Daddy Dearest - (No Update, Edit)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 14 ~ Room Eighteen

Hermione stared at the pensieve with mixed emotions. She hadn't known viewing it would cause such feelings inside her. She had been very attracted to the wizard all those years ago, and the bowl of memories had transported her back to that time of longing. Severus had just propositioned her and her reaction was so powerful, she was forced to withdraw. Now every fiber of her being begged her to go back and see the lost memory through.

Her stomach in knots, Hermione returned her finger to the pensieve.

Pensieve Hermione was looking into the intense black eyes of the Potions Master. He had just finished telling her that the reality of being with him would be much better than her fantasies.

Hermione watched as her pensieve self seemed mesmerized by the wizard, who placed one pale hand on hers and gently caressed the back of it with his fingertips, tracing her knuckles and small veins delicately. The witch was reacting to his touch strongly, her body trembling slightly as the wizard's black eyes smoldered.

"I will book a room for us," Severus said in that same seductive voice, "then I will give you the experience you've fantasized about, Hermione. All I need to hear is from you is one word, witch. Yes."

"Yes," pensieve Hermione breathed.

Professor Snape disappeared so quickly from his chair it seemed as if he suddenly and silently disapparated. In a moment he reappeared and pressed something into her hand.

"The key," he said, his voice low, those black eyes focused on her intently. "I shall go up to the room first. Wait five minutes then follow me. I will be waiting for you."

The wizard turned with a billow of robes and first walked over to the bar, speaking to Rosmerta and pressing several coins into her hand. Then he slowly strolled over to the stairs, attracting no attention…then ascended them, disappearing around the corner of the upper landing.

Pensieve Hermione looked at the key. Room number eighteen.

Hermione's eyebrows rose. She had met with the Professor tonight in the very same room Mathias was conceived in. She wondered if the wizard had chosen that room for their meeting purposely. Knowing the Professor, he had, possibly believing it would have some subconscious effect on her.

Five minutes later, pensieve Hermione rose from the table, walked over to the stairs and began to climb them. Hermione followed the witch, noticing that she didn't stumble or show any signs of heavy inebriation that she could discern. She was slightly flushed, but that was all the witch could see.

Hermione had stopped drinking at all after waking up next to the Potions Master. She hadn't touched alcohol in any form for eleven years. Justice would always try to get her to relax with a glass of wine, but the witch always refused, saying she could relax fine without it. Now, watching herself walk up those stairs, Hermione knew she made the right decision.

Pensieve Hermione walked down the hall, looking at the room numbers until she came to room eighteen. Instead of inserting the key, she turned the knob and the door opened. Hermione followed her in.

Yes, it was the same room, but the torchlight was turned low, emulating candlelight.

"Professor?" Hermione called, not seeing the wizard.

"Over here," replied a silky voice.

The Potions Master was standing in front of the fireplace facing her. He was partially shadowed, but she could make out his glittering eyes. He wore a slight scowl on his face. Hermione noted that his robes weren't quite as tented as they were downstairs in the inn. Had the wizard cooled toward her and rethought the situation?

Pensieve Hermione walked over to him, stopping only inches from his body, looking up at him, hunger evident in her eyes. There seemed to be electricity passing between the witch and the Potions Master. Hermione was spellbound as she watched herself slowly place both hands on the robed wizard's shoulders and draw them slowly down over his chest.

"I always wondered how you felt under your robes," the witch breathed as the silent wizard looked down at her, allowing her to explore him. "Your body is hard."

"Yes. Some parts harder than others," he agreed, still staring down at her and making no move. Suddenly Hermione's small hand reached up and touched his face, exploring it as well. She ran her hand over his large nose.

"I've always wanted to touch your nose. It's beautiful," she breathed.

The wizard's scowl softened then.

"You think my nose beautiful?" he asked her.

"I think everything about you is beautiful," Hermione replied, "Your nose, your eyes, your voice, your skin, your hands…" She let her hand brush through his lank black locks.

"Soft. Not greasy," she breathed.

"Looks can be deceiving," the wizard replied, his dark eyes studying her.

Hermione watched herself touch the Potions Master. It seemed innocent but extremely intimate. She had told the wizard he was beautiful. Merlin. Well, when she had the crush on the wizard, she really did think he was beautiful, dark and sensual.

Clearly, she had been the aggressor when the doors were closed. She was the one touching him, talking to him. He didn't immediately ravish her like she had always thought. He seemed to be waiting.

"I want you to touch me," pensieve Hermione said.

Severus let one hand run through her chestnut hair, lifting it and letting it fall before allowing himself to caress her cheek, and her throat, his movements smooth, unhurried as his pale hand smoothed over her exposed flesh. Hermione's eyes closed and she sighed.

Hermione watched spellbound. The wizard was so focused, so restrained but his eyes, gods they looked almost feral as he touched her.

"So soft," Severus purred, looking down at her. His robes were tenting again. His hand rested on her throat.

"Don't stop," Hermione breathed.

Severus let his hand slide down around the curve of her breast and the witch shuddered suddenly, stepping forward and pressing her body into his. The wizard hissed in reaction, and began to caress her body in earnest, pensieve Hermione sighing and moving against him more insistently as his pale hands moved around her waist, to the small of her back, over her hips and thighs and back up over her ass, pressing her into him. Then he began to move against her.

"Kiss me Professor," Hermione panted at the wizard.

Severus lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, his black hair falling on her shoulders, half hiding the kiss as Hermione watched, their fully clothed bodies grinding against each other. Hermione could hear her own moans of desire and felt heat covering her own body as she watched herself lose control, her arms wrapping tightly around the Potions Master's neck and throwing her whole body into the kiss.

The Professor let out a deep, feral growl, and pulled back from the clinging witch, his eyes hot, then suddenly he moved them away from in front of the fireplace and spun Hermione to the wall, lifting her up and burying his face against her throat, obviously kissing it by the way she was responding, pressing his body against her.

Hermione stared, her mouth dropping open at the sensuality of it. It was like watching a living fantasy unfold, but this…this had really happened. Hermione watched as she responded to the wizard, her eyes half-closed with pleasure as his lips, hands and body consumed her. They weren't even undressed yet.

"Professor," she breathed.

"Severus. Call me, Severus witch," he gasped at her, letting her down from the wall and pulling out his wand.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't have the patience to unwrap you or myself," he said. "Divesto. Divesto"

Suddenly Hermione and the Potions Master were both naked, their clothing appearing neatly folded on one of the armchairs.

Real Hermione gasped as did the pensieve Hermione.

Severus tossed his wand on to the armchair with their clothing.

"No need for that wand. I have another for the magic you need, witch," he breathed, spinning her around again and holding her at arms length, letting his black eyes wash over her curvaceous body hungrily.

The Professor's body was lean, strong and sinewy, an even alabaster color with well-defined musculature. The Dark Mark was visible on his forearm and the sight of the brand sent a thrill through Hermione as the danger inherent in the dark, courageous wizard worked its way into her psyche like an aphrodisiac. This was a man that braved death every day of his life, and he was focused on her above all else.

Small scars were apparent on his chest and belly and he had the legs of a runner. Hermione never dreamed he would be so well-built. But then again he wasn't quite forty yet and nowhere near middle age for a wizard. He appeared older than he really was because of the severe way he carried himself. But naked…he was no old man.

Hermione gasped as she saw the wizard's cock. He was huge. That was what he deflowered her with? No wonder she had such an ache the next day. She felt another gush roll down her thighs as Severus pulled her pensieve body into him again.

Pensieve Hermione was too caught up in her passion to say or do anything but respond to the wizard, who ran his hands over her body again before bending her back and attacking her full breasts, fondling, licking and suckling them as Hermione cried out with pleasure.

Watching Severus take his pleasure of her pensieve body was too much for Hermione. It was too affecting, too naughty, too sexual…too erotic to bear…

"Withdraw!" she gasped, clutching herself as she was drawn up and out of the pensieve.

This time she was gasping for air as she leaned back against the headboard, her entire body on fire, a hungry ache burning between her legs.

"Damn," she breathed staring at the pensieve, the back of her nightgown completely soaked from her arousal, her entire bedroom smelling of desire.

Gods. The Professor hadn't been the lecher she thought he must have been that night, and she wasn't the innocent little victim overpowered by him she believed she was. Although she was not in control of her facilities, there was no possible way the wizard could have known that, not by her words and her responses to him. All he knew was she responded to him and wanted him. He simply reacted accordingly.

Hermione sat there, a bundle of lust. Merlin, how could she ever see him again and look at him the same way?

The witch knew when she next entered the pensieve, she would see the act itself. She could watch it…or she could…could...

Suddenly Hermione orgasmed, shrieking in surprise as her body clutched in on itself and the delicious feeling of release rushed over her, the pulse of bliss curling her toes. Hermione slid sideways across the headboard to the bed and lay there on her side, resting on top of the pillows shuddering, her amber eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

And just think, she hadn't even gone level two yet.

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A/N: I know. I know. My trademark draaaaagging it out. But this might be the only lemon for a while so I have to squeeze as much juice from it as possible. Lol. Please review.