Rules Were Made to be Broken

Thou Shalt Not Expect a Miracle – if it seems too good to be true, it probably is


“Who the hell do you think you are to judge me?!” Hermione snaps at me. I can feel her eyes boring holes in my back.

I decide its about time to face her. I am just a little paranoid about what I’ll do, talking to her face to face. I give her a bemused look hoping to calm the situation a little.

“I believe, Hermione, I am in the perfect place to pass judgement...after all, whose arms were you in last night?”

Oops, probably should have left that out. She is now looking at the floor.

“You don’t know me, Severus. You knew me.”

“I think I still hold a fairly good grasp on your...” I begin, then I look right at her and am cut off short. One lonely tear is trailing down her cheek, and I realise quite suddenly how serious this all is to her. By all means, I want her, I need her, I even love her, but somewhere along the line I have forgotten once again what she stands to lose by being with me. Her husband. Her dignity. Her perfect existence.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Hermione.” My words come out harshly, though that is not how they were intended. They were not supposed to be condescending, but comforting. Shit, I am utterly hopeless at this. I want to tell her I understand. I want to tell her I will do anything for her. Yet, the bastard I have so perfected, refuses to let me do so. Tentatively, I explore the next option. I wrap my arms around her, slowly pulling her towards me. Comforting her. Oh, for Merlin’s sake don’t let anyone walk in on me doing this...

“Hermione?” I ask, beginning to panic. What the hell am I doing here?

“Sorry,” she mutters, pulling back from me. “What the hell am I doing here?”

Her words echo my own thoughts, and then I realise, the question really is, what is she doing here…not me? I know why I am here - I am after the woman I love.

“That truly is the question,” I reply. “Care to answer it for me?”

Hermione sighs and sits herself down in my chair. My chair. Bloody hell, no one sits there besides me and she should bloody well know that!

“Quit clenching, Severus,” she says sarcastically, going to stand back up.

“Never mind. Sit there,” I reply, almost demand. Shit, now I’m letting her sit in my chair!

“So generous of you.” Her smile is condescending, but I am glad to have us back to arguing. I cannot and do not want to deal with her emotions right now. I can hardly keep mine straight. “So, why did you invite me down here?”

Ah, right. That. Lie, Severus, you’re good at that.

“To give you the book,” I reply, spotting a volume sitting on the shelves over Hermione’s head. I reach above her to pull it out, quite glad to find I do actually have a book on Wolfsbane. Makes the lie all that more plausible. Yet as my fingers touch the spine, Hermione’s hand has grabbed me by the collar and pulled me down to look her straight in the eye.

“Don’t lie to me, Severus,” she says in a slightly nasty tone. Crap, looks like I might’ve had an effect on her all those years ago after all.

“Miss Granger,” I hiss at her, “once more you are asking questions you do not wish to know the answers to.”

“Ah, so you had every intention of shagging me then?” Hermione replies with a smirk. Smarmy little cow. Going to have to wipe that grin off her face.

“No,” I reply with a smirk of my own. “Though now you’ve suggested it...one can only presume that you are not opposed to the idea.”

“Severus...” she begins to protest, but it is all too late, Hermione. I lean down and capture her lips, silencing her. My hands move to the arms of my chair, holding up my weight as my tongue accosts her mouth. Oh gods, and she’s letting me. No, more than letting me, she is joining me. Fuck, I was only half-serious... I thought she’d push me away. Vaguely wonder if she hasn’t just called my bluff. Surely this can’t be for real. That she would just give in to me and...

Shit. She still has me by the collar, her grip not loosening one bit. However, her free hand has tugged out my shirt tales and is taking a casual stroll over the much neglected skin of my stomach. Gods, how long has it been such I last felt a woman’s touch? Hermione wasn’t the last, but most certainly the last I didn’t pay for.

Fuck. My skin is alight under her touch, shivers running through me, igniting my desire. Shit, time to let her out of this, before it is too late.

“Game over, Hermione,” I growl at her, trying to pull back. Where did I lose control of this? I am Severus Snape, I am always in control.

Her eyes meet mine, her brown eyes full of lust. “Just this once, Severus?” she pleads. “Please, just this once?”

Right, well that’s thrown me. She’s serious? Maybe. Do I care? Not for her husband, not for what all the others who have laughed behind my back for years will think, but for her, yes. I cannot believe I am about to do this. Someone please have a large bottle of Firewhiskey on standby.

“No, Hermione, game over,” I hiss at her, prying her fingers free.

“No game, Severus. Just you. Please? I want to remember what is was like to have you, I want to just spend a few moments back in a time where things weren’t so complicated.”

How can I argue with that? Well, I could...but why would I want to? A few moments, though? Come on, Hermione, you know I’m better than that!

With no more needing to be said, I bury my face in her neck, caressing all my old favourite places with my tongue. This feels so right. Her fingers are making quick work of the buttons of my shirt, finally pulling the material aside to run her hands over my chest. Then I begin to worry. Has been seven long years since she last saw me naked, and I was no prize specimen then. Though I hate to admit it, Lupin definitely has one up on me when it comes to the looks department.

Yet Hermione appears to be pleased with what she sees, a little sigh escaping from her lips as she takes a few moments to look me over.

That is it. This is completely for her now…

Taking my weight on one arm, I manage to tug the buttons of her top open. I trace the curves of her breasts with my index finger, running along the edge of the lacy material encompassing them.

“Let me go, Hermione,” I growl in her ear, referring to her grip on my collar. “I want to taste you.”

She sighs my name, her fingers releasing the fabric of my shirt.

I kiss my way over her breasts before gently sliding one out of its lacy confines. I flick my tongue over the already tight nub and am rewarded by a deep growl from Hermione, and her hands flying into my hair to hold me in place. No need, Hermione, I am quite at home here. I bathe her nipple with my tongue, reveling in the sighs and moans that escape her lips.

“More,” she suddenly demands. “Please, Severus, more!”

My pleasure.

My hands slide down her body as I crouch before her. I slide the fabric of her skirt up her legs, gently parting them as I go without much persuasion necessary. I inhale deeply as I reach my goal, Hermione wriggling in my chair. I hook the waistband of her panties under my thumbs and slide them down, out of my way. Oh dear Lord. This is too much. My pants have become uncomfortably tight and it takes all my self-control to stick to my original plan. She smells divine, tastes even better. I am just going to have to take her soon. Lose myself within her depths and never return.

That’s it. Not removing my mouth from her, I manage to open the front of my pants. Escaping from the confines does not have the desired effect. Instead of relief, I now feel even closer to my goal.

Then Hermione let’s out a moan tipped with my name. Is my undoing. I grasp her up from the chair and have her pinned to my office wall in a matter of moments. She stares back at me in surprise.

“Gods, I need you,” I growl, positioning her over me. So close, I can feel her moist heat.

“No!” she suddenly squeaks.

What?

“I…I have to go.”

In the shock of it all I allow her to slip to the floor. Then I am standing there. Alone in my office. Hanging out of my pants at half-mast. Great. One more humiliation for Snape.