Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

The gentle, but insistent rap of knuckles against his supply room door did not deter him from reshelving ingredients. Snape pulled the pocket watch from his coat; he had an hour or so before he was to escort Miss Granger to her first appointment with Dr. Morelay.

"Madam Umbridge," he acknowledged, his back still towards her.

Her slight inhalation of breath made him smirk. The stench of the overly floral body oil she preferred made her presence known to him the minute she passed through the threshold into his classroom.

"Professor Snape, might we have the time to finish our conversation so rudely aborted earlier?" The low pitch of her voice and the barest hint of desire had him repressing a shudder of revulsion.

The board had been set. Dumbledore ensured the pawns were in place, black or white; it mattered not the game had commenced, he thought bitterly.

He turned, the sweeping of his robes adding to the carriage of elegance and air of superiority, an image he painstakingly cultivated over decades. The pauper Prince, a half-blood, possessing an intellectual depth and cunning his masters delighted in. A spy, of whom each assumed, erroneously, could be bought. One stroking the ego of a man's baser instincts, the other through, more benign tactics, guilt, a once well-played trump card; both prized the ruthlessness and efficiency for which their most valued spy undertook in the less than savory tasks foisted upon him. Snape had not survived nearly twenty years without having learned to deftly play both sides against the middle.

His black eyes leisurely dragged over her squat form. He grinned, as if the cat had stolen the cream, a predatory gleam in his eyes enjoying the flush of pink coloring her dull complexion. He absolutely savored the quickening of her heartbeat and the sudden hitch of her breath.

"I've the time," he spoke low as Umbridge pitched herself forward to catch his words. He moved toward her a step, deliberately, brushing his body against hers. He reached out to gently steady her, his hand accidently grazing her breast.

"My apologies," he murmured with downcast eyes as he presented the perfect picture of contrition.

Snape fingered the coarse fabric of Umbridge's blazer before letting go of her. "Please," he said with a nod, to have her precede him into his classroom.

"Perhaps this conversation is best finished somewhere more..." Umbridge glanced around her surroundings.

"Private," he practically purred, finishing her thought.

"Yes," she moaned as her stubby, pink-polished manicured hand grasped his forearm, stroking the Dark Mark hidden underneath his voluminous robes.

"I would hate to be..."

A finger placed against her lips, he silenced the woman. "Walls have ears, and the portraits have tongues that wag," he said softly.

The whore couriering unappetizing favors for clout. So eager to drop her knickers, he all but sneered to himself. Yes, please come closer; I shall forfeit my body for the price of your life.

The nearness of him and the moisture of his breath against her skin caused a prickle of gooseflesh to break out over her body. Dumbly, Umbridge nodded, willing to follow wherever he might lead.

Snape chuckled, deep and rich; she was pliant in his embrace as he backed her against the nearest desk. He was keenly aware that his attractiveness was questionable in the eyes of most women. He certainly was not pretty or handsome by Malfoy standards, but the mere imposition of his physical dominance, which exuded masculinity, proclaimed him a wizard to be reckoned with. He was a draw to those seeking to taste the darkness.

Her nails spastically dug into his Dark Mark; she was panting, a bitch in heat.

Snape watched her hand trail lower, and Umbridge grasped him none too gently, flashing him a lascivious grin.

Let's see if he can rise to the occasion. Oh, yes there is certainly potential, Dolores thought.

He quirked an eyebrow. "My brother is not yet cold," he stated matter-of-factly.

"A woman has needs," Umbridge replied.

If coquettishness was a NEWT to be passed, the professor in Severus was sorely tempted to grade Umbridge's poorly executed ploy at seduction a 'T.'

"Yes," he said, the single syllable filled with heated promise. Yes, my dear, and I too have needs. Such dark and delicious desires; how my ecstasy will bring you agony!

Smiling at her supposed success, she purred, "You have influence, His ear and trust." She began to fondle him now, in earnest.

Quid pro quo, he thought, the allure of absolute power, how deliciously corruptive. Snape pressed against her more firmly, his nimble fingers undoing the mother-of-pearl buttons on her cardigan. The silk primrose-colored scarf was unknotted from her meaty neck, creases indenting the flesh.

Cliodhna and Niamh had been cruel. That thought filled Snape with a malicious glee.

Her breathing quickened as his fingers deliberately wrapped themselves around her throat, squeezing, a small amount of pressure applied. It would be so easy just to... His thoughts were black. With a rough jerk, Snape forced her eyes to meet his. He smelled her arousal, dampened by uncertainty and fear.

He likes it rough; just as well since every woman deserves a good bedding, she thought.

"In exchange for...?" he questioned, the pad of his thumb tracing the length of her neck.

"I should think that would be obvious," Umbridge said as she gasped at his touch.

"I have never had want of a willing witch to warm my bed," he said smugly. "In fact, my touch is most welcomed."

"Yaxley was never one to take his time. A woman enjoys a bit of foreplay, being touched." She moved his hand to the hem of her skirt.

Touch me! Merlin, please! She wanted to scream.

"No," Snape bit out, denying Umbridge such basic tactile comfort.

She sputtered, frustrated and not amused by the loss of leverage in their game. "You would deny me?" Flummoxed that he would refuse her offer, she added, "I thought Knockturn Alley would have lost its appeal by now."

Nonplussed, he put distance between them as he said, "It's a foolish witch who pries where she ought not."

And it's a foolish witch who believes she has long to live, he silently added.

"I forget," Umbridge said, like a shark scenting blood, going in for the kill. "You have a taste for Mu..."

"I would have a care with my words if I were you," Snape hissed, the threat implicit in his softly spoken words.

"Statement of fact, options will be limited once the Ministry passes the C.O.U.R.T. mandates..." She let that thought linger.

I would rather live the remainder of my life a eunuch, Severus contemplated in all seriousness.

"Dolores," he tutted, "poor, misguided, Dolores."

For the first time, she felt real fear. "You honestly believe I fucking care about the lives of a few Mudbloods?"

He cannot harm me, Umbridge thought as she took a deep breath. I am Dolores Umbridge, Ministry Official. She repeated the mantra over and over to herself.

She started to move away, but he pounced. She was yanked towards him; her wand was in his hand, the heft of his body restraining her movement. "Oh no, my dear; you've started this game, and I intend to finish it."

He was in her mind, her emotions running high, anxiety, fear, need. He caught flashes of memories; her frenetic state made it next to impossible to discern time and place.

Snape withdrew from her mind. "Our association," he whispered, his nose brushing the shell of her ear, "is not one of turns. You will do what I say because I demand it," he growled. "Are we clear?"

He took her head, forcing it to nod up and down as he said, "Yes?"

How I could snap your neck with one swift jerk, but I need you alive... for now.

This caused Umbridge to tremble. "If I want you on your knees," he said as he pushed her into a kneeling position, "sucking my cock, you will do it."

Umbridge's stubby fingers went to the placket of his trousers.

"You will not touch me," he snarled, batting her hands away from his trousers.

As if bored, he pulled out his pocket watch, glancing at the time. "I must take my leave," Snape said as he carelessly tossed a handkerchief on the ground. "Do clean up. You are beginning to drip on my floor." In a flourish of robes, he left the woman on his classroom floor.

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A/N: Thanks to all my readers/reviewers, and my beta Lyn.