#6 ~ A Matter of Matrimony

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR (except Marcus Delaluci). All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 18 ~ The Lioness and the Dragon Go Dancing

Severus was teaching his morning Potions class. His snarkiness was at a high level, and he had managed to take seventy-five points from Gryffindor, and award fifty points to Slytherin house by the end of the period. He also snaked an additional five points from Gryffindor for ‘unnecessary grumbling.’ He had taken breakfast in his rooms that morning, waking up feeling refreshed. He didn’t remember going to bed. The last thing he remembered was talking to Eli, and feeling distraught about Hermione’s abrupt departure.

He felt a little out of sorts, and exposed when he remembered how he poured his heart out to the little Gryffindor witch. It was the first time he had begged anyone for anything in his life, and it humbled and embarrassed him. But he needed her. She was more important than his pride. She was more important than anything else in his life. These past few weeks had shown him how empty his world would be without her presence, and he didn’t want the rest of his days to be spent alone. He thought back to when he and Marcus spoke that night, and how Marcus accused him of just wanting Hermione for his personal whore. Severus bristled at the memory.

Severus would like nothing more than to marry Hermione. He loved her, and it would cement his claim on her for all eternity, and end his constant fear of losing her. He would like her to be the mother of his children. He never even considered the possibility of wanting, much less having children until her. Beautiful, bright children, unlike the dunderheads he had to work with everyday. Children with her eyes, her brains, his hair and gods willing, her nose. He sighed, remembering a night long ago, before he had told her he loved her, when she spoke about what she wanted for the future. He had lain there, sated, listening to her, absently absorbing her dreams.

She wanted to dedicate her life to acquiring knowledge, and making new magical discoveries. She wanted to travel in a few years and not be tied down. She said she never planned on marrying, because it would hinder her, and that she didn’t think she was the mothering type anyway. That she was perfectly happy to remain as she was, with him as long as he would have her. This didn’t bother Severus, because their relationship was not on the level it was now. But he never forgot what she told him, and so never pursued the topic of matrimony, even after he fell in love with her, believing her objectives in life never changed. There were times he wished she would bring it up, and then, maybe he could act on his desire, try to convince her to become his wife. But she never did, and he never pushed her. He didn’t want to be accused and resented later on for destroying her dreams.

He considered, however. This too was something in his heart. He had promised to share what he felt with her. Maybe it was time to let Hermione know that he would like nothing better to give her his name, along with his heart, truly claim her as his own. Maybe.

He hadn’t seen Hermione for the whole day. She wasn’t in the Spells lab or the library. He didn’t want her to think he was tracking her, but he was impatient to see if she were all right. The way she ran from him last night was startling. He had done what she asked him to do, then ran away from him. He was at a loss. But while he was talking, he could see love in her eyes, he was sure of it. He had seen it so many times when he was possessing her, those soft amber eyes sharing the message, as she gave him every part of herself. A little groan escaped the back of his throat. He missed her so much.

He snarked his way through his afternoon classes much the same as the morning’s. He took twenty points from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. They weren’t Gryffindor house after all, so he was much more lenient. He took his evening meal in the Great Hall, and Hermione did not come to supper either. Marcus, however was stuffing his face with pork chops and peas, and shot a glance at the Potions Master, giving him a self-satisfied smirk that Severus didn’t like at all. He knew where Hermione was, and wasn’t about to tell.

Actually, Hermione had skived off work for the whole day, apparating to Hogsmeade to book browse, stop in the Three Broomsticks, window shop and buy a new outfit for the club tonight. She was having a great time, feeling wonderful about how she and Severus would be together again. She picked out a nice blue and white beaded camisole, and matching skirt that fell to her thighs, and throwing caution to the winds, some blue and white dragonhide go-go boots. She might as well go all out. Time flew by and it was evening before she knew it. The torches of Hogmeade were flaring into light.

“Damn, where did the day go?”

She hurried to the public apparation point and apparated back to Hogwarts, bags in hand.

When she arrived in her rooms, she let out a little squeak of horror at the time. She hurriedly showered and dressed, then as an afterthought, scribbled a note to Severus apologizing for leaving so abruptly and letting him know she was going out to a club with Marcus and would see him tomorrow to talk. She walked through the labs to his office and opened the bookcase. He would be out making his rounds of Hogwarts, rooting out snogging and shagging students and generally spreading his normal aura of abject fear and terror liberally around the castle. She left the note on his table, and left to find Marcus.

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Marcus was pacing his office, wondering where the hell Hermione was. He wanted to get going. Tonight was going to be the night. He still hadn’t figured out how he was going to accomplish his violation of the little witch, but right now was leaning toward stunning her, partially binding her so she couldn’t fight but still scream, fucking the shit out of her, then oblivating her after they left the club. It seemed the simplest, most expedient way to meet his objective.

He was dressed in black leather pants, that fit him very nicely, a black belt with a silver dragon buckle, a form fitting white t-shirt that clung to his broad, muscled chest and a pair of black dragonhide boots. He looked rather yummy, and he knew it. The women at the club would eat him up. But he had his own little plans tonight, so he would just be collecting contact info for a later date.

There was a knock on the door. Finally.

Marcus put on his most pleasant face. “Come in,” he called.

Hermione entered and she looked absolutely delicious in camisole, skirt and go-go boots. Marcus made a mental note to leave the go-go boots on her when he fucked her. They were hot.

“You look great!” he said, eyeing her up and down.

“Thanks…you look good too, “ she replied. “the women are going to love you.”

“They always do,” he replied, raising his eyebrows dramatically and striking a pose.

She laughed. “Well, we better get going.”

“Right,” he agreed, opening the door and ushering her through.

They headed to the Main Hall and exited through the front gate. The door had just closed when Severus appeared on the upper landing, returning from his rounds. He had deducted a total of one hundred points from the three houses. It had been a good night. He missed Hermione and Marcus by seconds. He headed for the dungeons, Hermione still on his mind. He wondered if he should go to her rooms and check up on her. He decided against it. She would come to him when she was ready to see him. He entered his office and went straight to his study, where he poured himself a firewhiskey and plopped down in an armchair to stare morosely at the fire. He went to place the glass on the table when his hand brushed a piece of parchment. He picked it up, opened it and scanned its contents.

“No, Hermione!” he breathed, jumping out of the armchair, rushing over to the fireplace and grabbing some floo powder out of the box on the mantle. He threw it into the fire which turned green and stepped through to Albus’ office.

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Severus rushed through the floo, a worried expression on his face. Albus looked up at him from from his desk, his quill hovering over a parchment he had been writing on.

“Severus, my boy. What a pleasant surprise,” he said, beaming at the Potions Master.

“Good evening, Headmaster,” Severus replied, “I afraid I cannot waste time with pleasantries sir. Do you still have the parchment that tracks Hermione and I?”

Albus rose from his desk, walking over to his file cabinet. “Yes, I should have it here, somewhere. You need it, my boy?”

“Yes, Marcus has taken Hermione off the school grounds to a club. I need to find them,” Severus replied, his brow furrowed with worry.

Albus dug through the cabinet and pulled out a small parchment. He opened it, and scanned it.

“She is at the Aurora club in outer Hogsmeade,” Albus said, looking at Severus soberly.

“May I take the map, sir?” Severus asked, already holding out his pale hand. Albus handed it to him.

“Thank you, sir,” Severus said, walking quickly toward the floo.

“Severus?” the Headmaster voice called behind him.

Severus half turned, “Yes, Headmaster?”

“Be careful, son. Marcus is a dangerous man,” Albus said, his eyes intently on the dark wizard before him. Severus scowled.

“So am I,” he said, stepping through the floo.

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Marcus and Hermione apparated outside a building swathed in neon lights. Cars were parked in the parking lot, and broom racks wrapped around the building. Gaudily dressed wizards and muggles were waiting in line to get in, having to pass two burly wizards, one who ran a magic detector over each patron, and collected any charms detected, and the other who collected and tagged wands at the door, then stamped the hands of the owner so the wand could be collected later. Marcus took Hermione’s arm.

“Come on, I know the bouncers,” he said, walking her past the line and straight to the front door. Grumbles followed them, and Hermione winced. They stopped in front of the bald, burly tattooed wizard with the magic detector. He was wearing a black wifebeater, black leather pants, and sported a thin long mustache that curled on both ends. It looked waxed.

“Hey, Mathias, what’s shaking my big, bald, brother?” Marcus said, clasping the wizard’s hand in an elaborate handshake.

“Marcus. Where’ve you been, you dog?” the wizard smiled at him, showing two missing teeth.

“Teaching,” Marcus said.

The bald wizard stared at him in amazement, before breaking into laughter, “What nutcase would turn you loose on a bunch of kids?”

“Albus Dumbledore,” Marcus replied, glancing at Hermione who was staring at the huge wizard with eyes like saucers.

The wizard stopped laughing and reverence filled his eyes. “Wow, great gig then man, if Dumbledore put you on. Come on, let’s get you and your little witch in here.”

He ran the magic detector over them, then pointed them to the other bouncer, who collected their wands, stamped their hands and let them in. Hermione felt uncomfortable without her wand, but everyone had to turn them over, so she guessed she could handle it being without it just this once.

The club was a seething mass of music, lights, colors and people. They had to thread their way to through the crowd, to the small round tables that lined the wall behind a steel guardrail. Marcus spotted an empty table and guided Hermione to it, pulling out her chair and settling her in. He caught the eye of a waitress and waved her over.

“Yeah?” the waitress said, chewing gum and looking down at the couple with a bored look, quill in hand.

Marcus looked at Hermione. “Ever had a Reuben sandwich. They’re great, saurkraut, swiss cheese, mustard and loads of roast beef on rye. Really good. Want to try one?”

“Sure,” Hermione said, though she really wasn’t hungry. She was in new territory, and that always had a negative effect on her appetite until she settled in.

“Two Reubens,” Marcus said. The waitress nodded and disappeared,

“So what do you think?” Marcus asked Hermione, gesturing at the surroundings.

“Well, it certainly is a popular club. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves,” she replied, watching the people on the dance floor.

“We’re going to enjoy ourselves too,” Marcus said smiling at her.

The waitress returned with their sandwiches. They were huge. Marcus paid her and threw in a tip that actually made the woman smile. She thanked him and left.

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she surveyed her sandwich.

“Marcus, I can’t possibly eat this whole thing,” she said, eyeing the huge monstrosity.

“Just eat what you can,” Marcus said, lifting his sandwich and biting into it with gusto, little strings of saurkraut trailing from his mouth. “Man, that’s good,” he commented, chewing enthusiastically.

Hermione wrestled with her sandwich, and finally got it into a position where she could bite it. It really was good. She smiled.

“I told you,” Marcus said, taking another bite of his.

They sat there in silence for a while, eating and watching the crowd. Marcus managed to finish his whole sandwich.

“Ok, time for drinks. I’ll be right back. Don’t let anybody take my seat,” he said to Hermione as he rose and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Hermione alone to take in the scene. He worked his way through the bar, rubbing up against women on the way, and grinning at them wickedly when they turned. Not one was angry after getting a look at him. He winked, smiled and made his way over to the crowded bar. It was four patrons deep. He pushed himself in as far as he could get, and waited for a few minutes. Finally he broke through.

Marcus stood by the bar, waiting to order drinks when three young muggle women pushed through the crowd, and stood next to him. He looked them over. Hm. Nice. A blonde, a brunette and he wasn’t sure how to identify the last woman, she had so many colors in her hair. They were choice little beauties, curvy, form fitting outfits, long legs. Marcus smiled at them.

The blonde woman looked up at him and gasped, elbowing her friends.

“Look at his eyes!” she breathed. All three women looked at Marcus. The brunette said, “Wow, those are great-looking contacts.”

Marcus looked at her intensely, making the woman catch her breath and flush prettily.

“I assure you, ladies, these are not contacts,” he purred, telescoping his eyes until they were almost black, then shifting them back.”

“Wow,” said all three women at once, now letting their eyes roam over the rest of Marcus, and giving him sultry grins of approval. Their body language changed noticeably, becoming more inviting. Marcus grinned at the three of them.

“Listen, I am with someone at the moment, but I wonder if you ladies would consider giving me your…”

“Phone numbers?” the blonde-haired woman squeaked, already reaching in her bag for pen and paper.

Marcus gave her a sexy, promising grin.

“No,” he said, eyeing all three women in an unmistakable manner, “your addresses.”

The three women gasped and immediately huddled. They talked among themselves. Marcus caught snatches of their conversation.”

“All three of us?”

“But look at him, look at his eyes.”

“He has a lot of nerve.”

“But Clara, look at him. He’s gorgeous.”

“I’ve heard wizard sex is awesome.”

Marcus leaned on the bar, checking his fingernails and waiting for the women to decide. Suddenly, three pieces of paper were shoved under his nose, and three sets of willing eyes met his. He smiled at them.

“Count on seeing me soon, ladies, and be prepared to compare notes,” he said as smiled at them lustfully, telescoping his eyes. Sighs and giggles rewarded him as he put the addresses in his pocket. The barmaid finally got to him. He ordered a bottle of firewhiskey and a never-ending carafe of the sweet, potent house wine. He paid the barmaid, bid the three giggling women goodbye and worked his way back through the crowd to his and Hermione’s table, holding the bottles and glasses high above him.

Hermione sat and people-watched, three quarters of an unbelievable large reuben sandwich on a plate in front of her. She’d have to have it wrapped and take it with her. Dancers were gyrating on the floor, their bodies moving to the beat. They were quite a mix, wizards in robe, muggles in leather suits, jeans and little miniskirts, Mohawks and neon hair, flashing necklaces and shoes, and more. Hermione tapped her foot, but she felt a little out of place, she had never been to a club like this, the energy was so high, the air practically crackled. She needed to relax.

Marcus appeared at the table and set the bottles and glasses down. He looked at the uneaten sandwich.

“Couldn’t handle Reuben, eh?” he smiled at Hermione, sliding the plate to one side and pouring her a glass of wine. Hermione picked up the glass and eyed it.

“House wine,” said Marcus, watching her.

“Oh,” Hermione said, and she tasted it, “Oh it’s sweet!”

“Strong too,” Marcus said, his eyebrows raised as Hermione drank the whole glass down. He poured her another one.

“Drink up, then we’ll get out there and strut our stuff,” he said, with a sly grin.

Hermione felt the wine warming her belly, causing her arms and legs to tingle. The glow started to spread. The music started to sound better and better, as she drained her next glass of wine, and turned to watch the dancers as Marcus filled her glass again and slid it forward. She certainly could knock it down.

The house wine was not the quality of drink she was used to sharing with Severus in the privacy of his rooms. It was plentiful, cheap and strong, and buzzed right to the witch’s head. Three glasses of it was equivalent to seven glasses of what she was used to. She was drunk in record time.

Marcus had been people-watching, or woman watching to be more precise, his violet eyes following the twisting body of a muggle woman in a catsuit, with interesting parts of it cut out. His eyes roamed over her exposed derriere appreciatively before she disappeared in the swarm of gyrating bodies. He turned back in his chair and looked over at Hermione. He was startled by what he saw. Hermione was looking at the gyrating dancers, her skin was flushed, and her amber eyes hot, and half-lidded, She fairly rolled in her seat, moving to the music. She looked wanton, accessible…

He looked down at her glass. Wine? After all this time, alcohol was the answer. Marcus knocked his forehead thinking about.all the time he had spent pursuing her, hoping to peak her interest when all he had to do was get her drunk. Gods. He reached over and poured her another glass from the never-ending carafe.

“Here, Hermione. Have some more wine,” he said, holding up the glass.

Hermione turned her eyes on him. They were passionate, slightly unfocused. “Thank you,” she purred, taking the glass and drinking a large amount of the wine, before putting it down and meeting Marcus’ gaze again. The urgency in them was unmistakable.

“Come on,’ she said, rising, “Let’s dance.”

Marcus let out a low whistle as she began to move, winding up her body and looking at him invitingly. The wizard was on his feet in an instant. He followed the witch to the dance floor and began to move with her. She swung her hair, and moved her hips suggestively, dancing against him, then dancing away. Marcus’ cock was already aching in his pants. Who would have thought that she could be so sexy. No wonder Severus took such pleasure in pounding the shit out of her. She was driving Marcus wild. Every pore of her body oozed sex as she moved on the dance floor. Every male eye was on her as she rolled her belly and wriggled her hips in time to the music.

Severus had been right to tell her not to drink with anyone but him. Her inhibitions were completely taken away. The same thing that happened in Gryffindor Tower was happening here, but there was no Harry, no Ron to rescue her as she threw herself into the dance, and Marcus.

She rubbed herself against him and kept dancing away, teasing him, daring him to follow her deeper into the crowd. Marcus kept up with her, keeping time with the rhythm, circling her. She did a shimmy that almost made his tongue hit the floor, then did an amazing split, sliding back up deliciously, winding her arms in the air. She was gone. Marcus couldn’t stand the distance any longer, and moved into her, wrapping his arms around her waist and following her motions, rubbing his cock against her as much as he could. He was rewarded with a moan from the dancing, inebriated witch. He let his hands slide down her back, and over the curve of her hips, fondling her flesh beneath his large hands.

“Your hands feel so good,” she murmured, “touch me more.”

Marcus obliged her, running his hands over her ass and thighs, groping her as they moved around the floor. He pulled her against him. She groaned, “I’m so hot…I need…kiss me, Severus.”

Marcus stiffened a moment, looking down at the wanton little witch sliding her soft body against his, then shrugged and lowered his head, claiming her mouth. So what if she thought he was Snape? She’d be even more willing. Her mouth was hot as fire as her tongue wrestled with his passionately. Marcus let out a groan and ground her to him tightly, still moving with the music, feeling all her curves giving against him. Oh gods, he was going to fuck her like he’d never fucked anyone before

He placed his face against her ear, “You want to leave? You want me to fuck you, Hermione?”

“Yes. Yes,” she breathed, pressing her body against Marcus’ trembling with desire, “I’m so empty…hungry. Please. It’s been too long.”

Marcus groaned again, his cock so hard it was painful. This was turning out to be better than stunning her, instead of fighting against him, she’d be hot and loving it. And that’s what he really wanted. He licked his lips and looked at her hungrily as she moved against him. Where was he going to take her? It had to be someplace where no one could hear or disturb them. He’d figure it out.

He caught her by the hand, dragging the witch through the sweating, bouncing bodies, off the dance floor…

and running straight into Severus.

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A/N: mmbawhahahahaha! How\'s THAT for a cliffie! >evil grin< I want review and I want them now! lol Just kidding, but let me know what you think. It will affect the speed of the next chapter since I\'m petering out here...thanks