Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 129854 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 29
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
A/N: I am soo sorry for lack of an author's on the last chapter! I hadn't meant to break this up into two, but it became over 15k words and was just too long for one, so I split them up. But I couldn't just leave you lovely people hanging like that, so here's another update! My goodness, you all are WONDERFUL...if you have an email and I emailed you to say thank you, would you find that creepy? Because I really am grateful for the reviews and comments and don't feel that I can express all of that in one little author's note.

And Happy Chrismahanukwanzakah to everyone!! I also love how my birthday is on Boxing Day (Dec 26) but that won't stop me from writing. Hugs and kises to you all, and thanks again!!

Snape hadn't wanted to attend Slughorn's party. There were at least ten other things he could think of doing to better spend his time than hobnobbing with a bunch of sycophants that didn't like him. Of course, he didn't like them either, which wasn't a big surprise, considering they were the sort to fraternise with Slughorn.

But instead of spending a solitary evening down in his rooms in the dungeon, he had to follow behind Draco. All day, the blond looked more stressed than usual, and seemed to be on edge. Snape had tossed his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, into detention, and they were unable to do Draco's bidding. Snape noticed that even Pansy Parkinson hadn't spoken to him all day, whether it was by choice or because Draco told her to leave him alone, he knew not. Nor did it matter. In the middle of that, he'd been summoned to the headmaster's office, briefly conversing with Dumbledore before the white-haired wizard took his leave.

Snape knew for sure that Draco hadn't been invited to Slughorn's party, which was why he'd been curious to see why the wizard snuck off in that direction. But that damned Slughorn had been standing at the door and found Snape out in the corridors, his words slurring and he ushered him into his lavishly and irritatingly cheerful decorated office. Snape had ducked inside to keep Draco from seeing him, and he mentally cursed a drunken Slughorn as he allowed the older wizard to clumsily pull him inside.

Staying back in the shadows, which was hard, considering all of the faeries floating about, Snape furtively took in everything that was going on around him. Little knots of witches and wizards were gathering; drinking, getting drunk, and talking about things that most likely held little significance. A passing house-elf offered him a goblet of what looked like mead, and he refused. Just as he was telling the house-elf 'no', Snape noticed a smirking McLaggen leading a wary-looking yet more attractive than usual Hermione across the room.

Unbeknownst to the two, Snape had followed behind, far enough that he wouldn't be seen, but close enough that he'd been able to hear Hermione's loud protests when McLaggen obviously became too forward. Snape took great pleasure in hearing the uncouth young man bellowing in pain when Hermione did something to him. Seconds later, the fiery little Gryffindor came bolting out of the curtain-covered space, appearing livid and too upset to notice anything else around her.

McLaggen was still groaning when he came out of the small space. He was hobbling, even pausing once to lean against the wall and press down onto the top of his foot through his shoes. Snape had noticed Hermione's heels and then looking at McLaggen holding onto his foot, put two and two together.

Good girl, he thought of Hermione's actions. Next time, aim for his manhood and sterilise the little shit.

Across the room, Hermione had found a place to hide another set of heavy draperies. Snape watched as Potter caught sight of his flustered best friend, and fought his way through the gauzy curtains to talk to her. Not five feet away, McLaggen had been stuffing his face with something that didn't look appetising in the least bit, when he noticed the two and began making his way over. Quick on the uptake, Hermione's face said it all as she quickly reached out to find an opening in the draperies before hurriedly slipping back out.

McLaggen's jaw was still moving like a cow chewing its cud as he spoke to an irritated-looking Potter. With Hermione gone, it was obvious that Potter didn't feel like talking to the boy, as whatever he was yammering about was further angering him, even though he was remaining silent.

Snape had been giving a message from the headmaster to pass on to Potter. While it could have waited until after the party, or even for the next morning, for that matter, he used the opportunity that currently presented itself.

Potter looked as if he wasn't happy to be approached by his least favourite professor during his leisure time, nor was Snape any more thrilled about the situation. However, Snape was appeased that he was able to use his presence to unnerve McLaggen, and he narrowed his dark eyes in disgust at the cocky boy, whose eyes had gone wide with fear beneath the scrutiny of the professor.

McLaggen had stopped chewing with he was stared down for a solid five seconds, and swallowed hard. The entire time, Snape was thinking of a way to punish the boy for his mistreatment of a certain Gryffindor witch, without seeming obvious, when the idiot turned green and vomited all over his shoes. Whipping out his wand and cleaning the mess off his boots, all without breaking eye contact with a visibly nervous McLaggen, Snape assigned him a month's detention and told the now stammering boy to get out of his sight, wishing that he'd given two months instead of one as he skulked away.

Once the jackass, otherwise known as McLaggen, had ambled off in the opposite direction, Snape delivered Dumbledore's message to Potter. He then lingered around Slughorn's office for another fifteen minutes or so. He had done his best to avoid socialising, and was nearly on his way back out of the party when Slughorn somehow managed to swoop in and scoop him up. To his displeasure, he had none other than Potter standing with him.

Snape grit his teeth as he was forced to listen to a hiccoughing and clearly even more inebriated Slughorn prattle on about how great Potter was in his Potions class, only adding as an afterthought that surely some credit should go to his student's former Potions professor.

The only thing that broke up the group was a snarling Filch carrying in a cursing Draco by the scruff of his neck. Snape was relieved that the caretaker had found his sleek blond-haired foul-mouthed thorn in his side, and promptly took charge of the situation. Slughorn butted in and tried to tell him that it was alright for Draco to remain at the party, but Snape would hear nothing of it. He escorted Draco out to the abandoned corridors, the sounds of music and chattering becoming dim as they walked further away.

By the time Snape finished lighting into a completely rude and unreasonable Draco, he sent the still sputtering wizard down to Slytherin common room, hoping that he would go straight there without any detours. Cursing underneath his breath, Snape was about to continue on his way to his own room when he got the feeling that he wasn't alone.

He then took all of two steps and found the one person he had been seriously trying to avoid.

Hermione had sprinted out of Slughorn's office when she cause a glimpse of black teaching robes that could only belong to Severus Snape. Her heart had immediately leapt into her throat, and her stomach did somersaults worthy of an Olympic gymnast. McLaggen had found his way back over to her, and between the scent of his cloying cologne and her already nervous stomach, Hermione feigned the need for some fresh air and abruptly left his side.

Finding what she thought was the perfect hiding place, which happened to be behind a large woven tapestry that hung was in front of a window, Hermione had been looking out of the frosted glass counterpane, unfocusedly staring up at the darkened night sky. She felt anxious from her entire evening and had already made up her mind that she was ready to call it a night, and decided to take a much needed quiet moment to herself before making her way back across the castle.

Just as she was about to slide out of her hidey hole, Hermione nearly wet herself when a firm arm shot behind the tapestry and wrapped itself around her waist, a slim hand with calluses also covering her mouth. She was literally yanked off her feet, the tips of her heels coming precariously close to scraping against the flagstones. She had been ready to scream the castle down, although with the hand firmly clamped down over her lips, the most she would have been able to do was mewl like a kitten, when she recognised the feel of the wiry arms around her.

"Granger," Snape hissed, tugging Hermione out from behind the tapestry and setting her on her feet. "Foolish girl, haven't I told you to stop wandering around alone?"

Hermione gulped nervously, shivering at the feel of Snape's hand that still remain on her wrist. She hadn't meant to leave Slughorn's party on her own, but after being felt up by McLaggen, and with the entire kerfuffle with Draco, all she wanted to do was take off her stupid shoes and go to bed.

McLaggen had scared her more than she realised. It wasn't the fact that he'd just tried to kiss her without her permission; his hands were strong, and nearly hurt as they pressed into her skin. While Snape was dominating, not once had he scared the hell out of Hermione to where she thought he would hurt her or try and take advantage of her. McLaggen had unnerved her to the point where she wouldn't have been surprised had he actually tried to take advantage of her, and she felt like an idiot for consenting to attend the party with him.

"What the hell are you doing going around with that whelp?" Snape suddenly demanded, as if he were able to read Hermione's thoughts.

"He asked me, and I accepted," Hermione feebly offered. She looked down; Snape was still holding onto her wrist. "Not one of my best ideas."

"An understatement, I think we can both agree," he replied in a sour tone. "You're going to need to do better than that, Miss Granger. I might not be around the next time should another wizard put his hands where they aren't wanted."

Snape's words slowly sunk in, and Hermione looked up, wide-eyed with shock. "What?"

"Let's just say that the little idiot is going to be mucking Thestral stalls with Hagrid and helping Filch clean the castle for the next thirty days—without magic" he told her. "I should have made his detention longer."

Hermione's mouth fell open. She didn't know what to say.

"I trust you to keep your mouth shut," Snape continued, unwrapping his long fingers from around Hermione's wrist before turning to walk away.

"Wait, Professor," Hermione said. "Are you– does this mean you're no longer angry me?"

Snape had just lifted one foot to walk off when he stopped, pausing and turning back to look down at Hermione. Even through the dimly lit corridor, he was able to notice the subtle changes by way of beauty charms on her face, all of which enhanced rather than overpowered her delicate features. Her hair was still wild, although it was pinned back instead of hanging in her face. The shawl that had been wrapped around her shoulders earlier was now drooping down and supported by the crook of her elbows, and the line of her collarbone was exposed.

Angry was something that Snape was not, at least, it was not directed towards Hermione. He was angry at himself, once again, because he was more than tempted by the sight of her. While her party dress wasn't particularly revealing, it exposed just enough of her throat and chest for him to become enticed and want to see more.

It was obvious that Hermione was a bit apprehensive, as she swallowed nervously while staring back at the professor, waiting for an answer.

"No, I'm not angry with you," he finally answered in a quiet voice.

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Miss Granger, this is hardly the appropriate time or place for such a conversation," he said warningly.

"Then perhaps we should find somewhere more appropriate," Hermione replied, unperturbed.

"Absolutely not. Either go back to the party with your little friends, or go to your dormitory."

Hermione exhaled shakily, and began fixing the fallen pile of her shawl back around her exposed shoulders. "I'm tired of this," she sadly told him. "I don't know what I'm doing, nor do I know what I'm supposed to do. Or feel. I only came to this stupid party with McLaggen because he asked me when I was distracted– distracted because of you. Because no matter what I do or where I turn, you seem to remain on my mind."

The more Hermione talked, the further her angst turned to anger, and it enflamed her even more when Snape continued looking at her with that familiar and damnably cool disposition.

"Why am I telling you all of this? You obviously don't give a damn, and I've made a fool of myself more times than I care for one evening. Maybe you're right; I should go to bed."

"You really are a silly girl; led around by your own emotions instead of thinking things through. Think, Miss Granger, and stop assuming. Just as I have told you before, I will not give you all the answers; you will have to figure them out on your own."

Hermione's evening had quickly gone downhill ever since McLaggen lured her into a corner to feel up her, and the last thing she was in the mood for was figuring out some super secret Slytherinesque riddle.

"Damn it! At the very least you could stop talking in circles," Hermione fussed. "You've already been turning me away at every chance, perhaps you could kindly not confuse the hell out of me anymore?"

"Well, Miss Granger, apparently that snappy little mouth of yours is able to do more than regurgitate the pages of a book," Snape silkily retorted.

"If memory serves me correctly, it did other things that you had no complaints about," she taunted right back.

Snape's dark eyes instantly narrowed, and Hermione suspected that she struck a nerve, but she was too far gone with anger to care. The one person that she wanted attention from had left her out, high and dry, and the last person she wanted attention from had practically forced it upon her. If she didn't know what irony was, then that had to be it.

"Is it really too much for me to ask for things to go back to how they were before?" Hermione asked, almost pleadingly.

"Fine; forget it," Hermione dismissed when Snape didn't answer her. "Forget that I've said anything."

Snape had been on the brink of telling Hermione to stop being so dramatic, ready to ask her what else did she want him to do, when footsteps began echoing further down the hall. Within the span of a second, Snape hauled Hermione back off her feet, hissing in her ear for to be quiet, as he rushed them across the corridor and into a little enclosure that he knew for fact was invisible to anyone else should they pass by.

Sound, however, still carried out through the narrow, darkened area, and he had to tell Hermione again to keep her mouth shut.

Hermione forgot how fast Snape moved, and was amazed by the way he'd bodily lifted her off her feet and carted her with remarkable speed down the corridor. But once the awe wore off, she remembered that she was still mad at him, and had to fight back the urge to kick him shin with the toe of her pointy shoes.

Unfortunately, her body didn't know that it was supposed to agree with Hermione's mind and also be upset with the professor. His hand was just below her chin, and it was enough to her to catch a whiff of his familiar scent, and immediately it clouded her senses.

Had it been anyone else, Hermione might have told them to sod off, but one didn't tell Severus Snape to merely sod off, especially when taking into consideration the reason for his avoidance of her.

"Do you think you can control yourself? Or do you intend on carrying on like some deranged harpy?" she heard him ask in a placid voice that was right above her ear. His soft tone sent a shiver down her spine, and Hermione slumped back against the wall.

"Yes, I'll behave," Hermione agreed, sounding a bit breathless. "Although I don't see the point; all you're going to do is yell at me like last time and send me away."

Snape heard the wavering in her voice, and exhaled deeply. "You know why I sent you away, so don't play the wounded one with me." Hermione harrumphed in annoyance at that remark. "I don't regret sending you away, however, I will concede that I could have done so more tactfully."

"You've got that right!" Hermione blurted out in the quietest tone possible. If this was the closest thing to an apology that she would receive from Severus Snape, then she would grudgingly accept it. It still didn't mean that she wasn't upset with him.

"You will control your tongue when speaking to me," Snape suddenly said tightly, firmly grasping Hermione's chin between his long fingers and tilting her face to look up at him. "I'm still your professor."

Although Hermione defiantly stared up at Snape, never once wilting beneath his penetrating eyes, her heart beat a drum in her chest and her knees were threatening to give out at any moment.

"Yes, Sir," she stammered when she was finally able to speak.

"Be on your way, then."

"No."

"No?"

"That's right, Severus– no. Not until..."

"Until what?" he spat, now sounding as if he were rapidly losing patience. "Girl, do you even have an inkling of what will happen should anyone become aware of this?"

"It'll hit the fan, I know that. But in for a penny, and all that. And besides, I told you, no one is going to find out. I'm not going to tell! Why won't you believe me?"

Hermione knew that she sounded desperate, and probably dancing on Snape's last nerve, but she was so far gone with dealing with his arbitrary moods that it forced a newfound boldness to rear its head.

Snape found himself grinding his molars. At the rate he was going, which always seemed to coincide with a certain tenacious Gryffindor's presence, he would undoubtedly be finding his way to Madam Pomfrey for some sort of tooth mending potion to rebuild his enamel.

Like hell he would; he had been Hogwarts Potions master for how many years? He would brew his own damn potion. But he could think about that later.

Right now, his other curly-headed thorn in his side was looking up at him, as if she were trying to decipher what was going to happen next. The look on Hermione's face clearly stated what she wanted, either to kiss him or slap him, perhaps both, but Snape knew that he had to turn her down, once again, and inside it was tearing him apart. Although, she could keep the slap. But he hadn't forgotten the feel of her hand moving over his cock from their last tryst in the classroom. Whenever he passed by the damn room, he thought about it. And all it solidified was that he should have never been inside the classroom with Hermione on that Saturday evening.

The sudden thought of Hermione, naked and in his bed, sent his blood running hot, and Snape had to stand back lest she find that he was more than amenable to him taking her again.

"Miss Granger," he began, almost menacingly as he leant in closer to Hermione's face. "Go back to Gryffindor Tower. Take off those shoes, which I know are hurting your feet, and put on those ugly pink slippers of yours. Play with your demonic familiar you call a cat. Or go back to the party and mingle with the rest of those brownnosers. Whatever you do, just know that I won't be involved."

Hermione secretly admitted to herself that her feet were aching by now, but it still wasn't enough to send her to Gryffindor Tower. And while Snape kept telling her no, which Hermione suspected was purely out of propriety, she didn't want him to leave without having something on a personal level to remember him by.

"Well, the very least you could do is kiss me before sending me on my way," Hermione told him. "Considering the way you tossed me out of the classroom with your issue staining my jumper."

Hermione sounded so crafty, that Snape smirked in spite of himself. "Guileful, aren't you? No matter what I say, you are clearly intent on having your way."

"I might as well have what I want," Hermione replied unrepentantly. "Let's be honest, nothing is promised with the way things are going, and I might as well be happy while I can."

"Happy? Fine words for a young witch that has yet to see a sliver of what life has to offer. Just remember, Miss Granger, that there is a price for everything, and the Ferryman always comes to collect his fee."

"My goodness, Severus!" Hermione frowned. "It isn't as if I'm asking for your soul; I just wanted a measly kiss. But I guess nothing ever is simple with you, is it?"

Simple? he thought. Now that idea was laughable at best. Simple had never been a word in his vocabulary. In fact, Snape always expected everything to have the complications of Muggle rocket science if he were involved. Even this entire fucking situation with the very student before him was complex, and not just because he wanted to lift the dainty skirt of her pink party dress up, do away with her knickers, and shove his way into her body.

Hermione had just made another mewl of protest when Snape moved in closer to her. "Be quiet, you little irritant," Snape growled, before covering Hermione's mouth with his. She let out a squeak of surprise, one that soon melted off into a content-sounding sigh.

Hermione couldn't stop the little moans that escaped from her lazily moving lips. Severus felt good pressed up against her. Strands of lank black hair tickled her face, and Hermione could smell the bare but familiar scent of his skin. Thanking the heavens that Snape didn't douse himself in nauseating cologne, unlike another idiot that she refused to give thought to, especially while kissing another wizard, Hermione was so beside herself that she had to bury her head into the patch of skin beneath his jaw just to pay homage to the area.

It almost seemed surreal that Hermione was...snogging, was the best description, her professor, right in some hidden and darkened alcove that she had never noticed previously. Even more mystifying, was the fact that Snape was eagerly kissing her back.

"You are a little rats' nest-headed inconvenience, do you know that?" he whispered against her lips, his prominent nose brushing against hers while long fingers curved around and stroked the column of her neck. While his words should have been insulting, Hermione wasn't insulted, for she was able to feel Snape's unmistakable erection pressed against the front of her thighs.

Hermione's shawl had fallen back down when she went to wrap her arms around Snape's neck. As usual, he was towering over her and no doubt had a perfect vantage point of the tops of her breasts through the gaped neckline of her dress. He had just begun to skim those nimble fingertips along the delicate line of her collarbone when Hermione suddenly grew angry as his words soaked in, and she lashed out at the professor.

"I'm an inconvenience? You're the bloody inconvenience! Leaving me back at bloody Grimmauld Place without a hint of a goodbye, and then ignoring me ever since coming back to Hogwarts!"

With each sentence, Hermione began to beat her clenched fists against Snape's black-suited chest, and the heel of her palm smarted when she struck one of the hard buttons. She wasn't hitting hard enough to hurt him, but her strikes clearly conveyed her anger. On top of it all, she was mad at herself for acting like a prissy, spoilt witch, but at the moment, her actions seemed quite reasonable.

"Kissing me and then putting me out like that!" Hermione went on, now completely flustered by the angry tears that sprang up in her eyes. She thought that she'd been doing a marvelous job at controlling her emotions when it came to the professor, but now that he was in front of her, it seemed that every instance of him upsetting her, and then her tucking it away at the back of her mind as if she really hadn't been all that bothered, finally came to a head. Previous experience told her that Snape seemed to house all the sensitivity of a sheet of sandpaper when it came to emotional outbursts, and that it was futile to even shed a single tear in front of him, but Hermione was helpless to stop them from pouring down her face.

She felt like an idiot. Hermione had previously told herself, time and time again, that consorting with the professor would only lead to trouble, and that if they kept carrying on, that it would be anything but conventional. But the last thing she expected was the yo-yoing of her emotions. She didn't think Snape was purposely trying to hurt her, at least, she hoped that was the case. Yet his constant dismissal of her had cut like a finely-honed blade, and each time he continued to ignore her, if felt as it salt had been poured on the wound.

Now she was still standing between Snape and the wall. He hadn't once grabbed her hands or tried to stop her from hitting him. Hermione finally stopped her assault of his person, clutching onto the sides of his teaching robes to keep her body from trembling.

Sure that she looked a mess from crying, Hermione kept her head lowered. Even though there was scant light where she and Severus were standing, Hermione wished that her hair wasn't pinned back, because she would have been grateful to hide her face behind it. Whatever charm Lavender had used on her eyelashes, surely the effects gotten all mucked up by her waterworks, and Hermione knew that she probably resembled a raccoon.

Snape remained quiet throughout her entire outburst; it was a miracle that no one heard her and came running. Thus, she was shocked to the nines when Snape moved both hands up to her face and brushed away the remaining tears with his thumbs. She half expected him to embarrass her, or even worse, walk away because of how she just acted, which would have been more embarrassing than him berating her for crying.

Hermione finally stopped crying and had just taken in a shuddering breath when she felt Severus' lips back upon hers, but this time they moved more gently.

She hated feeling like this. It felt as if every one of her senses were spinning out of control, leaving behind this confused and mentally-discombobulated witch in its wake. Worse was the fact that Hermione was unable to not kiss Snape back, unable to leave him alone because she was scared she would never again feel the way she did when she was with him. She had a feeling that were she to actually heed the professor's warnings and steer clear of him, that never again would she intimately know him. Those feelings were what kept her coming back, even after he repeatedly told her no, and it was the very thing that now made her try to ensnare him with her arms and legs, causing them both to topple backwards onto the rough stone wall.

Between her vacillating emotions and the drafty corridors, Hermione found herself still trembling, despite Severus' warm body pressed against her front. While her school robes would have undoubtedly looked ugly over her party dress, and surely would have garnered Lavender fussing at her, Hermione wished that she had worn the stupid things, as her shawl did little to protect her from the cool air.

Severus seemed to understand that Hermione's shivering had more to do with her coming down from her tantrum, because he pulled back from her, shrugged out of his voluminous teaching robes, and draped them over her exposed shoulders.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured, appreciatively soaking in Snape's residual body heat that still lingered in the finely spun wool. His teaching robes were ridiculously long and pooled at her feet, and probably looked more silly than her own student robes would have, but they were warm.

"You look nice this evening."

Hermione's mouth fell open at the compliment, but she quickly recovered and came back with, "Looked, I think is more like it, but thank you. Lavender did it."

"Oh yes, Weasley's simpering blonde paramour. However do you share a dormitory with her and her giggling, daft sidekick?"

Hermione gave a feeble laugh at that. Snape said the damndest things when it came to her best friends as well as the other students, and while his remarks weren't polite, they were always spot on.

"I read. Or I cast a Silencing Charm and ignore them."

"Hmm."

Snape was now looking curiously at Hermione, and she wished that she was able to tell what he was thinking.

"Sir?"

"Not another sound. Do I make myself plain?"

Taking Severus' words to heart, Hermione nodded her head, eager to see what he was going to do. His lips captured hers again, and Hermione had to work at not releasing so much as a moan. Snape pushed her back to remain flush against the wall, and Hermione threw her arms around his neck, eagerly trying to keep him close as they kissed. She hoped that he wouldn't stop when she slipped her tongue past his lips, yet Snape merely reciprocated, and lazily slid his own tongue around hers.

Hermione's fingers had gradually begun digging into his shoulders, then moving to clutch onto the small lapels on either side of his tightly tied cravat. Severus' much sought-after kisses were enough to reduce her legs to jelly. She was literally struggling with herself to remain upright, yet when Snape's hand moved up to the front of her dress and cupped her right breast, Hermione literally pushed herself into his hand, wanting more.

A scream of frustration became lodged in her throat when Snape took his hand off her breast. Hermione thought the wizard meant to put a halt to their activities and move away from her, when he suddenly moved her hands from his collar and gently forced her arms back at her sides.

Hermione knew that Severus told her to not make a sound, and she aimed to stick to his instructions, but it didn't stop her from wantonly looking up at him, silently willing him to continue touching her.

"Could it be that I have actually found a way to silence the Gryffindor princess?" Snape murmured, his lips inches away from Hermione's face.

Tilting her face up for him to kiss her again, Hermione bit down on her lip, becoming riled up once more. Snape's hands were still on hers, and he was now turning them to lie palm down against the wall. He then slid his hands up to her wrists, while kissing Hermione one last time. Becoming so enthralled with the feel of his lips, she never noticed the unfamiliar murmured incantation that became lost against her skin, but it soon became evident what the incantation was for.

Hermione had gone to put her hands back on Snape's shoulders when she found that they were bound to the wall by use of magical and invisible means. Breathing hard out of nervousness, even though Hermione knew that Severus wouldn't actually hurt her, the idea of the unseeable fetters around her wrists made her heart thump erratically.

"Remember what I told you," Snape said, before sliding both hands down the front of Hermione's dress, stopping when he reached the hem. Yanking the fabric up and securing the ends behind Hermione's backside, using her weight to hold it into place, he then slid both hands along her hips and into either sides of her tights and knickers, slowly slipping them down her thighs. His lips were at her cheek throughout it all, pressing light kisses into the area, and his warm breath made her skin prickle.

Hermione was now exposed from navel to knee, with Snape's teaching robes and her shawl still awkwardly draped about her form. Trying to ignore the cool air touching her front, and the fact that her bare arse was rubbing against his wool robes, it being the only thing between her and the cold stone wall, Hermione's legs jerked as though a flame had been set to her skin when Snape ran his hands down the front of her thighs.

Up and down the callused hands moved, until Hermione was straining against his touch. The sensation of him kneading her flesh was nearly enough to make her abandon all common sense and moan like a person that had lost control, but she knew better. Besides, she didn't want them to get caught.

Her case wasn't helped when Snape began caressing her inner thighs, his fingertips working firm circles into her warm flesh. If he moved a bit higher, his knuckles would be brushing against the patch of soft brown curls covering her sex.

While Hermione couldn't move her arms, she could still move the rest of her body, and she impatiently wriggled beneath Snape's caresses, beckoning him to go higher. The bastard had the nerve to smirk at her, a look Hermione was well acquainted with, even in the darkness.

Hermione returned his smirk with a glare of her own, and it plainly said that he'd better stop mucking about and touch her, or else. Had she been able to actually utter the sentiment, Snape would surely tell her that he wasn't going to be ordered about by the likes of her, yet that wouldn't have stopped her.

Still, she was nearly on the edge of tears when Snape suddenly stooped down in front of her. He could have been resting on knees or merely balancing himself on the balls of his feet; she couldn't tell. All Hermione could register was the feel of long fingers brushing against the curls at the top of her cleft, dipping down to trace along the seam of her outer labia.

Sliding down against the wall and supporting herself by clenching her thighs, Hermione repositioned herself on her heels and tried exposing herself more. Apparently it had been the right thing to do, as Snape curved one hand over her mound, allowing the heel of his palm to lightly graze the hood of her clit.

Hermione's hips jerked at the contact, and she cursed inwardly when her heels scraped loudly against the uneven floor. It had been far too long since she had experienced a release of her own, and she knew that if Snape kept carrying on the way he was with his palm, that she would come in a matter of seconds.

The wizard seemed to have other ideas, because he moved his hand, and that made Hermione bite the inside of her cheek to keep from verbally protesting. Needing to grab onto something, Hermione remembered that her wrists were bound, and settled for two awkward handfuls of roughly misshapen stone wall.

Moisture had already begun trickling down her inner thigh, and Hermione was unable to keep her hips from gauchely rolling and twisting about. Severus was now toying with outer pussy lips, tugging on them and spreading her apart, allowing cool air to brush against her rapidly moistening core. It was almost too much for her sensitive clit, even though he had yet to actually touch it. Yet that little move made her walls begin to thrum and pulsate, and Hermione angled her hips once more for Severus to properly touch her.

The entire time, Hermione had her face turned away, her cheek smashed against the cold wall. She couldn't look down. She would see Snape's head inches away from the juncture of her thighs, and it would make her do something she'd regret. Even so, she was seconds away from breaking Severus' rules, ready to tell him to touch her, lick her, something, anything, so long as it stopped the gnawing ache that had now taken over her body.

Right on the verge of screaming, Hermione felt Severus use two fingers from each hand to peel back her labia, forcing her clit to poke up and out. Sinking her teeth further into the soft skin of her cheek, Hermione nearly broke skin when she felt warm air being blown across the sensitive bud, followed by the warm lapping of a rough, wet tongue.

It was too much for her to handle, at the same time, not enough.

Snape's lapping tongue was followed closely by him planting his entire hot open mouth over her flesh. His tongue searched out and probed her entrance, and his teeth scraped against her clitoris. It was nearly too much, and still, Hermione wanted more. Dimly aware that she was literally riding Severus' face and probably smearing her juices all over his cheeks and lips, some depraved part of her became further aroused by that thought, and it sent another tremor throughout her body.

Hermione wanted to keep still but was physically unable to do so, thrashing about to the point that Snape moved one hand from between her legs and placed it on her abdomen, keeping her firmly pinned in place. The other hand kept her nether folds separated, where he greedily licked and sucked at her as if he'd been longing for it.

Still chewing on the inside of her cheek, Hermione desperately fought to keep her moans at bay, but at the rate Severus was going, it was a pipedream at best.

Don't scream, don't scream, she mentally willed herself.

A few choice, or rather, childish, words to describe Severus rose up and became lodged at the back of her throat. Git, tosser, wanker. Had he not bound her wrists to the damn wall, Hermione could have at least used both hands, as she was sure it would take both, to muffle the screams that were threatening to spill past her lips. Over and over, she told herself to not scream, to not make a noise, that someone would surely hear and things would go to hell in a hand basket.

Her self-coaching, however, was short-lived, as incoherency soon kicked in, making Hermione gasp sharply as she became further insensate to everything except pleasure. Silently swearing as Snape's nose continued brushing against her pubic hair, Hermione attempted to vow to stay completely quiet one last time, when his thin lips completely latched onto her clitoris. She felt the vibrations of a low moan from his throat become lost into her skin, and her knees buckled. After that, all it took was a few mere tugs of her clit, which was still entrapped by his lips, combined with another deep, sensuous-sounding moan from the back of his throat, and the tip of his tongue lashing deliciously against the most sensitive part of her body, and Hermione forcefully exploded against Severus' mouth.

She'd stopped biting on the inside of her cheek, going for her bottom lip right as she felt the strong spasms begin, and had she been able to focus her attention on anything else, Hermione might have felt her top teeth breaking through delicate skin and drawing blood as she struggled to keep from crying out. The dainty pink fingernails that Lavender had so graciously bestowed upon her were now gone, thanks to her literally clawing at the wall as she lost control of her body. A few of her longer nails had actually bent and snapped off completely, leaving her with jagged edges, but she didn't even notice that. The only thing Hermione could focus on was the sweet waves of pleasure that completely robbed her of all coherency, lingering for a few sweet, agonising seconds before fading off into a gentle pulsating that left her weak and trembling from head to toe. Her party dress was now damp and sticking to her skin, and had it not been for the invisible manacles around her wrist, Hermione would have fallen to a heap at Snape's feet.

Hermione swore that she could still feel Severus' tongue lapping at her flesh, even after he'd stood back up and leaned against her. When he finally used the counter spell to free her hands, he immediately pulled Hermione's trembling body against him before she had the chance to completely slide down the wall.

Snape's erection was more prominent than ever, and Hermione slid one shaky hand down his chest, in aims of pressing it against the front of his trousers, when he caught onto her wrist and held it in place.

"Not here."

"Then take me with you," she mumbled, her words muffled by the woolen material of his frock coat. Hermione was still breathing hard, and had her face buried in Snape's chest, needing nothing more at that moment than to be close to him. She felt overwhelmed yet relieved by an intense climax, but found that she didn't want it to end. "Please, Severus, don't leave me like this. Not again," Hermione continued, tilting her face to look longingly up at him.

Severus said nothing as he brushed his lips against Hermione's. She noticed that his face was dry, as if he'd wiped it before rising, but still she was able to taste her musk on his tongue, and found that she didn't mind.

"Do you want me to beg? Because I will, as stupid as that sounds."

Hermione could have searched high and low at the moment for a damn to give, and not one she would have found. She didn't care if she sounded whiny or needy, so long as it entailed Snape taking her back to his rooms with him.

"I'll need to do something about your shoes first," he finally replied. "We can't have you tapping your way across the castle and announcing your presence."

"Alright," Hermione replied, raising her head from his chest and standing up straight. When Snape had pulled her up from the wall, the skirt of her dress fell back down over her legs, but her knickers and tights were still halfway down her thighs. Now that Hermione was more coherent, she realised that Severus' teaching robes and her shawl had become twisted into a mishmash of fabric around her shoulders, and that both garments were sliding off her body in opposite directions, as if they were running away from one another.

Severus thought nothing of reaching beneath Hermione's dress to pull her tights and knickers back into place. Hermione didn't even bother reminding him to be careful of the flimsy stockings, and to pull them up just so as to not cause runs. Honestly, he could have ripped the cursed things off of her and she wouldn't have uttered a peep.

Once the rest of her clothes were sorted, Snape flicked his wand at her feet and then tapped it at the side of her head.

"Make sure to keep up with me," he said. "If I stop, you stop. I don't think I need to remind you to remain quiet."

Hermione shook her head as she felt a cool sensation trickling down and spreading over her body, and immediately knew that Snape cast a Disillusionment Charm on her. All it took was a short nod of his head before he began walking, and Hermione eagerly followed, clutching onto the voluminous folds of material she was dragging about.
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Unintentional Inveiglement