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Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 12 ~ Hermione Gives In
Hermione took the stairs two at a time, heading back to the main floor. Even the ROR was against her. She opened the door and saw Severus was still sitting in the living room, reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up at her again. Their eyes met.
As Hermione looked at the Potions Master, something inside her just gave way. Everyone saw it, she knew it, and he knew it. Yes, he was her former teacher, yes…he was her nemesis for the past three years. Yes, he knew just how to tick her off. But yet, she was attracted to him. She’d heard it said you can’t always choose who you love. She didn’t know if she loved Severus, but she knew he did things to her that no one else did. And underneath all his meanness, he really was a good man. She could do a lot worse.
She did find him attractive. She always had. Tonks was right in her description of him, Hermione just couldn’t admit it to herself. His darkness appealed to her. The witch knew she would have no peace until what had to be done was done. And it wasn’t because Severus would pursue her. It was because deep inside she really did want to be intimate with him. Maybe afterwards they’d find that the strong attraction between them was just a curiosity about each other that needed to be explored.
Hermione sighed, and walked into the living room, plopping herself down in the armchair next to Severus’. He looked quite surprised she joined him. She looked at him, her amber eyes rather tired.
“Who will I fight with?” she asked him.
“Excuse me?” the Potions Master said, folding up the newspaper and giving her his full attention.
“If you and I become lovers, Severus…who will I have to fight with?” she asked him again.
The Potions Master knew she had conceded. He looked at the young witch squarely. Her concession made her look older somehow. But she looked kind of haggard too, as if she’d been beaten down. He had to handle this carefully.
“Well, I doubt our natures will change very much, Hermione. Most likely we will still fight. I am not easy to get along with even in the most ideal situations,” he admitted. “I enjoy getting you upset, after all. I have ever since you first arrived at Hogwarts. It’s a part of my nature now. I don’t think that aspect of me will change. However, your tolerance might.”
Hermione sat back in the chair and stared at the fireplace.
“I don’t know how this happened,” she said, “I don’t understand how you got to me like this. You never did anything to make yourself remotely attractive to me. You never hit on me, or made any untoward sexual remarks, though what you did say was pretty bad. I’ve never seen you without your robes. I have no idea what your body is like. The things that logically lead to attraction just aren’t present here, Severus. All I see are things that should repel me. It makes no sense.”
The Potions Master looked at her and listened. He didn’t say anything. He decided just to let her talk.
“I’m not a virgin,” she said. She told him about Sergio, and her experience with the Bulgarian
The Potions Master looked at her, then said quietly, “You might not have a maidenhead, Hermione, but you are still a virgin, at least in my eyes.”
Hermione didn’t reply. They sat there in silence for a while, each deep in their own thoughts. Hermione spoke again.
“I don’t know how to go about this,” she said, “How to approach this, Severus.”
“Talking to me is a start, Hermione,” Severus replied, his black eyes sweeping over her. She had drawn her legs up into the armchair and wrapped her arms around them. Her chin was resting on her knees. When she spoke, she didn’t look at him but stared into the fireplace as if drawing strength from it.
“When?” she asked.
“When what?” Severus responded.
“When will we do it? Fuck? When do you want me to come to you?” she asked in a small voice.
Severus rather thought it was a “let’s just get this over with” voice. It didn’t please him. Typical Granger. Now she was hiding behind martyrdom. He fought back a snide comment.
“I’ll come for you,” he said darkly, “when the time is right.”
Severus didn’t want to give her a time and a place. He could imagine the witch sitting and twisting her hands as if waiting for the hour of execution to fall upon her. He didn’t want her walking into his arms as if she were walking to the gallows. He originally thought that Hermione accepting and admitting her own desire for him would be all he’d need to take her. But she was treating her need like a curse. He wanted her wanting him. Right now, all he could expect from the witch was submission. He wanted passion. He wanted her on the edge of pursuing him. Then, their coming together would be something extraordinary.
He had waited this long. According to Kingsley it was three years of foreplay. He could wait a little longer.
Hermione looked at Severus strangely. She had thought once she agreed to fuck him, he’d be on her like a niffler on gold. What was this ‘when the time is right’ shit? She knew. He was still going to play games with her. She frowned.
“Last night you were ready to bore a new hole in me,” she said, scowling at him. “Now you do an about face. And they say women are fickle.”
Severus scowled back at her.
“Last night you weren’t playing martyr,” he spat back at her, “you were ready for fucking. I should have just taken you. It would have been better than this pathetic “I give up, I give in” nonsense you are running past me now.”
“How dare you!” Hermione said, jumping out of her chair and putting her hands on her hips. “I humble myself, come to you and tell you I want to do this, and now you’re complaining I’m not fucking hot enough? You are an ASS, Severus Snape,” she snapped, storming off upstairs toward her room.
“I’ll come for you when you’re ready!” Severus yelled after her.
“Fuck you!” Hermione called back down.
Severus sat back in his armchair. He really wasn’t as angry as he had portrayed. He had wanted to pull her out of her self-pitying state. And he did. The witch that cursed him from the upper landing was the witch he wanted. The defiant, outspoken, indomitable, infuriating Hermione Granger. Not the shadow that was sitting in the armchair next to him moments before, humbling herself.
Now, how was he going to get that Hermione in his bed? He thought about it.
Hm. Now that’s an idea.
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A/N: Ok. We KNOW they’re going to do it, they know they’re going to do it. It’s the when now. But lemons are ahead. I just have to figure out a really interesting way for this to go down. Stay with me. Please review.
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