A Change Of Pace

Is this dancing? We’re hardly
doing more than turn in circles embracing each other. Any idiot could do
this…

I suppose I should be thankful,
though, that the first tune for us turns out to be slow. To ease me into this
position of intimacy with her, instead of throwing me.

My joints don’t want to give up
their perpetual rigidity. I just haven’t used these muscles enough, and I hope
she doesn’t find me a dull bore for it.

“Here. Like this,” she whispers,
and my worries are confirmed—she finds me too stiff for her liking. She sways littlittle, taking me with her. My first impulse, of course, is to stiffen even
more.

“Hey. Just let go. Like this.” Her
breath rushes past my earlobe, sending a shiver right to my very core. How
could just a whisper affect me so? I ask as I surrender to her lead,
putting, like her, a subtle twist in my body’s motion.

I tingle again as her handse
e
to rest on my upper back. She does not stroke me, but ever so often will push a
finger into my flesh. Her chin is tucked neatly above my collarbone, and her
scent is overwhelming—the perfume, the aldehyde and cream of her hair potion,
and something else, something indescribable and heady—possibly her body, her
skin. The touch of her earring against my neck makes me blink.

I remember I have hands. I start
to move them up and down her back, and I think I feel her reward me with tingles
of her own. My left hand comes to rest at the small of her back, and I
definitely feel her shiver then. I run my hand up and down, not moving more than
a few inches, and then I gasp as her tongue teases its way along my ear,
flicking the thin crevices— I’ll get her back for that.

I keep my left hand where it is,
and use my right to give her trim waist a gentle squeeze. I slide my right hand
lower, over the swell of her hips, and I’m feeling wicked, I spread my fingers
out to knead the resilient cheek— Now it’s her turn to gasp, and I know I have
taken things too far. I drop my hands to my sides and curse inwardly, not
wanting to look at her… but I can’t resist, and to my surprise I find she is
giggling. I find this strangely reassuring.

Her smile broadens and I feel her
snake her arms around my waist. I embrace her again, taking care not to play any
games this time, even though she was not perturbed. She lowers one of her hands
to caress the base of my spine—and flame sparks within me. She’s holding back
just enough to be discreet, while giving me unbelievable pleasure whether she
knows it or not. Hot, then cold, then shaking, the sensations run through my
body… And we have not lost our step this entire time.

My eyelids feel heavy, misted, as
I raise my head to look at her and see an expression of such welcome and
tenderness that I swallow. Even here, in the distorting light… I close my eyes
and lean forward, my lips touching hers, and her arms tighten as she responds to
me—me alone—

“Get a room!” scoffs a man next to
us. I realize the tune has changed to a fast tempo again. Damn. Another moment
gone.

“Never mind him. He’s just being
rude,” she says. “I don’t like this song anyway.” She motions us off the dance
floor, pressing her arm to my back, and I notice that a lot of the people
sitting off to the side are kissing and caressing. Have they no shame?
Wait—neither have I. Or her—We find a somewhat empty space and continue our
slow dance. She puts her arms around my waist again and pulls me to her. I can’t
open my eyes at first. We are moving very slowly in a circle again, probably
looking like two hugging zombies. But when I finally open my eyes and catch
hers, I see a most unzombielike heat radiating from them. Even in the
less-than-half light, I can see their color—sizzling, smoldering brown. And
those eyes are on me alone.

Part of me rebels then. When did I
ever say I wanted her? Didn’t I know what sh>mea>meant when she said she
wanted us to spend more “special” time together? What have I gotten
myself into? This may be your last chance to change your mind, if you decide
you don’t want this…

“Oh, wait, can we please dance to
this one? Please, Severus.” Any chance I may have had—to close our distance or,
conversely, to bolt—evaporates in thnstanstant, with these words. I raise my
eyes to hers again, and they are still sizzling, but with more childlike
enthusiasm this time and less passion. How many more moments can you stand to
lose before you have a heart attack, Severus? And miles away from any competent
mediwizard most likely…

But the arm that leads me out
there feels very un-childlike… it’s smooth and graceful in its insistence,
compelling, and yes, passionate.

She abruptly turns around to face
me, her arm outstretched and clasping my hand, her other arm hanging at her
side. Her head is slightly thrown back.

“My dear Professor Snape,” she
says giving her best Mona-Lisa smile, “May I please have this dance?” And I lose
the last bit of resistance I’ve possessed. My free hand comes around to encircle
her waist again as the cadence of the song changes.

We break into a deeper-stepping
version of a two-step. She, of course, is leading. Curiously, she seems patient
with me, not demanding. I am actually moving more smoothly than I ever would
have thought possible. Taking advantage of my greater confidence, I decide to
control things for a while, taking one of her hands and holding it off to the
side about a third of the way out, then turning us in circles again. To a more
experid dad dancer, I must look like I definitely do not know what I’m doing,
but I do not care. Not about anything but how she feels.

After a few complete revolutions I
look at her. Her eyes are sparkling and unless I miss my guess, she is
pleasantly surprised. She likes it when I’m in control.

I then stretch out my arm
tango-style, the one clasping her hand. Our eyes meet again, and her arm
tightens around my waist. I’ve always wanted to do this even though I’ve only
watched it so far.

There’s not much I
know about you

Fear will always
make you blind

But the answer is in
clear view

It’s amazing what
you’ll find face to face…

Slowly, carefully, I lead off our
tango. I’m afraid I’ll step on her feet—but the soft smile on her face reassures
me that I’m doing an at least halfway decent job. She nudges me into putting a
lilt into my step like she is doing, and I find I can do it without breaking my
rhythm.

We move one line to the side, and
come back the other end—I know I’m supposed to do something with my arms at the
end of each line, that I missed last time. She answers for me, pulling my
extended arm up and doing a few pirouettes. The shirrs on her skirt make
enticing whorls before settling down around her waist again.

She starts having a little fun,
stomping on the floor, putting both hands on my waist and spinning us both
around, kicking her legs high. The latter in particular is starting to distract
me. I pull her closer, partly to try to get my concentration back, a goal she
thwarts when she presses her hips very close to mine, making me take a sharp
breaHer Her smile is positively naughty. What does she think she’s
doing?

I know how best to remedy that
situation. I pick her up. Tuck her under my arm, head down and feet up. A woman
isn’t really that heavy to lift if you distribute her weight properly. With one
hand grasping her waist and the other pressed against her back for stability, I
move us around in circles. “Ohhh…” I hear her say. I know now, I’ve gotten her
back. I hear myself chuckling as I continue to rotate.

She pulls the band from her hair
in mid-spin and her curls tumble down, flowing with the arc of her body. She
stretches out her arms and runs her fingers through her hair, until it falls
below her head in a thick, rippling cascade.

style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">But when I faced you in my blank
confusion

I realized you
weren’t wrong, it was a mere illusion…

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She laughs again, and I look down,
still twirling her. My trousers are suddenly much tighter and hotter.

The sight of her suspended in my
arms, her hair flying, her skirt allowing me tempting glimpses of her upper
thighs, her breasts pulled skyward by her stretch… I must have felt arousal as I
saw her in this state.

But then I pull her up toward me,
we touch hip to hip as before, and it’s actually palpable. More important, she
knows of it.

It’s not hard to go
the distance

When you finally get
involved face to face…

The song changes again in that
instant. Judging from her grimace, it’s another one she doesn’t like. But she
re-focuses her attention on me, closing her lips and taking on a thoughtful
expression, pressing ever closer, snaking her arms around to my back.

She enjoys knowing she’s brought
me to this.

I am lost as she twists her hips
against my erection, which I hope no one else could see. I close my eyes, my
heart thundering. Then I feel her lips touching mine again, a very chaste kiss.
She slips just the tip of her tongue between my lips, going no farther than
their inner surfaces, tickling and tantalizing me.

One of my hands is on the small of
her back again. I always did love that part of her-- just the right size and
shape for me. My other hand is on the back of her neck, and her hair wisps
across my face as she deepens the kiss. I can’t go on. This is just too much.
If we don’t stop right now, I’ll lose control and end up mounting her right on
this dance floor…

I break the kiss, politely but
firmly, and notice the dreamy look in her eyes. “I think it would be an
excellent idea to quit this place and go somewhere more private.”

Another twist of her hips. “Yes.
Let’s get out of here.” Her voice is a throaty growl, a promise of delights to
come. She tucks her arm in mine and we stroll off the dance floor and out the
door. She doesn’t even protest that we had been there only about an hour.

align=center>¨¨¨¨¨

align=center> 

It’s torture for me as we walk
down the street, trying to conceal my arousal, control myself until we’re alone
again. Our touching is making it very difficult. I may have to force myself to
disengage from her. Fortunately, most of the people here are too drunk to care
about a stranger’s hard-on.

We end up having to walk quite a
distance. Slowly but surely I feel my passion cool down, but I still have to
force myself not to look at her. I only hope she doesn’t interpret my actions as
disgust, or lack of interest.

Finally we step into the lobby of
a hotel, a tasteful middle-class one from the looks of it. Good. I don’t want
her splurging all night on my account. She takes out a small card, about three
by two inches, hands it to the Muggle at the desk, and a moment later takes it
back from her with a key. “We’re in room 433,” she says. “The staircase is this
way.”

Inside the stairwell I say, “You
don’t want to go back to Hogsmeade? All we have to do is Apparate back.”

“I’d rather stay the night now
that I think of it,” she says. “All night I’ve been harping on you, but I think
I may need a change myself.”

I think this is strange until I
remember that going to London probably isn’t that unusual or special to her.
Having me along, however, is—and I don’t know whether to be excited or brace
myself for a disappointment. I hope I haven’t been misreading her all along.
Better not lose control in case it is a disappointment…

She unlocks the door to a tidy
bedsit with a single queen bed. At least that’s a good sign. There is
also a sofa in front of the television. Or not. Maybe she has noticed my
mental preparation for a letdown, because she smiles at me. The most enticing,
come-hither smile I have seen on her tonight—even considering her earlier
behavior.

She takes my hand and raises it to
her lips, saying, “You were amazing tonight, Professor,” in a humorously
exaggerated politeness. She then clutches my hand to her face, partly burying it
in her hair, and reaches out her other hand to stroke my cheek. My eyes find
hers again, and I am pleased to see them blazing as before.

Goddamn it, woman, why don’t
you just ask me to take you to bed already?! I have had it with
beating around the bush. I pass my free arm around her waist and draw her to me.
I will not delay and let this moment, too, be intruded upon.

All worries that I may be coming
off too rough, vanish as she opens her lips beneath mine. She sighs into my
mouth as I run my hands all over her body, her tongue answering mine stroke for
stroke. It seems the most natural thing in the world to savor her sweet,
sensuous flavor, to feel the equal satin smoothness of her skin, her hair, and
her dress. I hike up her skirt and take my fill of my favorite part of her, that
fetching curve at the small of her back, and the tempting roundness of her
derrière.

She shudders... I cannot get
enough of her responsiveness. The tremor travels all the way up to my ear, which
her lips are caressing again. She whispers, and I can’t make it out… but I could
have sworn I heard her thank me…

I am suddenly savage, ravenous. I
crush her against me, tear my mouth from hers and bite a row down the side of
her neck, my hands squeezing and kneading the red satin-clad cheeks, rubbing her
up and down against my hardness. A heat to match my own is kindling between
those voluptuous thighs, and as I slip my hands beneath her knickers I am
pleased to find that the skin is just as soft. Her voice is deep and hoarse as
she lets out a moan every time she exhales, and as I slip my finger inside her,
she lets an almost pained “Oh!” escape her throat.

Then it is my turn to moan, as I
haven’t noticed what she has been doing with her hand until now. After running
it down my back she has skipped between my legs and grasped me. She squeezes a
little harder, and I have had enough. If that’s the way she wants to play
it… In one movement I have relieved her of that dress, and she is tearing at
my clothes with equal ferocity. Soon she is wearing nothing but the red rose and
tnklenkle bracelet, she has her mouth attached to my nipple and is in the
process of yanking down my boxers, which I only notice now are black silk.

I lift her up and she locks her
legs around my waist. She tilts my head back and her mouth sears my throat. I
reattach my hands to that lovely derrière, grasping, greedy, not caring if it’s
painful… almost. We collapse onto the bed and she pushes my head toward her
breasts, just as impatient as me. I do not hesitate to take her into my mouth,
rolling each nipple around my tongue. She tastes so good…

I enter her in one swift motion,
sheathing myself fully in the first stroke, and I plunge in and out of her,
taking in her moans, as excited as the hands clawing my back. After a few
minutes she nudges me, and I flip us over, taking care to stay inside of her.
She then pushes herself down on me to get herself situated… no, she grinds
herself down, pressing me with her inner walls and sending a lightning bolt of
sensation all the way up to my throat, which escapes in a sigh.

She moves up and down, slowly at
first and then faster and faster, and my fingers dig into her hips as she comes,
rsingsing a loud scream and throwing her head back, followed seconds later by my
own, softer scream as I crest my own p

She sits up there for a minute,
breathing heavily, the fire in her eyes gradually cooling down. She pushes
herself up, letting me slide out of her, then leans forward and just barely
touches her lips to mine.

And this time I really do hear it,
the merest whisper against my mouth: “Thank you.”

align=center>¨¨¨¨¨

It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve
had in months. No—years, positively. I could take on a hundred dunderhead-filled
classes today. I open my eyes and am shocked to see white sheets instead of
black. This isn’t my bed.

No canopy or curtains, no
bookshelves… just a stiffel lamp on a nightstand and pale blue walls. Where am I
and what am I doing here? I turn over… Oh. I forgot. That’s what I’m
doing here.

It must have been more of a shock
to my system than I think, this change in my routine. Has it really been that
long?... Quite possibly yes.

And she had to practically force
me to do it, to be with her.

But I find it isn’t half bad. I
could get to like this. In fact, I think as I bend over her, I’m surprised I
haven’t done it more before…

She looks like a sleeping goddess,
her hair fanned out on the pillow, her hands tucked under it, the rose
glimmering in the morning light, her eyebrows and eyelashes lush and peaceful,
her fair skin glowing, her lips full and ripe… her breasts exposed, nipples red
and taut again. I lean down, envelop one with my lips, and then the other, and
then she opens her eyes.

“Severus?”

“Hmmm?”

“What do you think you’re
doing?”

She completely disarms me with her
lilting voice. I look into her eyes, which are smoldering, but softly now.

“Why, waking you up of
course.”

“Mmmm. How about a kiss?” She
tilts my head up, and we do, for a long, languid minute.

“What day is it?” I ask when we
break apart.

“Saturday.”

“Oh. Then I have a perfectly valid
excuse for missing class if anyone misses me.”

“By all means.” She sits up and
turns to me.  “Severus, did I tell you I appreciated it?”

“What?”

“You being here.” She casts her
eyes down a little.

“Yes. I believe that was the last
thing you said before you passed out.”

She chuckles, and then her eyes
focus on mine again. “Well, I’ll say it again. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I pull her into
another kiss. “You really had to fight hard for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, you did make things
difficult. Perhaps it’s your idea of playing hard-to-get?”

“Maybe. I don’t usually consider
myself above such tactics. After all, I am a Slytherin.”

“Yes, you certainly are,” she says
wickedly, embracing me and running her fingers down my spine, making me shiver a
little.

 “So, what do you want to do
today?”

“I don’t know, what is there to
do?”

“Well, there’s Buckingham Palace,
tours of Windsor Castle, the pigeons at Trafalgar Square…”

“…How about we get to them later?
There’s something right now I want to take care of first.” I pull her into my
arms and find her lips again. She finds my idea quite satisfactory.

A/N: This took longer than I anticipated. It’s tough to
describe a dance from the point of view of an outside observer, even when that
observer happens to be the dancer, as it turns out. It’s far easier to not have
to describe it, just do it… The song lyrics are from Daft Punk’s “Face To
Face”. The bit about ”remembering I have hands” is borrowed from pigwidgeon37’s
“Problems With Dentists” (unfortunately no longer found on ff.net  =( 
).