Yuleride

Chapter 4 ~ Too Much Heat

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Professor Snape had captured her lips with his own, and was kissing her. His lips were soft, but demanding as they suckled and moved against her mouth. The wizard had a skill Hermione never dreamed he possessed. His kiss was so different from Ron’s kiss.

Ron had a tendency to bruise her mouth in the beginning of their relationship, he was always so hot and ready for snogging. He would attack rather than try and ease Hermione into a response, thinking ardor to be just as acceptable as true passion.

Now that they were intimate, whenever Ron kissed her, he immediately thrust his tongue into her mouth with no warm-up or preparation. It wasn’t that he was thoughtless, just rather randy all the time. Sort of like a dog in rut.

So this gentle, sensuous kissing was something new to Hermione. Ugly as he was, obviously Snape had experience in kissing, though how he learned to do it so well was a mystery. Who would willingly let him kiss her?

Obviously, someone would and had. Judging by his skill, Hermione wasn’t the first.

Up to this point, Hermione had found nothing attractive about the Potions master at all. But with her eyes closed and his mouth moving against her lips this way, her perception was quickly changing. And it shouldn’t be.

No. No, this was wrong, he was manipulating her. Offering her the world and taking advantage of her inexperience with wizards. He was a devil with a tempting inner flame . . . a searing incubus beneath his cold exterior. She should have known Snape would be this way, he was sure and meticulous in everything he did.

Apparently, even when he did witches.

But gods, his lips felt so good against her mouth and before, against her throat. What would it be like for him to . . .

No. No. This was Professor Snape, a man who cared for no one, who rejected contact . . . closeness with others. He was not someone to get involved with . . .

But Merlin, his mouth felt good . . . so good.

Hermione fought the inner battle, caught between wanting more and wanting to stop this before it went any further. Already she could feel herself responding powerfully. She had to regain control. She was the woman. The woman controlled these matters. A simple “stop” or “no” would end this.

Why was it so hard to say “stop” or “no?”

Despite receiving the best kiss of her life, Hermione had to say something to the wizard to end his possession of her lips. She had to say something because it was just too hard to pull away.

Hermione tried to speak against his lips, but Snape felt the subtle change and spoke first, his voice smooth and rich like honey as he continued to kiss her between his words, not letting go, not giving her a chance to respond or hardly breathe.

”You are thinking I shouldn’t be kissing you . . .”

Kiss.

”You are thinking you shouldn’t be allowing me to kiss you . . .”

Kiss.

”But you are . . .”

Kiss.

”Because I make you feel something . . .”

Kiss.

”and you are ready to feel something . . . anything other than the ordinary and the familiar . . .”

Kiss.

”Your heart is racing . . .”

Kiss.

”You feel . . . confused . . .torn . . .”

Kiss.

”But this is not confusion . . .and you have not yet been torn . . .”

Kiss.

”This is . . . exploration . . .”

Kiss.

”The first . . .”

Kiss.

”Of many journeys to come . . .”

Kiss.

”if you say you’ll join me . . .”

Kiss.

”Let me show you how exciting . . .”

Kiss.

”life can be, we can be . . . together . . .”

Kiss.

”Say you’ll join me, Hermione Granger . . . say you’ll join with me.”

Snape deepened the kiss, pulling the witch against his body as he slipped his tongue between her lips, licking at her supple muscle gently, then entwining it in his own. If Hermione were going to stop him, going to pull away in disgust and horror, she would do it now. His words had a double meaning, and if the witch didn’t stop him, he would continue and bind her to him in a more physical and pleasurable manner. Snape had no doubt he was a better lover than Weasley and if he could show the witch there was something more to him, possibly he could steal her away.

The idea of stealing Hermione from Ronald Weasley was appealing on a number of levels. Maybe Weasley would even want to duel him for her before they left on their travels. What a wonderful opportunity that would be to singe his redheaded arse before departing England. A great going away gift.

Hermione gave herself over to the kiss, she couldn’t help herself as he gathered her against him, one hand splayed against her lower back, the other lightly pressing against her shoulder. This wasn’t the crushing troll hug Ron gave her. This was something better, something that told her Snape was aware she was a human being, a living creature and had even presence of mind not to try and crush the life out of her because he was randy.

Hermione could feel Snape’s lean frame beneath his robes, warm and hard as if he wore nothing under them. His body type was nothing like Ron’s physique. Snape was shorter to start with. Ron was six feet tall and his musculature well-defined. The Professor stood about about five foot ten and was slight of build. Hermione could feel no definition other than firmness. But that firmness pressed against her made her feel warm all over.

They stood there, body to body, mouth to mouth, exploring each other, Snape’s hands gently pressing her skin, his fingertips rippling over the base of Hermione’s spine. Yes, it seemed the witch were willing. Snape pulled back from her mouth, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the flushed, breathless witch.

”Do you dare, Hermione?” he breathed at her.

”Dare? Dare what?” she asked him, a bit dazed.

”Dare stay the night with me. Then you can give me your answer in the morning,” the wizard said softly.

Hermione blinked at him, her eyes losing their sloe-eyed look. Snape immediately realized he had miscalculated. He should have continued to kiss the witch and seduce her in that manner, rather than asking her.

He had given her an out, and Hermione took it.

”No. No I can’t. I have to think about this. I mean, if I join you, then you expect me to sleep with you as well? Is that the price of my participation?” she asked him.

Snape’s face turned red and he let her go quickly.

”Of course not!” he snapped at her disdainfully. “If I merely wanted someone to shag during lulls, Hermione, I could hire the local talent. I want you because you are qualified. I want you because I know you will love the life as much as I. This . . . this would have only been a bonus for the both of us. If we were compatible, then neither would have to suffer the occasional bout of loneliness for the opposite sex. But it isn’t a requirement. I will never approach you again if that is what you want, and give you an Oath on it. It was just that I felt a response in you . . . and acted on it. I felt . . . I felt you were ready to take a chance and explore sex with someone other than Weasley. I see now that I was mistaken.”

Hermione looked at him for a moment. He looked angry and unsettled. The corner of his mouth was twitching as he returned her gaze. Suddenly he reached into his pocket and curtly handed Hermione her wand.

“So, do you want an oath? That way you will insure that someone as unattractive and undesirable as myself will never approach you for intimacy again,” he said in a low voice.

“It’s not necessary,” she said softly. “Not right now. You’ve stopped and that’s enough.”

Snape looked at her consideringly, once again tracing his lips with a thin fingertip.

”Very well. But you will at least think about my offer?” he asked her coldly as he billowed to the far wall and opened it so Hermione could exit his study.

Hermione seemed to hesitate as he opened the wall, then suddenly walked forward and stopped in front of the wizard. His mouth was held in a tight line as he looked at her.

”Yes, I will think about it. I have until the end of the term to decide, don’t I?” she asked him.

”Yes,” he replied.

”You’ll know my answer by then,” Hermione said to him, then walked through the door. Snape didn’t follow, but stood there, half in shadow as Hermione opened the office door.

She looked back at him.

”Good night, Severus,” she said to him.

”Good night, Hermione,” he replied softly.

Hermione exited the office and Snape warded the door behind her. He turned back into his study, closing the wall and returning to his armchair. He sat there until the fire burned down to nothing but embers, silent and brooding over the only person who could help him escape this dismal existence.

Hermione simply had to say yes.


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The next day Hermione returned to her flat she kept in Little Hangelton. She did the books for a crotchety old landlord who reminded her of Filch both in temperament and build. His name was Edgar Snortsworthy. He was thin, had scraggly long white hair, was arthritic and walked with a knobby cane which he waved threateningly at children every chance he got. However Edgar liked and trusted Hermione and gave her the flat for a mere pittance when he found out she had been accepted as a teacher at Hogwarts.

”Surely you’ll need a spot for the holidays and weekends. What about your beau? Are you always going to see him at his flat?” the old wizard asked her.

This is precisely what made Hermione decide to keep the place. So she would have someplace of her own to stay other than with Ron. He still lived at the Burrow. There was nothing Hermione could imagine worse than shagging with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nearby. Ron wouldn’t care a bit.

Only two hours after she arrived, Ron knocked on the door. Hermione opened it, smiling up at him.

”Hi Ron,” she said to the red-haired wizard.

”Oi, Hermione,” Ron replied jovially, giving her a peck on the lips then striding into her flat as if he owned it. “I’m glad you’re on holiday. After a month and a half of celibacy, I could use a good shag. I’ll be in the bedroom.

Ron disappeared down the hallway and Hermione could hear the sounds of him undressing. She sighed.

It was always like this. Sex took precedence and whenever she balked, Ron would become pouty and disagreeable until she gave in.

Hermione walked down the doorway and stood in it. Ron was already down to just his boxers. They were white and had large red hearts all over them.

”I got these for you,” he said, ripping them off and hopping into the bed, patting it invitingly.

”Come on in, the mattress is fine,” he said to the witch, gripping his erection and swinging it back and forth in invitation.

Hermione shook her head slightly. Ron had no idea of romance. He used to try and be romantic long ago, but that was when he was courting Hermione. Once he got the knickers down he felt there was no longer any need for romance. He had accomplished his goal. He had “arrived.” He had claimed the final frontier and it was his.

“Ron, how about we just talk a little first,” Hermione said to him softly.

”Talk? Oh no, Hermione . . . why do we have to talk now?” he asked her, a whine in his voice. His erection drooped a little.

“Because I’m sick and tired of you popping in here and expecting me to flip my heels in the air just because you’re present,” she snapped at him.

”You’ve been gone a long time. A wizard has needs you know,” he said to her reproachfully.

“So does a witch, and it isn’t all based on your wand,” she replied coldly.

Ron saw the angry expression on her face and decided it would be wise to just go ahead and talk. Maybe if he gave short answers, it wouldn’t take so long. Ron’s idea of talking was Hermione asking him a lot of rather inane questions and he answering them. Why did witches always want to do this when there was shagging to be done?

”All right. Let’s talk then. What’s on your mind, Hermione?” he said, slipping under the covers.

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed.

”Ron, would you ever want to travel the world?” she asked him.

Ron looked at her incredulously.

”Travel the world? Oh . . . no. Why would I do that when everything I want I have here?” he replied.

“Don’t you miss the adventures we used to have? The excitement and the dangers?” she asked him.

Ron looked at her as if she were nutters.

”No I don’t miss it! I was scared out of my mind half the time. I have a nice, quiet life now and I like it. I enjoy my job, I have friends and family, and I have you. That’s all a bloke needs to be happy, Hermione,” Ron said to her.

Hermione fell silent.

”What about the future, Ron?” Hermione asked him. “What are your plans for the future?”

Ron studied her.

”Is this about marriage, Hermione?” he asked her, his face going a bit ashen.

”No!” she snapped. “I just want to know.”

”Well, I plan to build a house near the Burrow, get married and have children,” he said.

”That’s it?” Hermione asked him.

”Yeah, that’s it. Isn’t that enough?” he asked the witch. “My dad did it and he’s perfectly happy. And so is my mum.”

Molly was probably baking pie and cakes when she was two days old. The witch was a natural-born wife and mother from the womb, Hermione was sure of it. Molly Weasley was truly satisfied with the life of a homemaker. She found caring for her family challenging and rewarding. Hermione saw nothing wrong with that if that was a witch’s inclination.

It wasn’t her inclination that’s for sure. She fell silent for several minutes.

Finally Ron asked, “Are we done talking?”

Hermione looked at him and sighed at the expectancy and impatience on his face as he rested propped against the headboard.

“Yeah, Ron, we’re finished talking,” she said, standing up and beginning to undress.

Two minutes later as she laid under Ron, who was panting and grunting as he hunched into her body, Hermione’s thoughts turned to Snape. He wasn’t as good-looking or well-built as Ron, but she was next to positive he wouldn’t simply climb on and go to town as if she had no feelings or needs of her own.

Suddenly Ron shouted “Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes!” and Hermione felt him ejaculate, gasping his pleasure, then rolling off her to his back, panting with a tired smile.

”Thanks, Hermione,” he said to the witch, patting her hand as she lay on her back stiffly.

”You’re welcome, Ron,” she responded, her voice just as stiff.

Ron didn’t notice as his eyes fluttered. Soon, he was snoring.

Hermione gazed at Ron, at his long, attractive body, flaccid organ and tousled red-hair. He looked darling when he was sleeping. But was darling enough?

”Do I really want a lifetime of this?” Hermione asked herself, rolling out of the bed and heading for the shower.

She had to cook something. When Ron woke up, he’d want something to eat.

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A/N: Ah, a bit of restraint on Hermione’s live and a bit of what it’s like to be with Ron. Thanks for reading.