Unforgettable

A/N – Thank you for the reviews. Golden – Whether or not they get married remains to be seen. Ryoko Katsuya – Glad you’re enjoying the story. Susan – Minerva! Ick! I’ll give ya a hint regarding the fifth pregnancy. She’s got pink hair (smirk). I’m going to write a snippet of what happened to her at the ball and who it happened with (grin). JTBJAB – Ask and ye shall receive. Enjoy this chapter. Lemons ahead.

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Chapter Thirteen –

“Marry me,” the man pressing against her repeated the words against her cheek, his breath hot against her skin.

She was dreaming and obviously having some elaborate delusional episode. A salacious compulsion smothered any and all markers of sanity and reason.

“The child will retain my name and my status, and you will be able to remain in the wizarding world and do whatever you please.” His hands cupped her hips and pulled her against his hardness. “We’ve already proven that we are compatible in the most basic sense,” he insinuated, his hands moving over her body.

Severus touched his lips to hers with a gentleness Hermione was unaware he was capable of. He’s seducing you, the last of reason whispered within her.

Groaning, Hermione shifted against him, not yet wanting to give up the heady sensations he was causing throughout her body.

“You will provide me with an heir,” Severus breathed, opening her robe and molding his hands to her full breasts.

The evening train ran past the window, rattling the windows and weakening the hold Severus had over her.

She made a feeble effort and pushed against him. She would not yield. She couldn’t give in. As his lips placed light kisses along the column of her neck, Severus plucked her nipples through her jumper. Hermione cringed as she heard her traitorous moan.

He had revealed himself last night – his true self.

For years, she’d pondered the mysteries surrounding the Potions Master. During her seventh year she had started thinking of him as more than a teacher. She’d spent lonely nights fantasizing about him. For all that time she’d spent, she was no closer to solving the enigma. She’d been left with more questions than answers.

His proposal befuddled her. He’d purported to being unable to “find her elusive beauty” at the first annual ball. It was one thing to make love to the man, but for him to propose marriage was absurd.

Making another feeble attempt to push him away so that she could approach the situation logically, Hermione gasped when he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. She managed to hold on to one thought as she gave herself willingly to his attentions.

He was incapable of love.

At least he had been honest with her. Was his integrity enough to build a marriage on?

Hermione shook her head, not believing that she was actually entertaining his proposal.

Relationship. Marriage. The amount of time she had spent thinking of him. Galloping gargoyles! Was it possible?

Severus shifted, now holding her wrists with one hand and moving to palm one of her breasts through the layers of cloth. But the thought remained.

Hermione couldn’t deny it any longer. She loved Severus Snape! Last night she had been so sure of herself, giving in to the tempting need to have him and ignoring any argument of morality. She had been so sure that she could distance her emotions from her wanton behavior.

She had set out to seduce him and had succeeded with notable results. He’d told her the truth. He didn’t love her. He never would. That was a bitter pill to swallow.

“You hate me,” she whispered huskily, finally finding her voice.

Sliding his hand under her jumper, Severus toyed with her breasts. “Perhaps my animosity toward you was something else in disguise.” He nuzzled her ear, flicking his tongue against the sensitive shell, and then nibbling the lobe.

“I am not a skilled Legilimens,” Hermione gasped as he ground his hips into hers. “How would I know what you feel? Are you even capable?”

Severus released her wrists, pulled her jumper over her head and perused his handiwork with an appreciative eye. “Be careful, Miss Granger, or you may hurt my feelings,” he mocked her before bending his head and brushing his cheek against her pointed nipples.

Severus growled, taking one of the tips into his mouth and laving it with his tongue.

The Potions Master’s advances dampened any logical argument. “I-I’m confused,” she murmured, grasping Severus’ head and threading her fingers through his dark locks. “You m-must stop. I need to ascertain if --”

With a loud pop, he released her breast. “You don’t need to think,” he murmured huskily, taking her other breast in his mouth and lavishing the twin with the same attention the other had received.

Hermione whimpered, undulating her hips against him. The passionate flame he stoked made her ache and yearn for him. His marriage proposal and her pregnancy all but forgotten, she gave in to the lust and seduction.

--

Severus sneered as he nibbled a path along the valley of her breasts. Her acquiescence secured his future. Hermione was his. She need never know that she was under the influence of a Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes experiment. Perhaps, over time, he would be able to formulate an antidote to the twins’ meddlesome potion and be rid of her.

Hermione loved him, most assuredly due to the potion. It was a hallow victory, but he would take it nonetheless. She was equally powerless against the lust, which he could exploit at his leisure. Would having a willing woman in his bed be so horrible?

Growling lowly, Severus cupped her arse and stilled her movements. His little vixen was pushing against his swollen need just enough that he could ejaculate in his pants. Severus grazed along the skin of her chest and neck, guaranteeing her answer. “My offer is a generous one, Hermione. Swear you’ll marry me. Say yes and I will ease the ache that consumes you.”

“Yes,” she hissed loudly.

He claimed her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss, clawing at her Muggle jeans in desperation. He couldn’t help the shrewd smile that spread across his lips. He would ease her ache, and in doing so, submerge himself within the confines of her welcome heat --the same heat that promised him relief from the constant gnawing of his libido.

“A wise choice,” Severus said, pulling her jeans to her ankles and helping her step out of them. Licking and nipping his way up her body, he undid his trousers and released himself.

He lifted her against the wall and she instinctually wrapped her legs around him. Groaning, he slid into her slick channel and stilled, suddenly aware of the life of his child growing within her. The will of the Fates was indeed fickle. His child. He shuddered at the thought, and felt something akin to affection slither through him.

The urgency to drill into her erupted and he pulled her tighter against him. He could feel the muscles on her tightness contract around him. “Mine,” he growled purposefully against her neck, nipping at her tender flesh.

She arched her back against the wall and cried out, a look of blissful abandon clouding her eyes.

--

There were definite benefits to lust potions, Severus thought with a satisfied grin as he stretched his overworked, not-oft, used muscles. Instantaneous arousals had enabled him to keep Hermione blissfully sated and, most importantly, unable to think rationally. They would be married immediately as soon as they could gather two witnesses and Apparate to the Ministry of Magic. He still had pull there, and should be able to push the contract through without any troubles.

He supposed he could tell her the truth of what happened once they were bound together. Severus shook that nonsensical rambling of his displaced conscience. The time to do the honorable deed had long since passed. She and the child were his, and they would remain his as long as he drew breath. He would need to obtain the Weasleys’ silence regarding the matter of Hermione’s condition. But that should be simple enough. After all, they owed him.

Hermione stirred next to him and Severus felt arousal quicken within him. Clutching the sheet to her chest, his lover sat up. He clutched her forearm possessively. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I need to use the loo,” she replied, jerking her arm away from him.

Letting go reluctantly, Severus glanced at her skeptically. She tugged on the duvet to cover her womanly assets and he smirked.

Hermione grunted and gave up, obviously deciding that her need to use the toilet was too great. Severus watched her retreating backside with barely veiled sensualism.

The door shut behind her and he scowled. While lust potions had their advantages, the also had downfalls. Jealously was not an emotion Severus rarely acknowledged, much less entertained. As a spy, he had acclimated himself to forgo the inconvenience of the failings of emotions. Distrust was the foundation of his persona, built and steeped in the tradition of trusting no one except himself.

This was preposterous! He was jealous that she’d gone to the loo? His scowl deepened as he contemplated the irritating side effect of the potion. Perhaps he would need to continue the search for the antidote after all.

So lost in thought was he that Severus paid no mind to Hermione as she walked back into the room fully clothed and stood at the foot of the bed. His eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve thought about your generous offer and have decided to decline,” she stated simply. “Although you’ve proven that we are compatible in the ‘most basic sense,’ it is not a stable foundation on which to build a marriage. I have considered my options carefully and have decided to leave the wizarding world. You should know that –”

“This is absurd! You swore an oath!”

“I did not such thing,” Hermione countered.

“You said yes.” Severus got out of the bed and moved toward her.

Hermione pulled out her wand and leveled at his throat. “D-don’t,” she stammered, “come any closer. I don’t know what this thing is between us, but it has got to stop. You don’t love me and you will certainly never love a child that isn’t yours.”

Severus held his arms to his sides. He certainly didn’t need this overly emotional woman hexing his bollocks off. “And what if the child was mine?” he asked softly, feeling a desperation he’d only felt once before in his life. Voldemort had had him under the Cruciatus Curse for some minor detail that had since escaped his memory. This felt worse.

“I spent seven years under your tutelage, Professor,” Hermione continued. “You’re behavior toward children borders on abusive and I cannot, in good conscience, subject my child to that.”

“You’re mine,” he stated, his voice belying little emotion other than a dangerous warning. Bugger it to hell! If this were his room, he would be able to get to his other wand.

As if sensing his dangerous mood, Hermione stepped back and raised her wand higher. “Please do not contact me again.”

“I will have you,” he said, his words blunt and filled with meaning.

Hermione eyed his piles of clothes and pointed her wand at the pile. “Incendio!”

Severus watched as his clothes caught on fire, and with a loud pop, Hermione was gone.

*****

A/N -- Reviews most welcome :)