Seduction by Design

Seduction By Design



Severus Snape sunk into his wing back chair and liberally filled his snifter with a vintage brandy. He felt a familiar, dull throb from behind his eyes and willed it to go away with another drink. Unfortunately, the drunker he would get the worse he felt the next day. Life was unfair to the Potions Master.

Students were quite high on his list of annoyances. They bickered, they yelled, they smelt bad and they destroyed things, his things. Today he deducted fifty points from a lethargic Hufflepuff who not only spilled sleeping potion all over his desk ruining all of the sixth years’ homework assignments, but also managed to make three students become narcoleptic and drop to the ground like dead flies. They were all fine, merely asleep, but after sorting out the other students, assuring Madame Pomfrey all was well and arranging antidotes, his headache had shifted from dull to something of substance. Indeed every year Hogwart’s was blessed with an even more unfortunate waste of magic-users than the year prior and even McGonagall was handing out more detentions than necessary. Every day they seemed more inept and disrespectful.

The Order played an imperative role in the nature of his headaches. Just yesterday most of the members of the order decided it would be pertinent to have a constant sentinel over the Shrieking Shack, a constant source of dark energy, despite his efforts to dissuade them. Oh course, since Harry Bloody Potter mentioned his scar pulsated every time he went near the dilapidated mansion, which was proof enough that it was a Deatheater stronghold. Apparently Snape was the only one to see the huge dark mark painted into the floorboards in blood. Obviously so, or they wouldn’t be foolish enough to let a nineteen year old run the Order into menial tactics that proved to be more wasteful than useful.

Voldemort. The name was still bitter on his tongue. The Ministry had half of his Deatheaters in Azkaban, the richest of the group under house arrest with Dementors stalking the grounds and their wands under wards. The stubborn, deranged bastard was in hiding now – his reach dwindled into nothingness. The mark still burned him, still called to his soul, because until the Boy Wonder killed Voldemort, Snape was still marked as his reluctant servant. The Aurors had found nothing yet but dead ends that twisted into other dead ends, so he was still a slave. It was a minor annoyance, he had to admit, and the burning call was more like a punishment for the wrong doings of his youth. It served to remind him of all the horrible things he had done had not gone with impunity. It made him remember that he did in fact have a soul worth saving.

But as of very late, the top annoyance in his life was in the other room. A little slip of a girl named Hermione Granger. Okay, granted, she was not a girl anymore, let alone little, but she had grown into an industrious yet exasperating woman with too many opinions and inquiries. Merlin, she asked so many questions! She still had to know everything and anything.

It was expected by request of Dumbledore, but she decided to forgo Wizard University in order to take the position of his apprentice. Despite his initial reservations, she was the most apt candidate. She had the best NEWT score for Potions the school had ever seen. She was precise and thoughtful and remembered to pay attention to detail, and most importantly, in spite of his constant put downs, she loved the subject. Even when he was a student, he never cared for the subject and fate declared he teach the subject.

He hated to admit it, but she was an exceedingly proficient apprentice. His time was divided into school, the order and his role as a free Deatheater, and not divided well. He also had potions to brew for the school, the infirmary, and many experimental potions he was working on for the patients at St. Mungo’s. While he favored to remain consumed in his work, even he had to admit he was overwhelmed. Dumbledore realized this and offered him Granger on a silver platter. Oh how tempting it was to have the hazel-eyed Gryffindor know-it-all offer her help. He was hesitant but slowly began to augment her workload progressively, from grading first year assignments to grading all assignments and examinations, from keeping inventory in the school laboratory to brewing infirmary potions for Pomfrey using his private stores. She was neat, she was quiet and she had charmed her quill to match his handwriting. It was all to good to be true.

And yes it was. Because with her efficiency and tireless enthusiasm, came a woman with the appeal of water to an extremely thirsty man.

Granger was not by any means beautiful, but she was nevertheless attractive. Her hair was still a mass of curls she kept pinned from her face, but over the years the bush seemed to soften and untangle into ringlets. Her skin was soft and golden from trips to visit her family on the Mediterranean coast. Her body used to be hidden behind a stiff uniform and oversized robes, hiding the full breasts, her glorious curves and slender legs that any man would love to have wrapped around his waist. Perhaps being around the “boys” taught her to hide her femininity because it was only until her last year that Hermione even realized she might have features that could illicit extra attention.

But Severus Snape had seen and done women with more physical beauty. Hermione Granger’s true beauty lay within. Sadly cliché, her smile, her eyes…they were windows into a soul as deep as the Pacific. She played so many roles and felt so much – sometimes it was hard to know what she was really thinking. There was something mysterious to her, something he couldn’t understand but knew it to be pure. Reading his adversaries was a skill he knew well, a skill that kept him alive for so many years. Not being able to understand his apprentice was maddening. Incomprehension was not a word he chose to use, but had been added to his vocabulary upon her arrival. He could sum it up quite simply – he wanted to bed her. He wanted to find out what face she made when she succumbed to orgasm, wanted to see her lost in the froes of passion. He believed those would be looks well worn on her.

So he wanted to fuck her. Half the male student body wanted to, the others having not hit puberty. Besides, it had been a long time indeed since he had any one in such close proximity. He just preferred his solitude. His mind was always better company than half the asinine wizards of the world; a good book and brandy were ideal companions in their stead. But after five weeks, he was slowly getting accustomed to her presence. She had a particular smell – clean laundry mixed with herbal shampoo over the delicate musk of female skin. The combination wasn’t unpleasant, he actually enjoyed it. It was a smell he knew as hers and was grateful she didn’t wear any silly perfumes. She knew when to shut it too, a trait she should have taught her other friends. He used to wonder if any female placed in his proximity would gain his…male…awareness, but realized he would probably end up scaring half of them away and find the other half sorely lacking.

Maybe Dumbledore was up to something when he chose Granger…

“Professor!” His thoughts were permeated with the sound of her voice calling for him. He heard her rapping at his door.

He put down his drink and rolled his eyes. He had asked not to be disturbed; apparently she chose to disregard that request tonight. She was about to bring her fist up again when he opened the door.

“Professor!” She cried, startled. Her eyes were wide and sparkling with excitement, her skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “It’s stabilized. You must come see!”

Even he was surprised at the news. He had been working on a cure for lycanthropy for years as a side project. When Granger stumbled on his notes a fortnight prior, she convinced him to start it up, try again. He knew she had a soft spot for Remus Lupin, everyone felt sorry for the poor bastard, cursed from childhood to become something he hated and feared. He could relate somewhat, offering empathy only because he knew Lupin’s curse was not based on Lupin’s actions, unlike his own. Granger liked the project so much she endeavored to complete his research and create the cure. She was spending her after hours time in his lab, much like he used to when he was younger, impressionable…

He followed her down the corridor to the lab where her cauldron simmered. The room was quite warm – her robes were draped over a chair leaving her in muggle low-riding jeans and a tank top that seemed to be painted onto her skin. On any other occasion he might have chastised her for strutting about the dungeons in such skimpy, revealing attire, but now was not that time. She turned suddenly, holding up a vial containing a glowing violent concoction. He held it up to the light and noted the violet to green glow, almost like mother-of-pearl. He removed the cork stopper and smelt it. It smelled like fruit.

“Peach extract for flavor.” She remarked with an almost smirk upon her features.

His eyes narrowed at her cockiness. “What temperature did it stabilize at?”

“One hundred even.” She answered swiftly.

“How long has it been glowing like this?”

“About an hour.” Her eyes shined. “Based on previous calculations, it won’t be 100% effective for 24 hours, but with the longevity of the ingredients…this sample should have a shelf life of one week.” She took the vital from his hands and motioned to his old notebook, now covered with her tiny handwriting over his. “A mermaid scale and a single teardrop. Other than those two adjustments, you had it, Professor. You had it.” She almost whispered it.

Severus Snape couldn’t believe his eyes. Right before him, the written and re-written formulae for curing lycanthropy, finalized with a swirl of another’s brilliance. There was no other word for it – the solution seemed obvious before him but had plagued him for years. How on earth did she know? “I believe the credit lies upon your shoulders, Miss Granger. You solved the riddle. The student has surpassed her teacher.”

She was glowing, her cheeks flushed from the heat of working so closely over her cauldron and his words. “Alas, not when the student has so much to learn and the teacher so much to demonstrate.” She replied in a voice lower than he was used too, a tone that reminded him of a lover, gesturing to his old, worn notebook. “This book is filled with possibilities. You have the imagination to start it, I merely recite facts and properties of what I have encountered.”

“Miss Granger, I do not need my ego to be appeased and your intelligence disregarded.” He said, and honestly meant it. “You and I, contrary to belief, make a fine team after all.”

She smiled, and he swore the room got hotter. “You are trying to shock me. A compliment? The word team doesn’t include the letter I.”

He shrugged it off. “Don’t let it go to your head, know-it-all Gryffindor.”

“I won’t ruin your reputation,” She quipped, branding his skin as her arm brushing his as she cast a quick clean-up spell over the work surface. “Oh course, we still have to test the sample, so I may not be so brilliant after all.”

Snape nodded. “I’ll owl Lupin right away.” He reread the formulae again, absorbing the words, focusing on the words rather than the wound up, excitable, hot woman before him. “And I believe we both know what you are.”

Hermione placed her wand back into her jean pocket. “And what am I, Professor?” She asked in a low, husky voice that could have boiled a man’s blood and sent it south of the equator had he not been strong.

He looked up, not caring if she caught his eyes lingering. “A mess. Do you usually work in such…attire?”

Unconsciously her hands smoothed out her top and settled on her hair, which was falling out of its usual pins down her back. It made him want to imagine what it would look like sprawled out over his pillow. “It stays out of the way and I’m comfortable like this. That is what you recommended, yes? For when I am in your lab, to be…comfortable?”

“Of course. So long as you are comfortable here.” He wanted to hit himself for letting her effect him. Did his voice almost crack? Merlin, he felt like a teenager again, unsure. He didn’t like it.

“Are you comfortable right now?” She asked, stepping closer. She was breathing heavier, he noted, her chest was rising up and down under the tight confines of that flimsy tank top.

“Of course.” He lied, watching her closely. He couldn’t read her thoughts, couldn’t read the expression in her shining eyes, but when he saw her tiny pink tongue moisten her full bottom lip, the fog began to clear. “What are you trying to do, Miss Granger?” He asked, the full strength of his voice returning. “Perhaps you do not realize the full ramifications of your actions. I think it foolish for you to act upon any impulse you do not understand.” He stepped forward, bringing them even closer in proximity, not even half a step between their bodies.

She crooked her head to the side, resting her hand upon her slender neck. “I have no idea to what you are referring.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “What impulse would I be foolishly acting on?”

“Coyness does not suit you.”

“What would suit me better?”

“Prudence.” He retorted. “Go have a shower, Miss. Granger. Go to bed.”

“I despise it when you do that.” She folded her arms under her breasts. “Pretend that you are protecting me from yourself. I think you have more to fear from me that I could ever fear from you.”

“Is that so?” His eyebrow rose. “Since when have you mastered Legilimens? Or is it through books that you have learned to read into the darkness of one’s soul?”

She shook her head, ignoring his attempt to push her away. “I’m not the one who can read minds here.”

“I would hate to ponder a guess as to what you are thinking.” He refused to back down now. “Go to bed, Miss…Granger…” He almost hissed her last name.

“Whose?” She inquired.

“Granger…” He almost growled.

“You don’t scare me, Severus,” She said, his name rich upon her tongue. “You…excite me. You can deny what is between us all you want, but we both know you want me too.”

“Go,” He ordered, pointing to the door. “Come back when you are sane.”

“Kiss me and prove me wrong.” She challenged. “Kiss me and I will know the truth and leave you alone.”

She was as stubborn as he was. One kiss to shut her up, to end the visions of her naked and wet under him in his bed, one kiss to prove to himself that this was some disturbed demented vision and he would wake up alone and aching again. One kiss to end it all and send him back to his self-imposed purgatory.

He practically pounced on her, engulfing her mouth with his own, shoving his tongue into her mouth. She didn’t resist as planned, she didn’t push him away, instead her tongue fought his, sliding into his mouth wantonly, possessively, her mouth hotter and wetter than he expected. Her hands fisted themselves into his shirt, pulling his body tight with hers, his lean muscle hitting soft female skin for what seemed to be the first time ever. She pulled him back, backing them both into a corner. Her hands were everywhere, searing and searching his flesh, sliding from his chest down to his waist and settling on bringing his hips into hers.

He was hard, his arousal pressed up to her core through too much fabric, but his hands slid down to pull her legs up around his hips. She moaned under his mouth, writhing at the sensation. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her lips hungrily biting at his. Never had he ever tasted anything as good as her – like tea and honey. She was wrapped around him so perfectly, so wantonly, her lust for him grinding into his own painful erection. He had never seen any female so enraptured with him, so blissfully hot she opted to throw all caution to the wind and play the game of seduction so willingly on him…and win.

Seduction by design. Only Hermione Granger could plan it so artfully.

“A bed,” He managed, his lips ravishing her neck.

She moaned a protest that he swallowed in another searing kiss.

“Unless you’d prefer we do this in the lab,” He groaned as her thigh brushed his erection. “But I suggest we go back to my rooms.”

She stopped her assault of kisses and gropes and pressed her forehead against his, her panting as heavy as his own. She bucked her hips up into his again, eliciting another growl from deep in his throat. “I knew you would try to deny me.” She licked her lips.

“Know-it-all.” He muttered. He stood, his hands capturing her by the pelvis to keep her legs around him as he carried her back down the hall, grateful to have his own private corridor. He practically kicked the door open, grabbed her wand from her back pocket and muttered a quick silencing charm, less she be a screamer, a quick locking spell, so they wouldn’t be interrupted, and a quick contraceptive spell, less they both take any chances. He tossed her wand aside and continued yet another onslaught of kisses.

He set her down on the back of his wing-tip chair, pulling back so he could remove that flimsy tank top in between them, freeing her breast before his gaze. She wrapped his hands around her chest, looking up at him with eyes clouded with arousal. As he pressed kisses down her neck and chest, her fingers clumsily plucked at the buttons on his shirt and pants, cupping him with an urgency that could have destroyed everything.

He distracted her decent as his mouth engulfed her nipple. Her back arched giving him even better access to her full breasts, but his body was screaming for release. It had been so long since he had been with a woman –

He pulled her off the chair so she was standing and spun her around, her bare back to his bared chest, wrapping his arms around her, cupping her breasts, tickling down her stomach until her pulled her jean open and found her bare underneath. His arousal went blind as he pushed the cloth aside and dug his hand towards her warm center, finding her swollen and writhing and unbelievably wet and inviting. He slid his fingers into her, one then two and three, stretching her, desperate to not come in his pants with lust. His thumb found her clit again and stroked it. She squirmed and moaned under his administrations, urging his fingers deeper into her with one hand, the other squeezing his ass.

His desperation for her was reaching a fevered pitch as he pushed her jeans down and bent her over the chair, taking her from behind in one heavy, almost violent thrust. Hermione cried out, he could feel knees buckle and her body twitch under his weight. She felt exquisite, like his throbbing member was wrapped in a silk glove – a perfect fit. “Merlin,” She moaned, bucking her hips. “Fuck me, Severus, please…” The husky anguish in her voice almost made him go weak at the knees. He hadn’t realized that time hadn’t stopped and he had.

He thrust gently at first, her moans encouraging him to move faster, urging him to thrust into her harder, until he was almost violently taking her, his fingers breaking blood vessels under the delicate flesh of her hips. She moved against him, one arm bent back to pull his mouth to her neck. He kissed all the flesh within his reach, his right hand moving under their bodies to stroke her clit. Her breath caught in her throat – She cried his name as she came apart in his arms, her vaginal walls clenching him, milking and swallowing his seed. His swore to heaven his eyes almost rolled in the back of his head as he came, in long spurts, his climax blissfully hard and fast and after hers.

She was limp beneath him, spent. With great distress he removed himself from her warmth and carried her to his bed. Standing over her, he began to peel the denim off her body, removing the last article of offending fabric from her person. He stood back to appreciate her naked, unadulterated form; her curls sprawled over his pillow like in so many of his fantasies. He could feel the blood rush towards his loins and smirked in spite of himself.

“You, sir, are still dressed.” She was watching him, watching her. He was in fact, still dressed. His shirt was open but still on, his pants open and his erection proudly jutting forward. “And I believe you have something for me.” She rose to her knees, wrapping her hand around his cock and pulling him down into bed with her.


Then and there, he made a mental note to cross Hermione off his lengthy list of annoyances.






Fin