Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 130116 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: Thanks you so much for the reviews, they are greatly appreciated and I would love to continue hearing your thoughts! ;)

It wasn't quite dawn when Snape stirred out of his sleep. Only a couple of candles were still burning across from the bed, casting a soft glow on one side of the room. His bed felt warmer than usual, which wasn't surprising as it was occupied by another, and on top of it, Hermione was still naked as the day she was born. While their bodies weren't exactly touching beneath the duvet, she had worked her way closer to Snape in the throes of sleep, remaining curled into a tight ball throughout the night.

Hermione had her face buried into the pillow, the slight roundness in her cheeks prominent, making her look innocent and almost childlike. Although the way she screamed out Snape's name earlier sounded anything but innocent. Still, Hermione looked so juvenile at the moment, Snape figured that she ought to have been sucking on her thumb, ridiculous as the thought sounded.

Snape knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he was still a bit perplexed when it came to the rather unorthodox situation that involved him and the young witch. While Hermione still retained some of her shyness when it came to dealing with her newfound sexual curiosity and desires, it was obvious that she wanted him-in the literal sense. Even more surprising was the fact that Hermione wasn't jaded at all when it came to getting intimate with Snape. And even though he didn't want to admit it, it felt almost natural for Hermione to join him in his room each night. Of course, it would have been an unmitigated disaster had anyone found out, yet there was some unspoken pact between the two that assured that their liaison would remain within the four walls of Snape's bedroom at the topmost floor of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

During the day, she never sought Snape out, unless it was to volunteer to bring his meals. Never once had she suggested that he come down to the kitchen in the basement, as it was obvious that Snape had no intentions of dining with Hermione and her friends, much less anyone else that came to the house. For someone that had been bossy and nearly self-proclaimed to know everything, Hermione's demeanour was anything but pushy when it came to Snape. Perhaps she knew that there could only be one person to hold the upper hand, and that it most definitely wouldn't be her when it came down to the two.

Which brought Snape to another dilemma-just what in the hell did he plan on doing once the school term resumed? Was he to carry on with the illicit relationship with the young girl beneath everyone's nose? Hell, was Hermione even planning to continue on with whatever it was that had blossomed, as strange as it was?

Snape didn't know, a notion that discomfited him. He wasn't the fly by the seat of one's pants type; he preferred looking at a situation from all angles, something that wasn't surprising considering the double-life he'd been leading for over fifteen years. Allowing himself to become distracted wasn't an option, so much as a necessity, as it was contingent upon him living to see another day to carry out the deeds that he had promised a certain annoying white-haired wizard at a time that didn't seem all that long ago.

Trying to make sense of why a naked Hermione Granger was beside him in his bed-besides the obvious, although sex was never something that kept Snape motivated-he realized that once everyone had gone to bed, and Grimmauld Place was finally quiet, with no teenagers or members of the Order thumping about, no surly house-elves lurking about in corners, or screaming portraits renting the air, that he looked forward to Hermione sneaking up to his room and slipping inside like a thief in the night that was working in reverse.

While her presence was enough to make him think of all sorts of reason as to why she shouldn't have been in his room, the feel of her small, soft, deliciously scented body pressed against his was reason enough for him to want her to stay.

Physically, her body was tempting enough. Mentally, Hermione provided a slight sort of reprieve that Snape couldn't remember ever experiencing. The thought was ludicrous; the idea of a seventeen-year-old girl offering him a morsel of peace of mind. Still, there was the old cliché that 'peace of mind was priceless' and Snape reasoned that in his already questionable life, he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. The only thing Hermione had demanded of him, and it hadn't been so much as a demand, more of a request, was for a kiss. A simple kiss. Of all the things she could have asked for, Hermione made that one small request. The notion had been laughable, especially considering when he hadn't given her much option in the way of practically ripping off her knickers and shoving his fingers inside her body when they were in her room.

But... the girl merely wanted a kiss.

Snape had met enough opportunistic people in his life to know when he was staring one in the face. And while such a thing hadn't happened at Hogwarts, Snape wondered that had anyone actually discovered the going-ons between him and Hermione, finding that the witch had willingly come to him, would they assume that the only reason she had done so was to secure high marks with her school work. It was no secret that he was a stringent grader, some would even venture to say unfair. But deep down, Snape knew that Hermione would never do something so tawdry. With all her honorable Gryffindor senses, the very thought was unheard of.

But the young witch was undoubtedly bright, which is why for the life of him Snape couldn't figure out why the hell Hermione was drawn to him, much like a moth to a flame.

As if she had been able to hear his thoughts, Hermione's breathing changed its cadence, giving away the fact that she was awake or about to wake up. Without opening her eyes, she turned over onto her side with her back to Snape, moving closer to him until his pajama covered groin was flush with her behind.

All former thoughts of what he shouldn't be doing along with the why of each reason seemed to circulate throughout his brain, although his cock had a differing opinion. Within minutes it was fully erect and pressing against Hermione's arse. Hermione seemed to know the effect she had on the wizard, and without saying a word, continued wriggling against him.

She was becoming dangerously close to being flipped over onto her back with Snape between her thighs. Hermione ended up being flipped over anyway, yet Snape remained by her side, hastily pushing the duvet back and lowering his face to her chest, grazing his tongue over a deep pink nipple before sucking much of her breast into his mouth. Hermione hadn't been expecting the suddenness of his actions and flinched, although one hand made its way to the back of his head, clutching onto his slippery hair.

With the slightest touch of Snape's hand on her thigh, Hermione parted her legs, eagerly anticipating what she knew was to come. She managed to muffle her moans this time, instead her heavy breathing filling the room as Snape slipped two fingers inside her. Hermione was still warm and moist from earlier, and he was able to manipulate the sensitive flesh with ease.

It didn't take long for Snape to bring her to orgasm, although when he heard a certain pitch in Hermione's voice, he was just in time to cover her mouth with his free hand, his palm absorbing the shrill outburst. His fingers remained inside of her, yet without moving, he allowed Hermione to come back down. Her breathing finally slowed yet came in short, noisy bursts through her nose as Snape still had her mouth covered. Two brown eyes finally opened to find the black-haired wizard leaning over her. The two quietly appraised one another before Snape moved away from Hermione, moving back to his side of the bed.

Half reclining on the pillows, Snape watched as Hermione turned over and shyly insinuated herself upon him, her fingers roaming over his nightshirt covered chest. Wondering how far she was going to go, Snape felt his groin tighten when Hermione's hand moved lower, sliding beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms, her fingertips coming in contact with the coarse thatch of pubic hair.

Hermione still remembered how she hadn't been able to fully see Snape the other night when she'd touched him. Curiosity overriding apprehension, Hermione refused to dither about. She slid further down on the bed, insistently tugging at Snape's pajama bottoms until he lifted his hips, allowing her to pull the pajamas down his slim, pale thighs. There was just enough candlelight for her to make out the dark patch of hair surrounding his cock, along with the thick vein that ran along the underside of his ruddy shaft. With a fumbling innocence, Hermione gently took him in her hand, pulling back the soft skin until the head was exposed. His cock felt warmer, nearly hot against her palm, and Hermione tracing her fingertips along his stiff length with her other hand, circling them around the bell-shaped tip, the pads of her fingers becoming sticky from the dot of sticky fluid pooling at the top.

Venturing a peek up at Snape, Hermione saw that his dark eyes were focused down at her one hand that was firmly wrapped around his shaft. She figured that since he had tasted her, she ought to do the same, even if she had no experience whatsoever in the matter. Although if she did something wrong, Snape would be sure to tell her, that was certain.

Snape was amused by Hermione's doubtful countenance, each of her thoughts practically visible to his shrewd eye. Her small hand softly gripped him, and she continued to stare at his cock as if were able to talk to her. It was obvious that Hermione had little to no experience with the opposite sex, and that she would need instruction.

"Lick your lips," Snape told her in a husky voice, causing Hermione to look up at him. Watching as the small, pink tongue flicked out and ran over her lips, he then directed Hermione to open her mouth and breath through her nose. She was still holding onto him, and gently pushing her hand out of the way, Snape grasped onto the base of his erection with his hand, holding it out for the witch.

Inhaling slightly, Hermione lowered her head and tentatively licked the tip of his cock, finding that the weeping juices were a bit salty but not unpleasant. Snape never made a sound, although Hermione did hear him inhale sharply when she engulfed him with her entire mouth, taking care to not sink her teeth into him. It took an awkward minute of shifting her weight around and moving her curls that were hanging down in a messy curtain around her face and brushing against Snape's abdomen, all the while keeping him in her mouth. Hermione finally settled comfortably on her belly, tucked in between his slim, slightly hirsute legs, which had easily parted to grant her access.

Snape finally let go of his cock, burying that same hand in her curls, merely resting it on top of her head without pushing down, its grip tightening slightly whenever Hermione sucked harder. He was doing a better job at keeping quiet than she had, even without a pillow to bury his face into. Hermione would have believed that her inexperienced caresses left much to be desired, except Snape's narrow hips were moving up to meet her mouth, quiet groans soon leaving his own whenever Hermione's soft lips lingered at a certain spot on the underside of his shaft.

The faster Hermione moved her lips and tongue over Snape, making sloppy sucking noises, the tighter the grip the once nearly slack fingers on her messy curls became, until she felt her head being pried away from him. Letting go of her hair, Snape pushed himself up and took his cock into his own hand. Although his face remained impassive, Hermione could see jaw clenching, able to hear his hastened breath as his long, pale fingers gripped his erection, moving his first back and forth. His other hand grasped the base of his cock, his fingertips pressed into the sensitive spot right beneath his sac.

Unable to pry her eyes away from the captivating sight, Hermione wanted to do more than just watch and caught some of the fluid seeping from his cock on her fingertips, rubbing them over the opening that was slightly larger than a pinhole. Finally eliciting a stronger reaction from the man, Snape let out a broken sounding, lusty groan, his thighs tensing against Hermione, shortly after furiously erupting all over her hand and small breasts. He was still breathing heavily as he sank back onto the bed, his unmoving hand remaining over his now shrinking erection.

Hermione remained perched between his legs, her insides throbbing from the sight of the wizard getting off in front of her. Snape's moans had sent a shiver down her spine, and she wondered what it would be like to once again hear them close against her ear, or even better, being released into her neck or her mouth.

Still reeling as she moved from the foot of the bed and back to Snape's side, Hermione almost forgot that she was covered in his release until a draft hit her upper body. She found slight humor in the fact that he kept managing to aim right at her chest, whether she was clothed or not. By then Snape was more lucid, and had pulled his boxers and pajama bottoms back over his hips. He retrieved his wand from whenever he had it hidden, and passed it over Hermione's skin, vanishing the sticky remains.

Once again, Hermione was at a loss for words. While between her legs continued tingling, the rest of her was cold and wanted to get warm, and she lay back down, pulling the sheets and the duvet up to her neck. Snape said nothing as Hermione lie next to him, even when she reached over and arranged the duvet over his chest.

"If I don't leave before...can you please wake me?" she asked in a languid tone, peering up at him from her place down on the pillow.

"I doubt that anyone will notice your absence, but yes, if you like," he answered without looking at her.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, yawning and soon falling back asleep.

Both Hermione and Snape ended up sleeping for longer than intended. It was well past the usual breakfast time at Grimmauld Place when a full bladder jolted Hermione out of her sleep. She groggily turned over in bed, her eyes widening in shock when she saw the marginal brightness in the heavily curtained bedroom.

"Oh, damn," she sighed, slipping out of bed and shivering as the brisk morning air hit her nude body. Making her way around to the other side of the bed, Hermione tried to make as little noise as possible while getting dressed. What she didn't know was that Snape was a light sleeper, and had immediately noticed when she stirred next to him. Without acknowledging the fact that he was awake, Snape's dark eyes were focused on Hermione as she hurriedly dressed, her body still trembling in the coolness of the room.

"Sorry, I was trying to not wake you," Hermione apologized, turning around to Snape sitting up in bed and looking directly at her. He shook his head, giving the indication that he hadn't been disturbed. Hermione took that opportunity to move closer to the bed, perching on the edge of it.

It was preposterous that Hermione was still nervous around Snape, but perhaps it was because they had exchanged intimate caresses in the thick of night, and now it was daytime where everything was out on front street. Or it could have been that in spite of it all, the man was shrouded in mystery, even though he had literally exposed himself to her. Hermione never knew what the wizard was thinking, and it wasn't as if he was about to volunteer his thoughts much like she did. Hermione sometimes had to tell herself to shut up, sure that others were tired of her voice at one point or another. Snape had on more than one occasion told Hermione to be silent, that he didn't need to hear everything she was thinking. In hindsight, Hermione realized that his advice wasn't all that off.

However, her next request did give him cause to arch an eyebrow. "Do you have a spare phial or two?"

"Not on me, beneath this duvet," he replied dryly, making Hermione bite back a laugh. But he did reach behind him to pull his wand out from beneath his pillow, Conjuring up two crystal phials and pressing them into Hermione's palm. "Should I even ask?"

"You'll see later," she replied, thanking him. "I'd better go see if Ron and Harry are alright." Hermione's eyes widened when Snape reached his hand out and ran along the curve of her lower back. She wanted to see if she could coax another kiss from him, but refused to even ask without paying homage to her toothbrush first. Rather reluctantly, she rose from the bed, leaving Snape's bedroom with the unspoken promise that she would return later that night.

**

Ron and Harry were still abed by the time Hermione was showered, changed, and down in the kitchen. Something told her to check the drawing room first, wondering if they'd fallen asleep there as Snape had suggested. The only thing she found was their empty glasses, the empty bottle of Ogden's, and a roomful of strewn about furniture. The leg of one armchair had somehow caught onto the rug and pulled it back, exposing the old, scratched wooden floorboards beneath.

With a sneer that Snape grudgingly would have been proud of, Hermione used her wand to set the room back to rights, all the while silently chastising her best friends and making a mental note to give them hell later that day- whenever they chose to emerge.

Once Hermione was done she went to the kitchen, preparing and eating lunch with the company of a book. She had taken Snape his share and was tempted to stay in his room with him, but wasn't sure when her friends would finally wake up and didn't want to get caught.

Ron and Harry finally turned up, both looked rumpled and as if they'd been on a bender, although a shove off the edge of a steep cliff was a more appropriate phrase. The two were still clad in their clothing from the day before, everything completely wrinkled from sleeping.

Chuckling as she poured two cups of coffee and sat them down on the table, Ron and Harry thanked Hermione, sliding into place and gratefully pulling the mugs towards them.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Hermione smirked, sitting down across from the two.

"Blimey, Hermione, d'you mind taking it down just a notch?" Ron grumbled, clutching onto the top of his messy ginger head, lowering it down to the wooden table.

"I'm not talking that loudly," Hermione continued. "Unless you want me to whisper?"

"Please," Harry moaned, also resting his forehead on the table, leaving his barely touched mug of coffee by his elbow.

Hermione wanted to laugh and yell, purely to make a point to her best friends, but resisted, reasoning that their throbbing headaches were punishment enough. The boys finally sat up, Harry's black hair and Ron's red hair sticking up as if they'd both been petrified. Hermione paused for a moment, leaner closer and squinting her eyes when she noticed what looked tiny speckles of dirt on Harry's face. Slowly turning to look at Ron, she then noticed that he almost looked as if he'd gotten a black eye, only there were two misshapen black circles on his face.

"I'm probably going to regret asking this," she began in the softest voice that she was able to muster, leaning across the table and pushing Ron's hair back away from his forehead, "but just what in the hell did you two do after I'd gone to bed?"

There were in fact two wonky circles around Ron's eyes, looking as if they had been drawn on with a marker. Two crooked lines also led from the circles back to his ears, a smaller squiggly line going across the bridge of his nose. To top it off, there was a black zigzag on his forehead, in the same place Harry had the scar on his own forehead.

At that point, Hermione moved over to Harry and smoothed his hair back, and saw that the dots on his face had also been drawn on, almost resembling the freckles that covered much of Ron's features, only some of the markings were bigger than others, as if someone had pressed down on the marker too hard, leaving splotches behind instead of tiny dots.

"Well, what happened was, Harry kept going on and on, mimicking me until I told him to shut it. Then I started acting like I was Harry, and I asked him for his glasses, but he said that he needed them else he'd be blind and would walk into a wall."

"So I told him to draw a pair on his face instead, which this idiot actually went through with," Harry cut in, wincing, laughing, and then holding onto his head. "I can't believe you listened to me!"

"Shut up, Harry," Ron snickered.

"And then Harry had to add the finishing touches?" Hermione asked, gesturing towards Ron's forehead.

"Yeah, Harry did that part," he mused. "And then I told him if he was going to be me, he had to have my freckles. So I drew freckles on his face."

Hermione slumped down onto the bench, burying her face in both hands, a choking sound erupting from her mouth and becoming muffled against her palms. Harry and Ron were looking at her, round-eyed with shock, their mouths falling open when Hermione suddenly darted up from the bench and sprinted out of the kitchen. Once the door was shut they heard her burst into loud peals of laughter, snorting in between each intake of breath. Hermione stayed out in the hallway for a good five minutes, and when she finally came back into the kitchen, she was red-faced but calmer.

"Well damn, do we look that bad?" Harry asked, chuckling at his friend.

Hermione bit down hard on her bottom lip, not wanting to explode into another fit of laughter and make their headaches worse. "Have you two looked in the mirror before you left your rooms?" she asked in a hushed tone, her voice wavering as she put up a struggle to keep from giggling.

"No; I just needed something to drink, wasn't worried about a ruddy mirror," Ron groused.

Still biting on her lip, Hermione conjured up a small hand mirror, passing it across to Harry, who was shocked by his ragged appearance, before passing it over to Ron.

"Bloody hell, we're a sight!" Ron snorted. "I mean, I knew Harry looked like hell but damn! I didn't think it was this bad!"

"What I wouldn't give to have a camera right now!" Hermione tittered, inhaling deeply and trying to calm herself again. "On second thought, if your parents knew what you two had been up to...I don't even want to know."

"Please, Dad would probably laugh," Ron said.

"Yeah, but not your Mum," Harry pointed out, although he was grinning widely.

"Yeah, you have a point," the redhead thoughtfully replied.

"She'd say that you went off the rails on the crazy train before killing you, then would hang Harry up by his thumbs," Hermione cut in. "Hopefully Mrs Weasley would know that I wasn't involved, that I'd gone off to bed like a good girl."

Yes, right to Snape's bed, she wickedly told herself. And damned if it wasn't worth every minute of it.

It was the worst possible timing to have a flashback that entailed thoughts of Snape holding onto her hips and pulling her back onto his face, his mouth and tongue licking and devouring her, leaving no part untouched. Hermione sort of remembered calling him by his first name in the throes of her orgasm, and she enjoyed the way he'd rubbed his cock against the cleft of her arse before ejaculating onto her back, but everything had gone a bit fuzzy afterwards. She had been in a stupor from her orgasm, and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. At one point, Hermione opened her eyes to find that she was still naked and in Snape's bed, lying next to him with the duvet pulled up to her shoulders.

Involuntarily shivering when she remembered the way that long tongue slid over her clit, Hermione felt her insides clench, and had to remind herself that she was still in the presence of Ron and Harry. Thankfully, they didn't notice her sudden silence as the two were nursing their cups of coffee, their heads bowed low and looking as if they wanted to go back to sleep. Just then Harry unleashed a wide yawn, Ron following after.

"You both look as if you weren't ready to get out of bed," Hermione told them.

"I wasn't, to be honest," Harry replied, shooting a scornful look over at Ron, "but this one said that you would probably drag us out of our rooms if we didn't show face."

Ron looked slightly sheepish, and Hermione wore a sly grin.

"No, I would have let you two have a lie in," she admitted. "I made lunch if you wanted to eat."

"No!" Ron bellowed, swearing underneath his breath as he covered his mouth. "No, thank you," he continued. "I don't even want to think about food right now."

"I never thought I'd hear Ron Weasley say such a thing," Harry said, shaking his head. "I must still be drunk."

Ron's brown eyes narrowed, appearing as if he was trying to come up with a slick retort. He then changed his mind and rose from the table, giving Harry a rude hand gesture that made him laugh and Hermione scoff.

"Thanks for the coffee, Hermione," Harry told her, also getting up from the table and putting his and Ron's mugs in the sink. "I think I will go back to my room and lie down. I feel like I've been kicked in the head by a Centaur."

"You and Ronald are both idiots," Hermione told him. "I'll bring you both something for your head. But if you two plan on pulling another stunt like this, make sure that I'm either already asleep or ignorant to the whole thing, all right?"

"Believe me," Harry replied with a grimace. "Never again. My head feels as if it were split into two by a Bludger. I don't even want to see butterbeer if I can help it." Still clutching onto his head, Harry ambled away and out of the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, as promised, Hermione stopped by Ron and then Harry's room to bring them some paracetamol. Harry, having grown up in a Muggle household, immediately knew what the pills were and gratefully swallowed them down, but Ron eyed them suspiciously before Hermione lost her patience, threatening to take them back until he snatched the little pills from her palm and gulped them down with a glass of water. Ron then promptly fell back onto his pillows, closing his eyes and resuming his snoring.

Hermione went back to her room, settling down on her bed with a book, yet found herself unable to focus. Even though Harry and Ron filled most of their waking hours with silly banter and antics, Hermione had grown accustomed to spending time with them, and it was a bit strange without their voices filling the stark void of Grimmauld Place.

Laughing to herself again when she thought about the drawn glasses on Ron's face, and the freckles on Harry's, Hermione shook her head, knowing that the previous night was something that would have to stay under wraps.

When the silence of her bedroom became too great to bear, Hermione picked up her wand, tiptoeing out of her room and making her way to the staircase. She had just made it to Snape's door when it swung open, once again in awe that he knew she was nearby, even though she'd tried her best to not make a sound.

Snape lingered in the doorway, as if considering whether or not to let Hermione in, but finally relented and stepped back, allowing her to pass. Peering around the room, she saw that the bed was neatly made, nearly looking as if it had never been slept in. Hermione then looked up at Snape, who closed the bedroom door and gestured for her to sit down. It looked as if she had interrupted his own reading, as a book was in his left hand, his forefinger serving as a place holder.

"Isn't it a bit early for you to be skulking about?" Snape asked, folding his arms across his chest and looking intently at Hermione. His dark eyes nor his tone held any rebuke, and Hermione knew that he didn't mind her barging in on him. Well, maybe not that much, she told herself. It was still odd to see Snape without his black frock coat and teaching robes, although the white linen shirt was buttoned all the way up to his neck, the tails neatly tucked into customary black trousers.

"Ron and Harry came down for coffee, and then they went back to bed," she explained. "I gave them something for their headaches, though, the two idiots. You should have seen them when they came downstairs."

Snape arched one eyebrow, the only indication that he was waiting for Hermione to divulge. When she finished explaining about the drawn on glasses and freckles, the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, that it could been a cross between a smirk and a sneer.

"You are the glue that holds those two together," he said. "I'm surprised you don't point out that small fact more often."

"I'm no braggart," Hermione firmly stated, conceding when Snape threw her a derisive glance. "Fine; so I'm a little bossy, but it's my nature."

"A 'little bossy' is an outright lie, Miss Granger. You're a pushy little swot." Hermione glowered at that comment, uncaring if she looked repugnant. "But at least you're able to back up your words-most of the time, at least."

She deflated a bit hearing Snape's last sentence, knowing that was as close that she would come to hearing praise from him, and gave him a smug little smile as she settled back onto the sofa. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"Nothing pressing, I assure you," he replied, rising from the bed and walking over to the other side of the room. Picking up another book, he walked back over to Hermione and handed it to her. "That should suffice for now."

Hermione looked down at the book in her hand, a rare tome on Arithmancy that she'd heard about but could never actually find, before looking back up at Snape. "Does this mean that I have to go back to my room?"

"You're free to go wherever you want; dally with that nasty little elf if you like. But no, that wasn't a hint for you to take your leave. Besides, if I wanted you to, I would come outright and say so."

"Yeah, you've got a point," Hermione said under her breath. She knew she was going round the bend, as she couldn't ever remember an opportunity where Snape held his tongue. The man was clearly shrouded in secrecy, but if he wanted to say something, he did, no matter who might be insulted. Hermione would know; she'd experienced his sharp wit more times than she cared to count.

By then, Snape had gone back over to the desk without uttering another word, sitting down and opening the book that he had still been holding on to. Hermione opened her own, rather begrudgingly, as she could think of other things she'd rather be doing...although the first chapter did capture her interest...

The two sat in silence for an hour, deeply engrossed in their respective books. The only thing that changed was Snape relocating from the desk to an old leather armchair in the corner.

In between poring over her book, Hermione kept peeking over at Snape, tickled pink at how engrossed he was in his own. The man clearly had a love for written word just like she, as was evident by the way long fingers were splayed just so across the leather bindings, holding the tome up inches away from his face, his lank black hair falling down over his forehead and framing his gaunt features. Snape's dark eyes methodically moved over each word, not completely unlike the way they roved over her naked body the night before.

Speaking of her naked body, she wondered just how the hell he knew how to make her fall apart into a million pieces with his mere fingertips, at the same time being uncomfortable with something as innocuous as a kiss. Without a doubt, Severus Snape was the proverbial enigma.

So why do you want to sleep with a man that you know so little about?

Do you need a reminder of the way you came all over those incredibly long fingers? Was that not reason enough?

Yes, I remember, and no! That's not reason enough.

Hermione, shut up, stop talking to yourself. Next thing you'll be saying that someone is living inside the wallpaper in your room like in that book 'The Yellow Wallpaper' and where will you be? Chewing on the ends of your hair, talking to floating specks of dust, locked away in the mental ward at St Mungo's, that's where.

Yes, but that's where people would say you need to be anyway if they found out about you and Snape. They'd say you were barking mad.

Well, aren't you barking mad? Aren't you the one holding a monologue inside of your already cluttered head? Shall I reserve that bed for you at St Mungo's? Perhaps one by a window?

Go away.

Damn, if Snape could take a glimpse of her errant thoughts, he would most likely be in agreement that Hermione was in fact mad. Remembering that he was an adept Legilimens from the stories Harry told her about their strenuous private lessons during the previous school year, Hermione sought small comfort in the fact that eye contact typically had to be made to use Legilimency. Although...she still had her suspicions about Snape, as the man always seemed to know what someone else was thinking without them saying it. She had been shocked when he'd handed her his book, of all topics it being on Arithmancy, her favourite subject.

The next thing Hermione worried herself about was what was going to most likely happen later that night. She hadn't actually came outright and told Snape that she was a virgin, although she suspected that he already knew. Hermione hadn't exactly been able to bite back the soft cry the night they were in her room; Snape had caught her off guard when he pressed two long fingers inside of her to the hilt, as for a split second it burned like hell. What followed, though, made Hermione nearly lose her head and every ounce of sense that she possessed, as the feel of her walls being intimately stroked and prodded had felt entirely too good.

Thinking about their every intimate encounter since the first had left Hermione distracted and aroused. Her eyes had gone out of focus, and the printed words in the book on her lap were a bit hazy. Coming back to attention, Hermione hoped that Snape hadn't noticed her daydreaming, and covertly looked over at him. The dark-haired wizard was still focused on his book, paying no mind to the young witch across the room.

At least, that's how it appeared to Hermione. Snape had long been tempted to strip Hermione's clothes off and push her down onto his bed. All that morning, even after she'd left his room, the sweet musk of her sex along with the clean, natural scent of her skin had been embedded into the bed sheets, and no matter which way he turned, Snape kept catching whiffs of Hermione's mouthwatering essence. That was part of the reason that he'd left her across his room, figuring that it was safer for them to keep distance so long as it was daytime.

True, her two mates were most likely still drooling into the pillows, in a hung-over stupor, but Snape didn't want to take any chances of him and Hermione being overheard had they ended up naked and rutting against one another again. Because he knew that not only would his fingers find their way inside of that tight little body of hers, his cock would undoubtedly follow behind.

No, best to let her stay at a safe distance until he could have her the way he wanted. Even if his erection disagreed.

Hermione finally slipped from Snape's room a couple hours later. She had been surprised and somewhat disappointed that he barely touched her, yet said nothing. Harry and Ron still hadn't emerged from their rooms, and Hermione settled on making sandwiches for supper, leaving them both covered plates of food along with a note in their respective bedrooms.

Once she had bathed and was dressed in her nightgown, Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed, fingering the two crystal phials she had gotten from Snape. Holding out her left hand, palm-side up, she traced the tip of her wand against her fingertips, telling herself 'no', then lowering it to her palm. Utilizing a small cutting spell, Hermione winced slightly as she made a small incision into the heel of her palm, uncapping both phials and holding them to the cut until both were filled with the deep red liquid. She then used a simple healing spell on her wound, capping both phials and tucking one into her trunk for safekeeping. Grabbing the second phial and wand, Hermione opened her bedroom door, making sure that the darkened hallway was empty before tiptoeing upstairs.

Hermione had barely made it to Snape's bedroom when the door was swiftly yet silently flung open. Within the blink of an eye, Snape stepped forward and closed the space between them, bodily pulling Hermione against him and sweeping her inside, lazily waving a hand to shut and lock the door. Wide-eyed with shock, Hermione nearly forgot that she was carrying her wand and the crystal phial, until she reached up to steady one arm around his neck and felt both items clink together.

Snape had been hard put to let Hermione leave his bedroom earlier. All that day, visions of his cock sliding in between her lips, her messy hair sliding over his thighs, left him with more than one erection which he refused to handle by his own hand. All of which culminated to him practically yanking Hermione off her feet when he found her in the hallway, dressed in that ugly, voluminous nightgown, the thick material rustling as she briskly made her way to his room.

Taking scant notice of the objects in Hermione's hands, Snape easily pried them from her grasp and set them down on his nightstand. He paused, frowning slightly when he saw the dark, red liquid inside the phial, yet remained silent.

It was unexpected the way Snape held Hermione against him, yet she clutched tightly onto his shoulders, in fear of falling if he were to let go. Snape was still fully dressed, the row of jets buttons on his severe coat pressing into her chest and stomach through her nightgown. One sinewy arm was fixed around her waist, the other draped across Hermione's upper back, Snape's fingertips digging into her shoulder blade and threatening to leave bruises. A prominent erection pressed against the front of her clenched thighs, the hand around Hermione's waist soon traveling down to her behind, grabbing and squeezing and pulling her forward to rub against his trouser-covered cock.

Hermione moaned softly when she felt Snape's tongue caress the shell of her ear, gently biting down on her earlobe before moving to firmly plant his hot, open mouth alongside her neck. Snape wasn't hurting her in any way; it was quite the opposite. He was going at her with a fervor that took her breath away, causing her body to grow heated within seconds. But it was Snape's comportment which consisted of pure, unadulterated sexual hunger, that sent the weight of Hermione's inexperience to crash down upon her.

Right then it dawned on Snape that Hermione was trembling against him like a leaf, able to feel the heat of her heavy panting through his clothed chest. Her small hands were clutched onto his frock coat, and when Snape pulled back slightly, he realized that she was holding onto him as tightly as he was holding onto her. The little witch continued to bore a hole into his chest, yet Snape was still able to see something akin to panic in her brown eyes. He had to tell himself that even though Hermione had been behaving audaciously for the most part each time they were alone, she still embodied a blatant naiveté, and was most likely still coming to terms with everything they had done, and were going to do.

"Hermione."

Snape's deep voice broke Hermione out of her reverie, although the young witch was so nervous she hadn't realized that he'd used her first name.

Cool hands pressed to either side of her face, and Snape lowered his face to Hermione's, his lips barely grazing her forehead. Listening to her shuddering intake of breath, Snape felt Hermione's fingers gradually loosen their chokehold on his frock coat.

The wizard generally enjoyed scaring others, but that was the last thing he wanted to do to Hermione. Typically it wasn't in his nature to be slow or gentle, and while Snape couldn't guarantee that Hermione would enjoy everything at first, he fully planned on not taking her hard or too roughly like he usually would.

Long fingers tipped Hermione's chin up, and Snape briefly engaged her with a few chaste pecks to the lips. Hermione was shocked yet became quite agreeable, and fully returned his kiss, going so far as to gently touch her tongue to his. Snape found that Hermione had a valid point about what she'd previously told him about kissing.

The two became lost to a frenzy of lips and tongues moving against each other, their embrace growing more frantic. Snape only paused to grab a handful of Hermione's curls, hastily pulling her head back and nipping at her throat with his teeth.

Hermione was in awe that the slightest pressure of his teeth on her skin could make her knees buckle, and she slumped against the wizard, her arms instantly winding around his neck, willing herself to remain upright.

Snape wouldn't have let her fall; Hermione's waist was firmly ensnared by his arms. But when she wavered again, he began slowly moving backwards, guiding the young woman to his bed and pushing her down when her the back of her legs met the edge of the mattress.

Unwilling to let go of Snape, Hermione protested when he pulled her hands down from his neck, stepping back to unbutton his black frock coat. Brown eyes were intently focused on the pale hands that methodically unfastened each button, the sliver of white linen shirt beneath the dark material becoming slowly revealed. When his coat finally hung open, Snape fluidly shrugged out of it, relegating the stiff garment to the sofa behind him.

Snape then only unfastened a couple top buttons of his shirt, and Hermione curiously looked at him, wondering why he refused to completely remove it.

"Some things are better left unseen," was all he told Hermione, deciphering the puzzled look on her face.

"Some things... like what?" she asked. "I've already seen your chest, if you don't recall, that night in my room."

"Perhaps I'm trying to spare your innocent eyes of more than just my chest," Snape drawled, coming to stand in front of Hermione and looking down at her. Watching as she rose from the bed and closed the space between then, Snape resisted the urge to pull back when Hermione immediately went for the buttons on his cuffs, then moving on to the small row of buttons lining his front. Both parties were closed-mouth throughout the whole ordeal, Snape especially when Hermione tugged the shirt, as well as the sleeveless vest off his thin upper body.

Snape decided that Hermione was either oblivious or immune to the old scars mapped across his skin, as well as the glaring and quite ominous Dark Mark on his left forearm; he wasn't sure which. Nor did he care once her warms hands were palm down against his chest, her fingertips grazing against his protruding ribcage.

The truth was simple enough-Hermione wasn't put off by the sight of Snape's body. She already knew from touching and later seeing his chest when she previously healed it that he had a slight frame. Maybe it was why she hadn't minded taking him meals every day, always making sure to put extra on his tray. He had the sort of build that she once heard being described as one that needed fattening up.

Snape was definitely on the lean side, with more sharp angles and contours than anything, but weak was something he was not. Those slim arms of his proved to have no difficulty in hauling Hermione off her feet, or lifting anything else for that matter.

In spite of the old, raised marks littering his torso, Hermione found that Snape's chest was quite smooth. Without thinking, she brushed her lips against his sternum, inhaling a scent reminiscent of herbs and something sweet that she couldn't pin down to just one thing, yet was clearly his own and smelled just right.

Hermione's fluttering lips were just short of kissing, as her hands continued to trace a deliberate path along Snape's chest and stomach. Her nightgown covered arms then went around his waist, at the same time nuzzling her face against his collarbone as her fingertips dug into his back.

Snape was all for letting her continue on with her careful exploration, until Hermione stood on tiptoe and pressed her open mouth against the base of his throat, flicking her tongue out at the protrusion.

That little move ignited something unspoken, and swiftly Snape grabbed Hermione around the shoulders, pressing her down onto his bed, perched on one knee between her thighs and gesturing for her to slide up until their legs were no longer dangling off the mattress.

Hermione's nightgown was trapped beneath Snape's knees, and he leaned up to yank the material out of his way, before thinking better of it and merely shoving it halfway up Hermione's thighs. At that point everything began accelerating quickly. The full length of Snape's body was pressed against Hermione's, wiry arms and legs aligned with hers and pinning them to the duvet. Letting out a soft moan, Hermione tried regaining control of her senses by holding onto Snape's back.

Wondering if he'd changed his mind about full on kissing, as Snape was now freely offering that bit of intimacy, he was also giving the rest of her face the same slow, careful treatment. Although his kisses were somewhat reticent, Snape had insistently pushed her thighs apart, his hands voraciously squeezing and massaging the soft, fleshy area.

The young witch lay beneath him, trembling from the intensity of it all, at the same time wondering if he was going to dive right in without preliminaries. It didn't matter much to her at that point; Snape's erection was held down by his black trousers and his hips were flush with hers. Each time he moved, the firm bulge pressed directly onto the seat of her knickers, which were mostly likely completely sodden by now.

Just when Hermione rolled her hips against Snape's, trying to aim his erection at her clit, he pulled away from her. Settling back onto his heels and reaching beneath her nightgown, his long fingers hooked beneath the elastic at her hips and swiftly tugged the knickers down her legs. They ended up getting caught around Hermione's right ankle and Snape didn't bother to remove them.

Before Hermione could say anything, Snape's strong hands held her thighs down. Only his black hair was visible as he pressed his face into her sex, his tongue easily landing on her sensitive nub that he was a master at manipulating. Hermione keened loudly into the room, remembering that she needed to keep quiet before sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. Snape's entire mouth was planted over her, while his hands were employed with firmly grasping onto whatever body part he could reach. Hermione's thighs, stomach and breasts were mauled almost to the point of pain, Snape's blunt fingernails raking over her heated skin and leaving fiery trails in their wake. Coupled with the sensation of his lips and tongue alternating between nibbling and sucking at her clit, Hermione soon had her legs over Snape's shoulders, her calves wrought with tension as her heels dug into his upper back.

Moans becoming trapped against her shut lips and practically humping his face with her cunt, two small hands shot down and clutched onto straight black hair, holding on for dear life and becoming even tighter when Hermione finally exploded against Snape's tongue.

Whimpering, in a daze and completely spent, Hermione went slack against the bed, her nightgown remaining pushed up past her navel and bunched around her torso. Snape still had his arms wrapped around her thighs, his tongue now laving the soft, inner skin.

Merlin! Hermione screamed in her head. Every nerve in her body was aflame, her core continuously clenching as if Snape's lapping tongue was still touching her. Her legs went slack when the tenacious wizard finally let them go. Hermione paid scant attention to the fact that he was no longer on the bed with her, only opening her eyes and looking down when he moved back into place and was between her thighs.

Snape hadn't been able to remove the rest of his clothing fast enough. Once he was back upon the bed, he saw that Hermione still wore her nightgown. Urging her to sit up, Snape removed the cumbersome garment over her head, telling her to lie back down as he chucked her nightgown onto the sofa, the bundle of fabric landing on top of his frock coat.

Right then Hermione registered his naked legs against hers, Snape's sharp knees grazing her inner thighs. This time his hands weren't as frantic as they reached up to cup her breasts, his thumb and forefinger capturing her stiffened nipples. Each time he moved, the tip of his erection skimmed over the sparse hair between her legs, lightly abrading Hermione's still swollen and orgasm-sensitive clitoris and making her jump.

"Sir?" Hermione called softly, propping her head up to look down at Snape.

"I still taste you on my lips," he replied, smirking at Hermione. "Surely that warrants dispensing with the formalities. For now, at least. I don't think I need to point out what will most definitely ensue should someone overhear you referring to me on a more familiar basis."

"All right... Severus," she continued nervously. "I was just wondering about..."

"Preventative measures?"

"Well... yes."

"So I take it you have no objections to fully going through with this?"

What the hell is wrong with me? Hermione seethed inwardly when she found herself unable to speak. Shaking her head in response to Snape's question, she continued to peer down at him. Snape...Severus, Hermione corrected herself, was still kneeling upright between her splayed thighs, partially hovering over her. His thick, heavy erection jutted forth from a thatch of black hair, curved slightly in her direction and resting on her abdomen.

Minus the billowing cloak, the cravat, and the buttoned-up suit, the wizard still managed to cut an imposing figure. An impressive feat, considering he was completely naked, exposing every inch of his rail thin, pale body. Perhaps it was the fact that he held an air of surety while gazing down at Hermione with a lustful gleam in his black eyes that sent her heart galloping wildly, and made her body shudder involuntarily.

"Just so you know," he began silkily, hooking both hands beneath Hermione's knees and pulling her closer to him. "That is the last thing you need worry about," Snape finished, in response to Hermione's unfinished, stammered query. He brewed a potion that rendered him sterile and took it every few months, as his life was unpredictable. Even though occurrences for sex had been slim to nil for the past year, Snape refused to take any chances. "Does that answer your question?"

Nodding her head once more, Hermione took a deep breath to steel herself as Severus moved over her.

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Unintentional Inveiglement