Scattered (Book 1)

Severus Snape Unbridged (11)

I think this is sooo sweet

His hand shot out, wrapping around the back of her neck, pulling her face to his. His mouth crushed hers, his face tilted slightly, parting their lips, and he moved forward, pushing her backward. She let out an involuntary gasp of surprise as she fell to her back, his lips barely leaving hers as he trapped her underneath him. His tongue was against hers, his body heat seeping into the front of her, his fingers tangling in the hairs at the base of her neck. She kissed him back, overwhelmed by his sudden onslaught, her mouth moving independently of her thoughts, her eyes squeezed closed, her hands automatically resting on his waist, reorienting herself after the plunge.

His free hand came out of nowhere, pushing one of her legs aside, his weight shifted as he settled between her splayed thighs. The sudden feeling of vulnerability made Hermione snap her eyes open, her hands slipped to his hips and she pushed, keeping him from pressing down into her. He didn't seem to notice, his lips still possessing hers eagerly, his fingers squeezing her bare thigh. The legs of her shorts had fallen from the position of her lifted thighs, revealing more of her skin than ever, and leaving them exposed to his hot hand, and the feel of his cotton sweats brushing against the sensitive flesh.

"Wait, stop!" Hermione managed to gasp, turning her face just enough to break the kiss. With so much skin showing, and him kneeling over her, she was suddenly terrified of the thought of losing her virginity. A tent wasn't much better than up against a tree, and the hardness of his hands, his kisses, they weren't at all the romantic image she'd imagined for her first time.

His head lifted, giving her room to look up at him without their faces in contact. She felt her breathing, quick and choppy, her pulse racing with desire and fear. His black stare held hers, reading what she couldn't force her throat to say. She could see the impression of her own fear in his head, everything still washed in red lust, before he rolled his eyes, and dipped his head back down.

"I'm not going to deflower you." His mouth was at her ear, his teeth pulling gently at the lobe, his tone went from slightly miffed, to gruff, and needy. "Yet."

"Then-" Hermione flinched, and caught her breath as his lips trailed gently down the side of her neck, doing her best to ignore their path back up as she spoke. "Then what are you doing?"

"I want to make you scream." The words were just as sinister as they were sexual, his fingers tightening on her thigh as he said them, his voice a guttural growl that sent shivers up Hermione's spine. His head lifted, and he looked in her eyes again, delving into her reaction to his statement.

She felt her head swimming, a jagged spike of uneasiness splitting through her arousal with his voice. He wouldn't really make her scream, would he? Was he truly that sadistic? A thousand worries slipped through her thoughts, concerns about him hurting her, choking the life from her, forcing himself on her if she refused him.

"You wouldn't. You're not like them, I've seen the truth. You're on our side." She babbled, trying to soothe her own worries, more than argue his words. "You're a good man, despite what you pretend."

His hand slid from her thigh, bracing his weight on the ground, as he leaned up, giving her room to breathe freely as he stared down at her, a hard look on his face.

"Listen well, girl." He growled, his face full of acrimony. "I'm not some pet for the Order. I wasn't a spy because I'm a 'good man'. Whichever side I work against, remember, I am still a dark wizard." His thoughts were pulsing red and black, nothing in them refuting his words, not even a hint of doubt inside him that he was telling the truth. "I may not enjoy outright torture, but I'm not kind." His mind filled with flashes of his life: dropping a tree branch nearly on top of Petunia Evans, being sorted into Slytherin because he was cunning and ruthless, excelling at the Dark Arts, falling in with the worst crowd, creating his own Dark spells, using them without remorse, a few drops of steaming red liquid into a bottle, his father dead on the floor, doing everything in his power to ensure his success in the Dark Lord's inner circle...