Witch Hunt

15

All too aware his future bride's mood had soured after having vocalised his observation, the man lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. His grip on her waist tightening. "What is it, my dear?" He questioned, though he could only guess where her mind had wandered off to.

Hermione shook her head idly, turning back her face toward his. "Nothing of importance," she replied, though he did not believe her. He would let it go for now. "I thought you said you were hungry. What did you have in mind?"

The witch was attempting to change the subject, though he used it to his advantage. He had noticed the change in her expression, the rearing of jealousy's ugly little head as she understood that Katherine was who he had lusted after. Clever little thing, she was. He ducked his head to her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing along her jugular.

Her breathing hitched as his hands gripped her tighter, pulling her closer still. "I said I was ravenous," he purred, the hand on her face sliding down to her neck. "And all too curious as to how we might be... otherwise compatible."

Hermione gasped, her fingers curling into his crisp white shirt. It would be thoroughly wrinkled when she was through with him, should she have her way. "You're very forward," she breathed, her knees nearly giving out beneath her.

He caught her deftly, stepping around the armchair to sit in it, the witch perched on his lap as he continued to place hot kisses along her throat and shoulder, his lips dancing across her collarbone. "Does it bother you?" He inquired, only half listening for a response.

She shook her head. "Not at all, I'm just surprised," she said, catching his gaze as he sat up to look at her. She turned in his lap, straddling him, her fingers sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. "I did not expect to enjoy any of this."

The man smirked, his eyes trailing to her mouth where his gaze lingered a moment. "Are you disappointed?"

She bent down to catch his lips with her own, brushing the slightest of kisses across his mouth. "On the contrary," she breathed. "A woman should enjoy indulging in her husband's touch. In his kiss." She scooted closer still, her chest flush with his and she leaned in again, kissing the corner of his mouth. "You promised to teach me 'a great many things still'. What are you waiting for?"

Long, slender fingers reached up to curl around her throat, pulling her mouth to his firmly. He kissed her slowly, his tongue sliding along her own, his teeth sinking into her lip for only a moment. "If you would be so willing," he managed, fighting to control his breathing. "I would quite like to explore what fields you may need assistance in."

She dipped her head to his scars, her tongue flicking out to just barely touch them. She felt him shiver beneath her, his hands tightening on her. Her hands slid to his buttons, popping one open at a time until his chest was exposed. She traced a line down the centre with one finger, her eyes never leaving his as she sat up straight. "I would like that very much," she said quietly. "Where do we begin?"

The Potions' Master was pleased with the development. He had intended to seduce the witch, though he had never expected it to be so simple. So easy. The girl was practically throwing herself at him. Then again, she was asking him to teach her something. Her thirst for knowledge was unquenchable, regardless of the field of study. She had told him she did not beg, though the man suspected she would if only to gain his favour. To get what she wanted from him.

Suddenly, Snape found himself once more in a teacher's role, offered the opportunity to mould the brightest witch of her age into the perfect wife. The hesitation in her touch made it evident to him that his witchling was inexperienced and afraid to disappoint him. Her eagerness to be entirely ravaged by him told him it wasn't the fact that he had been her most hated teacher that halted her.