All hot and bothered and not a bed in sight? What's a Potions Master to do? Prove that vertical can be just as much fun as horizontal! Whether it be a wall, bookcase, potions shelves, or door, Severus and Hermione have never been known to be picky. Yes, it's another weekend of PWP moments!
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
Up Against the Wall... by teddyradiator
Tequila Shots by femmequixotic
Charades by mizsphinx
Rough Day at the Office by Mizz Adamz
Against the Wall by averygoodun
Like You Mean It by swooning
Seduction By Design by happilyjaded
Canvas & Paint by warded_portal and shiv5468
Misunderstanding at the Ministry by subversa
All Because of a Spider by siriusly_lupine
A Lesson Learned - Or Not by savine_snape
Miss Granger ... up against the wall ... with Professor Snape by laurielover1912
Damn! We Missed the Reception! by snarkywench_64
Lunch Break by emie554
1. As she opened the door to their home, Hermione’s senses were immediately on high alert. It was unusual for there to be total darkness, doubly so, given that she was late back from her current on going assignment with Kingsley.
As she reached for the light switch a hand grabbed her wrist pulling her away from the doorway and into the strong arms of her lover.
“Where...” Severus began, eager hands already pushing her outer robe off her shoulders. “Have you been?”
Hermione opened her mouth to reply – their surveillance had lasted longer than either she or Kingsley had expected it would when they briefed Severus on the case – but the words faltered on her lips as Severus’ tongue, forceful and desperate, plundered her mouth.
Her face burned where Severus’ five o’clock stubble rubbed against her chin and cheek. She tilted her head back as Severus latched onto her neck and sucked, hard.
“Fuck, Severus,” she gasped out, hands tangling in her husband’s long hair.
2. He could feel it in his waters. Striding down the darkened corridor, he could sense her here. He smirked. Professor Hermione Granger may be younger and quicker, but for a wizard who’d experienced everything Severus Snape had endured in his life, his reflexes were still formida-
The hands grasped him with astonishing strength and yanked him into the alcove. Although he knew the owner of the body that pulled him into the darkened recesses, Severus stiffened nevertheless. The adrenaline kicked into his system at the sight of the wand at his throat, but he managed to look and sound perfectly normal.
“Astonishing, Professor,” he said, his musical voice hitting all the correct notes of condescension and patronisation. “I will admit I was under the impression you were waiting for me, not planning an ambush.”
Hermione Granger smirked in an uncanny imitation of his own unbidden smile, and lowered her wand. “I thought after all this time you might enjoy a little spice with your sugar, Professor Snape,” she purred in return. “Ahh ahh ahh,” she admonished, as his arms snaked around her waist. “Mustn’t touch.”
“Then there’s hardly any point in meeting here tonight, is there?” he drawled, a silken thread of ennui woven into his tone. “Unless you’re planning on lashing yourself around my waist, I’m going to have to touch you, even if only,” he smiled lazily and leaned toward her, one eyebrow on the rise, “to mount you, my dear.”
“Funny you should mention ‘lashing’, my dear professor.” She laughed, pushing him back against the wall.
3. “Why did you bring me here... Hermione?” He stretches out my name, testing it on his tongue.
I open my mouth to answer, but find I’ve lost whatever reasoning I might have had when I stole him away. I helplessly shake my head.
His small snort of disbelief ruffles the hair skirting my jaw, tickling me.
“I don’t believe you would do something so foolish if you had no reason. I could believe that of your friends, but you always seemed more... restrained.”
“I had a reason,” I whisper, trying to control my voice, “but for the life of me, I can’t recall it.”
He chuckles into my ear, the sound hard yet silky.
“You always were a clever one, weren’t you, Hermione.” His voice draws out my name almost seductively and I repress a shiver. My breath hitches and I have to resist the urge to moan, though a small whimper does escape.
As if in response to my sound, his thumb starts stroking mine, even as his grip on my hand, and the dagger, tightens. There’s nothing I can do to stop the goose flesh creeping down my body.
“Tell me, Hermione, why did you bring me here?”
I shake my head again, biting my lip to keep it from trembling.
4. “Miss Granger,” Professor Snape prompted.
"Well, sir…maybe it’s best I don’t say…”
“You will tell me what those odious nitwits were saying or I will double your detention period,” he replied.
An indignant protest was immediate on her tongue, but noticing the glint in her professor’s eye, she dared not contest him. If ever there was a man known for his follow-through on his promises—and threats—it was Severus Snape.
She squirmed in her seat.
“Well, sir…they…well…they were saying things…telling lies!”
“We’ve already established that fact, Miss Granger. Carry on.”
“—and about me.”
He folded his arms. He lifted one eyebrow. Just one. Hermione vaguely wondered how he managed to do that.
5. The music twisted around them, loud and bright, and Granger was moving with the rhythm, almost unconsciously, her fingers tapping lightly against the marble bartop.
“Nice club,” she said, and Severus gave her an incredulous look. Surely she had no intention of carrying on a conversation with him. “Dean said it was, even if you were running it, and Harry wanted to come,” she continued, blithely. “He fancies Malfoy a bit, you realise, and he’s been so gloomy since he and Oliver split that I thought it might be good for him—“
“Granger,” Severus snapped, his head pounding again. “Do shut it.”
She glared at him as Edward set their drinks down. “Four quid, love,” Edward said, and Severus held his hand up as Granger began to dig into her pocket, pulling her jeans dangerously low.
“On the house,” he said, his eyes on the sliver of black silk just beneath Granger’s hipbone. He took a sip of whisky, and pushed a stray lock of lank, dark hair behind one ear.
She gave him a bright smile. “Thanks.”
With a grunt, Severus watched her lick the inside of her wrist. It was delicate, pale, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she tasted like. She sprinkled salt over her skin, licked again, then tossed back the tequila, following it with a quick suck on the lime as she grimaced, turning the glass upside down.
It was ungodly erotic.
6. He sat at his desk watching her through a curtain of his hair, her hands graceful as she slowly stirred the potion. He felt himself growing harder; remembering what else those hands did so well. Getting up to make rounds of the classroom, he slid up behind Hermione and purred in her ear, “Perfect, as always.”
He felt her shiver slightly at his words, a feeling of power flowed through him, knowing exactly how to make her respond. That this beautiful witch was his and no one else could touch her. Oh gods, he had to have her, not tonight, now.
As Potions class was winding down for the day, Professor Snape suddenly announced, “Miss Granger, I would like to see you in my office for a few moments, after class.”
“Yes, Sir,” she answered.
Trying her best to ignore the fleeing students, Hermione packed her things and strolled toward the front of the classroom.
Though she refused to meet his piercing gaze, Hermione knew that the Professor’s eyes would never leave her back. As soon as the door was closed tightly behind them, Snape flung himself upon Hermione, intent on devouring her lips as his deft hands played over her body like a frantic hummingbird.
7. "Why are you doing this?" He said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. His eyes hadn't left her hands and the increasing swath of bared skin beneath.
"Do you honestly think my mind will be changed by such a blatant display of... uh. Uhhhh."
"Display of what? I didn't quite catch that?" She had unclasped the front fastening of her bra and moved one hand under the peach-colored silk, playing idly with the already erect bud of one breast while her other hand continued down her stomach to unfasten the catch of her trousers. "Do you know what your problem is, Severus," she murmured, never pausing in her tasks, "You think too much. I may talk too much, I grant you that. But my talking too much is no match for your thinking too much."
Shrugging out of her shirt, and shucking off her navy trousers, Hermione paced around the desk, pleased to note Snape's eyes were now trained avidly on her. Standing beside him in the unfastened bra, tiny peach silk knickers, and a garter belt that held up stockings too sheer to hide anything, she felt absurdly powerful. A power she might not approve of, a uniquely feminine power that nice Muggle-born girls were usually raised to feel uncomfortable with, but a primal force nevertheless. The magical world had always recognized the link between magic and sex, and as strong as Hermione's magic was, she had been in some ways bound to explore the relationship eventually. Spending a few years in Paris had done wonders for her confidence in that regard, not to mention for her lingerie wardrobe.
Hermione ducked under Severus' right arm, and gracefully slipped into his lap, straddling him boldly. Feeling the evidence that he was, indeed, paying close attention, she smiled cheekily. Moving her hips against him rhythmically, she asked, "If I let you go, are you going to hex me?"
"Not before I shag you." He admitted, then moaned and tried to arch closer to the maddening warmth and pressure she was applying.
"That's as good as I can hope for, I suppose." He didn't want to think about where she'd been hiding her wand, but she produced it and spoke the counter-charm, then let it fall to the desk with a clatter as his arms clenched around her. "If I agree to stop talking, will you agree to stop thinking?"
8. He had found his way to the furthest corner of the Library, far back in the stacks, and was leaning against the bookcases reading. He had his back to her, book propped on a shelf, and was slightly bent at the waist. In one moment, all thoughts of potions left her, to be replaced with recollections of the taxi ride. She'd been braced against that body, had allowed those fingers to do what they would, had sung out her pleasure against that throat.
She wondered if she would ever be able to look at him again without thinking of sex in one way or another.
"Severus," she said, trying to imitate that purr he used on her to such effect. "There you are. I want -- your opinion on something."
"Mmm, what," he deadpanned, placing finger on the page and cocking an eyebrow at her.
She moved closer. "Well, I have found an interesting suggestion concerning the modification of the catalyst in the Wolfsbane, but chiefly I'm wondering if you meant what you said?" His brow furrowed. "That I could avail myself of your attentions if the fancy took me, because the fancy has."
He closed the book and the eyebrow rose a little higher. "Truly. Here. In the holiest of holies?" His hand reached for hers seemingly of its own accord.
"Mmmm, I think that just makes it better, or worse, whichever," she replied, absently, her attention fixed on her next move. "And I seem to recall we were interrupted before. It's only fair, after all." She moved closer still, then sank to her knees, putting one hand on his thigh to steady herself. She looked up at him, seeking reassurance that this was what he wanted.
He was so focused on the memory of the cab, it took him a moment to realize just what it was she intended. His fingertips brushed her cheek as he shifted, pushing the book back into the shelf and facing her fully. His eyes were wide and dark, and he whispered her name, half prayer, half plea.
9. “Yes, Hermione, at one time, I thought that I would eventually marry and have children. It was important to my father to have an heir to carry on the Snape name. My mother wished for grandchildren to bounce on her knee. As I neared the age of maturity, I’d heard their desires, and was fully prepared to make them my own.”
He absently stroked his left forearm, seemingly unaware of his doing so. “But then, I made a choice, a wrong choice, a costly choice. That one mistake would define who I was, and who I would become for the next several decades. At that point, I knew that marriage and fatherhood were not something that I would ever experience.”
Hermione took a few steps closer. “But you desired it?”
“Do you desire it still?”
Snape’s almost wistful expression morphed in a scowl, then he answered bitterly, “What I desire is irrelevant.”
“You think it impossible to fall in love and create a family?”
“Beyond impossible. Tell me, Miss… Hermione… who would be interested in partnering with an ex-Death Eater who takes pleasure in deducting house points? What damsel, young, old, or in-between, would fancy inhabiting my dungeon rooms and warming my bed?” He turned away in embarrassment, then growled, “I believe I am through answering your silly questions.”
It was an opening she’d only ever dreamed of, fantasized about; for she knew, had she approached him in reality, she’d have been unwelcome.
10. “Miss Granger, where do you think you are going in such an ungodly hurry?”
“I need to get to Divination.”
He stood in her path, preventing her from going further. Hermione cleared her throat. In the still, age-old air of the corridor the tension between her and Snape grew quickly. Her belly coiled as her eyes met the deep black of her professor’s. For a time neither spoke, simply stared at each other, not with animosity but curiosity, appraisal even. She did not shy away from it and knew instead that she was rather enjoying it.
His eyes flicked to the gap at the meeting of her collar bones.
“Your top button is undone.”
“Sorry, sir.” She started to do it up, taking a step backwards and coming against the cold stone of the wall.
“I didn’t tell you to touch it.”
Snape stepped into her. Her breath quickened but she did not move away from him. Hermione watched mesmerised as her professor raised his hand slowly and brought two fingers to rest on the flesh exposed by the undone button. The tips of his fingers were warm and confident. She urged them to seek out more of her.