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Escape	By : lilith395 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 4612 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter or it's characters. I do not earn money for writing these stories

Chapter List
- 1-Escape
- 1
A/N: There... Though I'm working on a longer story, which annoys me to no end... (one way or another the characters seem to keep running off with my story and hiding it from me) an idea popped into my head and this is the result. Though I already have both the prequel and the sequel to this one on my hard-drive, I decided to only post this one. If you guys like it, I'll post the rest, just let me know. Now, thanks for reading..

Large round droplets of summer rain fall to the ground around me. The street is deserted safe for a couple running across the road a block away. I see them, but they don't see me. After the last few years I've learned how to blend into the shadows.

My four-inch-heels click-clack on the cobbles beneath my feet as I make my way across the dark street. The sounds of the city carry me to my destination, the lights from two blocks away shine into the night-sky. I yearn for what lies before me, I need it more than I have ever needed anything in my life.

Every time any of those half-witted twits that call themselves my friends ranted about it, I was skeptical to say the least. But now, now everything has changed. Now, I have changed. Now, I am single.

At the last corner, I pause. I inhale the wet, warm, summer air, the peace, the quiet, one more time before stepping around the corner, out of my comfort zone and into the long line waiting to get into the club. I stare up the line, watch the mass of bodies in front of me. All of the bodies are encased in black, a wide assortment of leather and latex. Looking around, I have the distinct feeling most of the owners of those bodies do not own a mirror. In most cases, there is altogether too much body for not enough fabric.

I glance down my own to check myself. The leather skirt I stole from my next-door neighbor for the night hugs my hips tightly before flaring out to fall halfway down my thighs and the simple white sleeveless shirt has soaked up enough of the rain to become see-through. I am suddenly very glad I chose to wear the only nice set of underwear I own. Though my coat reaches down to my ankles, I've left it open to swish behind my back. The numerous charms I have placed upon my hair keeps it straight, and the satin ribbon holds it in a tight pony-tail high on the back of my head. That, combined with the glamour I placed on myself instead of the make-up everyone has been pestering me to wear, makes me feel comfortable enough with my appearance. And by the looks the nameless faces around me have been shooting my way, so are they.

The bodies in front of me shuffle their way towards the beefy man situated by the door. I can feel the bass of some sort of tune which is supposed to pass for music vibrate from the stone floor, through my feet and up my legs. I can already feel the urge to dance creeping along my spine. I need go get in, I need to get on that floor, I need to let go. For once.

I reach the front of the line, and through the open door I can just make out the other dancers through the haze of the smoke-filled room. I drown myself in the music floating out, and focus on the writhing bodies seeming close enough to touch. A strong hand on my leather-clad arm pulls me back to the present.

"ID please." ID? Gods, I'm flattered. I reach my free hand into my inside pocket for it, and hold it out to him. Without letting go of my arm, he checks the small piece of plastic, then my face, and then back to the ID-card. I give him the coldest stare I can manage. Without so much as a warning, he releases my arm and I stumble backwards a step or so. He holds the card out to me between his fore- and middle-finger, and nods at the entrance. I snatch it back and quickly move inside.

At the first step over the threshold, the intense scent of sweat and spilled alcohol assault my senses. I pause, for only a moment, one heart-beat, to let it wash over me. No turning back now, I'm here, and I'm staying.

After stuffing some money down my bra, mostly because I just have no other place to put it, I leave my last part of armor, the last part of my attire which could cover me up, with the heavily pierced girl by the coat-room. I glance around the packed club and decide. First a drink.

It takes me ten minutes to get through the crowd to the bar. There should be a rule against something like that. There is a line at the bar. I can do two things, either be the nice girl I've always been and wait, or cut in front of one of the guys who are checking me out. Taking in the length of the line, I suddenly feel tired of being the good girl.

All it takes is a crooked smile and a giggle or two and I find myself hugging the oak front of the beer stained bar. I catch the bartender's eye and order myself some sort of mixed drink. I have no idea what it contains, but I am sure, by the look of the violently colored liquids the man is pouring into the glass, my teeth are going to hate me. Come to think of it, so will my dentist. I pay the painfully handsome bartender while he hands me my glass with the customary flirty grin. A few moments later, I push away from the bar, leaving the empty glass standing in front of the bewildered man.

I move myself through the crowd once more, which is surprisingly more easy this time around, now I'm feeling a little more confident. My extensive knowledge on everything that is anything tells me it's the alcohol doing it's job. It must've been a very strong concoction for me to already feel the effects of it. I make a mental note to ask the bartender what he put in that drink.

I move across the dance floor, and secure myself a spot right in the middle of the floor. Directly under one of the multi-colored lights, I halt. I listen to the music. I let it flow over me, through me, and I let it take me over. With every move my body makes, my mind becomes a little more blank. within a few minutes, nothing exists. Nothing but me, and the heavenly bass-line coursing through my veins at this very moment. I don't notice the other bodies dancing close to me, I don't pay attention to the other feet shuffling around my own. I only feel myself, and the music.

The night is moving along outside of these walls. It must be. The small part of my logical mind which I haven't drowned in alcohol tells me it must've been hours since I arrived. so does the small amount of change I've still got left. With another drink in my left hand, I grip the railing of the newly discovered staircase. I hadn't noticed it before, but when I slurred my question at no one in particular, I was told it led to the tables on the balcony. Some part of my alcohol-addled mind tells me I should be worried that I have no idea who told me.

All the luck in the world is on my side this night. I find myself up on the balcony, without having fallen off the stairs, and near a group of people leaving. I let myself fall into one of the chairs and watch the dance-floor for a while. As I scan the crowd with an almost detached feeling. The drone of the music still fills my ears, but my body is too tired to get back up. I lift my feet up to the chair opposite and rest while checking out the other patrons. To me, there is not a face which stands out.

The last ten minutes have been blissfully quiet. I thank Merlin that not one of the idiots surrounding me have tried to sit down. There was one drink offer, but I sent it back. I’m not in the mood.

Another drink materializes on the table in front of me. Someone must’ve put it there, but I do not bother to look up. I merely wave my hand absently at the person who’s shoes are, come to think of it, somewhat familiar, in the hopes the person will leave me alone.

The chair opposite is violently pulled out from under my feet, and I feel my heels clatter to the ground. Sitting up a little, I whip my head around to scowl at the person who is sitting down across from me.

“I must say, that scowl is almost perfect. ”

My jaw drops. I have the distinct feeling I look like a fish, but at the moment, I don’t care. I stare for a moment, appraising his attire. Though his hair is tied back into a ponytail, I can see it has grown almost half its length since I last saw him. The simple black dress-shirt hugs his well-toned torso, the sleeves rolled up and secured by a single button just above his elbows. I raise one of my eyebrows a little as I scan his left fore-arm, but it dawns on me that in a club like this, people have probably complimented him on his choice in ink. Following his legs which he has stretched out below him past the side of the table, I suddenly realize why his shoes had struck me as familiar. He is wearing dragon-hide boots and matching pants. Leaning back into his chair, nursing something which looks suspiciously like whiskey, he watches me looking him over. He even smirks. Though it takes me a moment to find my voice, eventually I answer him.

“Yes, well, I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

I see the corners of his mouth twitch for only a heartbeat, and know I made the right comment. I smile.

“What are you doing here, professor?” I ask him. “I wouldn’t have thought you to be the kind of man to visit a place like this.”

A short laugh passes his lips, and, though I blame the imbibed alcohol completely, I cannot help but notice how wonderful a sound it is. I don’t believe I have ever heard him laugh before.

“There is a lot you do not know about me, miss Granger, and this is just one of those things. I happen to like this…” He waves his hand over the railing behind him, indicating the dance floor, “Assorted mess of idiots. But I would’ve sworn, of all the places I might possibly ever run in to you of all people, it would’ve been back at the school or at the ministry. So I suppose I could say the same to you.”

I shrug, he has a point there. I pull the glass he set in front of me up to my nose and sniff it. It seems to be yet another vile neon-colored poison which I have never heard of before. I can smell the coconut in the drink, and several fruits, but there is one ingredient which stands out most. Looking up for a moment, I can see the dark man looking at me intently. I can only hope my instincts are right, though, come to think of it, if this kills me, I won’t need to walk home. I take a large gulp.

I feel the liquid slide down my throat and the moment it hits my stomach, I start to feel better. A little more sober than I would like, but better nonetheless. My entire body feels as though I have just slept for ten hours, well-rested and unstrained, and the pain in my feet flows out of me with the second sip. I glance up and raise my glass at the smirking man before me in appreciation.

“Thank you” I say.

He straightens himself up and leans over the table just a little, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “How do you know I didn’t just poison you?”

I shrug. “I don’t. But I figured that if you had wanted me dead, you would’ve done it a long time ago.” He looked amused, but also a little, I’m not sure, disappointed, maybe, and I could feel my brain kick in to gear.

“Plus, you would have to invent an entirely new poison, one which not only looks like pepper up, but also tastes and smells like it, and someone happens to have taught me once that both the smell and the taste of the herbs and plants in that particular potion are easily overruled by practically all poisonous ingredients. Which means that unless you have charmed this drink in front of this enormous crowd, which I find highly unlikely, I’m pretty much safe.”

I raise my glass to my lips again as I watch his draw into a smile. The cold glass touching my bottom lip, I freeze and stare. He is absentmindedly scanning the crowd around us while he leans back against his backrest. Once again I let my eyes rake over his frame and wonder where he has hidden it all over the last fifteen years that I’ve known him. The smile still present lights up his eyes, which, in this light, seem the deepest darkest browns I have ever encountered. Though I would never call him beautiful, this night, there is a handsomeness shining through which I have never realized he possessed. Though I have set my glass back down, I am still staring at him as he focuses his gaze back on me. He raises one eyebrow in question as his smile fades. The spell seems to be broken. What would’ve happened if he had ever smiled like that at school? The mental image of it makes me laugh.

“What, pray tell, amuses you?” He asks.

“Oh, nothing really. I just had a sudden flash of you being chased through the dungeons by a dozen screaming girls.”

He looks at me, surprised. “Why in Merlin’s name would you think of such a thing?”

I point behind him, at a group of giggling girls a few years younger than me. They have been looking over at our table since the moment he sat down.

“Oh” he manages and shrugs before locking his gaze with mine again. “You have yet to tell me why you are here, miss Granger.”

“Hermione, please.” He nods but says nothing. He is waiting for my answer. I have to think about it for a moment. “I think, I think it’s because it dawned on me this morning, that, even though I am proud of my research and my library, I am a single, 25-year-old woman who has never gone out once in her life. So I went out.”

“And how are you liking it?” He asks, though I have the feeling he already knows my answer. “Honestly? I’m bored.”

It seems to be the exact reaction he expected. He downs the last of his whiskey and pushes his chair back. Looking up at him, I marvel over his height. Has he always been that tall? If so, how did I miss that all these years? He moves to stand next to my chair and holds out his left hand, the black mark standing out against the paleness of his skin. I am suddenly mesmerized by only that hand, that arm, that horrid mark. He is probably showing just exactly who, and what, I am accepting if I take it. Looking around once more and deciding to throw caution to the wind, I down my own glass and take his hand.

He pulls me to my feet a little faster than I had expected and I stumble against him. One of his arms encircles my waist to steady me, pulling me just a little closer to him than necessary. Glancing up at his face, I find him only inches away, looking intently into my eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” He says, for only me to hear. Bringing his lips level with my ear, he whispers my name. “Hermione.”

I can only nod.

Ten minutes later, my back hits the door of his home. With two soft thuds his hands fall into place beside my head as his lips crash down on mine. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, the once so logical part is screaming at me about the identity of the man who now has me imprisoned between his body and the door, but my body dismisses it. It has been too long, and I am feeling the loss of the physical contact deep within me. It doesn’t matter who he is, as long as he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing. And maybe just a little more.

Though I am once again wearing the heavy leather coat, I can still feel the cold of the night creeping up my bare legs, the small space between us leaving just enough of the cold air to cool me. Placing my hands against his chest, I push him just far enough away from me to reclaim my mouth as my own.

“Inside” I whisper before closes the gap between us once more. He moves one of his hands away from the door and a moment later, I hear the lock click open and feel the door give way. His arm catches my waist before I have the time to react, and, without breaking our kiss, he moves me a few steps into the hallway. As the door falls back into the lock behind me, he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring the inside of my mouth leisurely. When his hands hike up my shirt, I wonder if he’s even going to take the trouble to take me to his bed.

For a moment, he breaks away from me, studying my face before settling on my eyes. “I’m not” he whispers.

His hands on my waist beneath my shirt, he lifts me off my feet, and without thinking, I wrap my legs around his waist and one of my arms around his neck. I lace the fingers of my free hand through his hair, loosening the ribbon and untying his ponytail. With my hand full of his pitch black hair, I pull his face back to mine.

Though I can feel him moving, I don’t register anything but the feel of my legs wrapped around his body and his tongue caressing mine until he lowers me onto a flat surface. He moves away from me to latch on to my neck, and I start to unbutton his shirt.

The feeling of his tongue against my skin sends shivers down my back and as I push his shirt off of his shoulders, I moan softly. His hands are moving under my shirt, and though it feels heavenly I start to detest the items of clothing still separating his skin from my own. I pull back from his grasp to pull my shirt over my head, and before it hits the ground, he has unclasped my bra and is sliding the straps down my arms. With both our chests bear, and him now exploring my collarbone with his mouth, I move to take off my heels. His fingers close firmly around my wrist.

“Leave them on” He murmurs against my skin. Softly, he pushes me back until I am lying flat on the wooden surface, my legs dangling over the edge. He moves his way down my torso, one of this hands holding my wrist above my head while the other is currently massaging one of my breasts. He takes the other into his mouth, and I can hear myself whimper as his tongue circles my nipple. I am lost to his administrations, and I barely feel his hands leaving my body as he moves his mouth from one breast to the next. I hear a rustling sound, but I ignore it.

Without warning, he’s gone. I whimper in protest, and try to raise myself up on my elbows to look at him. Before being able to raise my head, I can feel his hands under my skirt, pulling down my panties. His fingers leave a tingling trail down the outside of my thighs where he has touched them.

My insides are on fire, though, so is the outside. He has dropped my knickers on the floor beneath my feet and he’s dragging his nails back up over my calves. The moment he reaches my knees, my hips thrust themselves upward with an intense need. I can hear him chuckle before he violently pulls me down towards the edge of the surface.

In one move, he has locked my legs around his hips and positioned himself at my entrance. I risk opening my eyes for only a second and am immediately captivated by the look of raw lust in his. We keep our eyes locked as he thrusts forward.

I don’t move, and neither does he. We don’t make a sound. We only stare into each other’s eyes. It seems to take hours, but in reality, it’s only seconds before he brakes our gaze and starts moving. I arch my back and let my head fall back onto the wood beneath me.

With every thrust he hits a spot inside of me which makes me cry out, and with every moan. he thrust a little harder. The sounds of our bodies moving against each other fill the air and echo off the high ceiling. The sounds I make drive him on while the sounds he makes push me closer to the edge.

I am digging my nails into his back and moaning out his name as he drives me into oblivion, and while the waves of pleasure roll over me, I can feel him grunt out his own release as he empties himself inside of me.

He pulls me up until I am sitting, and holds me close for a few minutes while our breathing steadies and the dust we’ve kicked up settles around us. I cling to his bare chest like he clings to my shoulders. We don’t need to say anything, we both know it. We both needed this.

For a moment I’m afraid he’s going to kick me out, and though I am not at all interested in anything more than what just happened, except maybe another round, I dread it nonetheless. I don’t want to be alone anymore. Is that not why I went to that idiotic club in the first place?

Grasping my shoulders, he pulls me back from him to look at me. “What do you want?” He asks me.

I can tell by the look in his eyes that he has been using his legilimency-skills again, I don’t need to tell him anything. Gently, I raise one of my hands to his neck and I pull him into a soft kiss.

It has taken me several hours to notice the room around us. Though we are now situated on a rug in front of the fireplace, I have found out, now that he is sound asleep next to me, that the surface he had placed me on the first time was a large desk, and that all around us all of the walls are stacked with rows and rows of books. The library we’re in is extensive and gorgeous. It does make me wonder though. He must’ve known that even if I had been done with him that I would never leave before I’ve had a chance to look through the entire collection. As much as I didn’t want to leave, he didn’t seem to want to let me go. I am torn between going to sleep and getting up to peruse the books before he wakes up.

Before I have time to make up my mind, he turns around beside me and places his arm across my stomach.

“Good night, Hermione” he murmurs against my shoulder.

“Good night, Severus” I murmur back before letting myself fall asleep against his shoulder.

thanks for reading! please review!
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Escape