Why Just Watch? ~ Edit, Not Update

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 2 ~ A Proposition

A soaked, gasping Ron rolled off of Hermione and to his back, his red hair plastered to his head as he panted, his eyes closed and chest rising and falling from the effort. His limbs felt like lead.

”Ron!” Hermione cried.

”What? Hermione are you trying to bloody kill me? My heart’s going to give out!” Ron complained to the naked little witch pulling at his shoulder. “I can’t keep this up. You’re killing me. I’m only shooting dust now.”

Hermione stared at Ron. For the past few days she’d really put the wizard through his paces, insisting on strong, rough and long-lasting sex several times a night, reaching for something she just couldn’t seem to get.

The first time, Ron was pleasantly surprised at Hermione’s randiness and did his best to accommodate her. The second time it was still good. The third time it was getting a bit rough. The fourth time was murder. There wasn’t a fifth.

“Did you drink an irreversible lust potion or something?” Ron asked her the second night.

“No. I’m just . . . just in the mood to shag,” Hermione told her lover, unable to say that she was trying to get to the level of Snape’s little trick. She wanted to feel the way Melissa felt, completely and utterly reamed. Ron was good, but he couldn’t give that to her. He wasn’t that kind of lover and let’s face it. He didn’t have the tool the Potions master did.

This was the fourth night in a row that Ron had marathon sex with Hermione and he couldn’t take anymore. His body needed rest and even the mention of sex was enough to make his stomach ache. As soon as he caught his breath, he looked at Hermione.

”Listen, ‘Mione. I need a break from all the shagging. I have body aches where I didn’t even know I had muscles and it feels as if I’ve scraped off all my foreskin from friction. I can’t keep this up. I’m sorry. How about I bring you a toy from Cedric’s Sex Symposium to fill in for me until I recover?” the wizard suggested.

If this had only been one or two nights of unbridled, body-breaking sex, Ron might have felt a bit inadequate, but he had worked hard these past few days and believed he’d performed quite well. This was something that was happening with Hermione, not him. He couldn’t keep up and he had to do something. He was in a state of constant ache and he had to work.

“A toy? Ron, I don’t want a toy!” Hermione exclaimed.

”Well, you’re going to have to do something Hermione, because I’m all out,” the wizard said, getting up long enough to pull on his briefs then climbing back into bed. He kissed Hermione on her stiff lips.

”I’m going to sleep love. Please, just let me sleep,” he said to her, rolling over with his back facing her and protectively placing both arms between his legs in a semi-fetal position to protect what was left of his package. In a minute, he was asleep, Hermione looking at him with a furrowed brow.

She sighed, placed her hands on her lower belly and looked up at the ceiling. The ache was still there. Ron had managed to tap it but not break it despite his best efforts. Hermione even found herself fantasizing she was the prostitute and Ron was the professor during intercourse but it didn’t work. Too many elements were missing. Ron didn’t do “talking dirty” well. Snape was vocal, apparently, but Ron was more focused. He could hardly close his mouth when shagging, much less speak.

This kind of longing was terrible. Just terrible. Hermione wasn’t satisfied with Ron’s performance. He had always satisfied her before.

Before she saw Snape in action that is, and what he was ‘working’ with.

Hermione had fallen into the deep well of longing for the taboo, the wrong, the completely unsuitable. Ron would never be able to fulfill that hole because he didn’t come near fitting it properly. He wasn’t dark, cold, or cruel. He didn’t have a voice that could shoot to a witch’s core. He didn’t walk about giving off an aura of reserve by day and animal passion by night. He didn’t have intense black eyes . . . or greasy hair . . . or a big beak of a nose . . . or a cruel, petulant mouth . . .

In other words, he was no Snape.

And that was a real problem.

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”Apprentice, I’m afraid you’re going to have to be on call for the next two weeks. I have several potions that I am going to need you to help maintain and they will require constant attending. You are going to have to stay at the castle,” Snape told Hermione the next evening, handing her several parchments with instructions.

”Yes sir,” Hermione said, not looking at him. She couldn’t. Whenever she did all she could see was him in the lab shagging Melissa for all he was worth, his foot propped up on the desk, his penetration of her body visible, buttocks clenching, balls and hair swinging as he held the shrieking woman firmly . . .

”Apprentice,” Snape suddenly said and startled, Hermione looked up at him with hot eyes for a moment before she recovered.

Snape studied her.

”You seem distracted. I hope nothing in your personal life will interfere with your work. These potions are important and the ingredients costly. I can’t afford any mistakes being made,” he said to her silkily, his eyes seeming to look inside her.

”Yes sir,” Hermione said, swallowing and looking back down at the brewing instructions.

Snape’s gaze drifted over Hermione’s bushy brown hair and robed body consideringly. She had been acting quite different over the past two weeks. Ever since the night she saw him with Melissa. Quite different. Nervous. Skittish. Almost . . . afraid. Yet it wasn’t the kind of afraid that was fear inspired. This was something else. Hm. Maybe he should explore his suspicions as to what was going on with the little walking brain.

”Your vocabulary seems to have dwindled down to only two words in my presence, apprentice,” the Potions master said quietly. “I’ve noticed a marked change in your behavior and your . . . body language as well.”

Hermione looked up at him now.

”My . . . my body language?” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

”Yesssss,” the wizard hissed softly. “There is a . . . reaction when I come near you now. Very slight, but I notice it. My many years as a spy has made me sensitive to such things. A change in an individual’s body language usually means there has been a change in perception. Has your perception of me . . . changed, apprentice?”

”Changed? Why would it have changed?” Hermione said, hoping her voice sounded light and carefree.

Snape’s lip quirked. They were in his lab.

”Possibly because you’ve seen me in a sexual situation and it . . . intrigued you,” he said in a rather seductive voice.

“Why . . . why that’s just ridiculous!” Hermione spluttered as her belly did a series of flip-flops at how the professor divined exactly how she was feeling. Most men couldn’t tell what women felt.

”Is it?” the professor crooned at her, an eyebrow arched. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks . . . Hermione.”

Hermione was shocked at the professor’s use of her given name. He had never, ever used it before. His usage of it felt so . . . so personal . . . so intimate that she blushed.

As the witch colored, Snape knew for certain he had his finger on the pulse of her little problem. Possibly, if he approached this situation correctly, he’d have more than his finger on it. However, he would have to take control of the situation. Well, he was going to test the waters.

Snape slowly pulled out his wand, Hermione watching him silently as the wizard pointed it at the lab door and flicked it. The door swung closed and clicked, locking. Then he breathed, “Silencio’ and put his wand back in his pocket. He looked down at the witch, saying nothing.

Hermione couldn’t seem to move or speak and her heart was racing. She should be protesting, asking the wizard what the hell did he think he was doing? Demanding that he lift the Silencing spell and unward that door this instant, or she’d report him! There were so many things she should be doing, but wasn’t. All she could do was look at Snape, his dark eyes glinting at her expectantly. Where was her voice? Where did it run to?

“I was going to send an owl to Madame Tootsie’s tonight,” the wizard said softly, “but before I do that, I was wondering, Hermione, do you have an alternative suggestion to my paying for sex? One that might be quite . . . fulfilling for both of us? I would love to slake your curiosity about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of my passion. There’s no other wizard who can do that as you probably already know.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open soundlessly for a second, then snapped shut. Was he using Legilimency on her? Did he know she fantasized about him when having sex with Ron?

”Don’t look so shocked, Hermione,” Snape said softly, “it is normal to fantasize about someone that attracts you. I myself am guilty of putting you in Melissa’s place on several occasions, ever since I saw the way you looked at me when I finished her. I thought perhaps you would like me to do to you what I did to her. But with you . . .”

Snape lifted Hermione’s chin with one pale finger.

”I would be even more . . . passionate. You are no whore after all, nor are you promiscuous. I know you’ve only been with Ronald Weasley and it is commendable, but foolish. Witches and wizards marry for life, and once you tie the knot with him, there will be no experimentation, no exploration with other men. Fidelity is a good thing within a marriage, but . . . to be so young, single and so limited in experiences . . . is not. I don’t believe it would be conducive to your mind or your body to ignore what you are feeling, or to deny yourself knowledge of at least one other man before you permanently bind yourself to Mr. Weasley. I would be quite honored to be that man for you, Hermione. All you have to say is you want this. No one will ever know what happened between us.”

Hermione blinked at the professor, still unable to speak. But she had to say something.

Would it be “Let me out?”

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A/N: Ooh la la. :::chuckles::: Thanks for reading.