the sight of Ron Weasley by Hermione's side. But, when young Weasley disappeared from the picture, a veritable dragon of jealousy, along with an intensive ardour to possess the stubborn witch for his own, had been awakened. And now, this flame-breathing dragon was methodically burning his insides.

Boiling and melting inside, but with undisturbed outer demeanour, Severus waited for Lucius to join him once again. When Lord Malfoy – whose face, by the way, was equally inscrutable – came close enough, Severus muttered, "This seems a quite suddenly acquired interest in Miss Granger, Lucius. I would say it was rather odd." His black eyes carefully watched his friend's reaction, while a number of different suspicious jostled in his mind.

Lucius shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and murmured, "Well, Severus, you know that blood matters no longer concern me. Miss Granger has become a quite beautiful witch. She is brilliant, famous, well connected and available. I am available as well at the moment, and I, therefore, cannot see anything odd in my interest in her." Next, the older wizard gave Severus a penetrating gaze; his grey eyes were unsuccessfully attempting to dig into the Potions master's mind. "Why, my friend, are you interested in the witch yourself?"

In response, Severus pointed towards Hermione, now dancing with Shacklebolt, and snidely said, "I was rather surprised that you let Kingsley steal the prey right from your jaws, Lucius. What was it, old friend? Did you lose your famous deadly grip? I do hope it is just a lack of practice and not your age, finally, catching up with you."

There was nothing friendly in those black eyes. A blow had been delivered with the precision of which only the Potions master was capable. A slight hitch in Lucius' breath and a spark, which lit up the blond's grey eyes just for a second before it was masterfully disguised, were the only indications that Severus had hit the target.

Naturally, in the next moment the former professor received an answering blow. "No, not at all, my friend. I decided to let him play. It is not that difficult to gain the witch's attention, or even friendship, Severus. You know that as well as I. The true mastery, however, lies in making the girl yours and not letting her marry another man. Not every wizard can achieve that, you know."

Lucius' friendly, soft drawl did nothing to mitigate the impact. It hit Severus hard, just as it was intended to. Nobody knew where this little clash between our two friends would have led if the very witch in question hadn't stolen their attention. There was a momentary break in music, and Hermione used it to escape the Minister. But, apparently, Kingsley Shackebolt was determined not to let the young witch slip between his fingers.

An understanding of the situation dawned on our two wizards the moment they heard Hermione's voice, "Thank you very much, Minister, but I am perfectly capable of getting home myself. Truly, there is absolutely no need to escort me."

"But, Hermione, it is a traditional sign of chivalry to escort the lady home. Why do you feel such a strong desire to fight the traditions?"

Lucius reacted immediately. "With all due respect, Minister, I believe that if anyone should accompany our dear Miss Granger home it should be-"

"Me," interjected Severus, and that, my friends, was the second pivotal moment in this evening. What pushed him to interfere like this, you may ask? Why, the fire-breathing dragon of jealousy of course. The heat inside wizard's heart had reached the dangerous, steel-melting temperature. And even though our former spy was used to tortures and pain, matters of the heart frankly have remarkable power over people, power that can force even the most self-controlled and steely person to act altogether uncharacteristically. Apparently, that was the case in this situation.

Just as this one short syllable escaped our professor's mouth, a genuine, bright smile, which, by the way, had started all this madness in the first place, had returned to Miss Granger's pretty lips. "Professor, how nice of you. Thank you," said Hermione, as she enthusiastically walked towards Severus and quickly, as if she was quite used to it, intertwined her slender, bare arm with his. After that, there was no way back, and Severus, with Hermione attached to him, began a journey to the nearest Ministry's Floo.

Two pairs of eyes, one dark brown and one grey followed the departing couple. If Severus had enough common sense to turn round and look at Lucius, he would most indubitably not like the view. A trained, arrogant smile played on Lucius' lips. His eyes, on the other hand, were cold and calculating. A rivalry was on. "To the victor belong the spoils. Let the games begin..." murmured Malfoy under his breath.

Meanwhile, our unsuspecting couple was moving quite briskly through the Ministry's corridors, all because of Severus long legs, of course. The rapid pace of their walk, however, didn't prevent – or perhaps even provoked – Hermione to nestle comfortably on her escort's strong arm. This way, with most of her weight laid across his arm and shoulder, she could easily keep up with his wide strides.

At the same time, Miss Granger's bare shoulder was firmly pressed into Snape's, and he could swear that he felt the warmth of her skin even through his heavy robes. Severus, of course, found it highly disconcerting.

"So, how are you, Professor? It has been years since we talked. I am not even certain how long ago. Do you remember?"

"I am quite well, Miss Granger, and it is exactly seven years, nine months and fifteen days since we last talked."

The exactness of this account rendered Hermione speechless, and hence, they covered the rest of the way in silence. For Severus, it was a perfect opportunity to berate himself for his irrational behaviour. He was outraged by himself; it was so unlike him. He had behaved like an idiot, an asinine fool. There was positively no hope for him with Miss Granger. Her interest in him was inexplicable. She had probably just had too much to drink.

When the witch finally found her voice again, they were already standing in front of the Ministry's west wing fireplace. Fully absorbed in his inner self-chiding, Severus failed to notice that Hermione did not hurry to disentangle herself from him. However, when she turned her face to him and asked, "How is your wound? Does it still hurt?" And then daringly caressed the skin right above the edge of the professor's crisp, white shirt, the previously seen determination began to shine in her eyes again. The young witch had successfully gained his attention. His undivided attention, I would say. He should not have touched her hand. He should have turned around right at that moment and left.

But instead, his lonely soul made him lean to her, as if to give her more opportunities to caress him, and his long hand covered hers, pressing it closer to him. "No, no," he groaned, his voice suddenly terribly hoarse, "it doesn't hurt anymore, Miss Granger." She was caressing him with the slightest touches of the tips of her fingers, the same whispery touches for which Severus had been yearning and longing for almost eight years.

Bollocks! Why is this happening? Even though there was no doubt in Severus' mind that whatever happened, he would get hurt at the end, in the next instant, he, the stone-cold man, came totally undone. All the surreal events of this evening – scheming Lucius with his annoying interference, the idiotic Minister with his wandering hands, and Hermione's beguiling smile – had all conspired to make it happen. He could not have stopped himself even if he wanted to.

Severus growled and forcefully pinned Hermione to the wall, attacking her plump, sweet lips with ferocity. Hermione's response was immediate – she breathed out a delighted sigh and opened her mouth for him.

Here, my friends. The circle is complete. We have returned to the moment from which we had started our journey. Now we know exactly how the evening at the official Ministry gathering propelled to this rather intense kiss between our beloved Potions master and the Gryffindor Princess.

The only thing left to learn is how this kiss ended.

One Wrong Move, Postlude

Hermione and Severus had been kissing for about twenty minutes now. They occupied the wall of the nice, dimly lit niche located near the Ministry's west wing fireplace. At this point in time, the masterful hands of our Potions master found their way to Miss Granger's heart-shaped backside and were happily and unabashedly exploring its perfection. Moreover, one of his hands ventured even further, deftly gathering up the pale violet silk of the witch's dress in order to be able to trace the outline of her well-sculpted thigh. Hermione's nimble fingers, on the other hand, became tangled in Severus' hair, due to the absence of other easily accessible places on our properly clothed Potions master.

As more time passed, it became clear that they needed to relocate urgently. Not only because Hermione's dress was in unspeakable condition – a crinkled mess gathered somewhere around her waist – but also because the Potions master's robes and shirt were quite ruffled, unbuttoned and maybe even torn in some places. See, there is a danger in engaging in this kind of passionate activity with a lioness, after all. The last thing Severus Snape wanted was for somebody to see him in such a horrible state of dishevelment. Moreover, he surely would never allow anybody to see that much of Miss Granger's bare flesh.

Therefore, as both of them were convinced that stopping was not an option, Severus groaned hoarsely, "Where to, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's response was as hoarse as Severus' inquiry. "My flat, and stop calling me Miss Granger, Severus. You have your fingers in my knickers, for Merlin's sake."

"Point taken, Hermione. Please, be so kind and lead the way." This phrase sounded more like a prayer than a request. Hermione hugged him tightly, and the next instant our almost-lovers disappeared. Seconds later, they reappeared in Hermione's bedroom, intertwined and tangled in each other rather marvellously. The rhythm of their movements increased dramatically when, after a few softly spoken spells, they were totally nude. And when the naked and eager body of our Potions master covered the nude, soft and delicious form of our Gryffindor princess, the love dance began.

There was not much talking between our lovers during the evening, so, understandably, there was even less of it during lovemaking. The only sensible words were: Hermione, Severus, witch, so wet, so tight, shit, fuck and yes. Pardon me, my darlings, but I have to stay true to the facts. Of course, there were lots of ahhs, mms and other single and double syllables, as well as outright incomprehensible groans, moans and such.

You might have guessed that their lovemaking most certainly did not stop after the first mutual climax. No, of course not. Neither Severus nor Hermione were going to stop quite so soon. Our lovers had found an unexpected bliss, and both of them were going to put it to a good use. Only when the first sunrays found their way into Hermione's bedroom did the lovers find their ultimate contentment and fall into exhausted slumber.