Waltzing Miss Hermione Granger

Sinbad: Thank you. I hope you like how I continue it three years later.



Proudtobeamudblood: Well, I am feebly squashing the tiny plot ants before the morph into bunnies... but this is me and I don’t trust myself.



Rani: Hee hee... ‘Take the plot and run’ I like that. But that may not be the case. I hope you like my continuation.



Crinna: I am glad you like the story. And yes I do revisit the reviews of my older stories. As for Love of a Sheriff; when I was writing the second chapter of that my computer went bust after a measly three weeks; and it took two months to sort it out, now I have a new one I will get back to it as soon as I possibly can... I keep meaning to but it just never gets done.



Loveeyourhatee: Here’s the update.



Jade: Thank you very much.



EmmyloveDraco: Thank you also, I will.



Lady Minstrel: Well, it might; I have only written ONE PWP, and that was Bellatrix/Remus... it’s here on this site.



Blueeyes: I will, and here’s what happens three years after.



La Bibliographe: Yes, you have it correctly. The plot bunnies will just have to hop of somewhere else for this one. Apart from McGonnagall... yes, that’s right. I know what you mean by that. It happens to me all the time; I’ll just have to make the bunnies behave for this one. No, we’re not past the Voldemort era... I try to keep to HBP as much as possible. As for who’s going to get into whose knickers first... just read on.



Moi: Thank you for that. I don’t know zip about dancing really, I’m just going by what I have seen in films. I will bear it in mind for the future. I hope you liked the rest of it though, and I hope you continue to like it.



Caught In The Rain



Hermione realized that what she was doing was probably stupid to the point of recklessness. She had to slip out of the house though, and be by herself for a while. She had tried so hard that night to shake the images of her dancing with Snape, all those years ago, out of her head. It was so completely sensual. She loved dancing with him and felt that no one would ever dance like that with her again.



She looked at the landscape ahead of them and shrugged her shoulders. Despite the grey sky overhanging the scenery it was warm. She looked at her watch; it wasn’t even six o’clock yet. She shook her head. If she could not sleep she might as well do something, and the only thing she could think of was walking up the hill. She tramped across the Weasley’s back garden and she hopped over the fence and began walking.



She had reached the bottom of the hill and felt a splash of something cool against her skin. The splash on the back of her neck made her look upwards and shook her head. So what if it was going to rain. She sometimes liked getting soaking wet. So what if it made her hair frizzier! She had set out to have a walk and the threat of rain would not stop her.



Another droplet ended up settling on the top of her head but she carried on. She soon felt a third, and then a fourth drop. Almost immediately it began to rain seriously. She felt her t-shirt stick to her skin; and her jeans were starting to feel heavy. She didn’t care, and showed her attitude by somersaulting and doing handstands.



“Very clever, Miss Granger, and what do you do for an encore?”



She froze on the spot. “What are you doing here, Sir?” she stammered.



“I am here to keep an eye on you,” he whispered. He was ten feet away but she could hear him quite clearly.



“I had best be going,” she said.



“But it looked like you were just getting started,” he replied; his voice was dark and Hermione, as ever, was rooted to the spot because of it.



His lips curled in a rather lecherous smile. His eyes swept up and down her body. He enjoyed the way that her t-shirt rode up her body when she was standing on her hands. She was different from the girl he danced with that time. He hadn’t been able to forget that moment. She was rather a good dancer; she moved well with him, and as time progressed he could not get the fact that her body was attracted to his out of his head. It made his position as a teacher extremely uncomfortable to say the least.



The rain fell on his hair and dripped down his face; a silvered drop slipped down his nose where it hung for a brief second before it splashed on the ground. Hermione giggled at the image. Severus scowled at that. He didn’t think that she’d be that immature. He tilted his head to one side.



“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I haven’t seen you wet before. It’s rather -,” she hesitated. She couldn’t use the word ‘cute’ to describe him. “It’s rather -,” she thought she had the word but found she couldn’t say ‘human’ either. She was about to try again when he stepped up to her.



“Rather what?” he asked keeping his dark eyes on hers. She couldn’t say anything now; his gaze seemed to put a curse on her throat and it seemed to turn the texture of it to sandpaper.



“Nothing, Sir,” she said huskily.



“Aren’t you supposed to run down the hill screaming for your boyfriend?” he sneered. “I am after all a fugitive!”



Hermione knew he was right, but she couldn’t. It was as if her feet had turned into two blocks of clay. The rain continued pouring on her. The white t-shirt had become transparent and was sticking to her body. He looked down her body and noticed her breasts were becoming taut.



“I – I have no boyfriend, Sir,” she stammered.



“What?” he asked incredulously. “That doesn’t seem to make logical sense.”



Hermione snorted. “I’m hardly Fleur De La Coeur.”



“That’s what doesn’t make sense,” he said. “I am a logical man, Miss Granger. I like the world to make some sort of sense,” he continued; he took in a deep breath and appraised the situation in his mind. “Do you know what would make sense now?”



“No,” Hermione said. “But I dread to think what it is you think would make sense this moment in time.”



“It would make sense for you to turn those pretty light feet around and go back to the Weasley residence. It would make sense for you to tell them where I am.”



Hermione sighed. She folded her arms under her breasts and nodded.



“You are right,” she said softly.



“So, why aren’t you?” he asked.



“I hardly know,” she said. She began to feel really uncomfortable in her wet, now very tight, jeans.



“You should,” he murmured.



Hermione began sweeping her gaze around the scenery about them.



“If only to get out of these wet clothes,” she muttered out loud.



“That’s right, Miss Granger,” he said tilting her chin up with one of his long, pale fingers. “Your clothes are soaked and leave little to nothing for the imagination.”



Hermione looked down, and then up again; her jaw hung wide open. She couldn’t believe that Snape could see her half-naked; she didn’t even have her breasts covered by a bra for decency’s sake.



“How long have I been like this?” she asked.



“Throughout most of our conversation,” Snape drawled. He tipped his head the other side contemplating what he was about to say. “A very fine pair, I must say.”



Hermione flushed. “I think I’ll leave now!” she tilted her chin proudly in the air and turned to move back to the Burrow but Snape moved swiftly and was soon standing in front of her.



“Don’t I turn you on anymore?” he asked.



“What?” she blinked.



“McGonnagall told me what I did to you when we danced together,” he purred; his eyes were hooded, and they darkened with lust.



“That was three years ago!” she said hotly.



“Nearly four,” Snape replied. He reached out with his hands and smiled as he swept her up in his embrace. “That was the best dance I ever had.”



Hermione wanted to pull away from him but he was strong, and she had forgotten just how good she felt in his arms. He smiled as he felt her wet skin on her hand. She sighed as he took one of her tiny hands and began sucking her fingers taking his time on each, little digit.



“Please don’t,” she said. He looked into her eyes and swept her lips with the tip of his tongue; she parted them and he smiled.



“Please don’t what, Miss Granger?” he murmured; he drew her closer to him, he leant down and whispered in her ear. “I want this as much as you do.”



“But I – that was – listen, Sir, this is wrong. You murdered Dumbledore! I can’t!”



He took advantage of her still open mouth and pushed his tongue inside her mouth. She tried to squirm away from his touch but she couldn’t resist him. His kiss was like him: demanding, exact, and passionate. Hermione knew that Snape was passionate; she didn’t need a kiss to tell her that.



“Didn’t you mention something about getting out of these wet clothes, Miss Granger?”



Hermione was rendered speechless by his kiss. She tugged at his rain soaked hair. In an instant Severus saw her eyes turn from cinnamon to honey gold. He loved that change in a woman’s eyes. He stroked her cheek.



“Are you under some misapprehension that I am good and decent, Miss Granger?” he purred as he sucked on her earlobe. “That beneath this coarse veneer I am actually all right in my own way?” He dipped his head and sucked on one of her erect nipples. “That all I need is to be loved?”



“No, Sir. I don’t love you, Sir!”



“Good,” he whispered swapping breasts. “I don’t want you to come away from this thinking I did this to you because I love you. I am a man in desperate need to be serviced,” he took one of her hands and placed it on his manhood. “Are you willing to service me, Miss Granger?”



“Yes, Sir,” she said. Her breathing had become ragged. She had tried to make sense of what he was saying to her. She could make out that he was making it abundantly clear that he was a limited time offer.



“I thought you might,” he said. “I have waited for this moment since I found out that I was the one that awakened the feelings of lust within you,” he got down on his knees and pushed up her top revealing a beautiful body. He suckled the soft, rounded flesh of her stomach and kissed her bellybutton. Hermione wrapped her hands up in his hair.



Oh Merlin, how many women did this man have in his life? She thought to herself.



“Forty-two, counting you,” he said out loud. She jumped.



“H-how did you know what I was thinking?” she said.



Severus rolled his eyes and stood back up. “It’s what every woman thinks when a man is ministering to her basic desires.”



Her eyes narrowed. She gazed back up into his eyes. “If I do this,” she began, knowing that she was playing with fire. “You promise to tell me whose team you’re really playing for?”



“Absolutely,” his voice was like a layer of silk caressing her ears. He could make any word sound like a come on.



“Right,” she said. She had to show some form of authority otherwise he might think he could walk all over her.



“Now we have solved the matter of payment, shall we continue?” he said.



“You make it sound like you just prostituted yourself!” Hermione snapped. She pushed him away and made for a second attempt to walk away from him but he grabbed her by an elbow and clamped her body tightly to his. She had no room to move, and didn’t have the strength to resist him.



“I have, Miss Granger,” he said. “But, there is no need to be offended about it. It turns me on.”



Hermione tried not to laugh. This may be not her idea of seduction but she couldn’t deny the romanticism of losing her virginity to a tall, dark (relative) stranger on the slope of a hill in a humid torrent of rain.



He lifted her arms up in the air and pulled her wet t-shirt off her body. He circled around her. He licked his lips as the golden shine of her body seemed luminescent in the rising heat of lust. Severus surveyed the scenery and whipped his wand from his trouser pocket and flicked it at a fairly flat area of the hillock. Hermione gasped as a tent was erected on that very spot.



“I love magic!” she exclaimed.



“Its fortunate then that you’re a Witch,” Severus replied. “It’d be a waste if you wasn’t.”



Hermione looked at him and smiled. He took her hand and led her to the tent. He had thought of everything in that one spell. There, inside the tent, was a fairly reasonable sized bed; a table; and, on the floor, which was made of wood, was a black hearthrug. She shook her head.



“Can you teach me this spell?” she asked.



“Certainly, my dear,” he said stepping closer to her again.





He got down on his knees. He parted her button on the top of her jeans. He smiled as he took her copper coloured zipper between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it down. He loved the sound of a slowly opening zip. He breathed on her thatch. He noted her shiver. He smirked as he laid his lips on her pubic triangle.



“Oh that’s nice,” Hermione said before she could stop herself.



“Thank you,” he purred. His voice vibrated through her body and it was all she could do to contain herself. “Although, I am surprised you are wearing nothing under your clothes. Were you expecting me?”



“No! I just wanted to get out of the house to clear my head,” she said.



“I will clear more than your head, Miss Granger,” Severus promised.



“I do hope so,” she said.



He looked into her eyes. “Now,” he said rising up from his subservient position. “You get down on your knees and undo my trousers, Wench!” Hermione fumed and was about to slap his face for the insult had he not placed his lips on her forehead. “It would be impossible with them on. Besides,” he smirked. “Not very many of those forty two have actually had permission to strip me, think of it as a privilege.”



Hermione was still angry at his behaviour but was mollified by the obvious compliment he was bestowing on her to invade his personal space. No matter how dirty she felt by doing it. She got down on her knees and with tremulous hands she took hold of the strap of his dragon leather black belt and whipped it out of its silver dragon shaped buckle; she then loosed the button from the hole and took hold of the zipper. She pulled down the silver zip and hooked her fingers in the waistband of his trousers and urged them to drop down his legs. She wanted to look away as she saw an obvious tenting in his boxers. She gulped. He reached down and stroked her hair.



“The boxers to, Hermione, I did not prepare myself for such an event. Lateral thinking is more a feminine trait!”



She closed her eyes and sighed. She reached up and hooked her fingers in the elastic waistband of his black silk boxer shorts. He let out an audible moan as she pulled them down. He loved her light; shy touch of his skin.



“If you satisfy me, Hermione, I may come back to you for more. I warn you now though, if you have had someone else after me, it will not go well with you. I am an extremely selfish man.”



Hermione had revealed his penis. It was jutting proudly. It was the first erection she had ever seen.



“How is that going to fit?” she asked.



Severus smirked. It was always a delight to him to see a Virgins reaction to his manhood.



“That is something for me to know and you to find out, my dear.” He laced his fingers in her hair. “Now,” he purred. “Stand up, and attend to my waistcoat and shirt.”



Hermione got up. He rubbed his erection against her stomach causing her to sigh. His fingers continued massaging her scalp. She was toying with the idea of stroking up his ribs before undoing her buttons. She loosed button, after bloody button of his waistcoat. He took the time to see what affect he was having on her. She was definitely turned on by his touch. Touch, he mused, happened to be his favourite sense.



She had finished with his waistcoat. She parted it aside and drew it down his arms. It fell down on the floor and she started work on his shirt.



“Why do you wear so many buttons?” she asked.



“Hmm,” he answered. He loved her frustration. She made quick work of his shirt and it too slid off his arms and fell down on the floor. Severus Snape was soon standing in front of her completely naked. She forgot that she too was in her birthday suit. “Now, kiss me, Wench, all over my body!” Hermione swept her eyes up and down his body and shook her head. “Would you prefer I kiss you first?”



Hermione nodded. Severus smile widened across his face. Hermione was strongly reminded of the Cheshire cat who had the cream. She felt something drip down her legs. Her body was preparing her for sex. He circled around her.



“You are indeed ripe for the plucking,” he said. “If we use the fruit metaphor you’re no longer green. And I am the Harvester.”



He planted his warm sensual lips on her cheek. She quivered. She had wanted this for three years now, but now she was this close to getting it; she wasn’t sure if this was what she really wanted. He looked into her eyes; his eyes were dark, mesmerizing, and she knew without a doubt that now it was too late. She was in the Devils clutches.



A/N – A rain shower, and very horny Severus... couldn’t resist that... it’s just getting started.