The long and winding road to love

Chapter 11: Times of trouble





Well, hey! I uploaded quite quickly…
did I not? Anyhow…I’ve written till chapter 14 and I promise I will write ch. 15 tomorrow; chapter 12 will be upload as soon as I
receive it from my beta reader Lily Malfoy whose help I appreciate a lot.

I dedicate this chapter to my friend
Kairi (Princess of Bertie Botts;
check it out!) and CHEER UP, FRIEND!

So…well…without further comments, here
it is; chapter 11… enjoy!

 

Chapter 11: The long and winding road
to love

 

Snape’s manor was no place for a girl like Hermione.
Her values, her principles had nothing to do with the dark walls surrounding
her. It was a place for Dark Eaters and make no mistake;
Hermione had always hated thrk Ark Arts.


 

“I hope you find this room quite comfortable, Miss
Granger,” Snape said when introducing Hermione to her rooms for the week; a
perfect replica of her chambers at the dungeons. Severus had tried to forget
about everything involving his wife; her moans, her curls, her naked body, her
rosy nipples, her soft voice begging for more and the sensual way in which she
had stolen his turn to shower. He had tried hard to forget and so far, he was
not succeeding one bit.

 

The whole place was decorated very much like Severus
Snape’s chambers. The colours black, grey and green predominated and for a
Gryffindor Girl such as Hermione that place meant hell. But she was a
pretender; wasn’t she pretending to love Snape? She could easily act as if that
place looked wonderful.

 

“Yes, Professor,” she said firmly, “I find this room
quite comfortable.” She smiled while sitting at the edge of the velvet covered
four poster bed, “Care to join me?” she challenged him. If Hermione was right,
and she usually is, Severus Snape wouldn’t refuse a good confrontation.

 

But of course, that was not Hermione Granger speaking.
That was the stubborn Hermione trying to make him pay for his past mistakes.
Yes. He shouldn’t have called her a child. Yes. He shouldn’t have called her
stupid. Yes. That was going to cost him plenty.

 

Severus swallowed hard. What was she playing at? Why
was she throwing herself at him? Why would a nice girl such as Hermione Granger
ask him, Severus Snape, to join her in bed?

 

“You are already her partner,” he reminded himself
while slowly walking to where she was. Then, he added out loud, “Miss Granger I
hardly consider this the appropriate conversation a student should engage in
with her professor,” he formally finished.

 

“But, sir, you are my husband and therefore I
find joy at your bare presence. Why should I neglect my duties as a wife?” she
formally addressed him.

 

He just stood still and stiff, unable to find a
suitable reply. Severus wanted so much to touch her; the animal instincts
living in him were desperately crying for release. His rational self, however,
was coldly thinking the situation through over and over again. He could not do
it. He couldn’t specifically point out why, but a physical relation would be
just too complicated, though pleasant as it may seem.

 

He was walking towards the edge of the bed when a rock
made him land on the bed; on top of her.

 

“Hello,” she sweetly said, a smile plastered on her
face.

 

“Hello,” he said, astonished by her beauty. Her big
brown eyes were bewitching and her cheeks had turned a deep shade of pink. She
was blushing. She was blushing because of him. He directed his hand towards her
cheek and caressing her skin softly their lips met.

 

And that, my friend, started it all.

 

Their tongues greeted each other with passion,
rustling fiercely as If trying to taste the other as much as possible.

 

“Miss Granger,” he whispered while kissing her neck
wildly.

 

“Oh, professor,” she moaned. She was not pretending now.
She was really enjoying his every touch.

 

“Miss Granger, you have no idea what you got yourself
into. I can be very possessive,” he threatened, “I am, indeed, a very dark man.
I can teach you many techniques concerning the art of love making, but I am
capable of making you do things beyond your wildest imagination. Do you
understand that, Miss Granger? You are playing with fire…” he said while
kissing her chest with desire in his eyes. He had, indeed, the eyes of a
madman. And his craziness, in fact, was what made her nod. How could she refuse
when his hand has travelled to that sensitive spot between her legs?

 

“Very well, Miss Granger,” he said, quickly removing
his hand from her moist cavity, “Please, sit down on
that green armchair,” he ordered, while walking towards the adjoining bathroom.
She did as told and within five minutes, she had returned with a bar of soap
and a razor, “Why did you button the first button of your shirt, Miss Granger?
Please, stand up,” he said while placing himself in the green sofa that had
been Hermione’s resting place.

 

“Please, unbutton your shirt and remove your
knickers,” he regimented, with a voice she had only heard while in potion’s
class.

 

Slowly, her hand travelled to her collar and then to
the buttons of her shirt. When her chest was barely visible, she introduced
both her hands into her skirt and only twenty seconds after, her knickers lay
motionless in the cold, stone floor.

 

“Very well, Miss Granger. Come here, please,” he ordered. She gradually walked towards the green
sofa, afraid of the razor on his hand. Would he cut her? No. He couldn’t.

 

She kindly sat on his lap. She started rubbing herself
against his knee trying to gain his attention somehow. He was being very cold;
he had never been this cold in bed before.

 

“But we are not in bed,” she reminded herself. This
was just sex. He made it quite clear. They were, merely, playing with one
other.

 

With one quick move, Severus placed himsbetwbetween
her legs, letting her take the whole sofa as he had now his knees on the floor.
They ached because of the hard stones, but the sight of her curls and her lips
made everything worthwhile.

 

His stretched his hand in order to reach the piece of
soap. She was scared; the razor in his hand was enough to both arouse and
frighten her.

 

Leaning forward he traced a path of kisses all the way
through the sticky cavity he had once broken. All the doubts in his soul were
gone. The Dark side had possessed him, once again and sure enough, Hermione
Granger would never be the same again.

 

“Professor,” she said, her lower lip trembling, “What
do you need those blades for?” she innocently asked, trying to make him
confess.

 

“Miss Granger, could you please open your legs a bit
more?” he politely asked.

 

“Like this?” Hermione said, spreading her legs apart a
little bit.

 

“Not quite, Miss Granger,” he said, shaking his head
to the sides, “This, on the other hand,” he started to say while grabbing her
thighs and placing both her legs on the arms of the green sofa. Snape had left her
completely exposed, “is the position I fancy,”

 

She was begging for him to lick every delicate piece
of flesh, but he did not.

 

Using the piece of soap he had managed to find on the
bathroom, he massaged her curls in perfect circles. She felt even more humid
between her legs; she liked the feeling of being washed by her husband quite a
lot.

 

“I’m teaching him a lesson,” she reminded herself,
despite the pleasure.

 

Thanks to the razor that rested on his left hand, he
found the task of shaving her mass of curls quite simple.

 

The gentle movement of the blades on her most intimate
places was amazing; Hermione Granger had never experienced such wonderful
sensations in her life. He wasn’t even touching her; he was just using an
instrument to trim her hair but she found the situation extremely stimulating.

 

Once her hair was fully gone, he carried her to bed.
Not because he wanted to, but because the sofa was wet from both Hermione’s
juices and the water he had used to clean the mess of hair.

 

“Miss Granger,” He whispered into her ear, “You are
about to experience pleasure first hand. Are you ready?” he asked. How could
she refuse when the offer was so incredibly tempting? How could she refuse when
he was looking at her with his beady black eyes? How could she refuse when he
had used that tone she loved so much? How could she refuse to please her
husband?

 

They were doing this just to content the desire they
felt for the other; it had nothing to do with love.

 

Love, my friends, had always complicated history. Love, women and alcohol.

 

And things were going to get complicated, alright
without alcohol being involved in the equation.