The Burning Pen

The Ring

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 27

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 27 ~ Dinner and an Honest Admission

Hermione stood in front of the mirror looking at herself critically. She was wearing a thin-strapped Slytherin green and silver dress with matching pumps. Even her panties were Snape’s house colors. She wore no bra. Her chestnut hair was pinned up elegantly and she wore a pair of dangling emerald and silver earrings. That was her only jewelry. The dress fit her shape nicely, flattering her curves. She spun slowly, trying to see herself at all angles.

The Professor said they would be having a late dinner together in his rooms. He didn’t say anything else, but Hermione knew that tonight would be the night he would deflower her. She could see it in his eyes. Soon she would be skin to skin with him, and he would be closer to her than any man had ever been. The witch was excited and very nervous. What if she did something wrong? She didn’t know anything about fucking. She only knew there was a great hunger for him gnawing at her insides, and had been for days, maybe even months. Maybe from the time he had first kissed her at the final battle, and let her know that he wanted more.

Hermione remembered when she first laid eyes on the Professor as a child. She had thought him the scariest, ugliest wizard she had ever seen. After attending his class for the first time, she added meanest to the list. But she realized after a short time that he was brilliant, and outside of Charms, Potions was her favorite class and, though she never admitted it to Harry or Ron, Professor Snape had been her favorite teacher. He was brilliant and demanding. He always had challenged her, even though she had to fight for every high mark she got in his class. She came to appreciate his caustic wit, and learned to tone herself down and listen rather than talk all the time. She found she really did learn more in his class that way. He was hard on her all the time, but she realized he had to be. Everything came so easy to her, it would have been an easy thing for her to take her brilliance for granted. The Potions Master never allowed her to do that, and made her second guess herself all the time until she learned to trust her instincts. He really had been quite an influence on her. She was trusting her instincts now…and they all said go to him.

Hermione couldn’t remember exactly when she started to find the Potions Master attractive, although she knew it was in her sixth year. He wasn’t handsome in the classic sense, he was more of a complete package. He had a kind of beauty about him. Strong, graceful, dangerous, intelligent, with a voice that could melt the polar ice caps. She had a small crush on him, but had never imagined that he had felt anything about her.

Five years he had wanted her. She was twenty-three now, so that meant she was a seventh year when his desire for her first began. When he kissed her at the Final Battle, Hermione realized she was still attracted to him, and very strongly so. The witch had dwelt on what could have been between them the entire six months before her journey to Mu. When the Professor came to her in her dreams, that spark of possibility she felt had quickly become a full-fledged flame. The witch knew in her heart that she loved the dark wizard. She had fallen in love with him in her dreams. And he had made it plain that he intended to marry her. Could he love her too?

Hermione looked at the clock. It was almost eight o’clock. She took one more look in the mirror and nervously smoothed her hair. It was time to go to the Professor’s rooms. It was time to go to him.

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Snape prowled his study from end to end, watching the clock impatiently. He checked the bedroom several times over to make sure it was acceptable. He had placed numerous floating candles there, and they spread a warm low glow and a light scent of sandalwood. He was dressed in his best robes, his hair brushed to silkiness and tied back in a ponytail. He checked the table several times as well, moving the candles around and setting and resetting the silverware. He didn’t want to admit to himself he was nervous, but he was. He felt like an expectant adolescent. It was silly. He was the one with all the knowledge and experience. So why was his stomach all in knots?

He replumped the cushions on the sofa. He would take Hermione there after they ate, rather than directly to the bedroom. He wanted to go slow with her, savor the moments leading up to taking her, fan the flame of the slow burn they had both been feeling into a roaring fire before he unveiled her. It was almost eight o’clock. He straightened his robes and walked through his study into the Potions office so he could let her in. He stood there, bouncing on his toes nervously before he stopped himself with a curse. If he kept this up, he’d have to take a calming draught. Then came the light knock on the door, and he felt his stomach tighten. He counted mentally to three so she wouldn’t know he’d been hovering by the door, then opened it.

Hermione stood there looking at him rather shyly. She was dressed in Slytherin colors. Gods, she looked beautiful, too beautiful for words. The Professor’s black eyes slid over her. The dress accentuated every luscious curve of her body. He leveled his gaze at her face again, speechless.

Hermione drank in the sight of him. His robes were very nice, embroidered with serpents. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He looked very dashing.

They stood in the doorway, just staring at each other. Finally Hermione found her voice.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Professor?” she asked him softly.

The Professor started as if woken up from a dream.

“Yes. Yes, Hermione, please come in,” he said, stepping aside and letting her pass. She entered the office and turned to look at him.

“You look stunning, Hermione,” he breathed as he looked at the beautiful witch in front of him, unable to believe how lucky he was that she felt as she did about him.

“Thank you,” she replied, blushing slightly. “You look very handsome as well, Professor.”

“Severus,” he said softly, “Call me Severus, Hermione. No more ‘Professor’ in private. I want to hear you say my name.”

“Severus,” Hermione repeated as if hypnotized.

The sound of his given name on her lips shot straight to his loins. He was going to make her say his name over and over tonight. His nervousness left him immediately. He placed his hand on the small of her back.

“This way, my lady,” Snape said, guiding her through the open wall to his study. He pulled the torch that closed the wall, then whispered a ward and a silencing spell. He then escorted Hermione to the table, pulled out her chair and helped her sit down, sliding the chair in closer.

“The table setting is lovely, Pro…Severus,” Hermione said, admiring his handiwork.

“Thank you,” he replied, sitting down across from her, his black eyes illuminated by the candlelight. “I planned a rather light dinner for us, nothing too heavy.”

Here, Hermione blushed a bit. He didn’t want her overeating. It might make her sluggish. Severus clapped his hands and a house elf appeared with a platter that contained two plates. On the plates were salad, an ample portion of blackened shrimp and a small crusty roll. It certainly was a light repast, but that was fine with Hermione. Her stomach was in knots anyway. She couldn’t have eaten much. The elf placed a plate in front of each of them, then placed the platter under his arm and waited expectantly.

“It looks delicious,” she commented. Snape’s eyes were fixed on her as if she were an entrée. Hermione felt a little warmth between her legs at his intensity. Snape snapped out of it, looking first at the waiting elf, then at her.

“I wasn’t sure what you preferred to drink with your meal. Would you like some wine?” he asked her. Hermione considered. She didn’t want wine. She needed to be clearheaded.

“Would apple juice be all right?” she responded. Snape gave her a little smirk.

“Of course it would,” he replied, then to the elf he said, “Bring us a pitcher of cold apple juice and two glasses.”

“Yes sir. Right away sir,” the elf said, winking out.

Hermione picked up her fork and ate a bit of salad. It was good.

“Would you like some salad dressing?” Snape asked her.

“No, this is fine,” Hermione said, lowering her amber eyes to her plate. The hungry look in Severus’ eyes was doing things to her. Anticipation was growing. The Potions Master was distinctly aware of every nuance her body language revealed. He licked his lips as his eyes rested on the curve of her throat. He imagined her eyes heavy lidded with pleasure as his mouth moved over it, tasting her soft skin. He was hardening. He popped a shrimp into his mouth and chewed.

The house elf returned with a large pitcher of apple juice and two glasses filled with never-melting ice. The creature set it on the table along with the two glasses, bowed and winked out again. Snape poured Hermione a glass, then himself. He passed the juice to her, and their fingers touched for just a moment, and a jolt shot through both of them at the contact. The tension was high indeed.

“Damn,” Snape swore in a low voice as he stared at the witch.

“Did you feel it too, Severus?” Hermione asked, her eyes glowing.

“Yes,” he replied, “Eat up.” He tackled his food with vigor now. Hermione followed suit.

“By the way,” Snape said, “I found out why the ring warmed up on your finger that night. It seems you were on the local ogre’s dinner menu.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“There’s an ogre on that mountain?” she asked, trembling a little. She had heard about ogres. They were worse than trolls. They were smaller, but much smarter.

“Not anymore,” Snape replied, “The Guardian put him on its menu. Successfully I might add.”

Hermione shuddered. The Guardian had eaten the ogre. She hadn’t even known she was in danger. Snape looked at her.

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for the ogre,” he said, his eyebrows lifting in mirth as if he were about to laugh at her.

“No,” Hermione retorted, a bit of irritation in her voice. She was softhearted, but not that softhearted.

“Good,” Snape replied, “Compassion is a wonderful quality, but it can be overdone. He would have turned you into a half-conscious Hermione pancake, sans the syrup.”

Hermione shuddered again, to Snape’s delight. He liked giving her the heebie-jeebies.

“That ring saved my life so many times,” she said softly. Snape’s eyes glittered.

“That’s because to the ring, you are a Snape,” he replied, possessiveness in his voice. “Its main purpose was to protect you.”

Hermione looked at him curiously.

“But how did you know the ring would protect me, Severus?” she asked him.

“Hermione,” he answered her softly, “I didn’t know the Guardian would manifest for you. I knew the ring would transport you and protect you because it was my will.”

Hermione processed this, then said, “Yes, but only a Snape could open the tomb. You said so yourself. Yet you sent me. I don’t understand.”

Snape sighed. He needed to make her understand how he felt about her, how he knew she was the one. He put his fork down and looked at her intensely.

“Hermione, you have been the object of my affections for several years. Somehow I felt that if anyone could open that tomb, it would be you. Call it instinct, or a premonition. I felt a connection with you. When I planned to kill Voldemort, it wasn’t a definite plan. It was a last resort. Something I would do if I saw no better way. But I didn’t want to die. Someone would have to bring me back, someone loyal and brave who wouldn’t give up. I figured you into the equation because you are the most courageous, determined and compassionate person I know, witch or wizard. No one else on this earth would have done for me what you did. No one else would have taken up the challenge to go to an undisclosed place without magic and place something mysterious in a tomb because of a dead wizard’s last request. But you did, just as I hoped you would and in the process I discovered you were indeed meant for me. If there was any doubt, our interludes in the dream realm dispelled them. You responded to me so sweetly, so passionately, as if we were meant to be together from the beginning of time.”

Hermione’s eyes were locked to Snape’s, unable to look away or even move as he poured his heart out to her.

“I’ve watched you grow up from a child, Hermione. You aren’t the kind of witch that easily gives herself to a wizard the way you gave yourself to me. If you were, you would have lost your virginity long ago. There aren’t many twenty-three year old virgins, Hermione, and I am sure many young attractive wizards have approached you in your time. But it’s me you want. There is something about me that makes you willing to be deflowered, to be possessed. You’ve already let me do things to you that I know no other wizard has done. I know you never had a man bring you to orgasm the way I did in that dream. It was something you wanted from me. Me alone.”

The Professor leaned toward her now, his voice becoming thick with desire.

“And tonight…you’ve come to my rooms willingly, knowing what I want to do to you, what I will do to you, and you want me. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in your kiss, even smell and taste it on your skin. Not to mention you’ve told me how you feel…scolded me, been angry with me. Been impatient for me. You are the most arousing, exciting woman I have ever known, and I’ve known quite a few, Hermione. They were all experienced, all beautiful, but none of them has ever affected me like you do. You’ve held my heart in your hands for five long years without even knowing it. When I saw those deatheaters pursuing you, intent on defiling and killing you, murder was in my heart. I would have gladly died rather than have any of them put one hand on you, you were that precious to me. Are that precious to me.”

Snape rose from his seat and walked around the table to Hermione’s side and knelt, taking her hand and kissing it, his dark eyes full of emotion.

“Sending you to Mu was not an off-chance, Hermione. To me, it was destiny. We are destiny. You have always belonged to me, with me. I have no intention of ever letting you go. I love you.”

Hermione’s heart began to pound as she looked into Snape’s eyes. He didn’t need to tell her he loved her to get her into his bed, she was already willing. That was why she was here. The only reason he would possibly say such a thing was because he meant it. She had never heard him say anything he didn’t mean. Ever. Hermione felt as if her entire insides had melted and was now pooling between her thighs. She pushed her plate away.

“Suddenly I’m not hungry, Severus,” she said rather hoarsely.

The Potions Master understood. He pulled out her chair and helped her up, then led her to the sofa and sat down, pulling her on to his lap. He gazed at her a moment.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed. Slowly he unpinned her hair, letting it tumble down over her shoulders. He gazed at her again.

“Yessss,” he hissed, kissing her mouth gently at first, capturing her lips between his own and sucking at them lightly. His mouth was so soft, so gentle, Hermione couldn’t help responding, liquid fire rolling over her body as their lips connected. Snape moved his mouth to her chin, then her throat, sucking and nibbling lightly, causing Hermione to sigh in pleasure.

“That’s right, Hermione. Let me give you pleasure,” he whispered, moving back to her mouth and possessing it with a deep, penetrating kiss as he began to caress her back and sides, thrilling her with his touch. Her body was so sensitive to his touch, she started trembling with pleasure, clamping her thighs together to try and ease the intense tingling between them. Her hands went to his head, her fingers pulling at his hair gently, then sliding over his throat and shoulders, then down across his chest. She could feel well-defined musculature beneath his robes. He didn’t have a shirt on under it.

“What are you wearing under your robes?” she breathed as Snape fell to her throat again.

“My silk boxers,” he replied, kissing the hollow of her neck, then pulling down one of her dress straps with his teeth, and running his tongue over her shoulder.

“You taste exquisite, Hermione,” he sighed as he shifted her so he could reach the other strap with his teeth, also sliding it down and kissing her other shoulder, before returning to her throat, and then her mouth. Hermione was panting now. His mouth and hands were feeling so good on her body that reality was fading fast. The room was beginning to fade out, and he was the only thing real in the entire world.

“Oh gods,” she groaned into his mouth. “Severus…what are you doing to me?”

“Loving you,” he replied, pulling her arms free of the straps and lowering her dress so both of her breasts were exposed. He leaned her back and buried his face between them, kissing and licking, then sliding his mouth across the swell of one as his hand grasped the other, fondling it gently, but insistently. He swirled his tongue around her nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his tongue tapping and lapping at the hardened peak as he suckled her. Hermione let her head fall back in pleasure, her hands grasping his head tightly as she groaned. She was soaked between her thighs. She wanted him to hurry.

“I can’t take much more of this, Severus…how long…gods. I need you,” she hissed.

“You want me now, Hermione?” he asked her, his mouth around her breast, his hand rubbing her belly slowly, “There’s so much more to do before I deflower you.”

“I want you inside me, now,” she gasped, her head snapping forward as she pulled him from her breast, half-crazed with lust. Her eyes were absolutely on fire as she gazed at him. She was in total sex mode. She had waited long enough as it was. Snape’s black eyes glittered at the ferocity on her face.

“All right, my little virgin. Foreplay can wait,” he growled, standing up and carrying her toward the bedroom. “You’re ready for the real thing.”

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A/N: Yo ho! Yo ho! It’s off to bed they go! With a knick-knack paddy whack, give the girl a bone! Lot’s o lemon’s going on! Lol. Please review.

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