A Living Secret ~ COMPLETED

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 22 ~ Afterthoughts

When Severus returned to the stronghold, he had to hex four randy Death Eaters before they got the point he was not a victim of the ongoing revel.

“I’m polyjuiced, damn it! Expelliamus!” he snarled, “Plus I’m not even attractive!”

The Potions Master stalked off to his rooms. He wasn’t required to engage in revels, an arrangement he made long ago with Voldemort, citing his deep-set fear of catching STDs. In his youth, Severus had caught magical crabs that pinched the shit out of him for days before he went to the infirmary to treat them. He was terribly embarrassed and his cock and scrotum were hugely swollen. He could barely walk. From that time to this, if Severus Snape engaged a woman, he inspected her as thoroughly as a gynecologist (under the guise of foreplay) and still wore a condom.

Severus fixed himself a stiff drink and sat down in the armchair, his mind immediately turning to Hermione. He had no idea what happened. He certainly hadn’t intended to go for the witch. The Potions Master sipped his drink, scowling as he went over the events, attempting to discover what set him off to repeat the words of her own fantasies back to her when she said not to touch her.

There were several entries in her journal that said she pretended to protest his touch when she wanted it, and a few others that stated she wet her knickers at his touch. He shouldn’t have used her words against her that way…but her reticence to speak irked him. He was already surrounded by so many lies and deceptions.

The truth was, Hermione’s fantasies had sparked the wizard’s own imagination. In all reality, he was not the man Hermione fantasized about. He wasn’t a rapist or the kind of man to force himself on a woman that wasn’t absolutely willing, although he was quite capable of seduction if it were warranted…but there was a huge difference between forcing a woman into sex and seducing her to spread her legs. He wasn’t abusive either, physically or verbally. Actually he was rather quiet and focused when intimate, with the occasional groan of pleasure here and there. The wizard did fuck hard though. That was the only thing about him Hermione had gotten right.

It fascinated him that a woman would want him to act the way Hermione described in her journals, and a part of him wondered what it would be like to treat a woman in such a manner. In a way he could see how she developed such a caricature of him, in that he was sarcastic, cold and cruel in the way he acted towards others…but that was the part of him that wanted to push people away. In an intimate situation, the last thing he’d want to do was alienate the woman he was fucking by calling her names or being obscene.

But still, the young witch’s fantasies struck a chord in him, gave him something other to think about than the reality of his situation, the dangers ahead. Severus downed the rest of his firewhiskey, changing back into his original form as he did so, his brow still furrowed.

Had he unconsciously began to act out one of Hermione fantasies tonight? Had the witch’s secret longings affected him that much? Or was he just cracking from the stress?

He really didn’t know, and that bothered him. Severus felt he always knew his own motivations but he was at a real loss to explain himself to himself. The witch was barely the age of consent and yet he had acted as if he were going to take her right in Harry’s living room. He had no idea what he would have done if he got his hands on her. Not too much, considering they were in Harry’s house.

Severus rubbed his eyes as he realized if Harry had walked in on him tussling with the witch, more than likely hexes would have flown and the delicate truce they had established would probably have been shot to hell. Now he knew he hadn’t been thinking.

Yes, it was stress…he was sure of it. There was no way he would act so…so stupidly otherwise. He couldn’t allow himself to be drawn into Hermione’s world, into her fantasy life. It was simple escapism…opportunism, not that he was beyond taking advantage of a situation, but this was not the time for it. He had to be focused and careful.

For the first time, Severus Snape was sorry he had read Hermione’s journals. Not because he infringed on her privacy…he really didn’t care about that, but because of the effect those journals were having on him now. If anything, he should be flattered that a young witch found him desirable and made him the object of her fantasies.

That didn’t mean he should act on them.

But damn, what a pleasant diversion Hermione Granger could be. She was a brilliant little witch as well and Severus appreciated intelligence, even more so than beauty. Beauty fades. Severus always believed there are three ways to fall in love, physically, emotionally and intelligently. He believed the first two were too flighty, too subject to change. The body changes, the emotions fluctuate, but intelligence rarely changes for the worst. Fall in love with someone’s mind and the rest would follow.

Of course it was only a theory. Severus Snape had never been in love a day in his life. He developed this theory by watching others.

The wizard rose and fixed himself another drink. The volume of debauchery in the throne room increased, and Severus cast a silencing spell so he didn’t hear the screams. Then he sat back down in the armchair and stared into the fire.

He most likely wouldn’t have to see Hermione for a good while. But he would have to see her to find out at least a little about the precautions they were taking at the castle. What he did bring back to Voldemort would be worthless more than likely, but as the most favored he was sure he wouldn’t be tortured for it. Yes, Albus’ presumed death did afford him some protection.

Severus spent the rest of the night getting good and drunk.

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Marcus Delaluci was carefully going over Hermione’s bedroom for any clues as to Snape’s whereabouts. He was checking her wardrobe when his hand came in contact with several disillusioned books resting on the bottom, covered with a blanket.

“Oh ho, what’s this?” he said, pulling out his wand and removing the spell.

He picked up a book.

“Sixth Year Journal,” he read, unlocking the strap with his wand tip, opening the book up and leafing through it.

It didn’t take long for his eyebrows to rise.

“Good gods…I would never have suspected our little golden girl wrote porn…and good porn too,” he breathed, then his mouth formed an ‘O.’

“Shit. It’s Snape porn,” he said in amazement, fighting back the urge to gag.

He read a few more lines.

“Dayum!” he said, dropping on the bed. Suddenly, he heard Hermione outside removing the ward on her door.

“Fuck,” Marcus said, disillusioning himself, rolling over her bed, dropping to the floor and scooting under it. He left the journal out on the bed in his haste to hide. He could see Hermione’s white trainers and the hem of her robes as she entered the room. She looked at the journal on her bed.

“I thought I put this up,” she said to herself, “I guess I didn’t.”

Marcus had lucked out in that Hermione was so distracted by seeing the Professor this evening, she didn’t half remember everything she did that afternoon. As far as she knew, she meant to put all the books away and disillusion them. She had been reading the sixth year journal quite a bit.

Hermione yawned, stretched and began to undress, Marcus watching as her robes fell to the floor, then her blouse and her bra. She bent and removed her trainers and socks, but Marcus only saw a little flesh. Too bad his dragon gift didn’t let him see through objects. She removed her jeans, then the knickers came down and dropped on the floor. They were cotton, white and a little damp.

Marcus nostrils flared a bit when he caught a small whiff of her scent. Clean. Virginal. Definitely compelling.

“Not eighteen,” he thought to himself as he heard her scourgify herself then watched her bare feet walk over to the wardrobe. The wizard could see her calves now, smooth and shapely.

“Not bad, Miss Granger,” he thought as Hermione slid open a drawer and pulled out a short nightgown. She slipped it on, lowered the torches and climbed into bed.

Marcus lay there, listening to the witch breathe. Suddenly, he heard something else…a kind of whimper, then a groan.

“Oh, Professor Snape,” Hermione sighed, masturbating fiercely. What happened tonight turned her on horribly. It was just like one of her fantasies…he was angry, fierce…ready to jump on her. If only Harry hadn’t come in when he did. Or at all.

Under the bed, Marcus was shaking his head. Damn girl…if you need a wizard that bad…

But he knew better than to show himself. He’d just have to wait until she was finished.

Hermione groaned and moaned, picturing Severus fucking her brutally, crying out “harder, oh harder, Professor!”

Marcus had a huge and uncomfortable erection by the time the witch let out a little shriek and a sigh. About fifteen minutes later he heard her snoring.

Marcus eased out from under the bed and peeked over the edge of it. Hermione was sound asleep on top of the covers, her nightgown still around her thighs, but nothing intimate was showing. Marcus rose slowly and looked down at the witch, seriously considering fucking her. He could obliviate her afterwards.

He decided against it however. He still had to get back to his rooms undetected.

“You’re a lucky little witch,” he breathed down at the sleeping young woman, “A hot one too. Too bad you want to give it to Snape. I’m much better.”

Marcus exited her room with a little shrug.

There was no accounting for taste.

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A/N: Short chappie. Grands driving me crazy. Thanks for reading.