Sweet Troubled Soul Part Three

Part One - http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600008482
Part Two - http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600008503

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Title: Sweet Troubled Soul (3/3)
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: PWP…purely.
Warnings: M/M/F, M/F, oral, D/s, Anal, etc.
Summary: Hermione Granger, the libertine, plays another game with the last man on her list of conquests. The problem, however, comes down to who is playing with whom. HG/SS/DM
Author's Notes: This is the final installment of a ficlet that is long overdue to be completed. I had outlined the last part last year, but never got around to finishing it. So, enjoy! Un-beta’d




Sweet Troubled Soul





Percy Weasley’s blue eyes were sharp and angry as they looked down at her. Hermione lifted her chin defiantly, her hand on her wand handle inside her cloak. The back of her head stung from where it had impacted the alley wall, and immediately she was on the alert via the pain. Percy Weasley had accosted her in the street outside the entrance to Diagon Alley, and though he had been all smiles among the throng of people on the street, he was scowling now.

The pretense fell as soon as they entered the alley.

“Do you intend to ruin me, Hermione?” he growled his palms pressed into the wall at her shoulders to pin her.

He was in his Ministry robes, the lens of his glasses catching the afternoon light that filtered into the alley. His face was flushed, his mien stiff with rage.

Hermione, on the other hand, kept her face passive, her stance loose in case he somehow meant to hurt her… It would be foolish to be seen with her, let alone touch her, but Percy’s anger was the sort that thought little of propriety. Even in the seclusion of the alley, if she screamed, all of Diagon Alley would be upon them. While Percy was dressed for his Ministry position, Hermione was in her finest. She was a rich woman, an independent woman, a powerful woman—Percy was a peon in comparison.

Lifting her amber eyes to Percy, she smiled slightly.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Percy,” she purred, and she did not.

Months ago, she had bed the man as he had been set before her as a game by her business rival, Draco Malfoy. Percy was one of many who had been unwitting participants to Hermione and Draco’s game. While Percy was a Ministry official with some power, his true allure lay under the drab robes he wore and under the horn rimmed glasses that obscured his blue velvet eyes. Hermione still found him attractive after so many months, but knew that Percy’s conflicted sense of right and wrong would never let him be a long-term lover.

“The letters,” he ground out.

Hermione, truly confused, blinked. She had had no contact with Percy since their last meeting—no correspondences, no Floo calls, and no social meetings. Percy’s realm of existence was far removed from her own.

Inhaling slowly, her mind moved.

“Audrey found the letters…”

Again, Hermione blinked. Audrey? As far as she knew, Percy had been engaged to Penelope Clearwater…

“She is contemplating pushing back our wedding, and I cannot have that,” Percy growled, his face moving nearer to Hermione’s.

In the past few months, Hermione and Draco’s ‘game’ had wound down. After she had taken what she wanted from Draco, a part of her wearied of games. She was far too busy to continue to play ‘who is the better libertine.’ There was also the issue of the one man who consumed most of her thoughts—her mentor, Severus Snape.

Hermione had been travelling for weeks, and she had only just returned to London when Percy Weasley accosted her. The travelling had parted her from Severus, from Draco, and from the ‘game.’ It seemed, however, that Draco was still playing—and playing dirty.

It was just as she began to suspect that Draco might be changing the rules of the game when Percy’s lips brushed her cheek. Hermione narrowed her eyes and with a hand, pushed against Percy’s chest.

“Leave me…” she whispered as Percy leaned away from her, his eyes still angry, but smoldering with something deeper and hotter. Hermione lifted her chin again, haughtily. “I am done with you.”

Perhaps, she thought, she should have chosen her words differently. The reaction was swift, and violent. The slap across her face made her ears buzz.

Her wand came out like a striking snake, and suddenly, she was the one pinning Percy Weasley to the opposite wall, wand tip pressed under his chin and into his throat. In his anger, he did not seem to perceive her as a threat. Hermione smirked. So many people underestimated her in various ways.

“I am done with you,” she said evenly, though the power in her words forced away Percy’s anger and fear crept through his expression. “I could take everything you have, Percy Weasley… Your position at the Ministry, your flat, your money, your status, it is mine, I own it…”

And she did. Hermione Granger was the most powerful businesswoman in Britain, she had connections, and she had the means to make Percy Weasley disappear if she wanted. Legal? Absolutely not, but her moral compass had been smashed long ago.

“The letters will stop, though I had nothing to do with somehow disrupting your petty little life… You came to me, willingly, if I remember correctly. When it was over, when I told you it was over, I did not renege on the deal,” she snarled a snarl worthy of Severus Snape.

The deal was: no contact. Percy cornering her in a dingy alley was a deal breaker.

“Touch me again, and I will write some letters of my own—to your superior.”

Hermione’s eyes bored into Percy’s pale face, and though she would like nothing more than to return to the slap, she did not. Her cheek stung, her pride stung.

She would never air out secrets in such an underhanded way. Hermione could imagine unsigned letters arriving to Percy or to whom ever Audrey was, telling about all the things Hermione and Percy had done. She could also imagine there was some implied threat of blackmail, only something like that would have Percy Weasley dragging her into an alley to confront her. Of course, it was only natural for Percy to suspect Hermione was the one penning the letters, but Hermione knew better.

What was Draco playing at?

Hermione left Percy Weasley shaking in the alley, stowing her wand and hoping that the sting on her cheek would not leave a bruise.


* * *


Bone weary, Hermione flopped down on her bed with a handful of letters. Several weeks’ worth of mail made her cringe at the idea of sorting. Flyers were the first to go into the paper rubbish bin near the bed as she kicked off her heels and lay sideways on the queen-sized mattress. Late day sunlight streamed in through her upscale flat’s windows, warming her bare legs under her knee length skirt and filtered through her white ruffled shirt that had been hidden under her tasteful blazer. Her cheek still stung, but upon entering the flat, she glanced in the mirror near the door to find that there was no bruise.

The messages on her Muggle answering machine were boring; the flat was just as she left it. Her luggage was waiting to be unpacked in the hall, and the flowers in the vases in the library and parlour were still fresh with the Charms she had cast before leaving. As she lay on the bed, her cropped hair falling from the bun atop her head, she sighed as she saw that a late birthday card came from Luna somewhere in Norway. There were invitations that were for children’s birthdays of old classmates, too personal to send to her office. There was a bill from a bookshop that had been sent to her flat rather than the office. There was a letter from Harry, addressed from America. The invitations she tossed, the bill and Harry’s letter, she set aside.

The newest correspondences were from that very day, two thin letters. Both were in familiar hands, and the first she opened was from Draco Malfoy.

Draco rarely used the Floo, too afraid ash might get in his hair, and a letter was not surprising. Sitting up and folding her legs, Hermione opened the ridiculous wax seal to find only a card inside the envelope.

‘Dinner and a movie, tonight at 8, reply ASAP.’

Hermione snorted. They often went to dinner and a film, only a precursor to setting the terms of the next ‘game.’ Draco had become enamored with Muggle cinema, and it often had to do with the theme of the games…

“Not interested…” she sighed to herself, dropping the missive, and picking up the next.

The scrawl was familiar, and immediately Hermione felt her face warm.

‘I suppose you have a secretary to sort out your social life now, but if it would please you, join me for dinner and a show tonight at 8 pm. Casual dress only. Confirm by meeting me at Café D’Aquila. SS.’

Hermione grinned. Café D’Aquila was a little Italian place that she remembered well. It was in no way a type of place Draco would ever meet her. The café was small, almost insignificant in where it was in Sheffield—an anomaly. As for a show, Hermione could only assume it was to be in Sheffield as well, but what and where, she supposed, would be a surprise.

What was more surprising was the fact Severus had sought her company for another night.

Draco could wait forever for all she cared.



* * *


Severus was as she had come to associate him—in all black. He was like a blot of darkness sitting in a booth at the café, his face shuttered, slouching over the table, a hand curled around a stem of a glass of red wine.

Hermione sat across from him, suppressing a smile.

It took several moments for Severus to raise his dark eyes to her in the light of the low hanging light over the table. She could feel his gaze, taking in her plain dark blue dress, her shorter hair loose about the shoulders of the boat neck, and the light makeup she put on—mascara and lip-gloss. Her cheek was still sore, but she opted against wearing a glamour over the swollen mark along her left cheek bone. In the dim café, it would have been hard to notice.

“Miss-Hermione…” he said by way of greeting.

“Severus,” she answered with an inclination of her head.

His eyes moved along her exposed collarbones and her ear that held back strands of wavy caramel hair. To Hermione, Severus was dressed up slightly, his black button down shirt unbuttoned at the top; the shirt tucked into nicely cut black trousers. His hair was neatly combed, a curtain of inky blackness. He had shaved, and from where she sat, she could smell a hint of musky cologne.

“Has you trip been…fruitful?”

Hermione lifted her chin slightly. “It has. And your work?”

“I am nearly finished with expected success.”

The air fell dead around them as the waiter came to take their order. When the formality of ordering was over, their eyes met again.

“It has been nearly a month,” she started. “I was not sure if when I left you…” she trailed, unable to think of how to continue.

“You have your business, I have mine.”

Hermione nodded.

Severus continued. “I did not want to interfere with your work with something that might distract you, Hermione.”

“Me either… I am glad you wrote to me, invited me out.”

His eyes glimmered for a moment and Hermione moved her eyes to the white tablecloth.

“You have not been…” he trailed softly.

With anyone else, she supposed he meant to say.

“No. I had no desire.”

Hermione was sure Severus knew of her ‘romantic’ life. She was also sure that Draco had kept in contact with Severus through the years. Hermione was half afraid to know if Severus was aware of the ‘game.’

Her last romantic moment had been with the man who was staring holes into her forehead across the table. Of course, there had been no time with her work to pursue another lover, but she had not wanted another lover.

They spoke little even after their meal was brought to the table, even less as they went to a ballet of a traveling company in the city. However, Hermione held his hand as they watched the ballet, and Severus did not seem to mind. Though they did not speak, their bodies spoke to each other. Simply holding Severus’ hand thrilled Hermione. She had wanted to touch him for much longer than the months they were apart.

Severus had been her Master while she worked on her levels, and in that time, after Hogwarts, she had nurtured respect and eventual attraction to the man. She wanted to leave the ballet and fall into his bed again, feel his hands upon her body, and let him dominate every sense.

No man, and she had had many, ever made her feel so intensely aroused as Severus did. Hermione could not explain it rationally except to think it was some deep animalistic lust, but it was more than that. Severus challenged her.

In the month that she had been away from Britain, and in the time she could think of him, she feared that he would have nothing to do with her after their initial meeting and exploration. They had reveled in each other for hours, memorizing every inch of skin and bone. And when Hermione had to leave, it was as if she were leaving behind something too important to go without.

Severus’ thumb ran over the backside of her palm, over and over. He did not look at her as the dancers on the stage seemed to fly through the air and the orchestra’s strings seem to propel the bodies. Hermione did not look at him though her hand was resting on his right thigh. She could feel the heat of him through his trousers, and in turn, it made her own core throb.

The ballet was too long.



* * *




The wait was worth it, in Hermione’s mind. By the time they returned to Spinner’s End, Severus’ trousers were bulging, and Hermione’s body burned. Outside of the ballet, he kissed her in the darkness beyond the streetlights. It was a mixture of passion, tenderness, and need.

Inside the wards of Severus’ house, the need intensified.

Possessed with the strength of that need, he carried her up the narrow stairs and laid her down on his bed. Candles lit, making his pale face glow as he grasped her slim ankles and pulled off her low heels. She watched him from her place on the bed, her chest rising and falling as if she were suffocating.

Sitting on the edge of the wide bed, Severus pulled his own boots off, so slowly that it seemed a harsh counterpoint to the rush of want that filled Hermione. She sat up sharply, her hands brushing over the backs of his wide shoulders. Instantly, arms enveloped her, pushing her down to the bed again. Frantic kisses had her lips humming with contact.

Hermione wished she could read Severus’ mind.

Long digits moved over her cropped hair to her throat and then to the collar of her dress. Hands rent the dark blue fabric with a grunt and Hermione sighed as her bare breasts caught the charged and cool air of the room. Nipples hardened, heart pounded, and as his mouth glided along the underside of her breast, Hermione realized her hands had been idle, clutching the duvet under her body.

Severus’ hair was soft, only slightly oily, a testament to his desire to be well scrubbed at their meeting, she supposed. As she kissed his crown, sliding her lips along a smooth strand of ebony hair, Hermione could smell the cologne she noticed. However, there was another scent, one that made her eyes flutter open slightly. Severus smelled like musk, with a hint of patchouli, but there was another scent, one that did not come from Severus.

As a Potions Mistress, Hermione’s sense of smell was keen, as it had to be. There was an ambient scent of sweet smoke, sandalwood, something that was not Severus. Just as she was beginning to ponder and identify the source of the scent, Severus bit down into her breast with his uneven teeth. It was a bite meant to bring her back to task, and not exactly painful.

Hermione sighed as Severus sat up, pulling her along to tear her dress open further, revealing that underneath she wore only a modest pair of matching satin knickers. His eyes drank her in, flickering in the candlelight. They had yet to speak to one another.

It did not matter to her, but the fact that Severus was still dressed did. Deft fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, and one by one, Hermione opened the garment. She liked the way he had dressed—casual, human. Severus would never be ‘handsome,’ but he cut an impressive figure with his lean body, long torso, wide shoulders, and wiry muscles. The years after the War had given him a healthy weight, dulling the pointed angles of his body. Even in his forties, Severus was impressive in strength, agility, and finesse.

Hermione could not take her eyes off the thin line of black hair on his chest, the slightly darker nipples on his pectoral muscles, or the line of his throat and collarbone. Shifting to her knees, her palms skimmed over his chest, reaching only once to pull the shirttails from his trousers. The scent of him was stronger with his exposed flesh, and it intoxicated her pleasantly.

Leaning forward with Severus’ hands on her shoulders to steady her, Hermione placed open-mouthed kisses upon his chest, nipping his pebbled nipples, nails scratching along the line of hair that trailed down his tight abdomen. As their mouths met again, bare breasts pressed into his chest as hands pulled away their clothing—the ruined dress, the black shirt going to the floor.

Moving so they both were kneeling on the bed, kissing, and touching was just enough.

Hermione wanted him and by the obvious bulge pressing into her belly, he wanted, needed her just as much. Behind her eyes, all she saw was him. It startled her that his face, his presence was all she felt she would ever want…

Then, a third hand ran along her side where Severus’ two hands held to her shoulder blades, compressing her body against his. The third hand was cooler, nails longer, fingertips softer and not calloused. When a softer finger snaked under the side of her knickers, a fourth hand touched her on her other side, working the satin scrap down her hips.

Hermione gasped into Severus’ mouth and begrudgingly, she pushed away, eyes flying open. The force of the push had her falling back onto the bed, knees open, and knickers halfway down her thighs. Resting back on her elbows, she was wide eyed.

Draco Malfoy knelt behind Severus, nude, his face appearing around Severus’ left shoulder to smirk down at her.

Before Hermione could form a word, a shout, Draco’s pale arms wrapped about Severus, and slowly Severus turned his head to kiss the younger man chastely over his shoulder. The sight was incredibly erotic—light kissing darkness, but wrong, and intrusive to Hermione’s ideal for the evening.

Pulling apart slowly, Draco rested his chin on Severus’ shoulder, and the two men stared down at her, eyes smoldering.

The scent she had sensed was Draco…and she ground her teeth together in a snarl.

“What is this?” Hermione ground out.

Severus said nothing, but lifted his chin slightly while Draco smirked.

“An ambush?” Draco suggested.

Hermione shook, from both anger and arousal.

“Perhaps a ‘test’ is a better word?” Draco suggested again, his hands running down Severus’ chest to his belt. The belt was soon pulled away, and Draco’s fingers began working his fly.

“Test?” Hermione managed to asked, her eyes moving to Severus whose breathing seemed to increase in pace at Draco’s touch.

No matter how well constructed Severus’ face was, Hermione could see that he was not exactly comfortable at Draco’s touch. Hermione knew Draco sometimes indulged with the same sex, but not Severus…not like Draco.

“It seems you chose the better of us,” Draco whispered, ruefully.

She frowned, and surged forward, slapping Draco’s hands from Severus’ trousers. The movement made the younger man laugh and roll on the bed, nearer to her.

He had been watching, she realized, waiting. Draco had obviously grown impatient. Then Hermione realized that Severus must have known Draco was watching…

Hermione was off the bed and on her feet in a flash, snatching up her torn dress and searching for her wand in the concealed side pocket. However, before she could draw it, Severus had grasped her wrist and drew her back to the bed so that she was sitting in his lap. His trousers were undone, the head of his cock just visible against his belly.

Draco was chuckling from the bed, lying on his side to stare at Hermione, a hand stroking his erect cock until the candlelight made the drop of pre-come glint. Draco was exquisite, beautiful, but Hermione had little taste for it.

“Let’s play, Hermione,” Draco whispered.

She glared at him, but the longer she gazed at his smoky eyes, the more she saw.

Draco had hoped she would come to him instead of Severus. It was a vain hope, but still a hope. He was going to do everything in his power to have her, to end the game. However, Hermione knew there would never be anything but games with her rival.

Draco could not love her, no matter how much he deluded himself. Hermione would always be competition. His definition of ‘love’ was more twisted and confused than her own.

Severus, on the other hand, was…

Hermione could almost see the conversation the two men had, although she was not sure how much Draco knew about her feelings for Severus. The man who held her was staring at the side of her face, waiting.

It was time to end it.



* * *



One dark, one light, they encircled her, moving so that all she could see were shades of grey. It was a battle, she knew, a battle to sway her emotions and her body to one end of the spectrum or the other.

Draco kissed her like a man obsessed, and though his skin was softer, his touch was rougher. While Severus kissed her mouth, Draco ate at her core, teeth flashing against her most tender of flesh. While Severus’ kiss was apologetic, repentant, Draco’s nips at the inside of her thighs and the prod of his fingers into her body were possessive.

Hermione was overwhelmed, and though the descriptor did not seem to truly encompass her arousal, she was just that. She wanted them both, but Severus more than anything else. She did not want Severus to see her so undone by the man who licked at her pucker and began teasing the orifice open. Hermione did not want Severus to see how Draco made her twitch and moan. If she could, a part of Hermione would have banished Draco from her world.

“Get on your knees,” Draco hissed.

She was gasping for air, but complied with Severus’ help. Severus’ impassive face hurt her. Why was he allowing this? Why was she?

As if sensing her anguish, Severus moved to sit against the head of the bed, grasping her cheeks and kissing her. The kiss told her many things, but what it meant was lost as she felt Draco moving behind her.

“Severus…” she whispered as he pulled back.

His cock was straining up, so engorged that when she bowed her head slightly, the caress of her fringe of hair against the flesh made him jerk. He shifted away from her, and Hermione let her upper body fall to the bed as Draco rubbed the head of his cock against her pucker. Closing her eyes, she did not want to see Severus’ face.

Humiliation did not come naturally to her. What did come naturally was the instinct that made her hips jerk in anticipation.

Hermione felt like a truly base woman. She had been wrong, so very wrong to hope.

Draco hummed as he pushed inside slowly, and Hermione winced. Though prepared for the intrusion into her body, she wished with all her being that it was not Draco Malfoy who was entering her most tender of parts.

Draco had always attracted her, though she rarely admitted it. He was handsome and he was a thorough lover, but Hermione would rather dominate the man than play the submissive.

“Granger…” he sighed, his fingers playing over the expanse of her bare back and spine.

The slow penetration made her want to call his name, but she could feel Severus nearby, feel his eyes upon her and Draco. She wondered what those eyes saw and how the man felt.

Disgust? Fascination?

Fingers wound about her hip to her clit and the first thrust had Hermione crying out in primal bliss. She could not fight her body’s urge any longer and slowly, her reptilian, base part of her mind told her to ‘fuck your newfound sense of morality.’

Her eyes opened, vision hazy with endorphins, and she saw Severus sitting on the far edge of the bed. His eyes were riveted on where she and Draco joined.

Draco strummed her clit as he thrust fully into her body, and when a long digit snaked lower to gather essence, Hermione’s spine straightened, her head throwing back. Draco cursed in a growl and Hermione watched as Severus moved to lick at Draco’s finger, tongue curling around the sticky digit.

A slap to her bottom made her chin drop again, bringing a moan.

“So fucking goo—” Draco began to say, but choked a gasp, his hands slapping against her hips to grasp tighter.

Severus made a noise deep in his chest and Hermione met his eyes. He was barring his teeth, his hand sliding down his chest to grasp his cock. The sight sent her over, and she was gone on a wave of absolutely delight. Her eyes closed and behind her eyelids were red and green sparks. Hermione was not sure if she screamed, cursed, or called Severus’ name, but he was suddenly there, against her, under her.

“This is mine,” she thought she heard Severus say, but there was no room in her brain to ponder the words for Severus grasped her waist and all motion stopped.

Draco chuckled darkly behind her, still inside her.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest as she felt another hard length sliding against her cunt, wiry hair brushing against her clit. Her protest was swallowed in Severus’ mouth as his finger trapped her nipples and pinched. The pain was negligible, but the sensation sent a shock down her body.

Wrapping her arms about his neck, she shifted and Draco followed. Then, with what felt like a pop, Severus slid inside. Hermione whimpered into Severus’ mouth and tears prickled the corners of her eyes.

Needing air, she pulled her mouth away as Severus’ hands slid down her sides to grasp her waist just above Draco’s hands. Severus moved first while Hermione straddled him. The slow slide filled her so completely that she had to bite into Severus’ shoulder to keep from screaming.

She knew she was muttering nonsense when the two men began to move in tandem, alternately filling and pulling out of her body. Hermione knew she was muttering apologies to Severus for various reasons and threats to Draco, but it was nonsense, more like disjointed words that sounded more like praise.

The rhythm increased and Draco fell against her back, licking the sweat on her shoulder blades. Severus bit the shell of her ear and then, she was gone again, back arching, magic showering off her in tiny, yet literal sparks.

Draco gave a hoarse whimper and was suddenly gone from against her back. The absence of his warmth made Hermione shiver. Though Severus had stopped moving, he was far from finished wringing out his own brand of pleasure from her.

Hermione was glad.




* * *




Her heels dug into the shifting muscle of his buttocks as Severus filled her. Hermione could feel the dampness of Draco’s come under her on the bed where it had oozed out, but she did not care. Hermione did not care that Draco lay next to her on his belly, his fingers playing over her moving breasts as Severus thrust into her roughly, over and over again.

As if speaking to her without Severus’ knowledge, Draco whispered into her ear.

“I suppose I have lost.”

Hermione’s eyes fluttered as she reached up to push Severus’ curtain of hair from his sweaty face.

“It is an unfair world where someone like me is allowed to bed whomever he pleases—a true libertine…but you…your reputation will be ruined if we keep playing these games.”

Only half of what Draco said registered.

Hermione wondered when he had begun to care so much.

He seemed to slither across the bed to press his face into her throat, tasting her sweat.

“You have proven that you love this man…and not me.”

She had half a mind to ask if Draco expected that she should love him, but she did not, instead, she bent up to kiss Severus and allow him to gather her into his arms. Draco fell away, watching.

“Severus…” she sighed as they lay again on the bed.

The sound his voice seemed to be the trigger, and he gripped her painfully tighter and growled into her hair as his hips jerked erratically. His back arched and a cry passed his thin lips, resembling her name.

Draco smirked as the man and woman collapsed into each other, and Hermione watched through a fringe of Severus’ hair as Draco rose from the bed and began to dress. He had on a dapper grey suit, and drawing his wand, cast a cleansing Charm over his pale skin and semi-erect cock.

Severus pulled his flagging cock from Hermione and rolled on the bed to take Draco’s place, bringing Hermione with him. Severus’ eyes were closed, but he held Hermione as if to never let her go.

“I love you.”

It was Draco who had spoken, and not Severus. Pressed into Severus’ side, Hermione met her rival’s eyes in the dim candlelight. Draco was shrugging on a cloak.

“But he loves you more. It is time to be honest with yourself, Granger. He will give you everything you want…”

Hermione almost asked how Draco Malfoy had any idea about what she wanted, but did not open her mouth.

“I love you, but I will never let you break my heart…and if you break his…”

Draco’s eyes fell upon his old mentor who was watching him through long black eyelashes.

“I will destroy you.”

Draco Malfoy left the room that was full of candlelight and the scent of sex, and Hermione looked after him from Severus’ arms. The only sound was the whipping flicker of flame, and soon Hermione’s soft sobs.

She was not sure why she was crying; she was neither sad nor happy. Hermione was sated.

Severus moved until he leaned over her, staring down into her hazed amber eyes. Hermione blinked slowly wonder filling her mind. Severus was trying to smile.

“You can go after him.”

She blinked again. “What?”

“If that is what you want.”

Shock coursed through her. Why would she want to go after Draco Malfoy? She shook her head, her cropped hair sweaty, her entire body wrought out.

“I am where I want to be, as long as I am permitted to be here…”

Severus’ smile faltered. “You think I would send you away?”

“You have every right to… Draco has revealed my true—“

“No.”

His single word was insistent, and Hermione felt something inside her body clench as if waiting for the true blow.

Instead, Severus kissed her gently, her swollen lips beginning to dry. When he pulled back, his fingers brushed the corner of her mouth and then moved down her body to the sticky fold between her thighs. A gentle caress had Hermione’s body stiff.

“I invited Draco here…I wanted to see for myself that you chose me.”

His words were a balm.

“I will possess your sweet troubled soul, even if I have to fight you for it, Hermione. I am the master…”

A digit penetrated her and Hermione squirmed, but her eyes were locked on Severus’ face.

“You are the student. There is nothing you have shown me so far that would make think otherwise…”

A shiver replaced her fear.

“And that is what you would like, deep down, to be a student again, isn’t it?”

A second digit, and together they moved in a beckoning motion that forced Hermione to grit her teeth.

“Isn’t it?” he asked more forcefully, his thumb pressing her clit like a magic button.

“Y-yes!”

He kissed her again, but Hermione could feel his grin against her lips even as his long fingers stroked deeper inside her body.

“Then, you are mine.”



~Fin