Madame Curie, Potion's Mistress

Expect the unexpected. Only one or two chapters to go, folks. I am posting slowly because I am packing to move, taking 15 credits in school and dealing with family drama. So I apologize for the long time between updates. Thanks for sticking with me!

Warnings for lemons. Yay, right?


The Irony of Fate


“Goddamnit!” Snape muttered as the witch emptied the contents of her stomach all over his brand new boots, promptly catching her as she fainted dead away. Perhaps that hadn’t been the best approach, he mused.

A faint shimmering began to glow around the gorgeous witch, and he watched in wonder as her image appeared to grow watery and melt away. Just as the shock of who he was actually holding in his arms registered, a series of soft pops sounded around him at varying intervals.

“Fuck!” he snarled, turning quickly on heel and Disapparating to a dry fountain mere blocks from where they had come from just a short time ago. He continued to crack in and out of existence, from place to place, until he felt their trail would be untraceable. Appearing at his own rented room, the dark wizard kept the myriad of thoughts threatening to overwhelm him regarding his unconscious charge at bay, as he strode up the step and deposited Hermione on the bed.

“Well I’ll be damned. Hermione fucking Granger.”

What the hell was she doing in Bucharest? No one had heard from her in so long there was little talk of her anymore. Even the Prophet had stopped running speculation articles on her whereabouts and various false sightings of the elusive witch. The trail had gone cold, and even her friends had begun to move on, so much so that Potter had held a pathetic memorial service in her memory so his bleeding Gryffindor heart could move on, Snape surmised.

Visions of the humiliating ceremony chased memories of rage and revenge through his head as he folded his cloak and covered the witch who had filled out nicely in the time she had been gone. It was no wonder she had used a Glamour, but hardly necessary considering no one was looking for her anymore. Her prank hadn’t been a crime, merely an extreme annoyance at his expense. Well, now that she was in his clutches, a little payback was in order.

Taking a seat on a creaky chair next to the bed, Severus stretched out his long legs and frowned into the hot tea he had prepared. What if she was working with Madame Curie? He had tracked the object of his desire to this part of the city. There was a good likelihood she had something to do with the brilliance of the operation and quality of the potions. Fuck. That would be just his luck if Granger was the brains behind the business and some dumpy old hag was financing it.

He sipped his tea, eyeing her still form out of the corner of his eye in a contemplative manner. A lot of embarrassment and hunting could be avoided if that were the case. A little creative coaxing would get the truth out of her, and if he didn’t like what he heard, a smooth Obliviate would solve his little problem and send her on her merry way. Why invite trouble back into his life, after all? It’s not like he missed the Know-It-All back home. Okay, that was a lie. He did miss some of the discussions they used to have. No one knew the ins and outs of potions the way she did, well, except for Madame Curie.

His eyes narrowed. There was too much coincidence; her expertise, her location, her sudden fear at his abrupt appearance. Snape finished his tea and set it on the bedside table, steepling his fingers together. Yes, this would be a most interesting conversation, indeed.

Stifling a huge yawn, the long, lean from of Severus Snape sank onto the bed next to the lightly snoring witch. He kicked off his dried vomit boots and lay down, his feet and lower half of his calves hanging off the end of the bed annoyingly. His eyes were closed no more than a few minutes and he was out, exhausted from the previous few days’ hunt, surveillance and subsequent excitement.

--

Hermione hummed contentedly as she floated in a half-awake, half dream-like state. She was in Godric’s Hollow, snuggling down in the pillow-top feather bed that had her name stamped all over it whenever she visited. A better night’s sleep was never had than after the war had been won. A drunken melee, parties gone riot, and lots of victory snogging led to many couples shagging in the nearest shadowy corner they could find. Hermione had not been exempt, and was embarrassed that she couldn’t remember who she had been reamed by over the back of Harry’s office chair. The tall, sinewy figure finished shagging her from behind as the inebriated couple slumped, drunk and sated against one another.

Hermione’s hand drifted across the bed and caressed the long, lean form that lay beside her. Wait a minute; the mystery shag hadn’t stayed the night with her! Frightened golden brown eyes flew open as the previous night came rushing back to her. She had been followed; frightened half to death. Oh my God!

Ever so slowly, Hermione turned her head and stifled a groan at the still form of Severus Snape in the bed next to her. She exhaled a soft breath of relief that they were both still fully clothed. Carefully lifting her hand from his arm, she did her best to slide off the bed unnoticed, watching his chest rise and fall in sleep. Somehow, she needed to get out of here before he woke and get the fuck away from him. There was no telling what he would do to her once he was awake. She fought to keep a tear from falling as her perceived, overblown imagination of what he must think of her took over.

Hermione reached for her wand and cursed. Of course he had taken it off of her! Scanning the sparsely furnished room, her eyes soon came to rest on her wand that sat side by side next to his on the opposite side of the bed. Yes, it made sense he’d keep them both within reach.

Her eyes flicked to the bed again. His eyelids were still shut normally; the eyeballs making dreaming movements as his chest steadily rose and fell. A finger twitched momentarily and was still. So softly, ever so softly, she extended her hand and whispered, “Accio Hermione’s wand.”

A striking cobra couldn’t have won in a match against Severus Snape’s hand that shot into the air and caught her wand like a bullet shot from a gun. His own wand was in his other hand and he had sprung to his feet before you could say, “Holy Mother of Merlin.”

“Going somewhere, Miss Granger?” he purred dangerously, dangling both wands carelessly from his fingertips.

Her eyes darted from her wand, to the door, and back again. She was no match for his speed and agility with a wand. Making a break for it, she ran for the door, just in time to bounce off of it, sparks flying from the wards he had placed there the night before.

“Tsk tsk, Miss Granger. Surely a witch of your caliber would recognize that a wizard of my caliber wouldn’t be so pedestrian as to allow you such an easy avenue of escape, hmmm?” He turned his back on her, mocking her capture as he made a fresh cup of tea.

Hermione picked herself up from the heap of robes and frizzed hair off of the floor and crossed both arms under her breasts. “I demand to know why you are holding me prisoner!”

“I think that much should be obvious,” Snape drawled maddeningly, still with his back turned to her.

It bugged her to no end that this infuriating man thought so little of her ability to attack him that he disregarded her as he would a first year DADA student. He took his time with the tea, stirring methodically, placing the kettle on the hotplate with practiced ease. With the look of one that had not a care in the world, he whorled dramatically and seated himself on the rickety chair next to the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles, stretched out in front of him. His eyes flicked down to the end of the bed where his dragon hide boots still sported the dried vomit from the night before.

She shifted again uncomfortably, trying hard not to fidget when his steely gaze slid back to her own confused chocolate brown eyes while regarding her with a curious expression. Unable to stand the silence, she started on a safe topic; his boots.

“I-I’m awfully sorry for being sick on your boots. It’s just, you scared me quite thoroughly, and it isn’t proper to be lurking about so-“

“Enough!”

The roar from his previously quiet throat startled her into submission immediately. He continued sipping his tea as if nothing were untoward. His odd behavior was making her mental. Why didn’t he just tell her what he wanted from her so she could leave? Because he was an insufferable git, that was why. She clenched her teeth together in irritation and immediately felt horrid. Who was she to be mad at him? It was her own fault she was in this mess, and if she hadn’t of run from him in the first place, neither of them would be here trying to outstare one another.

The coal black of his eyes seemed to penetrate her to the very bone, and a slight chill made her shiver in response. Hermione slowly sank to the floor under the weight of his gaze, finally unable to hold onto her resolve to outlast him. Her lower lip trembled as all of her nightmares and suppressed memories came flooding back all at once. The horrible burst of smoke, the sordid, scathing announcement as a shocked Potions master turned in her direction with the most hateful expression on his face she had ever seen.

All of her time in hiding, from him and everyone else, had come to an end. In a way, it was a relief. Now she could pick up the pieces of her ruined life and move on after making retribution for an act she hadn’t even committed, but sentenced herself to due to her own silence. Snape was going to be ten times as brassed off when she told him that she was Madame Curie. He had been expecting some fabulous mystery woman, and all he got in return was the horrid Know-It-All he had hated since her first year. She pressed her head to her knees and laced her hands together around the front, waiting for him to speak or make some move, to rip her to shreds and demand explanations.

None of the latter was forthcoming. Much to her stunned surprise, a warm body pressed itself to her back and two strong arms wrapped about her, a head resting on her shoulder. With a startled shriek she started to scoot away but was restrained by the firm embrace.

“Professor?” she inquired shakily, not entirely sure of his intent.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” he murmured into her hair, his breath hot against her neck.

“Wha- what are you doing?”

“I think that much should be obvious.”

“Okay.” She sat very still, unable to comprehend this dark, enigmatic man. Predictability was not a trait anyone would award to Severus Snape.

--

Severus smiled into her neck as he breathed in the glorious scent of her skin and lightly fragrant curls. Up until a short while ago, he had been determined to destroy this young woman for the hurt she had caused him, and the unending ridicule he had had to endure from those around him, so much so that he had sequestered himself away from everyone in Great Britain that knew of the incident; which was everyone. Only Albus and the other teaching staff had access to his person, besides the students, and they had all sworn an oath not to even mention it ever again as much, as it had eaten away at him.

Now, with this miraculous turn of events, the woman of his dreams had turned out to be the one he had despised for so long. Irony was a strange bedfellow, but coping was a Slytherin trait, and one he had honed well.

“Miss Granger, you may call me Severus.” He continued to move his lips against her neck and felt another shudder run down her spine. He brought his hands away from her knees and combed through her beautiful hair. Intoxicating. He inhaled deeply and sighed. No, this wasn’t what he had imagined, but in a way it was better. He wouldn’t have to start over with Hermione. He knew her quite well already whether she realized it or not. It was perfect.

“I don’t understand!” she cried, leaning forward to edge away from his grasp, but he gently held her hair in both hands and pulled her back into his chest.

“Of course you don’t- Hermione, or should I call you- Madame Curie?”

The way Hermione jumped had him chuckling again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Hermione protested vehemently.

Severus tsked her once more as he brought his cheek flush with the brilliant, flustered witch within his grasp. “Surely, you haven’t forgotten that I am one of the most powerful Legilimens ever to walk this realm, Hermione?”

His silky baritone caressed her like honey drizzling its way onto her skin. Her protest became weaker as she sighed and feebly complained back at him. “That- that’s not fair! You’re not supposed to use that on someone without their permission!”

The half-hearted response was not lost on Severus. He already had her lowered to the floor now as he quickly moved around to face her, and draped one long leg over her middle so he was straddling her thighs. He leaned in close to her lips, continuing the unplanned seduction.

“I’ve been searching for you, Madame Curie. Oh yes, your little game of cat and mouse led me on quite the wild goose chase. At last, I’ve got you exactly where I want you, my provocative, luscious witch.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yes.” Hermione’s eyes were clouded with confusion and a rising desire as he expertly played her like a Stradivarius.

His lips brushed against the soft, pink plump ones only briefly before lowering his lips to her other ear where he continued to soothe and nibble. The nimble long, talented fingers of his calloused hands lightly ran up and down her arms, over her shoulders and down her sides as if soothing a frightened young animal.

“Your very thoughts told me everything I needed to know, and it is, indeed a very interesting story you have to tell. I find it a waste you didn’t tell the truth so very long ago except for the fact that you’ve made a brilliant success of your potions business. I’ve been longing to meet you for ages now, and all this time it was you who had been seducing me over cyberspace.”

“Uh huh,” was all he got in reply. The previously stunned witch tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his raven’s wing, greasy black hair. It had been an age since he’d had a proper shower but she didn’t seem to notice, as deeply in thrall as he had her by now.

Deciding to leave the rest of the discussion for a later time, Severus took the plunge and kissed her gently at first, putting firm pressure against her lips until she responded with pressure of her own. With a soft sigh, he took it to the next level and lightly probed for entry with the tip of his tongue. In the meantime, first one, then the other of his legs stretched backward to softly nudge her knees aside so he could rest in between. His mammoth erection pressed painfully against the front of his trousers, directly on the growing heat between her legs.

Hermione moaned in response and opened to accept his questing kisses. Her hands combed and kneaded through his long hair, it being longer than she ever remembered it being during her school years. It suited him. Hermione was a sucker for long hair on men. This incredible interlude had to be a dream. She would never have thought he’d reward her treachery with such divine seduction, but here she was, about to make love to one of the most powerful wizards of her time.

Severus cupped her cheek with one hand, the other stealing over the cloth at her breast to palm its fullness over her blouse. He groaned into her mouth and swallowed her keen exhale in response. His kisses grew deeper, more fervent by the moment. The breaking point came when she wrapped her legs around his waist and ground her hot center against his raging prick. That did it.

In a few swift moves he had her on the bed and his wand in his hand, his lips still intertwined with hers as he wordlessly divested them of their clothing with a few simple swishes and flicks.

His urgency had been building for months in anticipation of this moment. All of his fantasies and wank sessions were about to bear fruit with this incredible woman, so responsive to his every touch. How he’d never seen her in this light before was a mystery. In the space of a few moments she had become everything he desired in a witch and more.

“Severus, I need you. Make love to me.”

Stifling the need to cry out at her declaration, he held himself at her entrance and moved the head of his penis up and down over her soaking folds. At another time he wanted to pleasure her properly and taste her wet treasure, but for now there was one mutual need he intended to fulfill most thoroughly.

“Yes, yes!” she breathed against his chest, and in one hard thrust he entered her tight passage, pressed up tight to her core up to the nuts.

“Oh Hermione, you feel so good!” He couldn’t help declaring his passion as he grunted and began thrusting intimately over her, bracing himself on his forearms and reaching down to nip and steal interludes of kisses and tongue swirls while he fucked her. Her legs continued to wrap around him and now she was meeting his powerful motions with an answering call.

“Gods witch, you’re so fucking tight! Take it, Hermione, feel me fucking you. That’s right, this is for all this time you’ve tormented me. Take. My. Cock. And. Come. For. Me!” He punctuated the last of his short monologue with sharp, staccato bursts of power, reaching between them to pinch her clit the last couple of times in unison.

Her eyes glazed over and her back arched off the bed as she screamed, his name rolling off of her tongue like it had been there for all time. He continued fucking through her orgasm, furthering the pleasure she experienced as he felt his own orgasm begin to build.

But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to take her to heaven once more before he finished. Years of self denial enabled him to ignore her cries of mercy and enjoy the delicious pounding and slapping that permeated the thick atmosphere of the small room. His balls were soaked, the cream from her orgasm causing her pussy to make sucking sounds as he pressed in and out at lightning speed. Hermione had latched on to his shoulder and bit down, sucking hard as he grunted at the painful pleasure. His arse muscles clenched and unclenched desperately as he twisted his hips and caught her clit on the smooth upstroke.

“Fucking right, witch. Take it! Take it and love it, Oh God Hermione come for me you hot fucking witch, oh god!” and he was there, right on the edge of his own desire, about to break loose from the confines of his taut nuts and loaded gun. He gritted his teeth and slammed against her painfully three more times before he felt her clench around him in a vise while she screamed the room down again, clawing and swearing at him while he gasped and buried his cock inside of her one final time. His weapon shot a heavy load of come inside of her, spurting heavily as he grunted and groaned into her neck and shoulder, breathing, “Hermione, oh yes Hermione,” until at last, he collapsed on top of her, spent.

Her pussy continued to contract feebly with the aftershocks of their combined pleasure until his slowly softening cock slipped out of her and lay, spent against the wet curls of her sex.

Hermione smiled against his skin and planted tiny kisses along his shoulder and upper arm. He returned the favor and their tongues found each other again as they continued their exploration of one another’s bodies, no longer the hunter and the hunted, but only the lovers being loved by one another at long last.

For now, they would make love and revel in their newfound oneness. Reality was another dimension that could wait until they had taken their fill.