Archive of Our Own

The brisk October winds whipped Hermione's unruly hair about her face, getting it caught between her lips and in her eyelashes. 

"It's not like I needed to see or anything..." she grumbled as she did her best to comb back the flyaways. 

After they repeated their offense, she resorted to using a quick, focused shielding spell to prevent it from happening again.

Exhaling out into the cooling night air, she took in the beautiful colours painting the sky in the wake of the setting sun; hues of oranges and pinks that not even magic could replicate.

As they faded from view with the sun's last breath, she returned to surveying the scene around her.  There were several bonfires roaring, with costumed people dancing around them in celebration.  The smoke wound its way into her hair and peacoat, imbuing her with the scent of burning wood – one of her favourites.

She smiled as she watched Harry dancing with Draco, the pair of them dressed as rabbits. Something perfectly fitting considering how often Hermione had accidentally walked in on them fucking at 12 Grimmauld Place. 

Next to them, Ron was slow-dancing with Lavender – both wearing bear accoutrements – a romance that had re-sparked after Hermione and Ron had called an amicable end to their war-induced tryst.  Ron and Lavender had, surprisingly, been more discreet about their shagging, and Hermione had only walked in on them once.  So far. 

She quickly checked her own costume, a set of cat ears and a moving tail – a sardonic throwback that she, Harry, and Ron had all giggled over – before stepping a bit closer to the nearest fire and taking in its warmth.

This was their first Samhain celebration since the war ended, now that the healing had more properly begun. Voldemort had left the Wizarding World in shambles, but they'd made great strides in repairing the damage, in all respects.  Hermione had been more than impressed by Shacklebolt's handling of everything as the new Minister for Magic, as well as how he'd re-structured the Wizengamot into being more reasonable as a whole.

Subsequently, she'd been flattered when he asked her to take on some assistant ministerial duties with the idea of priming her for his position when he was ready to retire.  She hadn't hesitated to jump at the opportunity.

Those very duties were a part of why she was at the Samhain celebrations:  Wanting to be seen as supporting the Ministry's attempts at re-introducing normalcy into their world.

But the other part of it was because she wanted to see her friends and colleagues enjoying themselves after such a harrowing, years-long war.  And the very same lightheartedness cracked a smile across her face as she observed them. Granted, some were hard to pick out, what with their costumes, but the atmosphere of joy and relief was still palpable.

She was fairly certain no one actually believed the myths of fairies kidnapping people during Samhain, nor how dressing as animals and monsters might deter them.  Then again, she was probably the only one who’d actually researched into the origins of dressing up.  Regardless of intention, it seemed to make everyone happy. And who was she to deny anyone happiness after what they'd all been through?

No matter that she herself was more restless than anything else these days.  Aimless, almost, like things came too smoothly, too predictably, and she wasn’t challenged like she used to be.  Even the prospect of becoming Minister for Magic would come with its fair share of soulless admin work, she knew.

Chewing her lip, she turned to check out the fire behind her, and was shocked into a standstill when she saw a familiar face gazing into its depths.

'Impossible... he can't be here...' Hermione swallowed thickly as she took in the easily recognizable, sharp features of one Severus Snape. 'But... he died... I'm hallucinating, I must be.' She looked around, surprised that people weren't reacting to the unexpected appearance of a man they'd honoured with a posthumous Order of Merlin months ago. There was a monument erected for him... how could he be standing there looking perfectly alive?

She'd seen him bleed out on that gnarled, wooden floor, for Merlin's sake.

"But then, does that mean..." Her words were borne aloft on an uncertain exhale. 'Can spirits really cross over on Samhain?'

It seemed the most plausible reasoning to her, yet it didn't explain why she was the only one who had noticed him.  Well, there was nothing else for it; she'd have to observe him more closely.

Tucking her jacket a little tighter around herself, Hermione made a slow, wide arc toward the fire her quarry was attending. She nodded amiably to several friends along the way, and finally settled a few feet away from the supposed spectre. 

He looked the same amount of ephemeral up close, and was still wearing his signature robe and frock coat.  But there were some subtle differences: His hair shone a glossy sheen in the firelight, his skin was still pale though less sickly-looking, and he filled his frock coat out just a bit better than he used to. That last thought made her blush and she scolded herself for looking at his body so closely.

This was Severus Snape, after all. Sarcastic prick of a man who'd never shown her any ounce of kindness. But a prick back from the dead, nevertheless. It undoubtedly warranted further inspection, which she knew she could only garner from actually talking to him. Provided he did answer, considering spirits were said to not always be capable of communicating with the living when crossing over.

She shuffled a little closer, decided a flippant opening might be her best bet, and cleared her throat. "Considering you hate most of those who are still living, I'm surprised you chose to cross back over."

He didn't turn his head, but Hermione swore she saw his eyes flicker toward her. 

Somehow, his voice seemed deeper, silkier than it had in her school days. "'Cross back over' from where, exactly?"

Her brow furrowed as her uncertainty took deeper root. "The... land of the dead? The spirit world?"

"Really, Miss Granger. I'd have thought you too intelligent to believe in the existence of such nonsense."

She frowned. "So you're not... deceased?"

He finally looked at her then, and she thought she saw a hint of red in his normally pitch-black irises. She most certainly did catch the hint of a smirk curving his lips, but that wasn't what surprised her the most.

"Not as such, no."

She barely even registered his response, she was too distracted by the pair of fangs glinting from behind his lips with each word he spoke.  Severus Snape was alive, at an actual celebratory gathering, and he'd worn a costume? 'Did Seamus spike the punch again?'

"But you... we..." She inhaled deeply in order to center her whirling mind. "There was a funeral for you, and a posthumous Order of Merlin."

He held his hand out toward her, and she stared dumbly at it for a moment before reaching up to brush her fingers over his palm.  He was solid. Cold, but solid.

Hermione couldn't entirely explain the myriad of emotions she felt when she realized he wasn't a figment of her imagination after all – or if he was, it was a very good illusion.  Never once in her life did she think she would feel this relieved to see the taciturn Potions Master alive and well. And yet...

Her voice went whisper-quiet. "You're here."

He dryly replied, "So it would seem."

"But I..." She looked down and started tracing her fingers over the lines in his palm.

Maybe he was a mimic of some kind, surely the real Severus wouldn't allow her to touch him like this. Not to mention how his skin was so much smoother than she'd expected it to be. Not a stirring rod or knife-induced callus in sight.   

Her voice caught with her next words. "I saw you succumb to Nagini's bite."

He turned more fully towards her, the fire's light dancing across his scrutinizing features. Though Hermione swore there was almost something... predatory to the way he was analyzing her.

"You saw correctly." A bitter smile crossed his face. "The reports of my death were not so greatly exaggerated."  

His slight alteration of a muggle author’s quote threw her for even more of a loop.

However, she managed to maintain an outwardly calm demeanor. "Yet, here you stand before me."

The eerie smirk he gave her in return made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "What a conundrum."

Her brow furrowed. "How long have you..." She gestured vaguely toward him. "Been this? Alive?"

He chuckled, choosing to address only her first question. "Since shortly after Nagini."

Hermione's jaw dropped, her indignance taking over. "You've been alive this whole time?"

Amusement arched one elegant eyebrow. "Is that a problem for you?"

Frustration laced her actions as she crossed her arms and, against her better judgement, pouted. "Gods fucking dammit, I could have been an apprentice..."

He leaned in a little closer, and Hermione was positive she saw his nostrils flare. His voice impossibly deepened and held an almost melodious quality to it when he said, "You'll need to elaborate on that."

She couldn't recall ever hearing him sound like that in the entire time she'd known him.  It was almost as though his tones were bleeding into her mind – like red ink diffusing into water – and she suddenly wanted to do exactly as he'd said. Which was a very odd feeling for her, considering how often she'd enjoyed rebelling against him in the past.

Leveling him with a squared gaze, she explained. "I'd hoped to apprentice under you after graduating. But then you 'died'," she ensured to make air quotes, "and I had to settle for an experimental spell creation fellowship through the Ministry instead."

Severus snorted – Hermione was positive she'd never actually heard him laugh before. "Of course that's what you're vexed about." The corner of his lips curled upward. "You haven't changed."

She analyzed him, still uncertain if the reddish hue in his eyes was embedded in the obsidian, or a reflection of the fire. "You have."

He finally looked away from her and refocused on the flames. To her surprise, she actually felt disappointed by the loss of his attention – like she wanted nothing more than to be his focal point. 'Seamus definitely spiked the punch again.'

"I died, of course I've changed."

Hermione kicked herself. In her frustration and incredulity, she'd overlooked the fact that he had died.  That he'd probably felt his own life slipping away from him, had expected his next shaky inhale to be his last. Just because he looked more or less alive now, didn't mean he hadn't gone through hell and back to get here.

She assumed apologizing would make him bristle, and she was, annoyingly, interested in keeping more of his company.

She cleared her throat. "I didn't realize you were interested in Samhain."

Severus projected nonchalance with a blasé shrug. "Lucius dragged me here."

Something about that settled oddly for Hermione. "How come I didn't see you at the daytime celebrations?"

His nostrils flared again.  "Did you really expect the presumed dead 'bat of the dungeons' to be out bantering with the rest of the hoi polloi?”

As far as explanations went, Hermione felt that one was pretty characteristic of him. Still prickly, it would seem. "You missed the Dumb supper."

His responding chuckle trickled down her spine and curled around to take root between her legs, inspiring a heat she knew hadn't come from the fire.

"I assure you, my supper was plenty ‘dumb’."

Part of her wanted to pursue that, to ask what he'd had for dinner. Another part of her couldn't shake the image of him biting into something, his teeth tearing at the meat with the same certainty he’d once used to duel.

'What is wrong with you?' she scolded herself internally.

Shakily, she focused on the tingles she still felt in her fingers from touching his hand, and she changed the subject.

"Have you not been brewing since 'dying'?"

His gaze slid askance in her direction. "What makes you think that?"

She gestured toward his hands. "No calluses."

Something glaring flared in the back of her mind when he tucked his hands out of sight beneath his robes. His voice sounded melodious again. "Perhaps it's due to the healing salve I use for the scar on my neck."

Her attention instantly shifted, but his frock coat collar hid his neck just as well as it always did. She'd have to take his word for it for now. 

While she was looking up, she caught the movement of him running his tongue over his teeth. For a second of what she would claim was insanity, her mind wandered into very unsafe territory; of how that tongue would feel on certain parts of her. The only reason she managed to curb it, was because she reminded herself that he had a pair of fangs behind those lips. Ones that had looked incredibly seamless.

"That's an impressive costume, by the way." She tapped one of her incisors with her fingernail as she asked, "Did you transfigure your teeth?"

The only word that could describe the way he looked down his nose at her with a smirk like that, was smouldering. "A wizard never reveals his secrets."

She ignored him. "Is it a glamour?"

His eye minutely twitched, and she figured she was onto something.

Until he suddenly leaned down into her space with that damnably enticing predatory glint back in his eyes. "Perhaps I'm the real thing."

She entertained the thought for only a fraction of a second, before her tension burst out as a bark of laughter. "I don't remember you having a sense of humour, Mister Snape."

The title was strange on her tongue – it felt odd not calling him professor – but he seemed to take no notice of it.

The way his silky voice dropped with his next question had Hermione feeling like they were the only two people for miles. Everything around them was reduced to a vacuum of silence, and all she could hear were his words. "I wonder... if I were a vampire, would you invite me in?"

For some reason, that question felt so very important. And yet, Hermione answered it with a brazenness she was coming to like using on him. "So long as you bring your rare potions texts with you, then you're welcome to be my guest."

An odd moment followed wherein Hermione's gut warred with her mind about whether or not she should take it back. But their arguments were rendered silent when his dangerous smile suddenly put her arousal in charge. Especially with that very “cat got the canary” quality to it. Yellow wasn't exactly her colour.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Oh, I didn't-" her weak attempt at a protest died in her throat when he suddenly grasped her fingers and brought the back of her hand to his lips.

He kissed the skin hard enough that his 'fangs' left shallow indents. Something about that had her wondering if it would be the same if he was kissing her between her legs instead. She didn't even try to scold herself that time, her mind was already running wild with imaginings. Odd how it seemed to worsen the more he was in her space.

When he straightened back up and released her hand, she lamented the loss of contact. "I'm afraid I must be going."

Normally, Hermione prided herself on reading people. But she couldn't tell if the remorse in his tone was contrived or not. 

She croaked out a weak, "Already?"

He smiled again, and she was positive she felt herself sprouting yellow feathers in place of her cat ears and tail. "Not to worry, Miss Granger. I'm sure our paths will cross again very soon."

On her next blink, he was gone; leaving only the phantom sensation of his lips on her hand, and a lingering scent of winter. 

Dazed by the entire encounter, Hermione decided it was probably time for her to go home. She’d done her due diligence via attendance at this point anyway, and she wasn’t convinced she hadn’t just hallucinated this entire thing. Maybe George Weasley had had a hand in spiking the punch with something more potent… or maybe she had crossed paths with a spectre, just not the one she’d surmised him to be.

She straightened her jacket and walked over to where Harry was still dancing, waving to catch his eye from across the fire.

He skirted the flames and beamed a glassy-eyed grin at her as he approached. "Who was that bloke you were talking to?"

His question sobered her whirling mind, slicing through the mire of heat and wanting that had been threatening to spiral her.

"You didn't..." Her eyes flickered between his. "You didn't recognize him?"

"Nope," Harry shook his head, sending unease spiking through Hermione's gut. "Seems that he liked you though."

Harry hadn't seen Severus.  Did that mean she'd actually gone mad and was hallucinating her old Potions professor? Even though she didn't know him nearly well enough to recall him in the detail required for such convincing delusions… Or was there something else at work here... She definitely could still see the faint lines of where his fangs had pressed against her skin.

Shaking herself off, Hermione flashed a wan smile at Harry and said a cheery, "Enjoy the rest of your night!"

He pouted. "Are you leaving already?"

She’d gotten very good at feigning being tired, and felt this was one of her best performances. "I've got some work research to do before bed."

"Of course you do." Harry rolled his eyes and pulled her into a hug. "Well, I'm glad you at least came out this time. Draco and I were starting to think we'd have to drag you out just to see you."

The wool of his coat scratched her nose and she stepped back before it could make her sneeze.

She figured she owed throwing him a bone. "I promise I'll put more efforts into socializing with the two of you."

Harry pointed a wavering finger in her face. "I'm going to hold you to that."

Hermione laughed, danced one ring around the fire with him, and then started walking to a distance where she could safely Apparate home.

No sooner had she spun into existence in her living room than she was shrugging off her jacket, ears, and tail, and calling out for Crookshanks. He didn’t respond, but it wasn’t unusual for him to go off wandering now and then.  

Her beeline to the staircase was intercepted when she noticed a stack of books on one of the armchairs in her sitting room. On examining the selection, she noted mostly unfamiliar titles, or ones she didn’t recall purchasing.  It stirred a small kindling of fear within her, and she had to tell herself to calm down.  She had so many books, it was possible some had slipped her mind and were due for a re-read.  Maybe subconsciously she’d known this and was sleep-researching again.

Pinching herself for letting her paranoia get to her, she continued up the stairs of her two-storey, homey little house.  She'd bought it with the money from her Order of Merlin, and had proceeded to forego things like memorabilia and trinkets, instead stuffing it with books. They called out to her now as she ascended to the second floor, and she figured there was likely a text or two that might give her some kind of hint as to who or what exactly she'd been talking to by the fire.

But there would be no research until she'd had a glass of wine, and a bath – in which she would likely touch herself to the memory of the Snape apparition's voice, and the intense way he’d looked at her.

Real or no, the encounter had ignited the scant fantasies she'd had of him in her school days, and she was feeling like the heady, indulgent nostalgia might clear her head enough for some heavy reading.

Sighing aloud, and enjoying the way it echoed back in the silence of an otherwise empty house, Hermione strolled into her bedroom and yanked her jumper up over her head, leaving her in only her bra.  She was just reaching back to unclip it when the sound of an unexpected voice startled her so badly, she jumped.

"By all means, do continue." She knew the owner of it before he even stepped out of the shadows.

"You." She narrowed her eyes at the potential facsimile of Severus Snape, wand in hand. "What in the blazes are you doing in my house?"

His returning grin showed his fangs. 'Why is he still wearing his costume? Is it part of him breaking in? Some weird prank... or is he getting off on this?'

"You invited me in, Miss Granger. I believe you saw my rare potions texts in your sitting room."

She frowned, a crease forming in her brow. "I thought we were having a lark. I was taking the piss."

It felt like she blinked and he was in front of her. "I wasn't."

Hermione took a step back, keeping her wand elevated and her voice steady. "What in Merlin's name are you?"

Her heart raced when he took a step closer. "Your ex Potions Master."

She scoffed, taking another step backward. "Bollocks. Professor Snape wouldn’t have shown up uninvited like this."

With lightning speed, he had her chin in a bruising grip, unperturbed by how her wand was digging into his abdomen.  Maybe she should have blasted him right there, but she was oh so intrigued as to where this was going. "Oh, but I was invited, Miss Granger. And it’s very bold of you to presume to know me."

"Regardless of your claims, the last I checked, Severus Snape died in the Shrieking Shack to Nagini's bite months ago." She dug her wand deeper into his front; he didn't even flinch. "If you really want me to believe you’re him, then prove it."

He very slightly lifted her via his grip on her chin, and bent down to murmur into her ear, "After all this time?" He felt her tense, the rush of her blood calling out to him as he whispered, "Always."

Hermione gasped and stumbled backward. She and Harry were the only ones left alive who had seen that part of the memories Severus shared with his dying breath. 

Yet still, she narrowed her eyes in mistrust. "Snape would never expose details of his personal life for something so trivial as proof of existence.  Especially not to someone he’s always seen as an annoying swot."

He tutted as he closed the gap again. "Now, you're just being difficult. I'm well aware you've already seen those memories.  And as for ‘exposing personal matters’, it should be obvious that my current state," he gestured toward himself, "means things like emotional attachments no longer hold any significance."

"How do I know you're not just a clever mimic?"

He sighed, wondering if her blood was really worth this much trouble. But when he reminded himself of the tantalizing whiff he'd caught by the fire, he conceded that yes, yes it was.

"How about you save us both the trouble and perform your little analysis spell.  Surely you'd trust your own magic?"

Hermione held firm as she pressed her wand back against him, casting a spell that would assess him on a cellular level and confirm his identity by comparing it to everyone who'd ever used a wand before. It was a very handy spell of her own design – one she'd come up with to help identify impostors, or suss out those under the guise of Polyjuice.

While the affirmative results assuaged her skepticism, they did nothing to help her confusion.

"You are Severus Snape," she said aloud, as though still trying to convince herself. "But... you still haven’t explained how you’re here. What happened? How did you survive the bite? Why have you been hid-"

He silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips, and she was again reminded of his lack of calluses. Something told her the ‘healing salve’ was bullshit too. "You get one question. So choose wisely."

Hermione scrutinized him, tucking her wand into her sleeve as she asked, "How did you survive?"

"'Survive' is a strong word." This time, when his eyes flashed red, she knew she saw it. "When I was on the brink of death, I was turned into a vampire."

Hermione snorted, he was having her on.  "Yeah, okay."

His eyebrow arched, accentuating a cool smile. "You don't believe me?"

She pushed past him and walked over to lean against her dresser, distancing herself. "Of course not. It's Samhain, and someone who was supposed to be dead randomly shows up and claims he's a vampire... sounds too much like one of Harry's terrible attempts at a ghost story."

"Well..." He was on her in two strides, lightly trailing his fingernail along her cheek. "I'm certainly no ghost, as you can see."

She didn't back down. "Why approach me?"

His lips twisted in amusement. "As I recall, you approached me."

"I..." He had her there. 

"I'll admit, I was glad for it." His voice dropped and Hermione didn't like the way it made her question her own conviction – something she’d had a firm stance on only seconds ago.

"Why?"

She froze when he leaned in, essentially pinning her to the dresser as he dragged his nose up her neck, inhaling deeply. "I could smell you from across the crowd. Your blood is temptation."

She swallowed hard, still in disbelief. "I-Is that why I was able to see you? Some kind of connection? Harry couldn't see your true identity."

He wore a serious expression as he toyed with one of her curls, but Hermione couldn't dismiss the almost mischievous glimmer in his eye. Like he knew more than he let on. "Maybe it’s because you’re much sharper than most."

She observed him in silence, using the brief reprieve to tell her body off for responding to his aggressive advances. Surely she wasn't that desperate...

"Say I believed you." She tried to keep her voice from shaking, but she wasn't entirely sure she'd achieved it. "What exactly is it you want from me?"

With his lips pressed against her ear, she could feel his smirk. It made her shiver against her will.

"What makes you think I want something, Miss Granger?"

She ducked out from between his arms, and took a few good steps backwards. "Oh, I don't know. How you were practically drooling over my pulse point just now?"

His laugh was cold, unfamiliar, and yet Hermione found she liked it. Gods, she needed to get laid – if she ever got out of whatever this was.  From the little she did know about vampires, they didn’t leave many survivors behind.

"I see I wasn't being very subtle."

She arched a dubious eyebrow at him. "Were you even trying?"

"You've grown more astute." 

Something different gleamed in his eyes then. Hermione thought it might be admiration.

"The only thing I've grown," she scoffed, "Is tired. Including being tired of this conversation. So if you could stop pussyfooting around what we both know you're going to ask for, I would like to get on with my evening."

"Ah yes, you were about to bathe." He cocked his head and she caught another flare of his nostrils. "And touch yourself, I believe."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as she felt her cheeks flame. "Now, who's being presumptuous?"

"It's not presumption, Miss Granger." He reached out and pressed one finger beneath her chin, tilting it upward. There was that tinkling, musical element to his voice again. "I could smell your intentions."

She could feel the hazy edges of something tugging at her mind, but that same haziness wasn't letting her pinpoint it.

Nevertheless, her bluntness still shone through the fog. "What. Do you want, Mister Snape?"

She got another view of his fanged smile. "Severus, if you please."

"Answer my question, Severus."

"As you wish." He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip, feeling his trousers tightening as he focused on the plump, soft flesh. "I want to drink from you, Miss Granger. And I think you're going to let me."

The haze in her head was stronger, headier, putting a heated spin on all of her thoughts. Instead of trying to recall how much blood vampires drink in one go, or what weaknesses vampires had, she instead became fixated on imaginings of Severus burying his fangs in her neck... or maybe her thigh...

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, and besides... she didn't know anyone who'd been bitten by a vampire before. This could be a new territory of research for her – provided Severus was actually telling the truth. Blazing a trail in the name of knowledge… already, the spark of the unknown was firing up theories in her mind. Now, she thought she might be more disappointed if he wasn't a vampire, despite assessing it to be the most likely outcome.

"You're right," she said brazenly, maintaining eye contact.

She'd been hoping to surprise him, but his wicked smile only deepened. "I thought as much."

"But you have to answer another question of mine first."

He mildly inclined his head, a magnanimous gesture for Severus Snape.

"Are you influencing my mind right now?"  This time she did surprise him, and she was satisfied by the lift of his brow.

"Clever girl."  She couldn't really explain it, but even though he'd been terrible to her in school, and now had broken into her home and more or less threatened her... his praise had more of an effect on her than she wanted it to. She’d only craved it for nigh on seven years, after all. "You've deduced correctly, I'm impressed."

"I've learned how to sense when my mind is being intruded on, ever since the war." She smirked, wanting to take a dig. "For someone who used to boast their skill in Legilimency, I'm surprised you were so easy to detect."

There was that smile again. The one that had unattainable layers beneath it.

"Perhaps you're just that in tune with your mind."

Hermione snorted. "If I was that connected with it, I would have been able to push you out."

His finger under her chin very swiftly turned into a strong grip of her jaw. His eyes continued to bore into hers, and he still had that mellifluous quality to his words.

"Do you want me to stop?"

She couldn't tell if it was the truth, or if it was his influence when she answered, "No."

"Good." His other hand curled around her hip – it struck her how much surface area his palms and fingers covered. "Because I wouldn't have anyway."

Hermione had had enough of the back and forth. It was time to truly call his bluff.

"Are you actually going to drink from me? Or just keep threatening to..."

His fingers dug into her. "Eager, are we?"

She tried to ignore the hitch in her breath when his grip on her jaw tightened. "I'd just assumed a bloodthirsty vampire would have already torn my throat out. Yet you seem... hesitant."

In a split second, he had her wrist up to his lips, worrying small indents with his fangs. A promise of penetration. 

"Don't mistake a preference of delayed gratification for hesitance, Miss Granger. Blood tastes sweeter when it's been made to wait. To anticipate."

Hermione, still suspecting she was being played, stayed true to her audacious form. "Excuses, Severus."

"By all means..." He licked a stripe up her inner wrist, savouring the hint of copper he could taste through her skin. "I could drink you dry in seconds and leave you a husk on your bedroom floor if that’s what you want." Her pulse started racing and he could feel it. "But I much prefer to play with my food. And I think you'll find, Miss Granger, that despite your assumptions… you are not the one in control here."

Hermione didn't realize she'd started breathing a little faster, but Severus did. It meant more oxygen travelling through her bloodstream, the richness of it calling out to him. He softly groaned against her wrist, already knowing she would be one of the best he'd ever drunk.

Hermione, however, still had plans of being resistant. She wanted proof. Factual, visible evidence of his claims.

"Don't vampires usually go for the neck?"

Severus looked at her with the pretense of being affronted. "My, how forward of you, Miss Granger. I was planning to accommodate your delicate sensibilities and start small." It was a lie, an obvious one. Intentionally obvious.

"There is nothing delicate about me." Hermione rotated her hand so she could cup his cheek. 

It felt cold, but smooth. As though all the trials and tribulations of the war had been wiped clean from him. She was more positive now that there would be no evidence of Nagini’s bite on him either.

"Well then, if you insist." 

A surprise breath was forced out of Hermione when he pressed himself flush against her back, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

"Still letting your narrow mind guide you, Miss Granger?" He could sense her stiffened posture, no matter how hard she tried to relax.

"You haven't bitten me yet, so… yup."

He spun them until they were facing one of Hermione's mirrors.  He watched her eyes widen as they caught the returning reflection.

It was just her, seemingly standing alone in front of the mirror. She could see the arm-shaped indent in her skin below her breasts, where he was holding her, but that was it. He cast no visible image himself.

"Bugger," she rasped out and pushed herself away from him.

Severus let her do it, and fixed her with a condescending smirk. "My, but fear does make the heart beat faster, the blood run quicker." He lent into his supernaturally-gifted speed, appearing behind her and murmuring in her ear. "Do you know what else makes blood run fast?"

Hermione jumped and shifted away from him again, finally leaning more towards belief than cynicism. "Running away from you?"

He swiped his tongue along one of his fangs, made smug by how her eyes followed the action – he'd known they would. "Orgasms."

She scoffed far too loudly for it not to be contrived. "You're daft if you think I'm going to let you... wait..." The visual confirmation of his condition had unlocked something in her brain. "That influence on my mind... that was vampire thrall you were using on me, wasn't it? Both here and at the fire?"

Everything about him suddenly sharpened. "Sometimes you really are too clever for your own good."

Fear finally lanced through Hermione's stoic doubt, and she calculated her best plan of action. Ultimately, she decided it was best to lean into the 'flight' of fight or flight, and she reached for her wand, intending to Apparate.

"Looking for this?" Her breaths came faster when she realized her wand was no longer on her, but in Severus’ hand.  She hadn’t even noticed him nicking it from her sleeve. "You're welcome to come and take it from me."

She wasn't falling for that one. Instead, she ran.

And because she was so focused on getting out, she missed the dark way Severus smiled as he said, "I love it when they run."

She bolted straight for the stairs, figuring if she could get outside, she could call for help. It was a wonder her protective wards hadn’t activated already – which meant one of two things. Either he’d disabled them… or deep down, she wanted this and they weren’t registering him as a true threat.  She was certainly learning things about herself tonight.

The second her foot hit the bottom floor, she was slammed against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from her. Severus' fangs were in her neck before she could even scream.

It hurt, though not quite like she'd anticipated, it was more of a burn. 

However, the longer he drank, the more it turned into a different kind of heat, one that very much confused her.  Until her hazy brain overcame her ongoing blood loss and she voiced aloud a theory.

"Are you dosing me with something? Aphrodisiac?"

He pulled back from her, causing a few errant drops of blood to smatter her neck. "Why do you ask, Miss Granger?" He blinked innocently at her. "Are you aroused?"

"No."

He ran his tongue over his fang marks on her throat. "You're aware I can literally taste when you're lying? Your heart beats ever so fast." 

Hermione could see where this was leading, and while she probably should have been terrified, or angry, or panicked... she wasn't. Maybe it was due to whatever he'd put into her bloodstream because she was abruptly overtaken by the urge to have him bury himself inside her. 'He was your Potions professor, remember? Voldemort's right hand, murdered Dumbledore, insulted you damn near on the daily.  Find a piece of wood and stake him.'

But while her mind seemed to believe she was capable of such a feat, she had a feeling her body wouldn't cooperate. She also couldn't tell if she was genuinely turned on by this version of Severus and what he was doing to her, or if it was all the aphrodisiac.  Maybe it was the type that only enhanced desires that already existed. She had been ready to masturbate to the thought of him earlier...

It felt like she had to fight her vocal cords to speak. "What have you done to me?"

She felt his finger swipe across her neck and then watched him suck a blood droplet off the tip. "It's just a bit of a 'relaxant', if you will.  Are you not feeling relaxed?"

She glared at him. "Seeing as you can 'taste it', what do you think?"

Again, she was faced with a smirk she wanted to slap off of his face. "I think you want me to fuck you into this wall."

The second he said it, it was all that filled her mind. She kicked herself for not listening to see if he was using thrall on her or not. Was this insertion of his will? Or did she actually want it...

He levelled her with a cold stare, and she noted that this time, there was no melodious quality, no further hazing of her mind.

"I can make you feel sensations you've never experienced before. It was once shown to me, it opened my eyes." 

"Why?" With less of the mire clouding her mind, her curious nature broke through. "Why would you want me to feel pleasure?"

"Don't twist it, girl. This is solely for my benefit. A well-edged, desperate meal plan delivers such delectable blood. And the only taste better than that, is the endorphin-saturated blood of a freshly wrung orgasm. But there's no reason you shouldn't also benefit from it."

She cleared her throat. "And what if I refuse to come? Deny you that craving?"

She hated how much she was liking his laugh – derisive as it was. "It's charming that you think you won't be begging for it within the hour."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself."

More and more, she was presenting a challenge. And Severus found it appealing to be challenged. It was a refreshing break from the doldrums of fearful screams, mournful blubbering, and boringly eager vampire fuckers.

"You realize I could very easily thrall you into doing what I want."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, she'd caught a glimpse of him now. "But you won't, because it would bore you. You want the fight..."

The corner of his lips quirked upward almost of their own volition. He saw that same boredom in her too; the tedium of the post war, when the way forward had become painted in the ordinary rather than battles with dark forces. "A wager then. If I can make you come within five minutes, you're mine to do with as I please until I become bored of you."

She eyed him carefully, but couldn't quell the pre-emptive taste of triumph on her tongue. No one had ever managed to get her off in anything less than thirty minutes, she knew she would win. Though she still wanted to tip the scales out of his favour, just in case. "I'll agree to your terms, on two conditions."

"Name them."

She pressed her fingertip on his chin. "One, you're not to use any of your vampiric gifts on me. And two, when you fail, I get to ask you as many questions as I want, and you have to answer them."

"Dea-"

"Oh wait, one more condition." She traced her finger up, over his lip, and along one of his fangs. She had a feeling asking for him to spare her life would only further jeopardize it at this point. So she sought to make him lose instead. "You can only use your hand for this 'challenge'."

"You mean, like this?" He didn't waste a second, plunging his hand into her pants and going straight for the crux of her thighs.

So far he'd done what most of her partners had done before – minus those who wouldn't know what foreplay was if it brained them.

But unlike the others – who would clumsily rub her clit too hard, or miss it, or, worst of all, actually flick it – he bypassed her clit entirely and teased at the very bottom of her slit. This was different, and she found herself already getting wetter than she'd hoped to. But there was still time to resist – something she confirmed with a glance at the clock.  

Severus was deliberate in slowly drawing his finger up through her folds, spreading the growing moisture as he went.  At the top, he shaped his hand into a V, and started stroking along either side of her entrance. 

Hermione hadn't realized she was even all that sensitive there until now – it was an area she herself often bypassed when seeking out her own pleasure.

"You look surprised, Miss Granger," he hummed, and she could feel the reverberations of it. "No one's touched you like this before, have they?"

She wasn't going to confirm or lie to him about it, thus she turned her head away from him. He took advantage of it and started nipping at her neck, his tongue soothing over the bites.

"You have three minutes."

She hated how tremulous she already sounded. Obviously, he would have heard it too.

"More than enough."

He started tightening the V until he was very slightly dipping his fingertips inside her, ensuring the balls of his knuckles started rubbing her clit.  Instinctively, Hermione clutched onto his sleeve, though she managed to swallow back the moan threatening to come out. She wasn't about to encourage him.

Part of her wanted badly to best him – she wanted that sweet information about something so unprecedented. To be the first to learn it. But then the other part of her... was a different kind of curious. Any further thought process on the matter was quickly dispelled when Severus started rocking his hand, curving his fingers deeper each time.

"How long now?" he asked it like he already knew, and didn't care.

"T-Two minutes." She cursed herself inwardly for stammering.

Her entire body twitched hard enough to surprise even her when he abruptly curled his fingers on the inbound motions.  He was the only one other than herself to hit that particular spot.

His voice came raspy and promising against the shell of her ear. "I already know your body, girl. You might as well give in."

"One minute."

She hated how close she was. She still held the belief that he wouldn't get her off within one minute. But her body was responding of its own volition, she didn't exactly have a say anymore. Even less so when he suddenly changed everything. There was no pattern to the way he switched between plunging his fingers into her, curling and uncurling, massaging and hard stroking. It was quick, sinuous, calculated yet not formulaic.

Unfortunately, it was also just how she liked it.  Heat coiled low in her abdomen, winding so tight and fiery.

"There it is..." He ran his tongue along the shell of her ear.  At the same time as he plunged his fingers deeper, rubbed harder, and nipped her earlobe, he uttered a rough, "Come for me, witch."

Hermione knew there was no thrall at play here, which made the way her body instantly obeyed him all the more shocking.

She moaned out a loud, "Fuck!" caught up in the tidal crashes of her orgasm, while also incredibly mad at her biology for betraying her like this.  It didn't help that he kept stroking her, being disconcertingly tender about bringing her back down.

She jumped when he gave her clit a pinch. "Unpredictability, Miss Granger, is your undoing. You hate tedium just as much as I do."

Frowning, Hermione glanced at the clock. It was useless anyway, she already knew he'd won, and her nerves were starting to ramp up over how he might have his way with her. Part excitement, part trepidation – she harboured no illusions he would at all be merciful.

Going for a distraction, she tried for nonplussed. "I'm surprised you didn't drink from me... what with the endorphins and all."

"Don't worry, pet, that'll come much later. Once I've made a thorough mess of you."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "‘Pet’?"

"Mine, yes. Because tonight, you will do whatever I say."

She opened her mouth to retort, but her breath was stolen from her when Severus grabbed her shoulders and somehow transported them instantly to her bedroom.  It wasn't via Apparate, nor was it a portkey... 

"Was that some kind of vamp-"

She was cut off for the second time when Severus suddenly pushed her onto the bed. "Question period is over. Get on your front."

Her returning glare was filled with fire. "I could just not do as you keep demanding of me. All that's binding me is my word."

"Oh, but you will." He deftly flipped her over like she weighed nothing. "Because this is intriguing to you, thrilling... a situation in which you get to learn something new, and secondarily, you can stall longer for your life." Fuck, he had her number too. "It’s also a situation in which you know you'll actually get off, for once."

"How did you-"

"I read it on you, pet." His smirk was audible.

The sudden rush of cool air against her heated skin told Hermione he'd just magicked the rest of her clothes off, leaving her entirely bare to his eyes. She didn't even bother trying to cover herself; he'd already had his fingers buried inside her anyway.

"Up on your knees." The certainty in his authoritative tone kept igniting more heat between Hermione's thighs.

She was reminded of speeches about bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses.  Yet, she still wasn't entirely positive he wouldn't desiccate her at the end of this. Should she really be this turned on by someone so dangerous?

"I said knees. Now."

His more impatient tone was accompanied by a swift smack on her ass cheek and Hermione yelped. As though acting on autopilot, she started pushing herself up with the intention of getting on her hands and knees. But her efforts were halted by Severus splaying his hand across the back of her head and keeping her face pressed against the mattress.

"No hands, pet. I want that arse in the air."

She wanted to be indignant at least one more time, she had standards to uphold after all. "You really think you can just order me around like this, Severus Snape?"

He pushed down on her head with a little more force, effectively muffling her against the duvet. "Not 'think', I know I can. Now, this is the last time I'll say it nicely: Get up on your fucking knees."

Hermione swallowed back her pride as she tried to get her knees bent beneath her.  It was difficult without the leverage using her hands would have given her, and she suspected Severus was enjoying watching her struggle.  But as just about everything else she applied herself to ended up working out, this was no exception. It took some awkward wiggling and twisting, but she finally managed to get on her knees.

"Good girl." Severus purred. "Bring your hands behind your back."

Hermione was appalled by how wet that made her. 'Condescending asshole... The vampirism made him worse.' Or maybe it was better.

Hesitantly, she obeyed – she figured he would just wrench her arms behind her otherwise.

A soft little breeze blew over her upturned cheeks and palms just then, accompanied by the tingle of nonverbalized magic.

"What are you-"

"Just ensuring you can't try anything, pet." His suggestive drawl smoothed over her raised hackles.

She instantly recognized the feel of the fabric being secured around her wrists as her Gryffindor scarf.

"You'll stretch the wool..." She pouted, trying to distract herself from how being this helpless was lighting a fire within her.

She was surprised by her own whimper as he grabbed her hair and pulled her head up from the bed covers. "It's not the only thing I'll be stretching tonight."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for what she felt would be the inevitable pain of him slamming into her.

He surprised her again by circling his tip around her very slick entrance, taunting.

Her voice came out a bit breathy from the way her neck was bowed back. "I-I thought you would've-"

"What? Split you open?" He added more pressure to his tracings. "Pain only serves its purpose when it's controlled, pet. The unwanted will bring a bitter taste to your blood. And after all the efforts I've already gone to tonight, I'll not have it."

A shiver danced across her spine, and to her consternation, Hermione found her body shifting backward, seeking him out.

"You see, girl? Your body is already begging for me. Maybe if your mouth joins it, I'll give you what you're looking for."

Despite having his own very set agenda, Severus still wanted to hear her ask for it. He'd been reminded of how difficult this new nature was to control when he'd almost torn her throat out at the Samhain celebrations. It would have been very easy to drag her into a dark alley and exsanguinate her. She wouldn't have been his first.

But the lure of there being more bubbling just beneath the surface of her arteries was too strong, the temptation for a challenge louder than the hunger.  Some people just naturally tasted better than others, and he had no intention of letting any other vampire have the pleasure of sampling her. Whether or not she lasted the night was entirely up to her, but either way, she wasn't going anywhere now.

"W-Why?" She tried to turn her head to smirk at him, but he held her fast. "Making sure I want it?"

"No." He gave her one quick, very shallow thrust, then returned to teasing. "I want you to hear how much you want it. How you're craving it without being under any kind of thrall."

"Again, why- ah!" He'd given her another poke.

"Denial dulls the flavour."

"Fuck..." He'd shifted to rubbing his cool cock back and forth between her thighs, dragging across her clit in such a delicious way. 

Hermione had never been teased like this before – it was almost decadent, taboo. The svelte song of a dark siren of the night.

"I can feel the enticing way your pulse is pounding in your cunt, pet." He rubbed a little faster, revelling in her wet warmth. "You're aching for what you know I can give you: Ecstasy. Hedonistic, forbidden... you want me to ruin you until there's no going back."

"Do I?"

Her question was more directed at herself – it felt like he'd read things she hadn't even known she was saying.

This was far more than pure academic interest at this point, she could recognize when she’d gone off the reservation. He'd shown her glimpses of what he was capable of, and she was getting less and less appalled by the fact she wanted more of it. She needed to see just how much of a mess he could make her into. And if he did end up drinking her dry at the end of it...? Perhaps it was her general cynicism talking, but she could think of worse ways to go. 

She jolted when he dragged sharp fingernails – or maybe they were claws, she hadn't looked all that closely – down her back, leaving jagged scratch marks. "Your blood sings it out to me."

The light sting of his raking fingers stoked her higher, as did how he gave her another taste of his girth with a repeated shallow thrust. 

Her shoulders ached from her bonds, connected by her new scratch marks, and the tingling tug of some of her hair strands pulling loose. She wasn't sure she'd ever wanted anything quite this badly.

Knowing he would drag it out further otherwise, she went for her best beg on the first go, "Please, Severus! I need you to fuck me!"

He bottomed out so hard and fast inside her, she lost her balance. 

He steadied her by her hair and restrained wrists, somehow making his groan sound mocking. "Good girl, giving up on your conviction so easily." He sharply rolled his hips. "I'm proud of you."

"That's n-not – Merlin, fuck" – another thrust, he hadn’t been exaggerating about stretching her – "My conviction j-just adapted."

"Ah yes, the fickleness of humanity." He slid deep enough that his pelvis was mashed against her buttocks, and rotated his lower half. He knew exactly what parts of her he was hitting. "I remember it well."

"A-Are you saying... mmm!" – her drive for answers was starting to weaken in the face of what he was doing to her – "You've no humanity left?"

He leaned over her and bit into her shoulder, fangs and all, following it up with two more bites in the same vicinity. He traced his finger through the light pinpricks of blood, smearing it across her skin, marking her. "I’ve no need for it."

Severus knew she would try asking more questions, trying to detract from her own swift climb to the first of multiple peaks he intended to dangle her over. Thus, he set into a brutal rhythm of plunging into her, using her hair and wrists as leverage, knocking her breath from her so she could no longer speak.

The room filled with the sounds of Hermione's moans and the forceful smacks of skin meeting skin. Even as she was rocketed toward another orgasm, she was certain she could hold out; prevent him from getting what he wanted so easily. But her resolve melted like a sugar quill on the tongue when he released her wrists and reached around to stroke her clit. 

"Oh gods, I'm gonna-"

"No you're not." He could sense every nuance, every little shift in her body, and he knew precisely when to coax and when to stop.

It trilled so beautifully for him, that he distantly contemplated whether a repeat evening might be in order after this one. Providing he didn't kill her in his feeding frenzy later.

He brought her as close as he dared before pulling completely out and away from her.

The baleful sob it ripped out of her had him stroking himself as he watched her quake with her denied release. Her reactions had brought him near his own edge, and he had no intentions of holding back.

The second the threat of her climax waned, he drove back in, thrust thrice, and emitted a deep groan as he came inside her.

'Did he just...?' Hermione's jaw dropped – partly because she could feel the pulse of him as he emptied himself, and partly because it still hadn't been close enough to push her over.  He'd planned it that way, 'selfish bastard'.

"So you get to-"

He interrupted her again. "My orgasms have no bearing on the succulence of your blood. Why would I deny myself the pleasure of spilling inside you?"

Her resultant grumble was only half-strength. "You could have at least asked first..." She would deny it tooth and nail, but him coming inside her showed her she was affecting him too.  There was power in that, a power she wouldn't relinquish anytime soon.

Still buried deeply – though she could feel his release starting to drip out – Severus untied her wrists and brought one of them up to his mouth. He sank his fangs into her radial and took a small sip.  He was taste testing her, like one might do while cooking a savoury dish.

"Mmm..." He licked over the small wounds before dropping her hand. "We're getting there."

Already, Hermione was wondering what level her sanity might be at by the end of the night. If she made it that far. 

Having finally caught her breath – and a rein on the pained ache of her needy flesh – she cleared her throat.

"Can I at least go and clean up?"

"To what end?" He squeezed her ass cheeks, eyeing the damp patch on the bed below where he was leaking out of her. "I'll just dirty you up again."

She kept her head on the bed while looking back at him, certain the more submissive posture would better reach him. "Please?"

His cock twitched back to life inside her, making her gasp with how quickly he hardened.

He noticed. "One of the perks, or perhaps curses, of being a vampire... endless stamina." 

She might be in trouble. 

"I j-just want to wipe off my legs. Please, Severus?"

"Call me 'Master' and I'll consider it."

She bit back her pride, spurred by the thought of enacting a sudden, foolhardy plan. "Please, Master?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. You have five minutes."

The wet sound of him pulling out accompanied her shaky exhale, but she was quick to hop onto her equally shaky legs. "I'll be quick."

"You'd better hope so."

The undertoned threat was clear, and Hermione was swift to duck out of the bedroom. She pretended like she was heading for the bathroom down the hall, but instead turned and very quietly made her way downstairs, toward the kitchen.  Peering over her shoulder, she was relieved to see she was relatively in the clear, and picked up her pace. Her pulse raced as she approached the kitchen counter, reaching for a porcelain pot atop it, one from which drifted a very pungent smell.

'Almost-'

Her triumph was cut short when a sharp yank of her hair just about pulled her off her feet. Hermione instantly found herself back against a firm, wiry chest, with a low growl sounding in her ear. "Your beating heart gave you away, girl."

'Fuck...'

Before she could blink, she was splayed on her back on the cold wood of her kitchen island, her head draped over the edge and dangling, as were her limbs. Even though it was upside down, this was also the first full good look she’d had of him naked. He was as toned as she’d imagined under that frock coat, and unsurprisingly free of any scars.

"Thought you were clever, did you? Going for the garlic?" He slapped her cheek hard enough to redden it, relishing her sharp, surprised inhale. "What exactly were you planning to do with it, hmm?"

Hermione tried to push herself up, but swiftly discovered her arms and legs had been magically Incarcerous’ed in place.

He slapped her again, harder. "Answer me, pet."

Despite his anger, and the obvious danger lining his every purposeful movement, Hermione felt the need to push him. To show him she was no easy mark, that he'd have to work for what he wanted. Maybe it would make him think twice about trying this again – provided there would be an 'again' for her.

"You're the vampire here, aren't you?" She projected as much sass into her tone as she could. "Surely you can figure it out."

His eyes flashed a warning crimson, but there was delight beneath it.  She'd just invited him in further.

"I can see my mistake has been giving you free run of your mouth." He stepped up to the island and tapped his thick, hard cock against her lips several times. "I shall have to remedy that. Open wide."

Hermione badly wanted to taste him, wanted to see if she could use her mouth to make him slip in his otherwise controlled façade. She didn’t even care that she’d very much become caught up in whatever this was.  But the urge to make him beg, even just a little, won out.  

She turned her head sideways and stated a sweet, "I will if you say 'please'."

The red in his eyes flashed ruby and she thought she might be about to get another slap. 

Until a possibly impressed smile curved his lips and he purred, "Open wide… please?"

Her mouth opened in surprise, she hadn't expected him to give in so easily. He was quick to take advantage of it and guided his cock between her still parted lips.  Hermione barely had the wherewithal to take a deep breath before he sank to the back of her throat and stayed there. His balls brushed against her nose and she did her best to fight back a gag. He was thick enough to make her jaw ache, but even the small rivulets of saliva starting to wend down her face weren't enough to deter her from using her tongue.

"Determined, are we?" He hummed appreciatively as she hollowed out her cheeks. 

He could sense the oxygen content in her blood dipping, and waited until the moments before she might have passed out before pulling back enough for her to breathe through her nose. "I used to find that stubbornness of yours insufferable," he commented as he stroked from her chin down her throat – able to feel the faintly bulging outline of his cock. "Now, I admire it."

He pushed in again, settling deeply, testing her resolve. They both knew she could easily stop him, all it would take was a clamp of her teeth. It was a competition of sorts: Who would break first? He decided to try upping his chances by reaching over and tweaking her nipples.

Hermione could feel her vision starting to darken as her oxygen depleted again, but she refused to stop moving her tongue. It was the twitch of him, the stiffening in his posture, how he couldn't go long without touching her that showed the mild cracks. She wouldn't hope she'd make it out unscathed – she suspected not even Severus necessarily had full control over that – but she would at least go down knowing she'd gotten him to say "please".

She sucked more harsh, ragged breaths in through her nose when he pulled back, preparing herself for the next round. But she jolted in surprise when instead, she felt his fingers swipe her clit – she hadn't even noticed he was reaching for it – followed by a light slap against it.

"Did you think I wouldn't edge you again?" The reverberations from his deep voice rumbled through her as he slapped again and rubbed a little harder.  She instinctively tried to arch her back, limited by her magical bindings.

He kept up a slow pace with his hips, fucking her throat in a smooth, measured beat. She gagged a couple of times while getting used to it, and then she started swallowing around him. It made Severus shiver, and he rewarded her for it with a soft groan and a more targeted strumming of her clit.

"Keep that up, pet, and maybe I'll end your suffering."

Hermione doubled her efforts, hoping she could find a way to take her release if he stopped again. She didn't entirely trust he would follow through on something so conditional, but it was all she had to go on at the moment. Maybe, at the very least, she could make him come early, surprise him.

He pistoned faster, his motions slicked by the excessive saliva spilling out past her lips. She'd had to close her eyes against both that, and the harder nudge of his balls with each thrust.  His fingers suddenly sank inside her and she moaned around his cock, sensing his twitch when the vibrations caught him off guard. She ensured to moan even more after that, noting how it made him drive his fingers in faster.

Not one to be outdone, Severus played facetious. "Hmm... I think this isn't quite enough for you, pet."

She yelped, muffled by his cock, when he freed her ankles, gripped her ass, and pulled her lower half up toward his mouth. Her legs rested atop his shoulders, her body curled in almost the perfect C – aside from where her wrists were still stuck to the table. Just as equally helpless as she’d been seconds ago.

He ran his tongue through her thoroughly soaked folds, humming. "Much better. More difficult for you to resist me."

Hermione clamped her thighs around his head when his tongue dipped deeply inside her, followed by a punctuating swirl and suck.   She'd shatter in minutes if he kept that up. Which was probably exactly why he was doing it. It had her wanting to will it to happen quickly so she could ruin his progress, to assuage her need to challenge him.  Like she was taking out all of her past anger and hurt through this very display.

He worked her thoroughly with his lips and tongue, his fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents. All while he pumped his cock faster and faster into her mouth. 

He was close again, and had every intention of painting the back of her throat as things crescendoed. His rhythm grew more erratic, and he translated that unpredictability into his tongue's motions.

Her moaning, bucking, licking, and swallowing finally did him in, and he groaned deeply into her centre as he came across her tongue.  Had he fully let his attention wane, he might not have noticed how abruptly she was approaching her own peak, timed with his release. So she was about to get off on him getting off... interesting. Though it wasn't happening on his watch, not yet. He pulled his mouth away from her as she swallowed down the last of his release, making a few final languid thrusts before pulling out of her mouth entirely. 

Her wet, rattling gasps were music to his ears, as was her furious outburst. "You said if I-"

"I said maybe," he chuckled as he corrected her, broadening his tongue and licking a firm stripe across every aching part of her.

"You're such a pri-"

He cut her off, again. "I never would have guessed that such a depraved little thing and the Golden Gryffindor princess would be one and the same."

Hermione frowned. "I-I'm not-"

"You almost had your orgasm take you by surprise just now, pet. I felt it. Your body doesn't lie the way your words try to." His tongue dipped into her again, eliciting a shiver. "Or have we finally passed the point of you pretending you can hold out against me?"

"Keep dreaming."

"Hmmm..." He turned his head and sank his fangs into her thigh, honing in on her femoral as he registered her aroused little gasp. 

Her blood flooded across his tongue and he savoured a good sip before pulling back and letting the remnants trickle down her thigh and splatter onto the underside of her breast.

Setting her back down on the island counter, he smacked his lips and said a smug, "Still not quite ready, but we're closer." He then proceeded to lick the errant, coppery smears off of her, teasingly avoiding any spot that might bring her even just a modicum of relief.

Hermione learned her hands had been freed when she went to instinctively bury them in his hair, and found she was able to. The ache within her had become a more painful throb – she so badly wanted the bliss she'd been taunted with for what felt like an eternity already, though was probably really only an hour or less. But she would keep masking it as wanting to foil his plans.

She tried to guide his head to where she really wanted it, to coax his tongue back onto her. For a split second, he obliged, driving it into her as deeply as he could and licking over her clit on his way out.

She groaned in frustration when he stood up, a sound that swiftly became another yelp as he tugged her up to sitting.

He draped her arms behind his neck and dragged her to the counter's edge, using his knee to spread her legs wide. His head dipped, his long, raven hair obscuring his face as he kissed along her shoulder, interspersed with more sucks, bites, and subsequent trickles of her blood. He hadn't been downplaying how he’d make a mess of her. 

Firmly, yet with the gentleness of a long-time lover, he slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and tilted her head back.  His gaze was still intense, crimson, but she convinced herself she caught a glimpse of the humanity he'd claimed to have left behind.  Without warning, his lips crashed to hers with enough passion that she could have easily been persuaded he meant it. 

As his tongue delved into her mouth, his fangs pressing against her lips, she felt him harden alongside her thigh and he started grinding against her. He gripped her ass tighter, pulling her to him, deepening the kiss when she wrapped her legs around him.  Hermione wasn't entirely sure of the motivation behind this round, but she lost herself in his embrace, finding the way their lips slotted together to be nothing short of searing. When he slid inside her, it was slow and – dare she say it – tender, and she moaned unrestrained into his kiss. 

This was different, so so different from how he’s been the rest of the night.  Could she dare to think that maybe she'd affected him more than she thought? Made him yearn for a more intimate connection? Or was she fucking kidding herself...

He started pulling her more forcefully against him, hitting so very deeply with each plunge. Hermione clung to him, rocking her hips to meet him, rubbing her clit against him in the process.  

"Severus... fuck, please!" 

He pressed his forehead to hers as he rotated his hips more, exacerbating all of her building need throughout the night. "What is it, Hermione? What do you need?"

The softness in his voice had her instantly wondering if this was what she could have had if she'd known sooner that he survived. He could have fucked her like this on every available surface by now; here, his place, Grimmauld, probably Hogwarts... was she crazy for thinking this way?

"I... I need to come! Please!"

"I know you do..." He hilted deeply within her and rolled his body. "But you can hold out longer for me, can't you, love?"

That particular nickname had her blurting out the same truth it was catalyzing. "No, I can't." She used her legs wrapped around him as leverage, roughly meeting each of his motions as she fiercely chased release.

"That's unfortunate, pet." She was too hazed to pick up on the implications in his tone, but it cleared up pretty quickly with his next words – layered with the now familiar melodic tinkling as they were. "You're not to come until I allow it."

It had been an act. A wonderfully immersive act, and now Hermione was waking up to it. To add insult to injury, he drove in once or twice more before spilling inside her yet again, as though mocking her, showing her what he'd been stopping her from having all night.

"Fuck..." she whined, raking her fingernails down his back in retaliation. "So it was all fake?"

"Mmm..." he moaned low in his throat as he dragged out the last of his climax with a few more slow thrusts. "Do you want me to say it wasn't?"

"No..." Something snapped just a little bit inside her. She'd wanted that with him in the moment, a real version of it.  And having it pulled away so carelessly... well, she supposed it was her fault for falling under the fantasy in the first place. Yet, a question still slipped from her, unbidden. "Why?"

He softly kissed her again and she could have sworn he was trying to appease her. But that would mean he cared, which wasn't true... right?

"Because intimacy and passion inspire a more profound physiological response within you; within your blood." He tried to give her sad pout as sympathetic an expression as he could fabricate. "It's not your fault, pet, it's biological. You're inherently geared toward intimacy to encourage survival. I simply exploited that."

The haze of the thrall slipped away and Hermione eyed him with a much keener scrutiny. Severus found he didn't like it.

"Were you like this before you were turned? Or is this all the vampirism's doing?"

He buried his face into her neck and dug into her carotid, taste-testing her blood before responding. "I'll let you think whatever you like, pet."

She wasn't done with her interrogation, no matter how much his bite was making her heart pound. It annoyed her that she wanted to feel his fangs in her again.

"You said you wouldn't use your vampiric gifts on me." Her tone was accusatory.

His was smug. The cat had got the canary again – though she was looking more red than yellow now. "It was never specified that that would apply for the rest of the night."

He made a lazy roll of his hips, his semi-hard cock plunging in enough to make some of his release flood out of her and onto the counter.

"So then... have you been lusting me up with each bite too?"

"No, I wanted you to feel the sting of it. Any lust you felt was your own." He smiled wolfishly at her. "I told you that you would beg. And you did it so sweetly too."

She ignored him, not buying it. "I can't tell if you're lying or not."

He chuckled at her startled squeak as he lifted her off the counter, keeping his cock firmly seated within her as he walked them toward the stairs. "Interpret it how you will. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

She slid her hands up the sides of his neck and cupped his jaw, searching his gaze with an earnestness that made him uncomfortable on a level he freely ignored. "Will I ever sleep again?"
His smirk didn't reach his eyes. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

As he started walking up the stairs, he exaggerated each step, purposely bouncing her on his cock and basking in her whimpers. 

"You should consider yourself lucky," he said softly once they'd reached the top of the stairs. "I've never gone beyond three edgings before. Normally, they're dead on the ground by now because I'd tired of the game."

Hermione supposed she should probably be far more bothered by that statement than she was - he hadn’t hid the fact he’d killed people. But so had she, and even though hers paled in number and reason, she’d done her fair share of questionable things during the war too.  And she hadn’t made nearly the same magnitude of sacrifice that he had.

Her attempt at her own smirk was interrupted by a moan when he curved one of his hands between her ass cheeks as he walked, and started massaging the tight puckered hole he found there.

"I-I'll take that as a compliment," she said breathily.

He paused just past the threshold of her bedroom, gathering some of their combined fluids on his finger before sinking it into her arse, knuckle-deep. He found he couldn't get enough of the way she squirmed – like she despised that she wanted more of him, and that want overpowered any other emotions.

His tones rang almost warningly in her hair as she rocked against him, trying to take his cock and his finger deeper than he was allowing. "You may come to find that death would have been preferable."

She leaned back, intentionally giving him a better view of her body while trying to take him faster. "You're so dramatic. Who do you think you are, Count Dracula?"

His lips quirked of their own volition. "Perhaps less depressing."

He gave in just a tiny bit, moving her up and down more than she was able to do herself.  Just until he got them to the bed, which was when he promptly pulled her off of him and tossed her onto it, watching her bounce several times. With an elegant nonchalance, he climbed up and sat with his back against the headboard.

"Do you want to come, pet?"

They both heard the visceral almost-growl in her voice, driven to it by need. "Like you wouldn't fucking believe."

He pointed to where his glistening cock stood tall and firm. "If you want it, then take it. Ride me to your completion."

She didn't bother waiting to see if he was taking the piss or not, quick to straddle him and sink down onto his cock.  She embraced urgency, vigorously rocking her hips, eager to peak before he decided to take it back.

His hands fell to her hips as he watched her, unable to tear his gaze from her bouncing breasts, or the frenzied way she repeatedly took him inside her. "What do you say, pet?" He dug his fingernails into her hips and dragged them, leaving more marks. "For telling you you're allowed to come this time?"

She smirked as she kept bouncing on him, "Don't get it twisted, you're doing this for your benefit."

He arched an eyebrow, laced with the unspoken threat that he just might edge her again if she was too brassy. 

Hermione immediately leaned forward, moaning at the change in angle. "Th-Thank you, Master."

He stole a hard kiss before she even knew what was happening. "That's better."

He gripped her hips then and took complete control of her movements, rocking her hard and fast while rolling his hips upward, sinking deep.

"F-Fuck..." She gripped onto his shoulders for support, her body already restarting its fast climb toward her peak.

He kissed her again and she met him with equal fervor, moaning into it. His fang pierced her bottom lip and the metallic taste of her blood flooded between them. He ran his tongue over it and sucked hard as he moved her even faster, knowing she was close.

The coveted sweetness her blood had finally achieved proceeded to ignite his bloodlust, and he met her gaze with an intent that dug down deep inside her and tugged. 

His deep, guttural command affected her more than any of his vampiric talents had. "Come on my cock, Hermione. Now. I want to feel that eager little cunt squeezing me while I drink you damn near dry."

She didn't even have to try to obey, her body was already doing it for her. It rolled in like a cresting wave, starting low in her abdomen, and reaching explosive heights when she spasmed, spiraling outward. Her fingers clawed into his upper arms and she screamed his name, her head tilted back, vision blurred, torn between the previously unknown ecstasy, and the instinctive fear it might be her last.  But running had never been a true option, so at least she’d have this bliss.

With her neck so wonderfully bared to him while her body squeezed him for all he was worth, Severus took his opportunity.  Fangs buried in her carotid, her blood gushed out of her to meet him with every beat of her eager heart. It was the sweetest he'd ever had, instilling a euphoria he'd not once experienced since being turned – and he'd be willing to wager no other vampire had either. In the midst of it, she clenched at him again and he let her drag him into his own climax, emptying himself inside her while he drank hungrily, greedily. 

When he'd first manipulated his way into Hermione's house, he'd had every intention of draining her entirely empty, leaving nothing.  He'd felt no need to pretend like he would spare her, and thus hadn't made any such promises.  Yet now... while his instinct still very much wanted him to take everything from her, he knew he would never be able to shake such delicious blood from his memory. He would seek it out endlessly, desperately, but never be able to match or replicate it. Not like this.  There were no others like Hermione Granger.  

As much as his still novel nature reared against it, Severus started slowing down the speed with which he was pulling from her.

Hermione, meanwhile, had been resignedly leaning into the feeling of her body weakening, of consciousness trying to slip away from her, and imagining she would welcome Death with tired, open arms.  Thus, when she felt Severus' fangs disengage, she was surprised – beneath the immense fatigue and anoxic thoughts. It took her a moment to open her eyes, and even longer to notice that he'd been trailing his finger along the skin of her shoulder, drawing patterns on her in her own blood.

"You didn't..." She roughly swallowed, her mouth dry. "You didn't kill me..."

He brought his finger to his mouth and licked it clean of her blood.  As he did, he took in the sight of her thoroughly debauched body: Dazed eyes, mussed hair, smears of dried and still-drying blood, scratch marks, bruises, groupings of fang punctures... if he didn't know better, he would think it was stirring a feeling of possessiveness within him. But surely that was solely about her blood.

"I did not," he affirmed as he eased her off of him and let her slump onto the bed. 

The sheets were equally as messy:  Blood-smeared, fluid-stained, and even ripped in one or two places. He was leaving her with quite the mess – and didn't feel even an iota of guilt about it.  He wasn't her lover, he was her Master.  He clicked his tongue as he watched her, drunk with exhaustion and running her fingers over her various injuries, with a particular focus on the fang marks. "You gonna heal me?"

"No." He rose from the bed and re-dressed himself with a wave of his hand. "Those marks will stay."

Her smile was a clumsy one. "Marking me as yours?"

He stiffened as she looked up at him with something that could easily be confused for contentment. She was clearly mad if that was the case.

"No other vampire will touch you with those adorning your body."

"Ahhh, so it's protection," she hummed to herself as she reached for her wand.

Severus flinched, both at her implication and the potential she might be about to try blasting him out the window.  Then again, she was too woozy to do much damage right now anyway.

"Not protection," he hissed as he stooped and roughly grabbed her jaw. "Your blood belongs to me. No others can have it. Do you understand?"

Hermione bit her lip as she nodded. Despite him claiming it was just her blood, it still stoked the low-burning fire within her that he was claiming her as his in some way.  Really, anything was getting to her right now because she hadn't expected to survive the night.  Maybe it was because of that. She'd read him early on that he would have no compunctions leaving her an empty husk on the floor just as he'd threatened. 

He'd surprised her by keeping her alive, not that she was complaining.  Though remaining alive meant she had to take certain precautions and preventative measures considering how thoroughly he'd just ruined her.  Drawing on her waning energy, she cast most of her usual cleansing spells, and summoned her contraceptive potion, downing it in one swallow.

"You don't need the contraceptive..." Severus didn't know why, but the idea of her cleaning herself of him bothered him more than it should have. He found he needed physical confirmation she’d washed away his traces – maybe it would allow him to distance better than his already failed attempts. He stepped forward and pushed Hermione onto her back, giving her no warning before he sank two fingers inside her as deep as they would go. He was more relieved than he wanted to be when he felt that the evidence of his release was still there, lingering. 

He smiled darkly at her. "I knew you liked having me come inside you, pet." He enjoyed her quiet moan as he pumped his fingers a few times before withdrawing them and bringing them to her lips.  Not waiting, he pushed them into her mouth and firmly commanded, "Suck."

She obeyed, almost instinctively in her tired state. She'd become so pliable... it didn't look right on her.

His cock twitched when she swirled her tongue over his fingertips more than necessary and he roughly pulled his hand back, trying to ignore the pure desire in her shining gaze.

"Here." He pulled a blood replenishing potion from within his frock coat and tossed it on the bed before standing. "Take it before you pass out. Or you might not wake up again."

Hermione looked groggily down at it then back at him. "You do care."

"Not even slightly," he scoffed. "But if I'm to drink from you again when the sun sets, you'll need more blood in you than you currently have."

The hope in her eyes burned him. "You'll come back?"

He looked down his nose at her. "I'd be a fool to pass up on such a rare, recurrent bouquet like that which flows within your veins. But trust my words, Hermione, the day I grow bored of it, will be your last."

She licked her lips, not believing his threat for an instant – maybe it was her misguided sense of attachment born from how deeply he'd been inside her. "Yes, Master."

His eyebrow arched, lending him a refined arrogance. "Good girl."

He turned, intent on leaving, but the soft request in her tone held him in place.

"I think I earned one question, Severus."

He didn't turn around. "Ask it. Maybe I'll answer."

Hermione was glad he didn't see the way she rolled her eyes. "At the fire... why was I the only one who could see you?"

He turned his head just enough to see her over his shoulder. "Because I allowed you to see through my glamour. I wanted your blood, so I let you think you were somehow special, the only one with the talent to see me."

Her slow nod took him aback. "That makes sense. Considering how you basically manipulated your way into my house."

He huffed, "Caught that, did you?" The haughty look that crossed her features had him continuing, "You could have rescinded that invitation at any time, you know."

"Excuse me?"

His smirk was the last thing she saw before he whirled off in a cloud of black smoke. As she downed the blood replenishing potion and settled into her covers – after Scourgifying the blood away – she wondered if she could test that invitation theory later, just to fuck with him. It might be fun and for some absurd reason, the idea of making him angry only enticed her more. But now was the time for sleep, not scheming, and she leaned into it as the early hints of dawn tinged the sky outside.

Her dreams ended up being filled with crimson eyes, glinting fangs, and a dark heat that felt more addictive than it should.

She was definitely in trouble.