Curiosity

The Power of Curiosity


“Some things just shouldn’t be allowed to happen.” Was one of the many thoughts running through the mind of the dark wizard sitting in the corner, hiding in the shadows and drinking his firewhiskey. Weasley’s should not be allowed to reproduce. McGonagall should not be allowed to wear a bathing suit. Albus should not be allowed free reign in candy shop. And Hermione Granger should not be allowed to dance with her idiot friends.

It wasn’t that she was a bad dancer. She was quite good, able to move her curvy little body in slow, sensual undulations that made his body temperature rise. She had developed since her years at school, outgrowing her awkward gangly body and acquiring a soft, pleasingly full figure that reminded him of a 1950’s muggle movie star. Her hair was still an abomination, more frizzy than curly she had attempted to confine the waist length mop of tangles into a ponytail, but it wasn’t doing any good as several strands of hair had slipped free and were now stuck to her face and winding around her ears.


No, it wasn’t Ms. Granger who was the problem. It was the idiots she was dancing with. Potter was probably the worst dancer he had ever seen. His body was jerking, and twitching as though he were being assaulted with the Crucio. It really was rather unpleasant. The Weasley arse was simply moving from one foot to the next, his head bobbing off beat. He was surprised to see Draco Malfoy , pressed up against her, his hips grinding in a way that would have Lucius rolling over in his grave. He had heard that the almost death eater, had befriended the trio at the end of the war, appeared the rumors were true.

He watched them for a bit longer and wondered how she tolerated the bloody fools. She had always been way too intelligent for her own good. She was almost always found with her nose in a book. She had frequently lost house points for being out after curfew because she had fallen asleep in the library. He had heard that she was the CEO of an organization for the Ethical Treatment of Magical Creatures, something that didn’t surprise him as she had attempted to free the entire staff of house-elves while she was school. Potter was working as an Auror for the ministry, Weasley played professional Quidditch, and Malfoy had taken over his father’s business interests. He supposed he should be proud to have been part of their education, but he could only think about how miserable they had made him over the years. How looking at the Potter brat had tormented him as he looked back at him through Lilly’s eyes.

He sighed, taking another sip of the fiery drink. They had left the dance floor when the music slowed. Apparently none of her friends cared to slow dance with her. He watched as she stood beside the table where the boys were drinking their pints, and swayed to the music as she watched the couples on the dance floor.

He really wasn’t sure what made him do it. Maybe he was losing his mind in his old age, Well, that was no excuse, he was only turning sixty-five, for a wizard that wasn’t even middle age, he was still quite a young man, in years if not in spirit. He walked, no, stalked was a better word, no one could ever accuse him of doing anything as mundane as merely walking. He stalked to where she stood with her idiot friends.
“Professor!” She gasped, shocked to see him in the club. She never would have dreamed that he would hang out in such a place.
“Ms. Granger.” He bowed his head, then extended his hand, “Would you care to dance?” Hermione didn’t say anything, she was too shocked to form the words. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.
“Bloody hell…that was Snape.” Ron watched his friend and former professor walk away in shock.
“I haven’t seen him in years.” Harry said. “I didn’t think he came out in public.”
“He doesn’t, or at least he hasn’t, not recently at any rate. He usually stays holed up at Snape Manor, mum and I go visit on occaision, but he never leaves.” Draco, took a long drink of ale, watching, wondering what exactly his godfather was doing there, and why he was dancing with Granger.


He led her to the far edge of the dance floor where the shadows lurked, offering him a form of solace. He pulled her into his arms, enjoying the little gasp when his hand slid along the strip of exposed flesh at her waist between the top of her skirt, and the hem of her little t-shirt. She slowly put her hand on his shoulder, swallowing hard when he tucked their joined hands against his chest and began slowly moving them to the beat of Marc Cohn’s I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love With You.

“Relax Ms. Granger, I assure you, contrary to popular belief, I do not bite.” He smirked. “At least not hard.” The look on her face was a mixture of shock, curiosity and a bit of fear.
“Where…what are you…why…”
“Still filled with questions, I would have thought you had outgrown that. Never thought you’d have so much trouble formulating a coherent thought, however.” His voice was low, his eyes observant as he watched her. She had very expressive eyes, her every emotion easily read in them. He pressed her closer, allowing her to feel him, making certain she understood that he was a man, like any other. She whimpered softly, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly as he watched the flicker of aroused awareness.
“Why did you ask me to dance? You hate me.” She flinched when she heard her own voice, deep and husky with desire.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. You looked as though you longed to dance with someone, and none of your idiot friends seemed willing to oblige you.” He leaned closer, his lips pressed against her ear. “Are you anxious to get out of my arms?” He asked. She shivered and drew a shaky breath. The voice that had once terrified her was now a most powerful aphrodisiac. She shook her head slowly.
“No.” She whispered. She rested her forehead against the stiff woolen material of his robes. He was dressed, as always in black, the only relief coming from the hints of his white shirt peeking out at the cuffs and over the starched, high collar of his jacket. They continued to move to the music, his fingers stroking over the silky skin of her lower back as he pressed her closer.


She wasn’t certain about what she was feeling. She could have blamed it on the alcohol, but truth was she hadn’t had more than a half glass of wine. Maybe it was her hormones, she was turning thirty soon, maybe her biological clock was ticking. What other reason could there be for her to be pressed so close to a man twice her age, and to be so aroused by it. Gods, he smelled good, kind of smoky, spicy and just a hint of citrus. Why had she never noticed before? Well, before tonight, he had been her teacher, and she had been but a girl.

Things were different. She was no longer a girl, and he was no longer a teacher. She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his.
“Will I see you again?” She asked. Severus looked down, his eyes lowering.
“I wonder if you could handle it Ms. Granger.” He said, more to himself than her.
“Handle what?” She asked breathlessly as he turned her, more into the darkness.
“I assure you my dear, the war may be over, but darkness is a part of my soul.” He let his hand slide down, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass as he pulled her closer to him. “I do not play little boy games.” He whispered hotly against her neck. “I’ll be at the Warlock Inn tomorrow night, eight o’clock. If you think you are woman enough, then you can meet me there for dinner.” He bit down on her earlobe, just hard enough to sting. Without another word, he escorted her back to her friends, then turned, and left the club.

“What the hell was that?” Harry asked.
“I think I just agreed to go on a date with Severus Snape.” Hermione said in disbelief.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea Mione.” Draco said as he set his glass on the table.
“Why not? I mean other than the fact that he was a Death Eater, a spy, and my former professor.” She said frowning a bit when she thought about it.
“Mione, I know him personally, he has been a member of my family circle forever. You can’t handle Severus.” Draco unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and slid his suit jacket off his shoulders.
“What the hell does that mean? I’m a big girl Draco, I can handle a man just fine.” She knew they didn’t see her as anything other than one of the guys, but she was a woman, one who enjoyed a man from time to time, although admittedly there hadn’t been that many. Okay, two, Viktor Krum and a guy she met at University.
“Mione, look, I don’t want to embarrass you…” He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “You just aren’t able to provide what Severus requires in a woman.”
“Okay, Draco, what the hell are you talking about? And how do you know so much about Snape’s personal habits.”
“I’ve witnessed it.” He said quietly. “At the revels, I watched him with the women there.” He was blushing slightly.
“Well we know he participated in those to protect his cover as a spy. I don’t think you can judge him based on his actions there.” Hermione said, sipping her wine.
“I’ve seen him with women at the house as well…” Draco took a deep breath. “He and Lucius have shared more than one woman over the years.”
“No shit!” Ron’s eyes were wide. “You mean the bat is kinky?”
“You have no idea.” Draco said with a laugh.
“Oh hell Draco, I know for a fact that you and Blaise frequently shared Pansy Parkinson in our seventh year, so I don’t want to hear it from you.”
“Mione, he’s a dominant.” Draco said. “When it comes to his sexual relationships, he requires complete submission from the woman he is involved with.” Her eyes widened, shock being the main emotion she felt at the time, curious arousal rising underneath.
“Oh.” Was all she could say. For the second time in twenty four hours, Hermione was speechless.