Manipulations

Disclaimer: see first chapter.

Thanks a lot to Dacian Goddess for her help with this chapter.

I didn't expect Harry's flat to be this populated on this Saturday afternoon. True, he's often gone for his job, and every single day off he has is monopolised by his friends, in this case Ginny, Ron, Arthur and Molly.

"Hello," I greet them. I probably sound awkward.

They answer me in an equally awkward manner with vague smiles and embarrassed eyes.

This situation is horrible. If I wasn't in desperate need of Harry's help, I would probably have found an excuse to flee. Come to think of it... if I don't learn how to face this kind of situation, how could I hope to improve the house-elves' condition? It's time I start my training in manipulation. I paste an unctuous smile on my lips and take a seat between Molly and Ron. Arthur sits on Molly's other side while Ginny sits on a smaller sofa which forms a ninety-degree angle with the bigger one. The seat near her is obviously Harry's, who's gone into the kitchen to prepare tea.

"So, Ginny," I say casually, turning to her, "how are the preparations for the engagement party going?"

She seems surprised to see me speaking so naturally without looking embarrassed. She answers me, however. "Very well. We have a good idea of what we'll eat, and we've found nearly all the chairs we need. But, in fact, Mum's taking care of nearly everything."

Then, I turn my attention to Molly, but not without casting a surreptitious look at Ron. He's more rigid than a bandaged mummy: he's looking fixedly in front of him, his jaw is cramped and his fists are clenched. He's obviously on the verge of exploding... or imploding. It's difficult to tell. Severus must influence me more than I imagined, for my first thought is, He had it coming.

"Molly... I can call you Molly, can't I? It'd be so weird if Severus would call you Molly and not I."

She's so astonished that she can only nod. The couch vibrates slightly. I deduce that Arthur has reacted to my request as well.

"I suppose you don't have a moment to catch your breath, what with that huge party to prepare. Between Arthur's co-workers, Order members, your family... they are so many mouths to feed."

Her raising seven Weasleys shows, though, and she regroups quickly.

"Not that much. I'm accustomed to doing things like that, and if I'm not mistaken, you benefit from them."

Her voice exudes hypocrisy. Gone are the warm looks she used to bestow on me when she considered me her future daughter-in-law. She isn't far from accusing me of being the cause of her son's malaise, just for alleviating her own conscience. What about my malaise? Does it count for nothing?

Harry comes back with the tea, which saves the lot of us from the stiff silence in the room. He serves everyone and takes his seat near Ginny, an arm nonchalantly draped over his fiancée's shoulders.

"So, Hermione, how are things at Nimbus?"

Of course, I had written Harry to inform him that I was hired. The sputtering noises coming from Arthur and Molly tell me this was news that hadn't gone around the Weasley mill yet. Ginny seems to be in the know, and Ron keeps his rigid posture, except for some small muscles that twitch here and there.

"Very well, Harry. It's a very interesting job. I've never thought I would say this, but I'm interested in brooms now."

"You're testing brooms at Nimbus?"

I turn to the other side to answer Arthur.

"No. I don't even see a single broom the whole day. However, I read a lot about them. It's helpful in my job as a legal assistant."

From that moment on, the conversation runs smoothly for a quarter of an hour. Brooms are like cars for Muggles: they're a safe conversation topic. When said conversation starts to wane and the teapot to empty, I say to myself that it's time to go to the point of my visit.

"By the way, do you know that I'm organising a S.P.E.W. meeting on June 21st?"

My interlocutors' eyes become suddenly expressionless. Each wonders how to avoid what I'm going to ask.

"Well, no," Harry bravely answers me.

"I've already booked a hall on Diagon Alley, and I've drawn up a list of people I'd like to invite. I think Dobby would be very pleased if you'd come, Harry."

I've got him. Dobby has saved Harry several times; he can't refuse anything of the elf.

"Ah, without a doubt, if I'm not on duty that day."

I adopt a wounded expression, or at least I try. I must have succeeded, for he answers, "All right, Hermione. I will be there."

He must have reminisced our fourth year at Hogwarts when I had pestered the boys so much that they bought badges so that I would leave them in peace. He probably fears that I might ruin his engagement party. Quite rightly.

When I think back on that afternoon, I feel some understanding for Severus. It was so funny to bring Harry to consent to participate in the S.P.E.W. meeting. As for Ron, I hope he'll be full of muscle spasms tomorrow as a reward for remaining so straight and avoiding my eyes at any cost. I hope he'll feel as bad as I did when I felt him near me while I couldn't touch him, kiss him... There's no need to twist the knife in the wound. My present is named Severus, and my future is called single status, thanks to Ron and his submission to the YLC's verdict.

The good thing about that meeting is that I've got back in touch with Ginny. I could feel the warmth of our friendship being reborn. Oh, it won't be like before. I can't forget that she, too, submits to traditions of another age, but I can't live like a hermit all my life. What's more, if I want to change the way things are, I have to associate with people like her, so why not begin with someone who isn't too disagreeable? A thorough shopping session with Tonks and Ginny at the end of the month should put me on track. We even agreed, Ginny and I, to keep Molly away. She would force Ginny to buy a very chaste dress for her engagement party while she wanted something a tipsy Harry could remove easily.

In the end, when I don't think of Ron, life isn't that bad.

I hope that Hermione will be able to content herself with an omelette and buttered bread tonight. I lost all notion of time in the pages of Unknown and Untold Secrets of the Black Masses of the 17th Century that I tried to read while I was alone at home. There's no need to give my wife a way to blackmail me by flaunting a Dark Arts book around her. As a result, I nearly forgot to prepare dinner. Ah, I can hear her coming back. She needs exactly ten minutes to put down her purse, use the loo, wash her hands and sit down at the table, right in front of her freshly served plate. I'm really beginning to know her habits well.

"Good evening, Hermione. Did you have a good day?"

A broad smile plays across her lips, and her traits are rather serene tonight.

"I did. I saw Harry and Ginny, as well as Arthur, Molly and Ron."

I'd be curious to know how this charming reunion went and how seeing her ex-fiancé could have put her in such a cheerful mood. Did they decide to renew their relationship? If she imagines that sleeping with another man would drive me to ask for a divorce, she is gravely mistaken. I don't give a damn about what she does during the day. Yet, it would annoy me to no end to be ridiculed by an adulterous wife. Hmmm, there were some interesting curses in that book I was reading this afternoon; curses that make sure that your spouse is faithful. Well, I need to put my mind back on track and to carry on the current conversation.

"I thought that your relationship with those people was, I would say, cold."

"It's true, except for Harry. He has remained my friend. Well, I've made up with Ginny too. Arthur and Molly still don't know what to do with me, though I'm persuaded that Molly was tempted to blame me entirely for Ron's misfortune. As for Ron, he didn't say a word and was stiff as a board all the while I was at Harry's. He still isn't able to look me in the face."

I thought that hypocrisy was my specialty, but trust a Weasley female to evict me from my first place.

A shade of sadness tinges Hermione's voice as she verbally assesses the situation. Honestly, if Weasley doesn't want to fight to keep her, he doesn't deserve her. She shouldn't forget that.

"What an interesting company to keep on a Saturday afternoon. Would you have masochistic tendencies?"

Her expression is falsely shocked.

"Me? On the contrary, it was funny to see them all shifting in their seats, fearing a nasty comment from me, knowing that they'd have earned it."

Now, that's an interesting trait that I discover in my "sweetheart". I smirk between two mouthfuls of omelette.

"My dear, such malice in you? I can't believe what I'm hearing."

She sniggers and nearly spits out what's in her mouth. She launches into a tirade punctuated with movements of her fork.

"It's not like that. I've realised that I need them...and people like them...for my cause. By the way, I've convinced Harry to take part in the S.P.E.W. meeting next month. It's in my best interest to be friendly with them, at least partly. Before I forget, there's a possibility that Dobby or Winky could come by without notice from time to time to organise the meeting. You will be nice to them, won't you? It's also possible that Achilles (my astonished expression must have caught her attention)...you know, Achilles Acidoton? I'm his assistant...comes by once or twice. We're currently working on an important case, which will be submitted to the Wizengamot in June. We're not sure of managing to complete the file during our working time."

That's much inconvenience she's promising me. I feel that I've earned some compensation in exchange for my cooperation. Yes, that's it. You're not going to sleep early tonight, my dear.

We're reading together, or rather at the same time, in bed, as usual; except that today I put my book on my bedside table a little earlier than usual.

"Put your book away, Hermione," I say in a soft voice.

She's surprised, looks at me, and understands quickly what my intentions are.

What is it with his interrupting me? Damn! He wants some sex. And what about my book? At least I can count on him to give me pleasure. I sigh with exaggeration and put down my book.

"I know that I'm disturbing you, Hermione, but think of all the times I will be disturbed by your... acquaintances.

The bastard! That's why he was so conciliatory toward me earlier when I told him about the possible unannounced visits by Dobby and Winky. Oh, but he's already taken his ridiculous grey nightshirt off. Even my grandfather didn't wear such atrocities. I should buy him pyjamas, if only to see his face when I give them to him.

If only she would stop wearing those ridiculous flannel pyjamas, which are so difficult to take off! It'd make my life easier. At last, we're both naked. My sex is already stiff just by recalling its previous forays into my wife's so hot and feminine body, a body that moulds itself so perfectly with mine.

Who's interested in the condition of a man's teeth when said man kisses so well? His tongue against mine makes me forget that I have a brain while his hands on my back and my buttocks draw mysterious paths that have me shivering. Our entwined bodies rub against each other, and soon, a moan of pleasure escapes my lips.

How much I like when she moans, when she lets me know that, against her will, I have power over her. I feel like I could ask anything of her in these moments and that she would grant it to me. Ah, her fingers scratch my nipples. It never fails to make me impatient. I turn her on her back to... Crack!

Oh, no! Crookshanks has dropped a phial once more. Yet I've told Severus not to leave his phials on the sink after he's washed them.

Severus lets me go, a promise of what's waiting for me upon my return in his eyes. I don a dressing gown and go downstairs. While crossing the lounge on my way to the kitchen, I catch sight of the last issue of Potions Today on the coffee table, still opened at the page of an article on the possibility of using a Transfigured cauldron to brew a potion. That debate must be more ancient than Merlin himself, but it still keeps the wizarding world interested. I read the first lines of the article, just to have an idea about its content. I even stay standing so that I won't be tempted to read it until the end.

What is she doing? She's been gone for ten minutes. I don't hear a sound. Did that stupid animal hurt her?

I don't have a choice; I have to go downstairs. As it is, my erection is downstairs as well. With my nightshirt back on me and my wand in hand, I reach the bottom of the staircase, looking at Hermione reading my magazine. She dumped me for a magazine! I see red. A wand movement and the magazine is back in its place on the coffee table. She starts and takes on a fearful expression in the face of the anger that can probably be seen on my face.

Oh, oh. He doesn't wish me well.

"No, it's not like that; not at all. But, you see, there was that article..."

"Silence! You come back to bed immediately."

"But... my cat..."

I explode.

"You may think that a magazine is more important than your cat, but I dare hope that you consider your husband even more important."

She comes to me, even though her manner screams her desire to find herself as far from here as possible.

He catches me by my wrist as soon as I am within his range and drags me to the bedroom. Hmmm, it reminds me of our first time together. He literally rips my dressing gown off me before he throws me on the bed. He waves his wand and I feel my wrists being bound to the bed head. He takes his nightshirt off and comes near the bed.

"I am sorry, Mrs Snape," he says so very insincerely, "but it seems that I don't have any other means to make you appreciate the conjugal bed tonight."

She makes a pretty picture like that, bound to my bed in a position that enhances her vulnerability. My erection springs back to life at this sight.

He has a hard-on by seeing me at his mercy! I wriggle a bit, but there's nothing I can do; I'm too well attached. He masturbates and looks at me greedily. At last, he kneels at the edge of the bed and starts to caress my whole body, slowly, not leaving out any inch of my skin. He turns me around...without detaching me, though. It's impossible to resist. In less than a quarter of an hour, my body has surrendered to his attentions.

She has at last submitted. I will be able to put my mouth on her from now on. First a kiss on her mouth, then my lips, my teeth and my tongue go and instil their magic into her skin. I'm intoxicated by the salty taste of her sweat, and, if I may say so, her breasts are carefully laved. I go on my way until her crotch where I savour her dampness. I nibble at her clitoris and her nether lips before I kiss her sex as I would her mouth. Within less than two minutes, Hermione cries out her pleasure.

Why is he so gifted? All right, I don't have that much pleasure each time. I can say that I could sometimes do without sex, but tonight, he has surpassed himself. I've just experienced one of the most violent orgasms of my life. Why does this happen when I'm in a weak position? And oooooh, he penetrates me. I'd like so much that he untied me. Ah, I feel I'm losing any ability I might have to think coherently.

It's so good to be inside her. She didn't even realise that teasing her like I did only increases my desire to be here at last. I think I can untie her now. At once, her hands fly to my back and my buttocks; I will bear the marks of her claws, but I don't care. I make sure to reach her G-point each time I push into her. She cries and cries so much that her voice goes hoarse. What a beautiful tribute to my performance! I can feel her orgasm, even more violent than the previous one, if her expression is any indication. Mine, too, is coming, and it's more and more pressing, and it's here. For the first time in years, I shout while ejaculating.