The Burning Pen

Yuleride
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 10

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 10 ~ Warming Up (Short Chapter)

“Bedroom?” Snape said to her, a curl to his lips now. “What do you mean bedroom?”

The wizard let his eyes slowly sweep around the study before settling back on Hermione.

”We have a sofa, armchairs, a desk, the walls . . . my study is a virtual playground for sexual exploration,” he purred at her. “Why bother with a bed?”

Hermione colored.

”I’ve always done it in a bed,” she replied, blinking at the wizard.

”That’s part of your problem,” Snape said. “No spontaneity. Dull, dull, dull. Well, I’ll take care of that, witch.”

Snape leaned toward her and Hermione popped off the sofa as if someone stuck her in the bum with a pin.

”I have to go to the bathroom. Prepare myself . . . you know, contraception,” she said to the wizard nervously.

Snape scowled.

“All that takes is a wand tip pressed below your navel and an incantation. You don’t need to go to the bathroom for that,” he said to her, frowning.

“I have to use the bathroom as well,” Hermione replied, “unless you are into golden showers.”

”Not on the receiving end,” Snape responded, then growled, “Go ahead, but hurry up. In my bedroom.”

Snape watched as Hermione skittered away into his room, then started to remove his boots and socks.

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”I must be crazy,” Hermione thought to herself as she sat on the loo. “I can’t believe I agreed to let him shag me. Gods, I hope I’m right about him. Maybe it will only take two or three minutes. Ron lasts about ten, and he has more sex than Snape does. Maybe this will be all right.”

Hermione wiped, flushed and then drew out her wand and cast a contraceptive spell on herself. Then she washed her hands and stared at herself in the mirror for a minute. Then came a pounding on the door.

”Hurry up, witch!” Snape snarled from the other side.

”I’m coming,” Hermione called back.

”Not yet, witch,” Snape growled, exiting the bedroom.

Hermione slowly opened the bathroom door and peeked out. Snape wasn’t in the bedroom. Taking another deep breath, she exited the bedroom to find the lights in the study lowered so it was rather subdued. There was also soft music playing and Snape had created a small table in front of the sofa. On it sat a large decanter of wine and two nice glasses. The wizard was sitting on the sofa, looking at her. He was still in his robes but wearing slippers.

Snape smirked slightly as Hermione looked surprised.

”Wine?” she asked, sitting down on the sofa, watching as Snape poured a glass for her then himself.

”Of course wine,” he replied, “Surely you didn’t think I planned to jump on top of you the moment you left my bedroom? Some wizards actually have more finesse than that, Hermione. Wine is a pleasant way to start an evening, or in our case, a morning. I have an appreciation for the finer things.”

Hermione looked around the sparse study then at Snape, pursing her lips at its austerity.

“Obviously,” she said sarcastically. But she was starting to relax a little.

If Snape caught her sarcasm, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he lifted his glass and swirled the wine about slightly, then sniffed it delicately. He took a small sip, appearing to savor it. He looked quite satisfied.

Hermione picked up her glass, and sniffed the bouquet. It smelled pleasant enough. She took a sip, Snape watching her reaction. Hermione smiled.

It was delicious.

”What kind of wine is this?” she asked him. “It’s very good.”

Snape took another appreciative sip and nodded.

”Quite good,” he agreed, “It is called Duhart Milon. A Rothschild wine. High in cabernet with a good dark fruit nose, fruity on the palate and quite well-balanced. A very good drinking wine. I thought you might enjoy it.”

And Hermione did. She and Snape began to talk about things that had nothing to do with her personal life, or his plans. Instead, they discussed Spell Making. Hermione knew Snape had created several spells while in school without any formal training. He told her he had always been sensitive to magic and part of his skill in dueling was because he could often “feel” when magic was being gathered to expel. In other words he was sensitive to the “intent’ of others.

“That’s fascinating,” Hermione said, “How did you discover it?”

”I felt Lily Potter’s power when I first saw her and was drawn to her. But I didn’t know what it was then. It was only after being targeted by James Potter and his cronies that I realized I could feel magic. Eventually I could tell if it the magic was dark or light, and even could tell the subtle differences. With practice, I was able to fine tune my own intent and create incantations that would expel it,” Snape told her.

Hermione was even more fascinated. Most spell makers had to do complicated calculations using lei lines and Arithmancy to even sketch out a possible spell. To be able to do it by feel was extraordinary. That ability would come in handy when they were hunting for potions that might be protected by magic.

Er . . . if they were hunting for potions. If.

“You really are an amazing man, Severus,” Hermione breathed.

She was totally relaxed now, feeling warm and comfortable as well as stimulated by Snape’s conversation. It had been so long since she had an intelligent discussion with anyone, it was quite intoxicating itself.

”You think so, witch?” Snape purred at her, noting her flush. “Even more so than Mr. Weasley?”

”Definitely,” Hermione replied, then said, “but Ron is nice.”

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

”Whereas I am not,” he said, his mouth quirking.

”No. Not really,” Hermione agreed as she finished her third glass of wine.

Snape smirked at her, and took her glass out of her hand. Then he stood up and looked down at her.

Hermione immediately stiffened.

”Now?” she asked him.

Snape scowled at her.

”Mr. Weasley has most certainly had a negative effect on you, Hermione,” he said, catching her hand and drawing her up. “I thought we might take a few turns around the study.”

He drew Hermione into him gently and clasped her hand, placing his other hand on the small of her back.

”You mean dance?” she asked him.

”No, I mean fly,” he snapped as they began to move in a waltz to the softly playing music.

The Potions master was a wonderful dancer, his face taking on a softer quality as they moved around the study. It appeared he enjoyed dancing. Hermione would have never expected it.

”You seem to be surprised I dance,” Snape said to the witch.

”I am. I don’t ever remember you dancing at any of the balls,” Hermione said to the wizard.

“Be that as it may, I do dance. There is only one thing more compelling than dancing with a lovely woman,” he breathed down at her, stopping and releasing her hand and letting both arms encircle her waist. His dark eyes were locked to Hermione’s gaze.

”And what is that?” Hermione asked him, feeling as if it were getting hard to breathe as his lean, but hard body rested against her curves.

”Taking her,” he purred, lowering his head and capturing Hermione’s mouth.

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A/N: I know. I know. I’m writing in spurts. BUT . . . I’m writing. Thanks for reading.

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