Chapter Ten

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 Ten

Thursday's Broodings

On Thursday evening, Severus Snape was brewing potions in his laboratory, as usual. He stood there in his stark black work-robes, hovering over the cauldron and counting the clockwise stirs of a spatula. The Potions master's movements were precise and accurate – each manoeuvre had its distinctive purpose. Nothing, not even the slightest motion of his long, deft fingers, was wasted. He was brilliant at this, exceptionally, remarkably so.

Despite the focused and composed demeanour, our Potions master's thoughts ventured far beyond his laboratory. Severus had of course remembered Hermione's presentation; he was not that thick and unperceptive after all. He had noticed the witch's reaction to his indifference. He knew his lack of interest saddened and maybe even angered her. The witch was not pleased with him.

Did it bother him? Was Severus Snape displeased with himself for causing sadness to his rather unexpectedly acquired lover? Our Potions master had mulled over that exact issue for nearly a week now and couldn't find the answer.

Bollocks!

Well, let us now take a closer look at our black-haired wizard's dilemma, shall we? We know quite well, my dear ones, that Severus, by fate's cruel will, had spent the majority of his years as a lonely soul. His heart had hardened after many years of loneliness and misery. Hence, he became a lone wolf – oops, let me rephrase this – a lone Potions master. At least, he perceived himself this way. That was Severus' firm opinion on the matter, and thus he'd carried on with his life accordingly until, goaded by a momentary impulse induced by jealousy and Lucius, he had invited a tornado named Hermione Granger into his life.

Severus Snape did not count on this to happen – it was a contingency. It brought consequences he did not anticipate. He was not ready for them, not prepared to deal with them, and to be honest, I am not even confident that he needed them all that much.

But the Potions master longed for Hermione Granger, you'll say. He desired her, he thought about her. Yes, yes and yes, he did. From afar. For eight years. And do you remember? He saw her once a year at the ball and felt content in his woe for the remaining twelve months.

However, now when he suddenly had her, everything began to change around him. It was hard. He wasn't complaining – it was just that Severus Snape was not used to having someone in his life. The thought of an obligation to participate actively in the witch's life, and (oh, horror!) letting her participate in his, was a foreign concept to him and, to be frank, scared the hell out of him. Yup, my darlings, you heard me correctly – our wizard was scared of the change, extremely so. He wasn't the first man with this particular predicament, and he most certainly would not be the last.

He could easily comply with and enjoy the passion, lust and desire of their sexual life, but showing compassion, expressing feelings, planning for the future, making public appearances on the other hand, were extremely challenging for our Potions master.

This witch brought a complete and utter chaos to his home, strewing knickers and dresses on his bedroom floor. After only two weeks, Severus managed to lose his only friend over her. Moreover, his house-elf went nuts, forcing Severus to serve breakfasts in bed "because missy Hermione likes it".

The loss of control over his own bloody mind was infuriating and difficult for Severus to endure. His thoughts constantly circled around Hermione, her full rose-coloured lips, her nicely sized breasts, her perfectly rounded bottom and her hot, wet .... Argh, damn it! The Potions master nearly lost count. He shook his head and continued his brooding.

Where had his quiet and comfortable misery gone? It had disappeared, irrevocably destroyed by a fiery, talkative and, oh well, let's face it, quite passionate Gryffindor lioness. She made him think about trivial matters. Thoughts such as Will the witch come? When she will come? How long will she stay?, now were constantly swirling in his head. Besides, he still couldn't decide if he should've paid more attention to the little witch's political endeavours.

The thought, his little witch, bolted through the wizard's mind and he swore under his breath. Possessiveness had struck again. Our Potions master huffed in dismay and began to stir the potion counter clockwise, counting the stirs again.

By the time the potion was done, Severus had reached a conclusion – he would try to live up to Hermione's expectations. He would ask her about the presentation.

There, not a lame start, huh?

Friday

Overture

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

The witch was going to arrive at the villa pretty soon. Severus sat in his library reading. Or, to be precise, he was trying to read. The fact that he was actually waiting for the witch could not be admitted even to himself.

He, Severus Snape, would never succumb to such weakness. He was a formidable wizard for Merlin's sake, and he would not sit and wait like some adolescent nitwit for a mere witch to make it there. And, with that, our Potions master reread the same line in the book for the third time. Or was it fifth time?

Evidently, the reading was not going well. Thus, after a few more futile attempts and with a quietly uttered, "Bugger," he closed the book, carefully put it on the side table, stood up and walked out of the library.

Act One – Love

The clock chimed eight times. Our Potions master now sat in the armchair in his living room, across from the fireplace, and waited. Half an hour before, Severus had finally settled in this location, right after he sent Casimir away with the strict order not to pop up anywhere near the rooms until he was called.

And yes, he, the formidable wizard, waited for the witch to surface, all pretences be damned. Our Potions master had been yearning to have the slight witch in his arms since the early morning. And since early morning he had tried to deny this control-consuming yearning.

However, for the last few hours the desire for the witch had been so overwhelming that it overruled everything in its way and forced our wizard to submit. Severus was so eager to feel Hermione quivering in ecstasy beneath him that there was no room in his mind for any other thoughts. He had dreamt about it for the whole bloody week, for Merlin's sake.

In other words, he needed the witch, and he needed her now! The talks about her political moves and other proprieties would have to wait!

Naturally, the moment Severus heard the roar of the Floo and saw her soft womanly silhouette in the green flames, he urgently rose and in one wide stride covered the distance between him and the fireplace. The next instant he had his arms full of one warm, curvy and oh-so-responsive Hermione Granger. Not wasting any time on preambles, greetings and other nonsense, our wizard, desperately hungry for the witch, found her lips and possessed them fully and irrevocably. The young lioness, pleasantly surprised by her lover's eagerness, reciprocated with the same vigour.

Very soon they both were breathless, and Severus' lips moved onto the sensitive skin behind Hermione's ear, growling into her hair, "I missed you, witch. I need you, now! Are you ready for me? We need to get you ready for me..." The hoarse murmur caused the young witch to shudder in anticipation. The quick and nimble fingers of her lover already had begun to open her robes, with his warm mouth closely following the path created by them.

What about the bedroom, you ask, my friends. Not this time. Severus didn't even consider moving anywhere. No, he intended to take her right there on the rug, in front of the fireplace, and Hermione, overpowered by his passion as well as her own, allowed him to do so.

The moan lodged in the wizard's throat when the witch's robes slid down, leaving her only in whisper-pink lingerie. Reluctantly, the wizard willed himself to step back and disrobe, his onyx eyes smouldering and burning her skin with fervent heat in them.

Then, a millisecond later, he was all over his witch again. Knickers and bra were gone in one flick of his fingers. The wizard needed skin on skin contact immediately, with no lingerie in the way.

Of course, my darlings, the lioness, the passionate, fiery witch didn't stand and wait. She was all over her wizard as well – kissing, biting, probing and stroking. Their mutual desire was all consuming and unstoppable. There were no borders for their mouths and tongues. Hot, greedy caresses, jerky movements, ragged breathing, throaty cries and groans paved their road to consummation and release.

When the wizard's long fingers found their way to the young witch's welcoming, moist heat and he concluded that the she was indeed quite ready for him, he gently lowered her onto the rug. The witch's creamy thighs fell open, allowing him to see her luscious core.

"Mmm," groaned Severus at the sight, and the next instant he was inside of her. Hermione arched her back in ecstasy, and the witch's rapturous mewl showed approval of her lover's actions better than any words. Hermione's long legs wrapped themselves around his waist, urging him to move. He began his thrusts and strokes, already feeling a tingling of his impending climax and fiercely fighting it.

I won't be quick. No. No!

Alas, moans and cries of the eager witch beneath him forced him to go deeper, faster, stronger. "Too much, witch!" Severus moaned between his rapid breaths, trying to hold his orgasm and to wait for her. But, the witch felt just too exquisite, too tight, too hot around him – the wizard had no strength left to hold his release any longer. He pleaded, "Please, witch, come, come for me!" His fingers found and fondled her tender flesh between them desperately.

"Fuck! Come! Now!"

She did. Thank God. Good girl.

Act Two – Jealousy

Ten minutes later, they were still on the rug and still breathless. The witch was resting on his chest, and the fully sated Potions master decided that the time was right to show his caring for her. Thus, lazily smoothing Hermione's springy curls, Severus murmured, "How was your week? How did your presentation go?"

Caught off guard by his question, Hermione rose on her elbow, and her amber eyes gazed into Severus' black ones with amazement and even a hint of doubt. For a few seconds, she studied the wizard's facial expression, looking for any signs of sneering or mocking.

Eventually, she relaxed, put her curly head on Severus' chest again and replied, "It was a disaster."

Now, it was Severus' turn for wondering. "Why, Hermione?" he asked.

The Gryffindor princess shifted, turned her face to him, put her chin sweetly on her arm and continued, "Nobody came, almost nobody. I can't understand it. Why? I worked so hard and hoped for a better reception, for more interest. It is a good initiative. Truly. Harry and I, we were planning and thinking ... Now, he is gone and I am such a loser. It was an epic failure, Severus, horrible." And the curly-haired witch proceeded to tell the story about the room number seven, the only eight attendees, the Minister and Lucius Malfoy in detail.

At first, Severus listened calmly. However, when the story came to Kingsley's comment and Hermione stopped to draw a heavy sigh, he looked into her eyes and noticed that they had a glint in them that Severus didn't particularly like – the witch was on the verge of tears. Our wizard tensed; he did not like crying witches – he had no idea what to do with them. Shit.

Moreover, his own reaction began to stir inside him and tried to emerge. What the heck was Shacklebolt aiming for with his ridiculous statement? Severus' arms unconsciously tightened around the witch's soft curves. Our Potions master remembered all too well how the Minister had circled around her at the ball.

"Fool," muttered Severus, recognising a bitter, acid taste of suspicion in his mouth.

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully and said, "I don't know, Severus. I hope so. I need to know more about politics. I have the second presentation in two weeks, and I have to be prepared. Maybe Lucius really can help me," she whispered.

Sure enough, the moment Lucius' name escaped from Hermione' lips, even in the whisper, Severus' insides began to burn.

"Lucius? What has Lucius to do with your presentation?" he growled.

I know, my dear ones, you can already predict what happened next. The fire-breathing dragon of jealousy that brought our lovers together in the first place was awakened once more. This time, however, its fire could easily ruin the fragile understanding between our lovers. And we, my friends, may only hope for the best.

With a chill in his voice, Severus demanded a detailed explanation of what exactly Lucius had proposed. He also insisted on knowing why he was there and why Hermione agreed to the blond wizard's proposal. In a matter of minutes, the caring and soothing moments between two lovers metamorphosed into a full-blown interrogation.

Severus was barking his questions at Hermione, and she was trying her best to answer calmly. They were not on the rug anymore, of course, and both lovers were hectically putting their clothes back on while still talking. With true Gryffindor stubbornness she explained to him that Lucius had come to her presentation as a politician, and that the blond wizard was the only one who offered assistance, giving her at least some hope of success.

Severus, of course, didn't believe it even for a second. He saw Lucius' reactions to Hermione. He now recalled the compromising position he had found them in at the Leaky Cauldron the week before. He was trying, truly trying to be civil, but Hermione's replies only fed his fire further.

"If you remember, Severus, I told you about my plans last Sunday. You weren't interested at that time. Well, at least Lucius is interested enough to help me."

At this point, Severus stopped, his jaws clenched, his eyes focused on the witch. He knew he must not let his anger get the better of him. He knew he did not have the right to be jealous, and yet he couldn't stop himself. The raging, tempestuous fury was suffocating him. He couldn't breathe. His need to throw it all at her was as forceful as his need to be inside of her a short while ago.

"So, what is this all about – the spotlight, popularity? Tell me, Hermione, is that why you didn't marry Weasley? Was it too boring for you to dedicate your time to the family, to one man? You looked quite cosy with Lucius in the Leaky Cauldron last Friday. Did it start there? Did you agree to his proposal then?" This was a total bluff, and Severus recognised it the moment he said it. Nevertheless, it seemed fitting for the situation.

"I never suspected that you were vain, Hermione. Are you really so hungry for fame? Or maybe you just like to have another man on a back burner. Tell me, witch, do you? Do you sleep with him as well? And he helps you with your little project in return. How nice. Am I your weekend lover and he's there for your weekdays?"

Dreadful silence hung between them. He had gone too far again, and he knew it. They were both fully clothed by now and standing in front of each other. Hermione's breath dangerously hitched, and the fire in her eyes forced Severus to instinctively reach for his wand. The next moment she slapped him. Hard.

"You, Severus Snape, have no right to treat me like that. I will not put up with this. You can shove your stupid jealousy right up your arse. I do not care. I will not put a hold on my career because of you and your moronic behaviour. You know where to find me if you have something to say for yourself."

And before Severus could utter his answering roar, Hermione was gone.

So much for expressing feelings, I would say.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.