Unlikely Connections

Chapter Eighteen - Salomé's Dance: The Dance of the Seven Veils

"Striptease, Belly dancing and the "Dance of the Seven Veils" are linked to the dance of Salomé. The dance of the Seven Veils is basically a Belly dance routine and is considered very seductive, using veils, removed one at a time."

As Hermione woke slowly, she curled her fingers around the soft, crisp cotton sheets over her chest. How nice and warm it was here! But where was she? She wasn't quite sure. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and staring around into the semi-darkness. A deep voice startled her from her examination.

"At last," he groused, rising from a chair in the shadows near the fireplace.

Hermione grimaced in protest, her hands instinctively going to her hips. It was then that she realized that she was completely naked. A loud squeal forced its way through her lips as she yanked the sheet up around her neck.

"Where are my clothes?" Her voice came out in a panicked shriek as she gripped the flimsy cover tightly.

Snape growled at her but forced an answer. "I called upon a house elf to take them and have them laundered and brought back to your room. That potion - which was an hour of my time and three of yours - the one you so brilliantly managed to destroy, happens to be an undiluted form of the anesthetic and sleep aid that Poppy keeps in stock in the hospital wing. In that state it can wreck fabric and burn the skin. That's why I ordered you to get undressed."

"But I ... I didn't finish getting undressed, I passed out," she started, confused.

"Yes."

"Then who ...?"

He sneered at her. "I did, of course."

She gasped and clutched the sheet even closer to her chin.

"It was quite necessary Miss Granger. As I told you, the potion would have burned your skin." The look on her face was still incredulous, almost accusatory, which picked at his temper. "For God's sake, Granger. I am not some lecherous old sod who simply needed a peep at a young woman. You spilled something on you - stupidly, I might add, as I firmly instructed you not to let it spill - and now I am attempting to save you from personal injury. Quite cordial of me compared to the usual, I'd say. Now get out of the bed."

"What?" she managed, "why?"

He was hovering over her now, scowling down at the bed from his height. "Because I need to examine your body for burns. If they are not counteracted soon, the potion burns will leave irreparable and rather unattractive scars. Not to mention cause some serious pain if they are allowed to sit."

"But ... but ..." she stuttered helplessly before gaining her thoughts. "Couldn't we get Madam Pomfrey to do it? I mean, do you have to ...?"

Severus sighed heavily. "We do not have that much time to waste, Miss Granger. The effects of this potion are immediate. In fact, it's most likely somewhat precarious that I waited long enough to allow you to wake on your own instead of inducing consciousness. We must do this now."

His tone brooked no refusal, and Hermione, ever dutiful to teachers, made to obey but stopped short when she became reacquainted with the fact that she was still nude. He growled again, but moved across the room to his large armoire. He tossed the first garment that came to his fingers to her, which she recognized as one of his long black teaching robes - which, she found was not surprising to her, was interminably scratchy and uncomfortable.

"Put that on, you will feel less vulnerable. If you are really that squeamish, you can reveal pieces of your skin at a time so you don't feel so--"

"Naked?" she finished testily. She had gotten out of his bed the instant his back was turned. She certainly wasn't fond of the idea of being naked in Snape's bed. Nor was she warming to the idea of wearing his robes or having him ... look at her, but ...

"At some point you will have to show me some rather private areas," he began, his impatience in his voice, "seeing as how you managed to dump the entirety of a very valuable potion down the front of you. But what matters right now is whether or not you are sustaining burns." She could almost hear his hackles rising.

"Are you quite finished?" he snapped after another second or two of silence.

"Yes," she replied meekly.

He could barely contain a bodily twitch when he turned around. It was so strange to see her standing there, drowning in one of his robes. She wasn't really petite, per se - slightly above average in height and solidly, though not unfavorably, built - but, as he had nearly a foot over her in height, the robes swallowed her. The sleeves dangled at least two inches beyond her fingers, the bottom hem hiding all but her toes, with the result that she looked like a child dressed up in her father's good clothes. He couldn't contain a derisive snort.

"Oh, shut up," she snapped, "this is humiliating enough without you reminding me that I look ridiculous to boot."

He allowed the situation to go without comment, merely withdrew a pair of thin, silver framed reading glasses from an inner pocket in his robes. He knelt down in front of her and put his fingers to the top buttons, but then drew back.

"Well," he said quietly, "you need to choose the area you'd like me to look at first, and then I'll examine for burns."

She pondered for a moment and then lifted the bottom of the robe, baring her legs up to a point high on her thighs. "Well, you did say it went all down the front of me," she said in answer to his incredulous stare. "Start there."

He cast the same illumination charm as before, though she didn't catch the word, and it lit up large splotchy patches along the tops of her calves and thighs. She smirked as she watched him tuck his wand behind his ear. She was reminded forcefully of her father, who always wore his reading glasses on the end of his nose with a pen perched behind his ear. She was slightly startled, however, when he started a low, soft chanting and laid his fingers on the now-glowing patches across her legs. Beneath his fingers, she felt growing gentle warmth.

"You're a healer," she said quietly, no little amount of awe in her voice.

He did not raise his eyes, but stopped chanting aloud. "When you work with children who are dunderheads and potions that are dangerous, you need to know how to counteract the effects of said dangerous potions on the aforementioned dunderheads."

"Even with a trained medi-witch on premises?" she countered. "You can heal without a wand. That's an unusual gift. You had keep that quiet."

"Hmmm?" he asked, moving to the next leg and healing the burns there as well. "Keep what quiet?"

She smiled slightly. "That you can fix people instead of just terrifying them to tears."

He smiled, only a hint of his normal sneer in it. "It keeps the little beasts intimidated to think that I can only cause neuroses instead of fix them. Next area."

She pondered again for a moment, anxious to show as little skin as possible. Eventually, she sighed and unbuttoned the neck of the robes. She shimmied her shoulders out of it and held the material over her breasts, just above her nipples. He smirked, presumably at her modesty, but said nothing. Instead, he cast the illuminating charm again and laid his hands on the side of her throat, over a small burn. Again, his fingers were warm.

"Aren't burn charms usually cooling?" she inquired in an effort to gain some semblance of normality.

It was clear that he was concentrating quite ardently on the charm he was casting as he chanted slowly, she was amazed that he could cast the spell internally and still converse. "Actually, the anesthetic sleeping draught you spilled burns by freezing. The potion does not feel cold to the touch - neither does it feel hot, that's why you were able to carry the cauldron with bare hands - but the anesthetic aspect works by freezing the nerve endings within the cells. So naturally, to counteract, one would need to warm.

She nodded slightly, blushing as his hands moved over the splotchy burn dipping deep within the cleft of her breasts. He continued without comment, his hands gentle despite the scratchy calluses edging the outside of his thumbs and pads of his fingers. All of a sudden, she noticed that the warmth from his fingers had become a searing heat, deep near her left breast, and she winced noticeably.

"That one burned deep. It needed a great deal of warmth to heal it." He spoke brusquely, but then softened. "Forgive me if I hurt you."

"That's all right," she answered swiftly.
He lifted his hands and then said, "Next."

This is going to take a bit of craftiness, Granger, she thought to herself.

Snape watched in amusement as Hermione rebuttoned the top of the robes and unbuttoned from the middle. She opened the robes just enough to expose the skin underneath her breasts to that just above a very low panty line. He raised an eyebrow at her as she cupped her hands under her breasts, apparently holding them out and high enough to allow him to open the robes and place his hands on her skin. He chuckled heartily as she grimaced.

"I feel ridiculous," she muttered.

"You could save yourself the agony if you simply dropped the robes and allowed me access to all your skin at once."

"Oh yes, being stark naked in front of one of my professors would be lots less embarrassing. Thank you, I don't know why I didn't think of that myself," she snapped, receiving a hearty chuckle again from Snape, who was now on his knees in front of her. He was examining the lit burn splotches so closely here that his nose was no more than a quarter inch from her skin.

He shrugged his shoulders. "At least we wouldn't have to do this ludicrous charade. Eventually, whether you like it or not, you are going to have to show me those areas which you are so tenaciously trying to cover. I am quite certain there will be burns there and to have scars on those sensitive areas would be ... most unfavorable."

"Hmmm," she mumbled, unwilling to concede that he was definitely correct.

She started violently when his hands pressed against her lower abdomen, his fingers gently probing. His nose bumped against her belly.

"What? I haven't even performed the charm yet, it couldn't have hurt ..."

She stifled a giggle. "Actually, it tickled ..."

"Oh good lord ..."

She huffed indignantly, but said no more. After a few moments of probing and healing, he rose to his feet. "The time has come Granger," he said, gesturing vaguely in a tugging motion to the robes she was now clutching tightly around her breasts. "Time is wasting, Miss Granger ..." he started again.

She took a deep breath and, with every inch of resolve she had, willed herself to drop the robes. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut - she couldn't bear to look at whatever expression might be on his face at the moment. She could almost hear the smirk in the air, however, as he responded.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Granger, I did undress you, so technically it isn't anything I haven't--"

"You finish that statement and I hex you into next Tuesday," she said through gritted teeth.

He laughed loudly. "Suit yourself."

She eased the pressure on her eyes but did not open them. Instead, she merely listened as Snape's voice repeated the illuminating charm and began his healing. She started at the first feel of his fingers moving in the gap between her legs, gently warming the skin on the upper side of her right thigh. She opened her eyes just a crack and looked down curiously towards where he was 'working.'

Blissfully, she noted that there were no lighted marks indicating burns anywhere more private on her lower stomach, but there was a wide, jagged splotch extending from her left nipple under her right breast. She felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment when he caught her looking as he lifted his hands towards the last burn.

He said nothing, only moved his hands underneath the right breast and began chanting the healing charm. The heat was intense, almost painful. This burn must have been deep. She mentally cursed herself for the dawdling and tried not to screw up her face as the heat intensified to pain the closer he moved towards her nipple.

Rather than skimming over the skin with his fingertips as he had before, however, he lifted his hands completely and placed his whole palm flat against her breast, chanting louder now, visibly concentrating much harder. She knew, somehow, that if he were not doing so, she would most likely be crying out in pain. Instead, he shook with the force of it.

As he finished up the spell he was sweating lightly and his palms were warm again against her skin, she gasped. His concentration was broken. "What's the matter?" His face was glazed with concern. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said, reddening in the cheeks, "no it felt ..."

"It felt what?" he said quickly.

She lowered her gaze and dropped her head. "It felt good. Your hand there. It felt very good."

He rushed away from her, his face suddenly alight with frustrated anger. "I try not to encourage this ... I try ..." He swore loudly, and in another bout of angry frustration, growled, "what do I have to do to get this hormone-driven lust out of your head?"

She did not stop to consider that the harshness of the statement may have reflected his own contemplation of that same feeling within himself. She did not stop to consider that he had not meant this statement literally. Instead, she heard her voice respond with a statement she had barely thought of, but knew was the right answer.

"Touch me again," she said, raising the eyes that she felt blaze with desire up to his. "Touch me."

****

"What?"

"I said tou--"

"I heard what you said, Granger, I'm not deaf. Why exactly would I want to do that? What good would it do?"

"It's the only way ... to make things go away. You know it, I know you do. I an see the frustration in your eyes."

Snape, in a burst of anger, thrust his hands up fiercely under her nose. "Observe my hands, Miss Granger. I could tear you to pieces with them. And I would, if it would take this ridiculous reaction out of your mind, but it won't. And what you're suggesting won't either. These hands have been trained to destroy, Miss Granger. What you're suggesting won't alleviate the frustration it will only cause more. What I'm capable of with these hands can only be used to dominate. And to say the least, it would be less than prudent to allow yourself to be dominated by your teacher in such an ... in appropriate manner."

"Well, I'm sorry Professor, but you already dominate me." Hermione bent and snatched the hastily discarded teacher's robes, buttoning them in a haphazard way around her frame once again. "And not in just the more obvious ways. Ever since that night I wrote the essay for you, I think constantly about the way your lips felt. I dream about the way your hands feel. And I'd say after the other evening's foray into the world of," Hermione stopped briefly and cleared her throat, tugging at the restored neckline of the robes, "mutual yet distanced masturbation quite aptly proves that I can't get you out of my head no matter how much I try. Now, I ask you Sir, if that is not domination than I shall need you to provide a more succinct definition."

Severus stalked away across the room, turning his back to her and placing his hands on the mantelpiece. "Very well, if you want to argue semantics we shall call you dominated. However, you simply do not realize the magnitude of what you are asking me to do, Miss Granger."

She sucked in a deep breath and let it out again, hoping it would calm her. It did not. "Yes, I am aware. I know that sexually propositioning a teacher - any teacher - is serious misconduct and grounds for expulsion, even just hinting at it. And that doesn't even take into account the occupational danger you would be in, should you acquiesce to my request. I also realize that sexually propositioning a Death Eater," at her words, he spun to face her, but she continued, "is absolutely horrific in its dangerous potential. But none of that changes the fact that I can't stop thinking about it. And you can't either."

Snape turned back to the fire and didn't speak.

"I know you can't, Professor. I feel it every time your mind wanders to me. It's like pouring a drug right into my veins; my heart races, my mind spins and my body screams with it. And I can't imagine that yours doesn't do the same. I'm not asking for love, Professor, nor am I asking for romance. I am simply asking for you to put your hands on my body."

Snape turned back to her, his features obscured in the silhouette of the fire. His eyes skimmed across her, standing still wrapped in his robes. "I simply can't just go touching one of my students. I may be many unfavorable things, Miss Granger, but I certainly could not stoop to molest a child--"

"Woman," she corrected firmly, "who is of legally consenting age and who asked you to do it. If you chose to comply, that could hardly qualify as molestation."

"Miss Granger, I--"

"Please," she said quickly. "Please do this. And please don't ask me to beg again."

Later, Severus would wonder how he ever managed to will his legs to propel himself across the room. But however he managed it, he found himself standing near to her. Almost too near. He reached out a hand and lifted her chin, forcing her large, round, cinnamon eyes to meet his steely, dark ones.

"Are you certain you are prepared for what you are asking me to do?"

She nodded slightly. "I have been thinking about it all week, and for the first time I feel like it's the only thing I could do."

"Then there must be some rules."

"Rules?"

"There must be. For my safety and yours."

"All right then, name your rules."

"I touch you with my hands only."

She blushed, imagining the alternative. "Fair enough."

"You do not touch me under any circumstances." Did he hear her sigh minutely?

"Agreed," she responded.

"And lastly, you do not, under any situation or circumstance short of deathly torture by the Dark Lord, ever speak of this again, to anyone." He then quickly added, "Even me. Once it's done, it never happened."

She nodded as he released her chin. For a moment after he dropped his grip, he stood silently as if he either hadn't comprehended or didn't know what to do next. Then, as if unfreezing, he shook just a tiny bit and said, "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Yes," she said quickly, though her voice was not quite steady, "I'm certain."

"All right then," he replied, but made no move for a moment.

And then, just as suddenly as his anger had come earlier, he raised a gentle hand to her jaw line. His fingers trailed from her chin to her ear, lightly tracing her jaw with his fingertips. She shivered beneath his touch, pleasantly stunned at the gentleness of it. But there was something humming just below the surface of his skin as he trailed a light hand down from her ear across the soft hollows of her neck and throat to the sagging neckline of the heavy teaching robes still hanging off her frame.

She felt as if all of her skin was vibrating as he moved a single finger diagonally across her chest to where the buttons were done. She shook slightly in anticipation as his right index finger pushed open each button, one by one. Despite the energy radiating from his body, he seemed in no rush, and she tingled as his finger brushed against her skin infinitesimally before each button released. The tip skimmed her skin until just under her bellybutton. At that time, he raised a second hand and pushed the edges of the robe apart until only the pressure of her breasts held up the garment, the dark fabric cutting a wide slicing view of alabaster skin visible in a V from her shoulders and narrowing to her navel.

She chanced a look up at his face at that moment, his features were slowly melting into the unmistakable trademark sneer, but his eyes were glinting with something harder, something edgy and almost frightening. Hermione dropped her eyes again, this time following his hands, watching wordlessly as they pushed the robes to the floor. She smirked as she realized that this was now the third time today she had been naked in front of Professor Snape.

"You've had a busy evening," he replied, his smirk thick under hooded eyes.

She started at his response to her thoughts. For a moment she pondered how he could possibly have known what she was thinking when he responded almost immediately.

"Granger, you were thinking that so loudly that you didn't need to say it. Barring that, our connection would have provided adequate transmission had your face not been so achingly transparent."

She blushed in embarrassment, but it all washed away as he flattened his palms against each of her breasts. Her head bobbed, overwhelmed with sensation as he moved his fingers deftly and smoothly over her skin. Her body was screaming and shaking and sending all sorts of confused transmissions. She wasn't sure how long her legs would hold her.

He chuckled softly and flattened his palms again, sliding them down the front of her stomach. Hermione resisted the urge to stand on her toes, hungry for more contact as he slid them agonizingly slowly along the tender skin of her abdomen. Farther ... her mind pleaded, just a little farther ...

But he split his hands at the last moment before contact with the meeting of her body and knelt down. She groaned aloud in impatience, annoyed at his chuckle. She felt her flesh goose pimple as he ran just the tips of his fingers over the tops of her thighs and then across the backs of her knees to skirt up the back of her thighs. She gasped aloud as the thin, graceful fingers flattened out to grip the curve of her buttocks so quickly and yet so unsatisfying as they skimmed their way to the small of her back. He lifted his left hand and placed one slim digit under her chin. As his left index finger traced a path down the center of her throat, the tips of his fingers on this right hand slid up her spine, slithering out flat at the nape of her neck.

Overwhelmed with whatever spell - she chuckled inwardly at the irony of her mental choice of words - he was holding her under, her knees buckled and she nearly fell; his supporting hands worked quickly, however, and held her at the nape and his other arm swept quickly around her upper thighs, though she was barely aware of his stooping to catch her. In scarcely a second, she found herself scooped into the air and cradled against Snape's chest. She glanced quickly to see a deep blaze behind his eyes.

He laid her speedily - yet surprisingly gently - on top of the thick comforter spread across his bed now. She twined her fingers around clusters of the soft down as his hands resumed their exploration of her body. She closed her eyes again, lost in the seductive necessity for him to continue this touch. As one hand began to tease at and then away from her nipples, she felt his other hand trace gentle circles on her inner thighs. No longer able to control the impulse, her breath came ragged and heavy; inside her head, her whole being was screaming ... Please! Please just a little farther ...

"Patience, Miss Granger, patience," his voice purred low, a slippery chortle on his lips. But a squeak emitted from her lips as she felt a slim finger dip between her legs.

Hermione's pulse was racing as he moved and she longed to draw down his head, lay her lips to his and take all she wanted. But she fisted her hands determinedly in the blanket. She would not break the rules. She had given her word.

But just as the thought had hit her, she felt Snape break a rule of his own making. She moaned as he drew away, but quieted as his hands parted her legs and she felt the scratchy shoulders of his robe meet the inside of her thighs. A wisp of dark hair trailed feather light across her stomach as she felt him place the most intimate kiss on her body. Minutes splayed out on top of each other and she was slightly aware that she was mumbling incoherently until one shining moment when her whole body heaved and then lay still as she cried out her climax.

Almost instantly, she felt his weight leave the bed. She lay for another moment or two, savoring the warm tide of feelings still washing over her.

"Get out."

His voice was ragged, he was nearly panting. She sat up quickly, shocked, and stared at him. He was hunched in a chair across the room, his head resting in the slim hands that were fisted in a curtain of hair swallowing his shadowed face.

"I said get out. This instant."

Hermione looked closer, squinting her eyes in the low firelight. He looked up at her in anguish and as he did, his obvious arousal stunned her. She moved off the bed and softly padded towards him, something deep and hot tugging in her belly. She reached out a hand and laid it on his knee. "But Professor ..."

His hand came up swiftly, mercilessly slapping at her as he fixed her with a murderous stare. "Out, Granger!" he thundered. "You knew the rules, I did what you asked. Now leave me in peace."

"But ... but ...." She stammered. "You're suffering ..." She again reached out a hand towards his lap but backed away at his cold stare.

"I am always suffering, you fool, and for your moment of release I shall suffer further. Now if you insist on more sexual fulfillment, go torment those hormone-driven meatheads Weasley or Potter into shagging you like the relentless little bangtail that you are. I'll have no more. GET OUT!"

She was shaking, but whether in fear or rage, she couldn't be certain. Whatever the reason, she fought the sob longing to escape her and practically sprang from the room. As she had no idea where her clothes were, she gathered up the discarded robe and fled the office, buttoning the swallowing garments as she slammed the door behind her.