The Burning Pen

"What Was I Thinking" Series
"#1 ~ What Was I Thinking? ~ Part 1"
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 6

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 6 ~ Hell Hath No Fury like a Horny Hermione

Hermione lay in her bed, gazing up at the ceiling as she caressed her belly slowly. She could feel firm musculature flex beneath her soft skin, the result of hours of self-defense practice with Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to imagine how his hands would feel on her body for the first time.

Those sure hands, large, pale, long-fingered...precise...electric. Sliding across her flesh in measured movements, every part of her touched, examined, explored. Every slight sigh and tremor invoked by his contact... remembered, stored in the back of his mind to called forth later, when he stirred her willing body clockwise, counter-clockwise, cock stroking deep to point and counter-point, and beyond...

"Oh, Circe!' she moaned, swinging her face to the side and biting her lower lip. She crossed her legs and squeezed tightly, crushing her clit between the inner lips in an attempt to ease the constant pressure there. She'd given up on inserting her fingers...it never was enough and just made her longing worse. When would he come for her? Graduation was less than a week away. Did he plan to wait until then? If she only had some idea when he would come, it might help her to keep her screaming desire down to a low roar, and her horrible attitude at bay. She didn't mean to be a bitch, but she couldn't help it. Damn him for making her wait! She might want him more than her next breath, but he was still an insufferable bastard.

Over the past week, her fellow students had quickly learned to steer clear of the Head Girl, and her mercurial mood-swings. Normally, Hermione was easily approachable, fair and even-tempered even to those of other houses. She usually gave every student the benefit of the doubt when patrolling the halls and catching them out past curfew. She had actually developed her own version of the "three strikes" rule, giving offenders lesser point deductions and warnings rather than immediately deducting full house points or assigning detentions. But lately, she was slinging punishments and detentions left and right, for all kinds of minor or imagined offenses, for no other reason that she was PPO...Perpetually Pissed Off. She even deducted ten points from Gryffindor for Ron burping loudly at dinner, then another five when he complained about it.

Slytherins were her favorite targets, although the appreciation of her housemates was somewhat subdued, due to the fact that she nearly deducted as many points from them as she did the members of Hogwarts's most despised house. Snape remained irritatingly silent about her siege on his charges. She was hoping he would confront her, but he simply found ways to award the points back, solidly nullifying her efforts.

But the ones who got the worst of it were the unfortunate couples she caught snogging or shagging in the dark niches of the hallways. She took a savage delight in dressing the startled offenders down before taking points and assigning detentions with Filch, who was singing Hermione's praises to the stars, saying he always knew "that girl would come 'round." She had taken to prowling the hall in search of amorous couples, and only Severus himself surpassed her in pure malevolence and success when seeking out prey.

At breakfast that morning, a seething Dean Thomas who just lost five points to Hermione for leaving his cloak in the common room overnight said through clenched teeth, "I know what's wrong with her, mates. She needs a good, hard shagging. That'll straighten her out right, then."

"Yeah, you're right, Dean," Colin Creevy said, his mouth full of eggs. He chewed then swallowed. "She caught me with Sylvia in the Room of Requirement the other night, and I have detention with Filch right up to the night before the Leaving Ceremony. I watched her out the corner of my eye while she was dressing us down for rule-breaking, and I swear she looked jealous as hell."

Seamus snorted, "Even if that's true, Colin, she's just too mean to fuck. Trust me, a bloke couldn't get near her without getting his balls hexed off. She's horrible. Better she sticks to snuggling up with her books. They're all she seems to get off on anyway."

Severus, who had excellent hearing, guffawed, and almost choked on his coffee. He lowered his head to hide an uncharacteristic smile, as Minerva patted him on the back lightly.

"Are you all right, Severus?" she asked, brows drawn together with concern.

"Yes, I'm fine," he responded shortly, twisting away from her touch as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Good." the Transformation Professor said, rather insincerely, before turning back to Professor Flitwick and resuming their conversation about the rising costs of quality wands.

From the head of the table, Albus Dumbledore leaned forward and looked at Severus thoughtfully. Severus nodded slightly in his direction, then returned to his meal.

"Nosey old rotter," he thought.

Hermione wasn't at breakfast. Or lunch. Or supper. She'd started taking meals in her rooms, unable to be in the same hall with the Potions Master, who was doing an excellent job of overtly ignoring her angry, exasperated and questioning glances in his direction ... though he was deeply aware of her every move, watching her with hooded eyes full of amusement. He had maintained his "keep your distance" directive, reaffirming his conviction on the matter, when, on his way to the Great Hall for supper, he found her standing indecisively on the stairwell leading to the dungeons. He scowled and deducted twenty points from Gryffindor before whirling and continuing on his way without another word. She had been furious, but didn't dare follow him because she was sure he would have given her detention with Filch, with specific instructions to make her time as unpleasant as possible.

Hermione returned to Gryffindor tower and snarled the password at the Fat Lady, who opened up with an angry, "Well! Someone has a niffler in her pants, doesn't she?" Hermione ignored this comment and stomped past the students filling the common room with her nose in the air, brow furrowed with disapproval, before disappearing up the stairs and locking herself in her rooms, where she intended to remain sequestered until the time came for her to assume her Head Girl duties.

Now she lay in her bed, miserable in her self-imposed isolation. But she just couldn't take the heady delight of others as the graduation ceremony loomed closer. Seeing her fellow Gryffindors laughing and enjoying each other’s company literally made her sick to her stomach.

Didn't they realize that the somewhat carefree days would soon be over, and they had to make the frightening transition to full wizarding adulthood? Didn't they know what was waiting outside of Hogwarts's gates? There would be no elf-provided feasts, or dorm-mates, or common rooms. They'd have to put their own food on the table, provide their own shelter, and pursue whatever destiny lay ahead to its end. There would be no more comforting Headmaster to keep the evil that was Voldemort at bay. No stalking Snape to provide comforting, if snarky reassurance to those in the know, that true heroes were alive, suffering, risking life and sanity pretending to be in the service of the Dark Lord...risking death every day...

Risking Death...every day...

Hermione leapt up from her bed as the chilling thought wound its way to the pit of her stomach. He could die! He could die before she came to him. The thought of it made her heart hammer in her chest. She ran. Down the stairs, through the common room, out the door and towards the lower level. Damn his threats...she needed to talk to him...now.

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Severus breathed in a deep, cleansing breath as he surveyed the empty Potions classroom. He was seated at his desk, which was cleared of scrolls, parchments, and quills. The student desks were also cleared of, well...students. No breaking vials. No squeals of pain or anguished groans. No explosions. All was blissfully silent. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. He was free. Free from those blithering dunderheads for the next couple of months. Bliss. Pure unadultered joy.

Then the thought of her came, as it did every day. He shook his head as the corner of his mouth drew up in a wry smirk. Hermione was certainly wearing her lust on her sleeve these days. What a little bitch she was. Who knew that she could be so vindictive? Not just to him, or his Slytherins, but to the whole damn student body. If he had any doubts about her suitability for Slytherin House, they had certainly been dispelled during the last week. She was a complete terror, rivaling his own high level of snarkiness when dealing with wayward students. If she had been born a pureblood, the Sorting Hat would certainly have placed her in his house, and with her talents and abilities, she would have been the pride of Slytherin. He reflected.

If she had come to Slytherin, she wouldn't have turned out as well as she did, he admitted to himself. She wouldn't have been challenged as she had, through her association with The-Boy-Who-Aggravates-Me-To-No-End. She would not have had the opportunity to test her courage, develop her loyalty or hone her skills to the degree she had if she had been coddled. She wouldn't have been toughened up by his constant mistreatment of her, as he had a tendency to favor his Slytherin charges, because most were the offspring of Deatheaters and promised to join the ranks of Voldemort. He had to keep them soft and coddled, over-protected so they wouldn't develop the strength of character and necessary traits to handle harsh the realities of the world, and so would be ineffective soldiers in the face of trials. Without someone to be a buffer, they would ultimately fail Voldemort in the end. It was insidious, but necessary. He had to do all he could to insure that the Dark Lord would not have the resources to rise to power. Even if this meant sending ill-prepared children out into the world. His thoughts returned to Hermione.

If he had not been so cruel, and dismissive of her accomplishments, she would never have developed her impressive determination to succeed in the face of terrible opposition. And what would have been worse, if she hadn't been a Gryffindor, she wouldn't have that wild, reckless passion that was even now coursing through her delicious body, or the hot desire to discover the answer to mysteries be any means necessary. Even if that mystery was her own sexuality. And the necessary means...was him.

Slytherins are taught to be cool, collected, calculating and reserved. He realized he was glad she had never been chosen for his house. If she had, he would not be anticipating impaling himself inside her, experiencing her awakening as a woman, and having the opportunity to discover with her, all that she is underneath that brilliant mind. He felt a tightening in his groin, but also in his chest. He shook the second away. Despite what else there could be, his motives for the ravishment of the Gryffindor witch were purely selfish, lecherous and maybe even a touch vindictive...his way of having finally having control over her formidable mind, wielding the power to take it away...and, finally to have the last word after which there would be no more questioning.

There was a sudden, violent pounding on the door. Severus straightened quickly. Who would have the unmitigated nerve to try and batter down his door? Then he heard her panicked voice.

"Professor! Professor, let me in! I have to talk to you! Let me in, please! Please, Professor!" Hermione cried, her cheek resting against the door.

Severus hesitated. What was she doing down here? She knows she is not supposed to come to him, that he would come to her at the proper time. Still, she sounded desperate. Shit. He released the wards.

"Come in, then. Before you knock the door off its hinges!" he called to her, his displeasure evident in his voice.

The door banged open and Hermione entered. She stood there, breathing harshly, shoulders rising and falling with the effort to catch her breath. Her hair was wild, cresting in a crazy halo around her head...and she looked at him, her eyes wide with fear.

"You could die," she panted. "You could die before I...before we...before...you...you...you..."

"Fuck you?" he asked, an unreadable look in his eyes as he studied the distraught young woman in front of him.

Hermione flushed, now embarrassed. She should have known he would go straight to the jugular.

"Yes," she whispered.

Severus rose and walked slowly around his desk, and leaned back on it, arms crossed.

"Yes. I suppose that is a possibility. But it always has been. You know the role I play for Albus. There are no guarantees that I will return whenever I am summoned by the Dark Lord. Possible discovery is a risk I take. I know what the price is for my treachery. Surely you do too."

Hermione stood speechless as the most beautiful, blatantly sexual and mouth-watering man in her life rolled his eyes in exasperation, then continued,

"I take it by your heightened state of panic, that you have just realized that I might not be here to...pluck the cherry from the tree, so to speak. If that is the case, Hermione...I am sure you will be able to find someone else willing to fulfill that duty. You are, after all...quite desirable."

Hermione's eyes teared up and her lip trembled as she said softly yet firmly, "But I don't want anyone else. I want you. Just you."

Severus swallowed. He had never heard such a heartfelt declaration from anyone concerning him in his life. Her honesty was just plain...erotic. He wanted to fuck her right there and then, but steeled himself. He couldn't spend another night wrestling with an irrepressible hard-on.

"Hermione, you have to understand this. There won't be anything else between us once this is done. I will not be bound to you. You will have to find someone else when we have done this anyway. If another man takes you, you have a better chance of forming a lasting relationship. What we will have will be sex, pure and simple. I will selfishly take you, split you, use you, dominate you and then let you loose into the world again to find your own way, a woman in every sense of the word. There will be nothing more. Nothing."

"But still...I want you. I don't want you to die before...we do this."

Severus snorted. "You are a selfish little piece, aren't you, Hermione?"

"What? What do you mean?' she said, shocked.

He almost snarled his reply.

"You don't want me to die before I fuck you. What about afterwards? It won't matter much will it? You will have had what you wanted. It would have been kinder to my ego if you had said you didn't want me to die...period. Congratulations, Hermione. You have just managed to reduce me to a "bit of fluff." No one has ever accomplished that before...not even the Dark Lord."

"No. No. I didn't mean..." Hermione started forward. Severus held up a hand and it had the effect of freezing her to the spot.

"You don't know what you mean, or what you need. That's why you are here."

He cocked his head at her, his dark eyes hard and cold as they raked over her body.

"Don't worry," he said in a voice so low she had to lean forward to hear him. "I have no intention on dying before I can stick my dick in you. So just go, and trust me to be around long enough to reduce you into a mindless pile of sore, wet, sticky pleasure. Now go. Get out of my sight. I don't want you here. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

He glared at her dismissively. Hermione wanted to stay, to say something to explain herself, to make herself look less self-absorbed...but she couldn't think of anything. And the way he looked at her, with so much disdain in his cold eyes...she knew she had to go. Shoulders slumping, she turned and walked to the door. She had her hand on the door handle when she heard him say thoughtfully,

"Such selfishness, Miss Granger. Worried that a man will die before you get to fuck him."

A pause, and then:

"Quite Slytherin, don't you think?"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She didn't respond to this last jibe as she pulled open the door, walked through and let it close quietly behind her.

Severus returned to his seat and drew a deep breath. He was angry. He didn't know why, but he was. One thing was certain though. When he finally got his hands on her, he was going to rip her from end to end. She would get what she wanted, in spades.

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Outside the Potions classroom, Hermione took a deep breath and walked shakily down the cool dungeon hallway. Once she felt she was at a reasonably safe distance from the Potion's classroom, she stopped and leaned back against the stonewall. She stood there a moment, trying not to think of the cruel, but true things Severus said to her. It didn't work. She was horrible. Since she had developed this crazy obsession with him, she didn't seem to care about anyone or anything.

Dropping her head into her hands, she slid down to the cold, black stones, sobbing as if her heart had been torn from her body. What was she becoming? When would he have mercy on her and end this pain? She was broken, she was ashamed. But still, she wanted him. Under any circumstances, situations, terms, requirements or conditions he put forth, she wanted him.


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A/N: Firstly, I would like to let everyone know that I am planning on building a lemonade stand right next to mine, to further help fellow harvester-in-lust, ANON, spiral down into the smarmy depths of writing sexy fan fiction. I feel no shame at his seduction, and am pleased as pumpkin juice that he believes this story inspired him to write fanfiction of his own, though it was probably in there all the time. *takes a friendly nip at Anon* That ought to straighten out your kink.

Sorry I didn't update yesterday, but I have a terrible cold, and the tendency to mope about when I am sick. All my hypochondriac sister's fault. I didn't believe she was sick, as usual, took a sip of her soda and paid the price. I'm also sorry about the lack of lemons in this chapter, but I think Hermione's state of mind had to be explored a bit. I also wanted a little more tension between them. I'm busily squeezing the lemons by hand. I've had a mental taste of how the climax of this story is going to be, and trust me...it will be pucker-up time.

And Serentipity01, my Severus can be a cruel, selfish, self-serving bastard...but that's the way I love him. Don't expect him to change into some sniveling, lovesick beau. It's not going to happen, girlfriend.

To everyone, thanks again for reading, and special thanks to all those who left reviews. Looking at the hits, a lot of people are reading this and the fact that you stopped to encourage me to continue writing is very special. I appreciate your responses very, very much. Thanks again.

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