What He Wants

Disclaimers and shit: Never had it... Never will.


******

Severus Snape watched as the girl of his dreams passed by as he hid in the shadows of the corridor. The mere sight of her made his gut clinch with an unbridled desire that he had never before encountered.

It was a desire he had long since lost hope of ever obtaining, until she came along.

The idea of seducing her had become most appealing, an idea that he had every intention of following through with until drawing to the inevitable conclusion of her in his bed.

Not that he intended for it to end there.

The Fates willing, he would make her his for all time. She would be his, and for the first time in his life, he would devote himself to the well being of another - voluntarily. Nothing would stand in his way, even Albus Dumbledore himself would not keep him from obtaining her heart.

He had even gone as far as telling the old man of his intentions, as well as others that might object otherwise, making it clear that nothing short of death, or a true lack of desire on her part, would stand against him.

He supposed under the circumstances Albus had little choice to comply, seeing how he had threatened to go as far as quit his job to pursue her... now.

She was to be his payment for services rendered, though he would never tell her such a thing. He actually respected her far too much to let such an archaic idea spill from his lips in her presence. It was more about the right to make the attempt of winning her heart, as he had no intentions of forcing himself on her.

This was hardly an issue though, if he'd managed to read her at all correctly. There was definitely an interest on her part, and the growing 'tension' between them seemed to indicate that she would respond favorably to his advances.

Discretion had been Albus' only concession, and if Severus Snape was anything, he was discreet.

Not that he really cared one way or the other. He'd just as soon stand atop the highest tower of the castle and declare that she was his, should he manage to secure a relationship with her that is. And Merlin help any male that would threaten to take her away from him once he did.

He followed her through the hallway surreptitiously, keeping to the shadows and at a respectable distance to avoid discovery before he was ready to make himself known.

She was with her compatriots, Weasley and Potter, two flies in what would be an otherwise flawless ointment. However, he had no problem taking on the Boy-Who-Still-Proved-To-Be-A Thorn-In-His-Side, or his hapless redheaded sidekick. He figured of the two, Weasley would be his strongest competition. Though, he didn't see him as much competition to be sure. He was certain the boy was besotted with her, but she either failed to notice, or ignored the fact altogether.

Of course, Weasley had given her good reason to ignore any advances he might attempt. Severus had been there when she had finally let go of her own interests in him, and it had not been pretty.

He drew himself closer to the trio, putting to use the skills he had developed during his years as a spy, to see if he could catch a snippet of their conversation.

"...I like to spend time with him that's why," he heard her say, no doubt to Weasley.

"Honestly 'Mione, I just don't get what you see in the git. He's rude, ugly, and just plain unple..."

She cut Weasley off with an irritated glare, though he was pleased to note that they both winced when the boy used that horrid nickname.

"That's quite enough Ron. You have no idea about the man. You have chosen to stay mired down by childhood prejudices, and quite frankly, I'm over it," she said, her tone low, but Severus' sensitive ears picking up the deadly, seething quality behind it.

"I'll never understand for the life of me why you keep defending him," Ron whined, making Severus desperate to smack the boy. He wondered briefly how Hermione managed to keep from doing it herself.

"Drop it, Ron. All you're gonna do is have her off, and you know what she's like when she's mad," Potter said, as he pulled Hermione out from between them and effectively away from Weasley.

"You're getting as bad as she is, Harry. I swear you'll be defending the git next," the redhead sulked, sounding more and more like a petulant child, thus making Severus' plan to lure her from the group that much easier to accomplish.

"Yeah, well, you're being a prat," Potter retorted sagely, as he shouldered the other boy roughly to make his point.

Severus took several long strides so that he could catch up to them, deciding that this would be an ideal time to make his move. He stopped himself just behind Hermione, almost close enough to reach out and touch her if he so desired.

Not yet... get her alone, then ravish her.

"Well, well," he drawled smoothly as he arranged his features into his most derisive of sneers. "Seems I have found exactly the person I seek."

The three turned as one, almost perfect in their synchronization of movement. Weasley shot him a look of utter him disdain, which he dismissed absently.

"Professor Snape," this from Hermione, "how may we be of service?" she asked, affecting a warm tone and a smile to match.

"Actually, Miss Granger," he replied, "it is only your company I seek at the moment."

He delivered this in a seductive tone and emphasized the word 'company' in a way that made the Weasley boy bristle indigently on his friend's behalf.

"And what exactly do you want with her, Snape," Weasley spat, not bothering to hide his ire one iota.

Foolish chit.

"That is hardly any of your business, Mr. Weasley. However, Miss Granger is free to decline my... invitation, if she sees fit," he said, his tone softening perceptibly when he mentioned her name, his eyes never leaving hers.

Severus felt it was unlikely that she would decline as she had sought him out on more than one occasion in an effort to find more stimulating conversation. He could hardly see the difference in him seeking her out under a similar pretense. Besides, how much longer could she possibly stand the company of such ignorant boys when he presented her openly with an opportunity to do otherwise?

"Actually, Professor, I had planned on coming to see you anyway. I was hoping you might indulge my curiosity regarding the book you loaned me last week," she said her grin turning more genuine as she broke away from her friends. "So, I suppose your most gracious invitation coincides with my original plans."

It was true enough that he had loaned her a book, as he had taken the habit of doing over the last few months of their fledgling friendship. And indulging her curiosity had defiantly become one of his favorite past times.

"I assure you, nothing would give me greater pleasure, Hermione," he purred, and enjoyed the startled glances that transpired between the boys as her given name fell from his lips like a soft caress.

It was evident that of her two friends, Weasley did not much care for his behavior. Potter however... Well, he and Potter had already had a conversation regarding his friendship with Hermione.

"I thought you were going to hang out with us," Weasley directed at her, pulling at her arm to keep her from getting any closer to him.

"Why?" she asked as she shook the boy off, "so I can sit around and listen to you two talk about Quidditch? Not exactly my idea of a fun evening you know."

"Oh, like spending the evening with him is going to be a barrel of laughs," Weasley retorted hotly, his temper starting to get the better of him.

"You might be surprised," she said, with a hint of mischief.

The look on Weasley's face was priceless.

Severus offered her the crook of his arm and smirked smugly when she took it readily.

"Clearly, the lady has made her choice, Mr. Weasley," he said, not bothering to hide the triumph from his tone over the fact that she was choosing to spend her time with him instead.

He led her away from her stunned and confused friends, though he did have to give Potter some credit for keeping his mouth shut during the encounter.

Which reminded him...

"Oh, and Mr. Weasley, ten points from Gryffindor for your lack of respect for my position as a Professor of this school," he tossed causally over his shoulder, much to the redhead's dismay.

It did his cold, black heart good to hear the boy sputter, then curse at his misfortune.

Now... on to better things.

They rounded the corridor, and found themselves in a relatively deserted hallway, the sound of their footfalls echoing lightly across the stone.

"I don't know why I let you do that," she said after a few moments of silence, though her tone suggested otherwise.

"As if you have any say in how I conduct myself," he replied haughtily.

She chuckled lightly at that. "True, but I fail to see why you take such perverse pleasure in tormenting them so."

His lips twitched as they threatened to smile. "Simple, because they allow it. Weasley was practically radiating impotency at his inability to bend you to his will. How could I resist such a tempting target?"

"And I suppose your acting more like a solicitous male rather than my Potions professor was too much to resist as well?" she queried.

It was tempting to shove her against the wall, and show her the exact meaning of the words 'solicitous male', but he restrained the urge with great effort.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it was," he said with a sly grin.

Albus would be proud, he thought dryly.

However... her comment did hit the crux of the matter he so desperately wanted to discuss with her, and he found the words falling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Are you and Mr. Weasley becoming more serious?"

Of course he had no problem taking her away from the boy, if it were true. And it would be just like him to suddenly start taking interest in her now that she had finally decided to let him go.

"Hardly," she replied with a snort. "Not that he seems to know this. I can assure you he is back in the common room now simply fuming over what might be going on between us." She shot him a speculative glance, then added a little too quickly, "Not that there is anything going on between us."

"You say that as though you would oppose such a prospect," he replied blandly, trying his best not to sound hurt by the idea that she might be.

He knew that it was a possibility, and he could even understand if she was only interested in being his friend. He was even consigned to the idea that if that were all she wanted, then that would be more than he really deserved, no matter what he had told Albus to the contrary.

She shot him another sidelong glance. "And you say that as though you are not," she replied ponderingly.

He turned his head enough to meet her gaze directly. "I have learned not to dismiss possibilities, Miss Granger." The space between them came to life with that ill-defined tension, and he found himself tearing away from the warm depths of her eyes. "No matter how unlikely," he added after a moment.

"I would say less unlikely, and more unexpected, Professor," she said in a breathy half whisper after a heartbeat of silence.

The pitfalls of being understated hit him full on at that. It never occurred to him that she might not have a clue as to how he felt about her. Though not a demonstrative man by any stretch of the imagination, he thought he had managed to make himself clear on the subject.

Perhaps now would be a good time to rectify that.

He whirled her around, and pushed her into a niche easily overlooked by passers-by. The suddenness of the movement left her apparently breathless and more than a bit wide-eyed.

"Then allow me to make things perfectly clear for you, Hermione," he murmured, as he took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger.

He descended his head towards hers with a slow, deliberate action, making sure she had plenty of time to object to what he was about to do, should she choose.

She seemed too stunned to comprehend though, and he found himself hesitating mere centimeters from the place he most wanted to be.

"You understand what I am about to do don't you?" he asked as he, once again, met her eyes.

She visibly swallowed, then nodded her head, apparently unable to find her voice on the matter.

"Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head.

He closed the space between them and brushed his lips lightly across hers, caressing though not really kissing them.

"So soft," he murmured, not really realizing he had giving voice to the sensations that pounded against his brain. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Hermione?"

It was, of course, a rhetorical question, and one she seemed incapable of answering anyway.

He had to taste her though, a need that burned deep and sent tendrils of fire into the cold, black places that hid in his heart, igniting them until they burned away like flash paper.

He took her mouth, all at once unfathomable and impassioned, as his tongue slid lazily into her warm, moist depths. She tasted of heaven and earth, and everything in between, and he swallowed the gasps that emanated from her greedily. His belly flip-flopped in appreciation against the confines of his abdomen, even as it grumbled for more of her sweetness.

The urge to devastate her senses, as much as she had undone his, was profound, and he found himself pressing his hardened angles against her yielding curves. He pulled her away from the wall, and more firmly against him, needing to feel as much of her body as possible.

She clutched at his robes desperately, as though they were the only thing keeping her upright, and it occurred to him that they very well may be. The idea that he had rendered her weak-kneed fueled his desire, his very body throbbing with it. He pressed the most aching part of that throb against her hip and felt her stiffen in his arms as a result.

Not quite the reaction he was hoping for, then it occurred to him that she might be innocent to such things, and for a moment, the urge to take her right then and there was powerful.

"No," he breathed, but it was self-directed.

He pushed her away gently but kept a firm grip on her arms to keep her from stumbling. He rested his forehead against her and used all of his formidable control to get a hold of himself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered back, her breathing still coming in shallow pants.

"Whatever for?" he panted back, then it hit him that she may have taking his previous statement the wrong way.

She looked away from him, her embarrassment evident in her shinning eyes. He took her chin again and made her look back.

"It wasn't what you were expecting, was it?" she asked, her kiss-swollen lips trembling slightly.

"No. It wasn't," he answered truthfully, "it was far greater than anything I had imagined." This was the truth as well. "It just occurred to me that this was your... first kiss. Was it not?"

"Yes, yes it was actually," she responded. "Though I was thinking that... perhaps you thought it was terrible."

He cupped the sides of her face with both hands and pushed her back against the wall, his dark eyes glittering at the idea that she was worried about disappointing him.

"I can assure you, Hermione," he said, caressing her bottom lip with his thumb, "that is the furthest thing from the truth. There is nothing wrong with your... technique." He brushed his lips to hers to prove his statement. "A good kiss is more about the person you are kissing and less about the mechanics involved." And he kissed her again lightly. "I could kiss you for ages," he heatedly whispered against her mouth.

He had to stop this. As much as he wanted her, he had not considered the fact that she might be untouched in this way. It was a heady idea that he could be her first, and last if he had any say at all. But he needed time to process this new information about her, and taking her against a wall was in no way the proper approach to de-flower the woman he cherished.

He kissed her once more, and though not quite as drawn out as their first kiss, it held no less passion.

"You need to go back to your rooms now, Hermione," he said, his tone lacking the silken quality that normally defined it. Instead, it was thick, and roughened, exposed by the longing that welled deep within him.

He could see she wanted to protest this, and shushed her before she could talk him out of the decision.

"Please, Hermione," he begged, "you must go now, before I do something unforgivable."

She still looked as though she wanted to protest, so he took her hand and placed it against the persistent bulge of his erection. He squeezed her hand to it briefly, just to revel in her touch for a moment.

"You understand this do you not?" he asked though clinched teeth, grinding his hardness against her palm to emphasize. "This is what you do to me. Understand?"

"Y-Yes," she stuttered, though she did not try to pull her hand away and even had the nerve to squeeze him again on her own.

He hissed in an effort not to groan and yanked her hand away quickly before she could do it again.

"Then you understand why we cannot spend the rest of the evening together. I will not take you on a whim, not your first time."

"But..." she started, before he cut her off with a quick kiss.

"Not yet," he assured her when he pushed himself away from her. "But soon, I promise you. I want you Hermione, as in, for always. Make sure that is what you want as well."

Another quick, yet devastating kiss later, and he was gone from her, leaving her alone in the small alcove and thoroughly confused.

*********


Hermione made it back to her rooms in record time, no small wonder seeing that she ran all the way there. Luckily, there had been no witnesses to her crazy dash through the castle, and now she was safe in the confines of her bedroom. She thanked God briefly for the fact that she had her own set of rooms, being Head Girl and all.

Her mind reeled as she went over the events that had prompted her unusual sprint, even as her heart beat wildly within the confines of her chest. And certainly not just from the run either.

He had kissed her. Thoroughly, and repeatedly. It had been like a dream come true. Granted, a hot, sweaty, awake the rest of the night kind of dream.

God, but that man could kiss.

How could such a snarky, evil, bastard kiss that good.

She liked him well enough to be sure, was even outrageously attracted to him, but she held no disillusions as to his reigning personality whatsoever.

In spite of the fact that his attitude towards her had become markedly kinder as of late, it was still unexpected.

And he wanted her, of all people.

He wanted her for always. It was a hard concept to digest. Not that she didn't hold a good deal of fascination for him as well, because she did, but she never thought he could want her on the level he obviously did.

She quivered still at the way he had felt in her hand, all hot, hard, (though she was admittedly naive to such things as a rule, she was aware of the basic facts of sex, and knew the difference between flaccid and erect.) and pulsing against her palm. Admittedly, she had been quite shocked by such a blatant move at first, then intrigued that she was responsible for the condition.

It was heady knowledge.


Now that her brain had recovered from the hormone driven fog he had placed on her, she could admit that it was wise that he had sent her away. She held little doubt that if he hadn't, she would be in his bed by now. The thought was hardly unappealing, but with the complications of his feelings, it definitely required more... deliberation.

The only foreseeable problem was the fact that tomorrow was double potions, and there was a good chance she would have to deal directly with one Severus Snape.


tbc