Beneath the Surface

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend the Captain^_~. She is an awesome and funny person, as well as a very special one out of the many amazing people out there who really inspire me to write this stuff just by appreciating it so much. So, here\'s my attempt at a decent, albeit late, ‘Happy holidays\' and ‘thank you\' to a very worthwhile and entertaining person. Thanx much, Cap\'n^_^!

A/N: This is very irritating to have to write down in my story, but almost everyone who reviewed this chapter thus far has not understood that the woman introduced herein and Severus ARE NOT GOING TO END UP TOGETHER!!!!! I had thought I\'d explained it clearly enough in this chapter, but for anyone who still misses it, I\'m saying here and now that though this female character may harbor some deep affections for Severus, he does not return them. Also, she does not have an \'agenda\' where Severus is concerned. She loves and cares for him as a dear friend. The main reason I wanted to write what I\'ve written below was to give my readers a small glimpse of Severus\' sexual tastes and experience. I wanted to let the dude have a little fun that he couldn\'t yet enjoy with our young protegee;D.

P.s.: yes, I am more than well aware of what a...strange chapter I\'ve chosen to dedicate to a good friend of mine. It\'s the thought, peopleO_o.

P.p.s.: ff.net is a buttXP. They won\'t let me update there for a while because they say my default chapter was immoral in some way. Honestly! Rule of humanity, folks: the more something is forbidden from a person, the further lengths they will go to discover it. (aff is SO much cooler for these reasons; should\'ve gone here a long time ago. Ah, but I am lazy and forgetfulO_x). So, if people just told life like it is, I can guarantee you all that there wouldn\'t be half so many problems in the world, namely the U.S.A.! Oy...I get kind of frustrated, hehe^^;. Okay, enough politics and the like from me; on with the story^_^:

Beneath the Surface

Chapter the Ninthe: Holiday Heat In Parallel


Now that he was transiently free of the endless parade of students that constantly flowed in and out of his world like sea shells on a beach, Severus Snape could go about his business undisturbed by the restrictions his occupation placed upon his time. Instead of being trapped in the dungeons every night, he was able to venture off to any destination he pleased when his now accustomed insomnia plagued him. As his days were no longer structured by his teaching schedule, he could laze about in his rooms during the sunlit hours, devouring lengthy tome after ancient novel that he hadn\'t gotten around to absorbing during the school year or working for hours on end to improve this elixir or to create that concoction in his privpotipotions lab. Though he spent not a moment languishing outside under the warm summer sun, he cherished the season for the unequivocal freedom it offered him.

So it was strange to him how, for the first time in the long decade he\'d served as a Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he wasn\'t really enjoying thmmermmer holidays at all; in fact, he didn\'t seem to be even present in his body for the majority of the time. Though it wasn\'t unusual that he spent most of his time alone in his dungeon chambers even during his free time, his excursions into the outside world were even rarer than during the school year. When he came out of an extensive mental reverie, he absently took note of his strange behavior, but did not make any effort to change it. He had given up on attempting to understanding himself long ago; he just *was*, as far as he was concerned. And what he was, was inescapably deranged. Enough said.

The only thing he was fully conscious of was that he was unconsciously trying not to think about something that was particularly disturbing to him, and his mind was rejecting the image with such fervor that it was working overtime to distract him with everything and anything to keep him from mental wakefulness.

The only feeling Snape could manage tedgeedge from his being was of a profound gratefulness that, as he usually did when in the throes of personal alienation, he was not resorting to any and all forms of debauchery and self-destruction to shatter shards of his detachment from reality by seeking out the worst of it.

Thus, the first half of the summer passed quickly, each day a blur that was indistinguishable from the next.
It was during one fine, sunshiny summer day, in the midst of his disconnected turmoil, that Severus Snape managed to detect and actively decipher a distinct sensation. It had been a while since this particular need had overtaken his senses, due more to exhaustion and preoccupation than anything else, but its discovery was neither shocking nor disturbing to him.

Lust was a fickle friend to Severus Snape, indeed.

He supposed that a brief sojourn to the pleasure quarters of Knockturn Alley wouldn\'t be entirely intolerable. It had been rather a long time since he\'d last visited the Alley (not since the Christmas Holidays, he believed), and as he stealthily slipped from his dungeon lair and through the grounds of Hogwarts, he felt his heart quicken in a sort of anticipatory excitement that he hadn\'t experienced in quite some time, and he knew it was not only from the effects of his apparation.

~*~

Hermione Granger\'s summer holidays had been spent in much the same way as her Potions Professor\'s, though she had no way of knowing it. She had been so long out of touch with the few Muggle friends she had that to telephone them with the intention of getting together would be rather awkward for her. Plus, she didn\'t know what they\'d find to talk about now that she was a practicing witch, and much preferred that way of life over the one that had so alienated her in all her years before discovering her chosen path.

But even if the chance to reminisce with old friends did come along, Hermione was the type of person who preferred the controlled and purely one-sided exchange where knowledge was given freely and unguardedly in the open pages of a book, rather than gleaned with much more difficulty and obsequiousness from the often inferioman man sources of it.

And so she spent her entire holiday holed up in her small and dusty bedroom, alone day in and day outr onr only companions the many books of both fact and fiction that lined her shelves. Hermione\'s favorite thing to do in the world was read, for it was only within the world of literature that she could experience such intense feelings as hope, faith, anguish and passion.

Hermione read to know how to live, how to change, how to struggle, and, most of all, to escape from her own feelings, for she simply did not know how to deal with such things when they were inspired by herself rather than lived vicariously through a book. And so she remained in her room all summer, losingselfself in the endless pages and volumes.

Though her parents wondered at her increasing isolation from the world outside their comfortable, suburban home, they were not worried by it, nor did they attempt to draw her out of her room. They knew how intelligent Hermione was, and they trusted any decision she might make for herself. Also, the Grangers, though a very friendly and congenial couple, were not exceedingly open nor liberal with their feelings.

Hermione knew that she was indeed loved and cared for, but she had never been attached to her parents in the way that a child normally was. She\'d had no problems adjusting to being without them when she went off to school; in fact, when she\'d first gone to pre-school, it wasn\'t at all difficult to cope with their separation. For Hermione Granger had always felt separated from her family, since as long as she could remember.

Sometimes she wondered why her mother and father had even wanted a child in the first place, though she was not sad in pondering this. It arose from watching her parents with their younger patients (they were both dentists; practically the same person in every way, Hermione noted); they were kind and gentle with them, but of course a rather impenetrable barrier existed between doctor and patient that prevented personal attachments from forming between themselves and the children. This was just how Hermione\'s relationship was with her parents. They could have accidentally taken home another child from work in her place and not have noticed the difference for quite some time, Hermione thought almost jokingly.

And this was precisely why she was still so troubled by her last meeting with Professor Snape. Never, not in all her young life, had someone ever given so much of themselves to her so openly, nor had anyone thrown so many differing emotions at her so unabashedly. The entire experience was positively confounding! She simply didn\'t know what to make of it, or him. What was one to do when another all but forcibly pulled her into the deepest rses ses of their mind and then tossed her back out on her own without a thought? It was all just so confusing, so infuriating, so...addictive.

At least it had the capacity to be such. This frightened poor Hermione so much that she came to fairly dread having to see her baffling Potions Professor again; unfortunately for her, their reunion was inevitable. And as summer\'s end drew nearer and nearer, her panic over returning to school (something she\'d never even considered feeling) began to reach a fever pitch within her, and her stomach roiled with apprehension as her mind roared with fear. She had to figure out a way to get through this, or she would have some sort of a nervous—

‘Oh! I haven\'t read this book in ages. ‘Beautiful Joe\'. Perfect...\'.

~*~

Severus Snape nearly smiled when a shudder of relief ran through and relaxed his tense body; Madam Min\'s House of Mirth was just in sight now. It was a deceptively simple building on the outside, being constructed of dark wood and built in the shape of a large, sturdy square, but within, the House of Mirth was disarmingly elegant and refined.

The lower level contained a vast dining room, which was reminiscent of that of a Victorian chateau, decorated in luxurious shades of azure and gold. This room was connected by ceiling-high slide-away doors to an equally large and opulent parlor, done in lurid shades of deep red, that had numerous comfortable divans and sofas and was constantly illuminated by candelabra, which lent it an amorous glow. The upper level of the House was solely devoted to the private consummation of the attachments made downstairs, and had many small yet sumptuous rooms, all painted in various shades of a different yet single color scheme, for these purposes.
Severus preferred the violet, himself.

He\'d chosen an elegant black suit for this outing that was reminiscent of the Edwardian fashions. Though it was not overly tight, it fit him very well and showed off his strong yet slender structure. Over his clothes he wore a long, well-cut frock-coat (black, of course). He\'d decided to forego wearing a hat, as the temperature outside was simply too oppressive for it. One would wonder how he could be comfortable in all his layers in such heat, but he\'d always had very low blood pressure and found himself almost always cold.

As he entered the house, he was greeted by the robust and radiant Madam Min herself, along with a bevy of her stunning, live-in charges. They fussed and fawned over him, exclamations of ‘Mister Snape, how wonderful to see you again!\', ‘it\'s been so long!\' and ‘how we\'ve missed you!\' ringing in his ears as they fluttered around him. He favored them with an appreciative, closed-lipped smile and a courtly bow, at which they giggled flirtatiously.

\"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I can see that it finds you very well indeed,\" he said suggestively in his silkiest tone of voice. Not one of his audience was unaffected by its power. \"It is sheer heaven to see you again.\"

And, after giving one last coy smile to his coquettish admirers, he moved smoothly into the parlor room. His eyes darted about the room calmly as he searched for the reason for his return to this urbane place of debauchery. As he found her reclining languidly on an ornate chaise, his eyes became sharp and seemed lit from within by a predatory gleam. She was resplendent in a full-length yet form-fitting indigo, gauzy dress. It was sleeveless and had a daring, yet not obscene, low neckline, and the flowing tendrils of fabric that hung from its thick straps and ran down the back and skirt lent the already beautiful lady an ethereal quality. She was absolutely breathtaking. Snape smiled secretively to himself and settled against the far wall to quietly observe her.

Belladonna was half-heartedly arguing with a richly dressed, hopeful client, who had engaged her in the pretentious discussion about the meaning of the painting that hung over their heads (which was of a melancholy, childlike young woman sitting amidst a hoard of leering men; of the many people within it, only she looked directly at the viewer of the piece) when he sensed her intelligence. The silly man had it all wrong, and was clearly no match for Belladonna; that much was evident by her bored expression as she idly studied the people around her.

Severus loved that fierce yet playful cleverness of hers, more so than her physical beauty (which was considerable; Belladonna was a curvaceous 5\'7\", 138 pound woman who had long been one of the House of Mirth\'s main attractions. With her smoky grey eyes, long, waving red hair, and open, heart-shaped face, it was not hard to see why), but then, both were more appreciative of the inner qualities of another that enhanced their beings, rather than merely the outer. Severus had first met her several years ago, and since their first night together he\'d seen her almost exclusively (not solely though, of course). Their attraction was mutual, and they enjoyed each other\'s company immensely. They were friends first, sexual partners after (though always following). Severus went to her when he wanted more than just a physical exchange, he went to her when he wanted to communicate with another person as well. And she was a very good person to talk to; she was worldly, and her intelligence was not hindered by the scruples of their society.

She had a mysterious, content knowingness which rested deep in her eyes and a deathly certain smile that constantly curved her small, yet full, dred red lips that belied her brief span of 27 years in this world. Many would question why such a woman would be satisfied with her line of work, but satisfied Belladonna was.

Severus had come to believe that there were two distinct types of intelligent people in this world: those who used their minds to benefit their bodies, and those who *were* their minds and just carried their bodies along with them as a necessity. Severus was most definitely the latter sort, but he had discovered how to enjoy the pleasurable sensibilities of the former. And today, he had decided to be Belladonna\'s sort.

He stifled an amused snort as he continued to watch Belladonna from afar; the hopeless suitor was still attempting to interest her, but she remained remote, now twirling a strand of flaming hair in her delicate fingers, the nails of which matched the color of her lips. When her mascara-ed eyes finally raked over his general direction and then focused on him, she nearly did a double take. But the giddy, wide-eyed surprise was swiftly replaced by a schooled, seductive smile as he approached her. Severus returned her smile with a feral grin of his own that revealed his fang-like canines; it caused Belladonna to flutter her eyelashes prettily at him.

\"Miss LaBeau,\" he greeted her courteously, inclining his head as he gracefully extended a long hand to her. She accepted it a bit too eagerly, and turned apologetically to her now sulking admirer as she rose with Snape\'s help.

\"Forgive me, Mister Beatlebrow,\" she said, adeptly feigning sincerity. Hearing her clear, musical voice wash over his senses after having gone so long without it nearly made Severus lose his bearings and pull her tightly to him in a grateful embrace. Instead, he contented himself to merely hear her speak further. \"But we are old friends, Mister Snape and I, and haven\'t seen each other in so long. I do hope you\'ll come visit me again sometime; we simply must continue that..enlightening conversation about the painting.\"

The youngtlemtleman\'s sour face lit up with a beaming smile as Belladonna spoke to him, and he rose quickly to clasp her hand in his and kiss it while removing his hat and bowing deeply to her. His adulation was really quite overwhelming. When Belladonna looked awkwardly at Severus, he sighed and offered his hand to the young man, who shook it briefly.

\"Mr. Beatlebrow,\" Snape acknowledged him shortly.

\"Mr. Snape,\" the man returned, then swiftly turned back to Belladonna to gush and bow some more. Snape rolled his eyes in amusement; he had never been so impetuous as a youth, and could not understand what this boy expected to accomplish by such ridiculous behavior. Inclining his head politely to the other man, he gently took Belladonna\'s arm and led her away.

Beatlebrow was still genuflecting to his goddess as she and Snape exited the parlor in favor of their accustomed room (which had been swiftly vacated and tidied up by Madam Min\'s servants when Snape had arrived at the House). Severus nodded to familiar faces they passed on the way, and Belladonna gripped his arm warmly as she looked up at his face, which was trained into a cold, impenetrable mask. She smirked to herself, knowing that he wasn\'t always so stoic. She found it charming that he kept up such a harsh facade in public when he was so playful once one got to know him intimately.

\"Hello, Severus,\" she said in a low, affectionate tone.

\"Hello, Donna,\" he said softly without looking at her, but the corner of his mouth lifted nearly imperceptibly, and his features softened just as subtly. She knew this hint of a smile meant that he was pleased to see her, and she returned it indulgently, knowing that he could see her expression even without facing her. That was another of his mysterious ways. She squeezed his arm in a sudden burst of excitement.

\"It feels like it\'s been an age since I\'ve seen you last! What artharth have you been doing with yourself?\" she asked him genially, knowing he never responded to pleasantries or trivial conversation.

\"Nothing that needs doing, now that I\'m with you,\" he teased her in a dry tone. She slapped his arm with her free hand playfully. They were now standing before the threshold to their room for the evening.

\"Now, Severus, behave yourself. I\'ve missed you too much for you to make fun of me so callously.\" And here her expression became somewhat serious through her mischief. \"Truthfully, how have you been?\"

Severus finally faced her and looked into her eyes through lowered lids, his smirk softening. He delicately removed her hand from his arm so that he could open the door to their violet room.
\"Truthfully, I\'ve been in need of some companionship,\" he said tiredly, but again offered her that slight smile. \"Shall we?\"

He stood beside the entrance and extended a graceful arm, indicating that he wished her to precede him into the room. She smiled coyly at him before doing so, her hips swaying provocatively as she swished past him, consciously allowing the filmy fabric of her gown to brush against his torso. He rolled his eyes in mocking annoyance, smirking to himself at her blatant invitation.

Once inside, he closed and secured the door behind him, then leaned back against it and watched as Belladonna sat on the edge of the magnificent, four-poster canopy bed and removed her shoes. They were an elegant pair of silvery Greek sandals, and had strings that wound around her shapely calves up to her knee. She was making quite a show of taking them off, slowly untying and unwinding the strings before allowing them to slip from her dainty feet and onto the floor. Severus smirked again.

\"So, Donna, my dear,\" he said to her. \"How have you been? Truthfully.\" She favored him with a playful smile.

\"Oh, I\'ve been just ducky, darling. You know how it is here.\" She began to pout, raising her hands to undo the silver band that she had woven into her hair. The fiery tendrils of her hair tumbled around her shoulders and down her back attractively. \"But it\'s been so dull lately. No one interesting has come to call, no one even remotely distinguished. Just an endless parade of the same snotty, little rich toffs.\"

\"Oh, you poor, unfortunate creatures...Ow! Alright, I\'m sorry, just don\'t throw the other one!\" Severus pleaded, his arms raised to shield his face.

Belladonna chuckled melodiously and let her other shoe drop to the floor from her hand. Then she looked up into Severus\' dark eyes warmly, her own shining with longing. \"I\'ve missed you so much, Sev. It\'s not the same here without you.\"

Severus allowed his lips to curve upwards into an appreciative smile, but he lowered his head, his eyes downcast. He was quite fond of Belladonna, she was a wonderful, giving person, and he valued her friendship greatly; but he had never, not even in the beginning of their acquaintanceship, wanted anything more from her than what they already had. He did love her, but it was as a lonely soul loved one of the very few that had ever reached out to them. He knew she wantore ore than what he was willing to give her, and felt badly that he could not do so; but he simply couldn\'t bring himself to forsake her entirely. Both for her sake and his own.

Belladonna knew just what he felt for her, and what he could not; he didn\'t need to say anything for her to understand him, such was the depth of their relationship. She was used to feigning romantic feelings for her patrons; in fact, she had become a first-rate actor in the ways of love. Yet she found it very hard to affect the opposite emotions when she was with Severus. She accepted what they had, but she still hoped for more, if only in the furthest corners of her mind. She sighed softly without thinking, and then lowered her face so Severus couldn\'t see the feelings that she just couldn\'t hide, the ardent yearning for him burning there as naked and fragile as the flames of the candles which dimly illuminated the small room.

Snape pressed his eyelids together in regret; he had heard her lamentation, and he, too, could know what she was feeling without needing to see her face or hear her speak.

Being at a rare loss for words, Severus slowly drew closer to Belladonna until he was standing before her. He suddenly needed to look into her face, and slowly sank to the floor to kneel at her feet so her head was higher than his. She started as he rose a searching hand to her face, but allowed it to tremulously stroke her cheek and then rest against it. As he looked calmly up into her stormy grey eyes, she felt as if she were floating within his black fathomless ones.

She took in a shuddering breath at the sight of him kneeling so still and quiet before her, looking up at so so openly; he put her in mind of an innocent child gazing raptly at its mother. There was no barrier shielding his eyes, and they were amazing and haunting in their contented misery.

She felt so small before the caltenstensity he radiated, and her own vulnerability frightened her. No one had ever made her feel this way, for she was a professional in such matters of the heart....No, the mind was where they were borne and sustained. And she never knew what to do with hers when she was with him. She couldn\'t take that terribly beautiful look in his eyes any longer, so she squeezed hers shut.

He brought his other hand to tangle gently into her hair, and then only used the slightest amount of force to lower her face to his. He tilted his head but didn\'t close his eyes as he pressed his lips soundly to hers for a fervent kiss.

~*~

‘I wonder what Pro...what Snape\'s doing now...,\' Hermione couldn\'t stop herself from pondering resentfully, having already finished reading or skimming the seven books she\orroorrowed from their local library just yesterday; it had been her only outing for the entire month of August, and September was fast approaching.

She now lay lethargically on her small bed, one arm thrown back against her pillow to rest over her voluminous hair, the other draped across her narrow rib cage. One of her skinny legs hung limply from the side of the bed, and she allowed it to dangle back and forth like a weighty pendulum in her boredom. Her book-strewn but otherwise tidy room was beginning to grow dim as dusk pushed the sun down with her dark yet brilliant fingers of deep purple, rose and sapphire. The fading light that sed fed fluidly from the window behind her bed (the only window in the room) delicately illuminated Hermione\'s pale face, whose features were completely relaxed, save for a tiny furrow above her brow; she stared dully up at her ceiling, but concentrated on nothing visible as she let her thoughts wander of their own accord.

‘Does he even go anywhere during holidays, like, a vacation?\' She scoffed aloud at her own question. Of course the contemptible bat didn\'t dare to venture out of its gloomy cave, and Hermione doubted that ‘it\' would desire to even if the opportunity arose. It was unlikely that Snape would decide to visit any family he might have, and it was even more unlikely that they would have him, if such people existed. That, too, was debatable, at best. Frightening was a more apt term; what sort of sadistic horrors would be unleashed upon the wizarding world if there was more than one Snape consigned to it? Hermione shuddered at the thought. It was bad enough that anyone who attended, taught at, or was even remotely involved in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was fated to be scarred forever and tormented by the very *memory* of the vile man!

‘Bad enough that *I* have to be,\' Hermione sulked. Her hand was disturbed from its resting place over her stomach as she heaved a weary sigh that was tinged with despair.

Was she doomed to vacillate between feelings of over-enamored devotion and maddening indignation for her Professor, yet be obsessed with the man throughout either, forever? If so, her personal life would be all but ruined, and she would be forced live out its remainder as a lonely and love-starved spinster; for who could possibly compare to Snape—damn him!—for better or for worse? She was the first to admit how high her standards were, and proudly so. But she was not proud now; no, she was more low and depressed than she\'d ever been in her life. There was nearly no kind of person she detested more than an intelligent, well-educated woman who was so helplessly weak-minded that she would not allow herself to realize her potential or even go about her life without the man of her choice at her side! Disgusting! Disgraceful! Utterly LOATHSOME!!

Hermione closed her eyelids painfully, and her lips trembled in their effort to keep in the pitiable sobs that she had so long been withholding from herself. She flung an arm over her face, attempting to physically shield herself from a mental battle that she just didn\'t know how to fight. She felt as if she were a small child sick with a fever, head burning and body aching with the disquieting pain of a malady that they neither wanted nor understood.

With another shuddering sigh, Hermione regained control over her turbulent emotions and her expression became placid once more. Suddenly feeling cold, she slowly curled up her dangling limbs and turned to lie on one side, her position reminiscent of that in the womb. Though she knew it would not encourage the sleep she so needed, she slid her eyelids closed.

The night had snuck up on her quickly, the darkness that came with it approaching with even more alacrity, and if she were to put a hand before her face, she would barely be able to make out its outline. But her body remained completely still, and so quiet that one might have thought her asleep but for the occasional lamentable yet conscious moan she let pass through her lips every few moments.

\"Why did you have to do this to me?....Did I do something wrong?....Oh, why do you hate me so much?....\"

~*~

\"D-Donna! W-what are you d..doing?\" Severus panted, a desperate edge to his voice that was rarely heard by anyone. Belladonna smiled to herself in exultation. She looked up at Severus in mock-innocence, but then sabotaged her facade by dragging her dark pink tongue wantonly across her lips. Severus tried to scoff at her derisively, but the short laugh came out as a breathy gasp despite his efforts to control himself (which were admittedly lax this evening; he hadn\'t let go of himself in so long).

\"Y-you are the w-worst flirt!\" he chided her between breaths, stubbornly fighting to hold his body still. Somehow, as their lust for each other escalated, Severus found himself thrust down on the edge of the bed, his jacket ripped off and flung to the ground, his stiff white shirt all the way unbuttoned so his thin yet defined torso was naked down the center. Once Belladonna caught sight of that gleaming white flesh that she\'d missed so much, she fairly pounced on him in her ardor to claim it once again.

Though he was a bit taken aback by her overzealous attentions, he was not displeased by them. On the contrary, he was nearly overwhelmed with excitement. Belladonna had totally taken control of him, was possessing him, and he wanted nothing more than to give himself to her completely. To just relinquish control over himself and give it all to her, let her have him.

But that relentless ambition, that ruthless drive in him, out of which was born all of his intelligence and his need for power, refused to give him up. It was not a difficult decision to make, merely an unquestionable reality, and he neither disputed it nor was saddened by it.

So he made a fairly decent show of fighting her for control, but he really wanted her to win, if only for this round and only in this setting.

\"Oh, Severus,\" Belladonna purred, causing him to shudder involuntarily. \"You couldn\'t possibly know how much I\'ve missed you, how many men I wished were you. I\'ve got to have you. Please.\" With her well-practiced and nimble hands, she managed to slide his belt off of him without his noticing (to his credit, he was quite distracted at the moment); but he was alerted to her intentions when she stealthily undid his pants and slid her fingers inside them.

\"Donna, p-please,\" Severus protested, beginning to squirm like a child. It wasn\'t that he was unused to...receiving oral gratification, or that he didn\'t enjoy it; it was, again, merely the lack of control that he wasn\'t sure how to deal with. He hadn\'t been this submissive since he was a teenager and was just embarking on his sexual career.

Belladonna could sense all of this and found it endearing as well as enticing. She shushed his protests by kissing him firmly on the mouth, all the while lowering his pants down his thighs with her hands. She took a moment to just admire them, for Severus had a long pair of some of the most gorgeous legs she\'d ever seen on a man. They were like a dancer\'s, smooth and shapely yet firm and slim. As she ran her hands up the sides of his thighs, Severus emitted the most deliciously strained whimpers.

She was pleased to find that no undergarments of any kind hindered her progress. Severus had been without them in all of their sexual dealings together (unless, of course, they were to be part of the ritual, in which case they were not the kind of shorts one would wear for any other purpose—he could be unexpectedly kinky when the mood struck him), which was not unusual to her, as many adult wizards did the same.

It seemed to Belladonna that Severus was still trying to resist her, the obstinate git. She would have to make such foolishness more difficult for him to keep up, if not impossible.

\"Now s-slow down a s-second, Donna. I really must protest. S-stop it, Donna. I insist that you c-cease! NOW SEE HERE, BELLADO--ooohhhhh....\".

Belladonna would\'ve laughed if her mouth weren\'t already full. If there was one way to get Severus Snape to shut up mid-tirade, this was it. He had totally relaxed his body into her ministrations, allowing his head to fall back against his shoulder and his spine to curve in relief. He put her in mind of a cat being stroked behind its ears. Ict, ct, his soft moans were beginning to sound like low ‘meows\'.

~*~

\"Hamlet, what\'s all this meowing about?\" Hermione mumbled through her hair, which, for some reason, was matted all over her face. Extremely disoriented, she rose to sit on her bed and stretch out her aching muscles. After a moment of putting two and a few together, she realized with some amazement that she had actually fallen asleep. She hadn\'t slept in quite a long time, and she felt very dizzy as she rubbed her eyes, feeling blindly around her night table for the switch on the small lamp that sat atop it.

She was still in her day clothing, which was now quite rumpled, and it had been her old cat who had rather rudely awakened her with his hungry yowls. It was eleven thirty at night and, as they were both usually nocturnal creatures, around the time that Hermione threw a kitty treat or two to Hamlet (who had been named by Hermione\'s father after the title character of the Shakespearian tale). He was now sitting expectantly beside her bed, staring up at her intently. He let loose another piteous ‘nyaaaaaaoooooww\' when she found him with her eyes.

\"Horrible cat,\" she muttered affectionately at the large, fluffy grey feline. \"I don\'t know why I put up with the likes of you.\"
But she reached into her drawer, opened the plastic bag and tossed several of the fishy-smelling cookies onto the floor for him anyway. They were quickly set upon and devoured by Hamlet, who didn\'t even bother to favor her with a thankful glance. She scowled at him, but he either did not notice or chose to ignore her.

\"Now, however did I manage to fall asleep?\" she pondered aloud to herself. \"Let\'s see, the last thing I remember doing was...reading. I was reading ‘Rise and Fall of the Byzantine Empire\'....No, wait, I\'d finished that. I was...I suppose I was...\".

Her eyes suddenly became alight with remembrance, her lips quivering before thinning into a tense line.

\"Oh, right,\" she whispered as if in a daze. \"I was thinking about *him*.\" Now that she\'d discovered the subject of the thought pattern that had preceded her unexpected slumber, she forced her mind to replay each image in exactitude, though many speeds faster than they had originally been conceived. Such mechanical mental precision was a talent of hers, or so it had been deemed. Certain words or phrases that had come with the thoughts returned to echo in her mind spontaneously.

‘Professor, why do you hate me so much?...What can I do to make it up?...I\'ll do anything...\'Anything?\'...\'. And there her recollections crashed to a halt, which jarred her body as well as her mind. The things that she had allowed to pass before her mind\'s eye between herself and her Professor—her *Professor*, for gods\' sake!—were perverse, immoral. She had never had such thoughts before, wanted such...disgusting things. It was frightening.

\"Oh, I don\'t know what I want,\" she murmured softly, emotion causing her small voice to quaver. She turned off her lamp and curled herself up as small as she could on her pillow. She felt very small, and very weak. And most of all, very confused. \"Oh, Hammie, what\'ll I do?\"

Her voice broke with a sob, and though she slapped her hand over her face she could not stop the insistent tears from seeping through her fingers. They were coming in waves, as if to make up for the thousands she had never allowed herself to shed. Her small frame shook violently with the sobs she\'d kept locked up within her for years. Hermione was finally crying. But instead of feeling relieved, she was afraid, because she didn\'t even know how to cry, and she felt like she was going to literally fall apart.

Fearing for his friend\'s sanity, Hamlet climbed up onto the bed and ambled over to lie down on the pillow over Hermione\'s head. He was not a ‘lap cat\', nor could he ever be called cuddly, but in his friend\'s hour of need he put his own dislikes aside and laid his head down on top of hers in an attempt to show her that she was not alone as she wept.

\"T-thank you, Hammie,\" she managed to squeak out. \"I\'m sorry, I can\'t seem to help it. ...Oh, will he ever stop torturing me?!\"

~*~

\"Belladonna..don\'t torture me,\" Severus hissed. Any other man would have been begging these words, but they sounded like an order from his mouth. He snaked out a hand and, ever so softly, brought it to rest against the back of her head. His long fingers coiled delicately around her hair.

Belladonna smiled to herself; she knew he wouldn\'t be at her mercy for long. She had expected and even anticipated it. Severus Snape wielded more control in his powerful being than any other person she had ever known. He could use it in a passive way to get what he wanted, making his victims think that they were the master when, in truth, they were in charge only because he wanted them to be.

At his worst, he could bring a person to their knees to cower at his feet as they would before a god. He was his own god, and Belladonna worshiped him for it. There were those that reviled him for it, but were drawn to him all the same. That was his power, that was his beauty. He was a predator of the human soul, and could never seem to get enough of it. He likely never would.

A jolt of raw excitement coursed through Belladonna\'s body. Already, Severus\' eyes were glinting dangerously. It would not be long now, and she waited calmly for him to take her over.

She got her wish when, quick as Cruciatus, Severus tightened his grip on her hair, rose from the bed and wrenched her head back harshly. She moaned in pain, but also in pleasure, and he could already taste both in the air. His lips curled upwards in a vicious facsimile of a smile, his teeth glinting in the pale moonlight that shone in through the window. The candles had long since burned out.

\"Miss LaBeau,\" he purred threateningly. \"Did I say that you could stop?\"

Belladonna felt the familiar icy fingers of fear grip her heart and squeeze it tight; but it clenched her loins even tighter, and, as always, arousal won out over apprehension. Her eyes rolled back into her head, long black eyelashes fluttering wildly, as a moan heavy with desire escaped her lips. Severus shuddered, power-lust almost claiming him. But he would not let it overcome him. Not with her. His fingers coiled more tightly around her hair, dragging her upwards so she was on her knees.

\"ANSWER me!\" he commanded harshly. \"Did I give you permission to stop? DID I?!\"

\"N-no, Severus,\" she breathed, her chest heaving erratically with heavy, breathy pants. She cried out when he jerked her head back again, that dulcet-toned voice like a perfectly tuned bell to Severus\' sensitive ears.

Becoming more erotically charged by the minute, he released his grip on her hair, his fingers fairly shaking with need. But he swiftly steeled himself and brought both of his hands together before her face. Intertwining his fingers, he cracked his knuckles sharply, the sound of which echoed ominously throughout the room. He grinned sadistically as her eyes widened.

But his leer faded fast and his eyes grew distant as an idea struck him, one that he hadn\'t entertained in quite some time. It was a poisonous desire, venomous as any of his fatal potions. But in his heightened arousal--primal stimulation that he had denied himself for far too long--he chose to ignore its consequences and relish in his own wicked perversity.

His eyes narrowed determinedly as they refocused on the woman at his feet, but whether he truly saw her, she could not tell. Suddenly, he gripped her head in his hands, one on either side of her face, and forced it up to look at him. She could almost see the strength radiating in vaporous waves from his body, and was intoxicated by it, more so than she could ever be by any chemical.

\"Call me by my proper title, wench!\" he growled at her through his teeth in deadly tones. Slightly confused, her eyes flickered. So he wanted to play a game tonight. That was just fine, just fine indeed. But which one? They had engaged in so many. ...And she knew that if she got it wrong, her punishment would not be pleasant, even by her standards.

\"M..Master?\" she tried unsurely. She gulped down air in trepidation as his eyes darkened, his hands sliding limply from her face. No. That was not what he wanted to hear.

\"Master?\" His voice seemed to come out of the air, as if it were disembodied from his person, so lifeless did it sound. So terrifying.

He remained completely still for a moment, as if he were a breathing statue. After what had seemed to Belladonna an eternity of silence, he slowly raised one hand until it was level with his eyes. Fixing them upon it with a loving gaze, he took a moment to tenderly caress his own cheek, then turned his wrist so its back rested against his face. His cold eyes found hers again, and he smiled at her. She held her breath.

Then he cut the hand across the air so swiftly that its sound was audible and backhanded Belladonna mercilessly across her face. A resounding ‘crack\' bounced off the walls, and she fell to the floor in pain, clutching her now livid cheek. He saw her fall as if in slow motion, her wild, flaming hair fanning out about her body as it plummeted gracefully to the floor, her clothing wisping about her as if it were the wind itself. Her plaintive cry hit his ears as a cacophony of the most divine, dissonant music. He closed his eyes to keep from weeping at the helplessly human beauty of her.

But though tears slid down Belladonna\'s cheeks, they were caused by the sting of the blow alone. For as Severus searched her eyes for pain or fear, he found neither therein. In fact, she grinned up at him unabashedly as she caught his stare, her own eyes turning devilish as she licked the teardrops off her face with her tongue and swallowed them. The audacious action went straight to Severus\' libido, which was fully strengthened as he advanced on her with a nefarious smirk.

Upon reaching her prostrate form, he grabbed her skirt and ripped it from her legs, spreading them callously before straddling her writhing hips with his own. Convulsing with need and gasping with desire, she reached for him blindly with eager hands. But he rebuked her passion and grasped her wrists, wrapping his long fingers around them so tightly that they nearly met twice, and pinned her arms to the floor. Once he was sure that her eyes were riveted upon his, he deigned to speak to her.

\"Belladonna,\" he mocked her with her own name. She moaned as if in pain. He ignored her, leaning closer to whisper cruelly in her ear. \"I want you to call out my designation while I fuck you senseless. I want you to scream it with your every breath until you pass out. Do you understand me?\"

She was nearly delirious with lust, and was attempting to raise her hips to meet his, but he continued to withhold himself from her, offering her no relief until he was ready to receive it himself.

\"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, GIRL?!\"

\"Uh...Y-yes. W..whatever you w-want. Just..please...\" Belladonna was genuinely crying now, and he decided it was time to give her what she deserved. She had certainly earned it.

\"Call...me...\" he said as he drew closer to her and placed himself at her entrance. She sobbed and wrapped her legs around his slim waist. As he drove into her at last, he shouted the word: \"PROFESSOR!\"

~*~

\"Professor, I hate you,\" Hermione was saying over and over to herself, like a mantra. She intended to intone it until it was ingrained into her mind. \"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...\".

She was still lying curled into herself on her bed with Hamlet laying long asleep on her pillow. Though it was too dark to read the clock, she knew that the hour was one of the first few of the new day. She had long since been able to tell the time by the amount of light that shone outside; right now the moon was at its zenith in the sky, bathing everything in the room with a tranquil, silvery light.

When her sobs had eventually quieted, she had changed into her pyjamas, crawled under her covers and made a half-hearted attempt at returning to sleep. Of course, it had failed. No; more correctly, it was succeeding, but her mind had begun to dredge up new traitorous thoughts about Snape, but just before she fell into the abyss of slumber she forced herself back to alertness. She could have murdered herself when she realized she was doing it *again*, no matter that it was unconsciously.

She was too tired to study or read, so she grabbed halkmalkman from her desk, shoved the headphones onto her ears and endeavored to drown out the hateful thoughts with loud music. She paid no heed to the lyrics of the songs, and even less to who was actually singing them. It was the raw, angry sound of the music that she needed, and she floated away on the cacophony as one would when listening to a heavenly symphony.

\"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...Oh, how I hate you...\"

~*~

\"Oh, gods..Professor,\" Belladonna exhaled in exhaustion, finally sated. \"That was just the lesson I needed.\"

Severus, quite worn out himself, was laying draped over his friend\'s body in a sweaty, breathless heap. When he opened his eyes, it was as if he were seeing the room for the first time since he\'d entered it. With each silent breath of air he inhaled, he became more grounded in himself.

To hear Belladonna call him by his teacher\'s title was rather startling, and he had to retrace the thoughts he\'d entertained while he was in that heated frenzy. Shamefully, he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he had just left them be in the darker recesses of his psyche.

‘Oh, gods...How *could* I?\' He mentally condemned himself. ‘I feel so disgusting...\'.

\"Thank you so much, Professor,\" Belladonna breathed in his ear. He cringed.

\"Donna,\" he said softly, in an entirely different tone than he had previously been using with her. \"Please don\'t call me that.\"
She looked down at him curiously, a trace of bemusement crinkling the corners of her eyes.

\"But, love, you asked me to.\"

\"I know, but...please don\'t.\" Severus whispered the last words hoarsely, nearly too sickened with himself to speak.

Belladonna smiled sadly to herself. She didn\'t understand why Severus would become so distraught after sex if he\'d been either particularly cruel to her or acted out one of his more deviant fantasies. To her, sex was an enjoyable way to release certain bodily and mental tensions, and anything that happened during it was just the mind purging its ‘evils\', as society deemed them. But they were not so to her, and she wondered why an intelligent and free-thinking man like Severus would be so hindered by his own.

She sat up halfway, resting the weight of her torso on an elbow, reaching out with the opposite hand to tenderly stroke Severus\' damp hair in an almost motherly fashion. He sighed and seemed to relax a bit under her touch, snuggling his rawboned body closer into her soft one. After several moments of contented silence, Severus suddenly tensed and rose up on his hands to look with concern into Belladonna\'s face, moving his eyes about it as if he were touching her with them. She started, surprised at his sudden movement, but smiled at him and raised her eyebrows in question. He put a trembling hand to the cheek that he had earlier cuffed, which was still a bit red. Afraid to aggravate the injury further, his hand wafted a centimeter from her skin, only the cool fingertips grazing it gently.

\"I didn\'t...I didn\'t hurt you too badly, did I, Donna?\" His low voice was lined with a sincere worry that touched Belladonna deeply, and to assure him that she was unhurt, she pressed her cheek into his large palm.

\"No, Severus,\" she assured him, her voice low with affection. \"You could never really hurt me. Ever.\"

They stared into each other\'s eyes, their bodies so silent and motionless it felt as if they were the orbs themselves. But after a lon long moment, the intimate seriousness of their gaze became apparent to the two friends, and rather absurd. As if they were mocking a ‘real\' romantic partnership.

Being a unique pair of people, they began to find the situation humorous, and their lips quivered with the effort to hold in their laughter. When they saw that the other\'s eyes also gleamed with mirth, they allowed it to bubble forth in unrestrained gushes of hilarity.

\"Oh, my love,\" Severus sputtered in between guffaws, grabbing Belladonna\'s shoulders—which were quaking with giggles—and gazing into her eyes like a lovesick teenager from a muggle movie. He was aware that this merriment was replacing his mortification at his earlier actions, but chose to go with it instead, such was his relief at ridding himself of that particular horror. At least for the time being.

\"Sevi darling!\" Belladonna returned, equally melodramatic. They clasped each other in a warm embrace as their laughter dwindled and eventually ceased, save for a sporadic chuckle here and there. Severus moved to lean his back against the wall, pulling Belladonna along with him so she was resting against his chest.

\"Aren\'t we a pair?\" She joked. \"There\'s an absolutely splendid bed over there, and here we are squeezed up against the wall.\" Severus laughed softly, a rich, pleasant sound.

\"Yes,\" he acceded wryly, then sighed. \"But I can\'t be bothered to get up.\" Belladonna snickered in agreement. She exhaled sharply, looking up at Severus with a playful grin.

\"Severus Snape.\" She said his name clearly and with a touch of pride, a tone that revealed to him that she held a special place for him in her heart, and always would. He smiled down at her adoringly, the expression completely relaxing his face and lending it a youthful quality.

\"Belladonna LaBeau,\" he answered in kind. Then he cocked his head to the side and frowned thoughtfully, as if pondering something important.

\"What?\" she asked him, frowning as well. His eyes shot to hers, a mischievous gleam lightening their severity.

\"I\'ve been wondering...,\" he paused for effect, causing her to grow impatient.

\"Yes?\"

\"...Just what *is* your real name, anyway?\"

She scoffed at him and turned away, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips, but he could see the sheepish smile that threatened to break through her childish pout. He took her chin in his fingers and carefully turned her head to face his, then raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed to implore, ‘please?\' She sighed in defeat and turned away, muttering something under her breath.

\"I\'m sorry, what was that?\" he goaded. She rolled her eyes. The answer she then gave him caused him to throw back his head and laugh even more loudly than he had before, which, in turn, caused her to begin slapping his chest in frustration. They eventually wore themselves out, what with all the howling and hitting, and dragged their tired bodies to the bed, presently falling asleep entwined in each other\'s arms.

But the unlikely name became something of a private joke between the friends, and he eventually came to call her by it when they were alone, as they were then. After a time, she came not to mind his use of it.

\"...It\'s Betty Liebowitcz,\" she\'d said.