Chapter 4 - Distraction of Detention

Disclaimer: Alas, the world of Harry Potter is not mine. JKR dreamed it up before I ever had a chance. Any character you recognize belongs to her.

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Ch 4 - Distraction of Detention

Hermione was still fuming the next morning when she made it to the Gryffindor table. Tossing her bag down on the floor beside her, she lowered herself onto the bench in a huff. Every student at the table was in an uproar over who had cost Gryffindor 200 points. Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It isn't my fault. Snape over-reacted that evening. He is just insulted about my taking the dare to ask him to dance.

Looking up, she saw that Ron was watching her with narrowed eyes. Glaring back at him, she leaned forward and whispered in a low hiss, "Not one word, you pompous, red-headed weasel!" His eyes widened at her words, and his jaw dropped at her openly angry face.

After a moment, he muttered softly, "Not that I would want to waste my breath speaking to you anyway." He turned away from her and spoke with Harry, who was also a bit taken back by her anger.

"Uhm... Hermione?" Ginny asked softly. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk?" Hermione looked to Ginny and her shoulders sunk.

Before she could respond, she felt a shadow loom over her and knew before she even looked that it was Snape. "Detention will be held in a different place this evening, Miss Granger." He handed her a small piece of parchment with directions. "I expect you there promptly at seven."

She didn't look into his eyes. She couldn't bear to see his smug expression. She simply nodded. "Yes, sir. I will be there."

Severus' lips turned up for a split-second as he turned and made his way from the Great Hall. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, fighting the adolescent urge to stick her tongue out at his retreating backside.

Instead, she turned back to Ginny, who was looking at her with a curious expression. The younger witch leaned forward and glanced around before asking in a hushed whisper, "Hermione, did you do something last night that cost Gryffindor house points?"

Hermione looked sullenly at her untouched food and nodded. "I admitted to Professor Snape that I only asked him to dance because of Ron's dare." She glanced back at Ginny. "I didn't know it would offend him so!"

Her friends jaw had dropped, and she shook her head. "Wow!" she said simply, then, "Do you know what this means?"

Hermione nodded. "Oh, yeah! It means that I have detention with the greasy git every day for the rest of the year." She rolled her eyes. "I think he even expects me on the evening of graduation!" She let out a moan that betrayed her misery. "Oh, Ginny... I'm stuck in a nightmare!"

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Severus stood to one side of the large chamber. His eyes studied the floor to make sure it was indeed smooth enough for his needs. It would not do for there to be anything for Miss Granger to trip over or stumble upon.

Glancing at his timepiece, he moved to lean against the wall. She would be arriving at any moment. He could feel her approaching. When the large door opened, she entered with a crestfallen expression on her face. He almost felt pity for her. Almost.

Stepping away from the wall, he greeted her in a soft voice. "You are punctual as ever, Miss Granger. I am pleased."

Hermione smiled nervously. Professor Snape was leaning against the far wall. The way the room was lit cast him in shadow. She tried to see his countenance, but failed. Wondering at why the room was lit as it was, she turned in a slow circle, gazing about. She had never been in this part of the castle. In fact, she had never known that it existed. Taking in the room before her curiously, she asked, "Where are we?"

Severus moved out of the shadows to stand before her. "This is the old music room. It hasn't been used for quite some time." As he spoke, Hermione found herself staring. Snape's hair was loose and fell well past his shoulders. Instead of his usual robes, he was dressed only in a Slytherin-green silk shirt, and a pair of black pants with matching shoes. Dance shoes.

With a face full of confusion, Hermione looked back up at him. "Why are you dressed like this? Why are we here? This isn't a normal way to conduct detention."

Severus scowled at Hermione and cleared his throat. "As I am the professor here, it is my right to choose how you shall spend your detention. Is that understood?" At her nod, he continued, "I have decided that since Mr Weasley blessed us so by daring you to dance with me, that you shall be able to get your fill of it."

Turning and lifting his wand, he released the disillusionment that had hid the dress from her vision. When she saw it, a gasp escaped her. It was a matching color of green to the shirt he wore. There were beads of black, green and silver that adorned it. The hem of the dress was zig-zagged. As she moved closer to touch it reverently, he smiled and flicked his wand, whispering, "Transpositionism garments!"

Immediately, Hermione was swept up in a whirlwind. The clothes she had been wearing were dropped to the floor as the dress suddenly fit itself to her, shrinking just ever so slightly to fit to her modest curves. As a final touch, she felt a slight lifting of her bosom. Looking down in alarm, she saw that her cleavage was now hoisted up.

Crossing her arms protectively over her chest, she faced him as her face burned red with her modesty. She stammered, "B-but, s-sir... I-I don't u-understand. Why would you want to dance with m-me a-after your anger last night?"

Severus chose not to answer her question. Instead, he stepped up close to her and gently took her hands away from her chest. With a lingering glance at her ample cleavage that was given graciously to him from the way the dress was made, he could easily see that she, indeed, had made the transition from child to woman.

Placing his right hand in the small of her back and clasping her other hand in his free one, he spoke with authority into the room. "Music." Instantly, more torches flared to life and a slow, sensual song began to play.

Hermione swallowed nervously as Severus began to lead her in a slow, erotic dance. It was a variation of one that she recognized as the bolero. It was almost as suggestive as the tango in that it was highly sexual. However, she felt somewhat unsure of it because it was a much slower dance. Instead of a hint of a touch of her partner's body against hers, it was a slower, lingering contact.

Severus told himself he was only doing this to punish her. She would be made to understand that a young woman could not toy with a grown man's affections. Even as he convinced himself, his body knew better.

His chest pressed to hers. She could feel the solid muscle of him beneath the thin, silk shirt that covered him. That, combined with the scent of him made her almost weak with an unfamiliar emotion. She wanted something. Something ached deep inside of her, but she couldn't place something she had never felt before.

As Severus led her through the dance, his eyes held hers captive. She couldn't have looked away if she'd wanted to. His touch, his scent and his gaze had set her on fire. As the song came to a close, he stilled, but did not release her.

He fought to calm himself. Waves of desire shot through him, making it hard to concentrate on anything besides his growing desire. He could not release her. It was as if to release her would be to cut a part of himself away. Severus let go of her hand to brace his own against her back and aid in drawing her closer.

His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. Hermione found herself bringing both hands to his shoulders in an effort to not be pulled off-balance. He watched her responses closely as he pressed his arousal close to her body, making her fully aware of the fact that she was not the only one affected by their contact.

I must stop this! she thought wildly. He's caught up in the moment and doesn't even realize what it is he does. She intended to use her hands on his shoulders to push him away. Rather, she found herself gripping his shirt as he pulled her closer. When his head began to descend toward hers, her eyes widened and she shook her head slightly, even as her eyes closed.

When his lips were a mere breath away, he flicked his tongue out and let himself taste the skin of her lips. Her voice betrayed her with a moan. It was his undoing. His mouth claimed hers in an instant, covering the gasp that escaped her as he crushed her to him.

Her own mouth answered the question in his. Her hands twined in his hair, and she moaned in ecstasy. Her tongue dueled with his in a way that made him want to take her right then, on the stone floor. Alarms went off in his head. You cannot do this! It is too soon! Groaning, he drew away from her, panting for breath as he leaned his forehead against hers.

Trembling, she reached her hand to her mouth. A look akin to a mixture of horror and desire crossed her features as she moved to put distance between them. Who had kissed who first? She didn't know. Severus watched her as she began to shake her head, enlightenment dawning before she turned and ran from the room.

He started to go after her, but stopped. It was enough for now. She would come back tomorrow evening. A slow smile made his face look softer as he ran a forefinger across the bottom lip of his open mouth slowly. "Soon, my darling," he whispered softly. "Soon."

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Hermione ran all the way to her room. Gasping out her password at her private entrance, she stepped through into her room and sank into the nearest chair. Her whole body was alive and tingling. She moaned as she ran her hand over the dress that was still covering her flesh.

"My clothes!" she whispered as the realization that she had left them in the music room hit. She didn't care. She wasn't going back down there. She wasn't fool enough to think that if she went back she could leave with her virginity still intact.

With that thought, she remembered the terms of the detention. She would have to go back. Come tomorrow evening, she would be obligated to return to that room. He would again touch her, holding her to him, drawing her into all of the passion of the dance. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the back of the chair.

A tapping at her window drew her attention. Frowning, she moved to let the bird in. It was Snape's raven. The bird held out his foot for her to take the parchment. Taking it, she snatched a treat to reward the bird for his labor. Tossing it to him, she opened the parchment and stared in confusion at the sentence written there.

The dress is NOT to leave the music room.

Just as she was about to wonder out loud at the missive, she felt a sudden shock of cold air as the dress that covered her nude form vanished, leaving her in only what the gods had granted her at birth.

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A/N: Thanks to Robisonrocket for helping me make this story easier to read.