The Serpent Chapter 12
Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
The Serpent
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Chapter 12
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Harry was almost impossible to pacify after the opulent gesture from the thief.
It wasn't just the flowers or the fact that somehow, 'The Serpent' had managed to sneak them into her office-into the heart of the Ministry-without anyone seeing him coming or going that had been the last nail in her proverbial coffin, no. What had really gotten his ire up had been the card.
There was no denying any longer that 'The Serpent' was intensely interested in her on a personal level. This wasn't just about work any longer, as Harry had rightly pointed out (shouted, more like). This was about her safety from an unknown, possibly deranged, and clearly obsessive criminal whose ego was out of control.
The idiotic perp was making her life hell with his unwanted attentions.
For his part, Malfoy had handled the revelation that she was being targeted by 'The Serpent' in a slightly calmer, more rational manner: he'd simply advised her to be more careful and Harry to consider the possibility of using the thief's interest as leverage. Then, he'd stood up and taken his leave of them both, tossing a last, curious glance over his shoulder at her.
How typically Slytherin.
For an hour after that, she and Harry had engaged in a shouting match that was surely heard through all ten levels (and the sub-level containment cells beneath the courtrooms) of the Ministry. She had adamantly refused to move in to Grimmauld Place with him or to accept bodyguards on her 24-7. She had conceded to him warding her place better, though, and to a magical trace on her person to assure her quick recovery in case of a kidnapping, unlikely though such an act seemed.
Harry hadn't agreed with her compromises one bit. His face had turned a silly shade of puce as he'd spluttered and raged on about her safety.
The moment he'd threatened to take her off the case, however, Hermione had drawn the line and put her foot down, refusing to be bullied by him into a course of action that a.) would make her appear a fragile flower and incapable of wielding the awesome magic in her repertoire, and b.) would hinder her ability to properly conduct the investigation. What if she'd had to go incognito to follow 'The Serpent' back to his lair, she'd demanded of him? She couldn't very well do so with a bunch of Cozzers (as Ron liked to humorously call the Hit-Wizards) stomping along behind her now could she?
Still, the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Take-No-For-An-Answer hadn't given up. He'd pulled out the big guns and had summoned the Minister, presenting Kingsley with all three cards the thief had left for Hermione, and informing their boss that he'd suspected 'The Serpent' might have developed an obsession with his pursuer. He'd then opined that given the recent developments, he'd felt it no longer safe or wise to allow Hermione to lead the investigation.
Hermione had rebutted with logic and fact, rather than with emotion.
Fortunately for Hermione, the Minister had sided with her. Calmly, soothingly almost, Shacklebolt informed Harry that, despite 'The Serpent's' apparent infatuation, he agreed with Hermione's assessment that their perp wasn't a dangerous fellow. He'd felt the thief was more interested in a game of cat and mouse than actually harming her, and he'd announced that such arrogance suited their purposes perfectly.
"If he's too focused on outsmarting our Hermione here, then he's bound to trip up eventually. All these narcissist criminal types do, don't they? Just look at the Lestrange brothers."
The brothers' arrogance had led to Hermione's pin-pointing them and their eventual capture, as Kingsley so rightly pointed out.
"In order to make this work though, we need Hermione on the team. She's got the experience, the intelligence, and the leadership skills to bag our man," their boss ruthlessly continued. "She's a seasoned Auror, a war heroine, and a powerful witch. She knows what's best for her, Harry, and if she thinks she can handle our perp's attentions, then so be it. I'm inclined to let her run with this, as you both agreed Mister Malfoy advised. I think his obsession with Hermione is a piece of our arsenal we shouldn't flinch from using, if necessary, to reel him in."
In an attempt to stop Harry from blowing up, Kingsley asked Hermione to promise them that if at any point she felt insecure and afraid, she'd immediately tell one or both of them. Her safety was more important than catching the thief, he'd reiterated.
Smiling sweetly at her unexpected ally, Hermione made the promise, and then announced her intentions to take the rest of the day off, claiming a headache from all of the yelling she and Harry had done at each other. Graciously, her superior agreed to allow her the time off, and he led a deathly quiet Harry Potter out of her office. She avoided her friend's eyes as he left, unwilling to deal with the betrayal she knew his green eyes reflected back at her.
His intentions might have been good, but she was pissed he had tried to take her off the case. She wasn't sure there was going to be easy forgiveness between them this time.
True to her word, the moment she was alone in her office, she penned a memo to Anthony to let him know he could reach her at her home if anything came up, and then sent an invitation to Ginny for that dinner she owned her red-headed friend.
What she needed right now, was a hot bath and some Anadin.
*.*.*.*.*
Sighing heavily, she sank in her bathtub filled with steamy water. The scent of the vanilla, lavender, and honey bath oils she'd dropped in infiltrated her nostrils, relaxing her. The hot water soothed her sore muscles, and had a calming effect on her temper, and for the first time that day, she let go of some of her righteous anger.
First Malfoy with his secretary, then Harry with his bullying. What a day.
Leaning her head back, she shut her eyes and allowed herself some peace.
Ring-ring-ring-ring.
The sound of her telephone shook her out of her restful state, and Hermione realised she had been about to fall asleep in her tub. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed her wand from the side table near the tub, and heated the now cooling water before summoning her cordless phone from the living room.
The door to the bathroom was gaping open so the phone came easily to her magical call. Living alone, she saw no reason to shut inside doors, especially as none of her friends would be so rude as to Floo over without alerting her first, unless there was an emergency.
Grabbing the phone in the air, she relaxed back into the tub, and hit the answer button. "Hello?"
Silence.
Hermione frowned.
"Hello? Is someone there?"
The sound of soft breathing greeted her ears.
"Who is this? Answer me."
A soft chuckle came through the earpiece - one she instantly recognised from her night at the Zabini’s party. Her breath caught, her body tensed, and her hand grasped the phone more firmly.
"You bastard."
"Figured me out yet, my Lioness?"
No doubt about it - it was 'The Serpent'.
Looking around for her bathrobe, she was already contemplating how fast she could alert Anthony, and if she could somehow trace the call.
"I wouldn't bother." His voice was amused. He had obviously guessed her intentions. "This phone is untraceable. I took it from a nice Muggle. Very high profile, if you know what I mean. So, why don't you save yourself the trouble, and just enjoy conversing with me for a moment or two?"
"I don't have conversations with pervert criminals," she bit back, mentally debating what to do. His words implied that this Muggle whose phone he was 'borrowing' was an important figure, so it was probably one of those high-tech devices that even magic could not track. There was no reason to doubt him, either, as 'The Serpent' wasn't a liar, merely a thief. Besides, he was wicked smart. If there was even a remote chance they could track him, he wouldn't have called her at all.
"Perverted? You wound me, my sweet. Didn't we have fun the other night?"
She growled. "You body-bound me and proceeded to assault my person. I don't call that fun. Not in the least."
"Now, now, don't be harsh. We both know you enjoyed my attentions."
"Did I?" she snarked back, feeling her skin flush at his confidence. She wasn'tthat transparent... was she? "You know this, how? If you'll recall, I was Petrified. How can you be so sure I wasn't screaming at you in my head to stop?"
"Your dress was very thin, my Lioness, and you wore no bra. You might not have been unable to verbalize your pleasure, but your erect nipples were solid proof you found enjoyment from my touches and my kiss. Besides, I could easily smell your arousal. No knickers... tsk-tsk."
His voice oozed sex and hinted at amusement. Hermione felt her whole body flushing, and shame coursed through her. He spoke the truth, she had been thoroughly aroused by his gentle caresses over her face and throat and by the soft warmth of his mouth on hers, but she'd be damned if she admitted such a think aloud.
"You despicable miscreant-"
"No worries, gorgeous. I won't tell anyone you like to be restrained. It'll be our little secret."
His husky voice had lowered to a honeyed murmur, making her lower body tingle and her inner muscles clench with desire. "Shut up. You've no right to say such things to me-"
"I have every right," he easily, yet firmly countered. "You're mine."
She laughed harshly. "You're delusional. I'm not yours, and I'd never form any kind of relationship with a criminal."
"Oh, my sweet, aren't you tired of lying to yourself?"
"I'm not."
"But you are," he argued. "Every time, you deny yourself what you really want, what your body needs, you delude yourself into thinking men like your ginger boy-toy are enough to satisfy your hunger, but we both know you're a greedy thing, just like me. You want, need more. Ordinary sex won't do it for you any longer. You need a man who will take the responsibility of your pleasure into his hands without flinching and with great care, who will acknowledge your darker desires and offer them to you."
"M-my darker desires," she asked, nearly breathless in shock that he knew so much. "What... what are they?"
"You crave for someone to steal away all your hard-won control, and to fill your days and nights with endless pleasure. You want to be taken in every way... even if it's forbidden. You want to be collared and bound, to feel the sting of a palm and of leather upon your luscious bum, to be blindfolded and Silence’d and forced to trust, to watch as your body is opened and used by another for their pleasure too. You are tired of always being the responsible one, the dependable one, the one who is always, always in control. You want to kneel and obey. What you need my sweet, sweet girl, is to be dominated by a man who will cherish you and serve your every whim, while owning you, body and soul. That's why you need me. I will give you all of that and more, if you want - you have only to say, 'yes'."
Dear Merlin... How did this complete stranger-a man she had only met once, and whose identity she didn't have a clue-find out her most sinful desires? No one, and she meant no one, knew of her dirtiest fantasies. She'd never told a soul, as she knew they would be rejected by most 'normal' people. But she couldn't help it; her sexual needs shamed and excited her at the same time, and made her unbearably wet and aching with such a burning that she felt like the simplest touch would cause her to implode some days.
Not that she hadn't tried to broach the subject once or twice with Ron-he’d been, after all, the one relationship she’d been certain had been leading to marriage at one point-but he’d seemed uncomprehending of what she’d really wanted. Sex in his father’s shed had been the peak of their sexual exploits, and at the time, Hermione had been a bit too shy and inexperienced to sit him down and explain that she had interest in exploring alternative sexual scenarios, some even considered a bit deviant.
Only once, six months ago, had she dared actively search for a man who could give her what she wanted. She still vividly recalled the BDSM club she’d visited - the heavy scent of sweat, leather, and sex in the air had been an intoxicating blend to her senses. The way the tall, masked man had touched her then had been firm, yet gentle, his every caress and stroke over her hot skin a brand. He’d led her to the private rooms in the back, instinctively knowing she wouldn’t enjoy others watching her initiation into his world. He’d brought her to ecstasy, again and again and again that night. In the afters, the man had untied her and had soothed her sore wrists with open-mouthed kisses. He had taken gentle care of her body, helping her to sit and checking her over for injuries.
It had been the most beautiful, moving night of her life.
She’d ruined it, though. When he’d asked to see her again, the reality of what she’d just done had hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d let a complete stranger tie her up, spank her, and fuck her harder than she’d ever been. She’d let him come in her and on her. She’d tasted him. And she hadn’t even known his name or what he’d looked like. Embarrassed by her extreme wantonness, she’d made some excuse about having made a mistake, had fumblingly dressed, and had flown out the club as if chased by hellhounds. She’d gone home and cried, torn between what she’d wanted and craved and by the morals she’d been raised to believe.
And here she was again, quite literally being propositioned by a strange man, who not only knew of her hidden inclinations, but seemed quite excited to try them out with her. Too bad he was on the wrong side of the law. She wouldn’t ruin her career for an affair with the criminal she’d been tasked to hunt down and bring to justice.
It was time to shut this fascination down, before the fear of compromising her principles became a reality. With her body raging at her currently, it would be too easy to give in to what ‘The Serpent’ was offering. That was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. "You're delusional. I don’t want any of that," she stated, trying to sound cool and unaffected, but she heard her voice had trembled there at the end.
"Stop lying," he ordered, his voice a low growl that went straight to her core. "I'm not one of your prudish, conservative friends who would jump at the opportunity to judge you. You may think I don't know you, but I do. I know you better than you think."
"You know nothing-"
"I know you are passionate in all aspects of your life, not just in your job. I know you are beautiful, yet you're still insecure. I know your skin feels like satin, and you taste sweet. I know that when you're turned on, your breathing picks up and the tops of your breasts flush with blood. I know you are embarrassed by your sexual needs, and you think them unnatural. I know none of your previous lovers treated you as you wished, and that lack of sexual chemistry is responsible for ending most of your relationships, despite the other excuses you told yourself and your friends. I know you enjoy me talking to you like this, and that the quivering of your voice is not from anger, but from suppressed lust. Your mind may tell you I'm not suitable for you, but your body craves me.”
“N-no,” she falsely denied, closing her eyes. In her heart, she knew he was right. He was so, so right!
“Tell me, my Lioness, are you wet for me? Reach between your legs and touch your beautiful pussy. Tell me if you’re wet or not. I bet you are.”
Oh, God.
Her thighs shook and Hermione bit her lip, her mind screaming at her to hang up… and her heart and body yearning to know more that this sensual, dark man had to offer.
She didn't know how he’d discovered her most intimate secrets, but that he did gave him power over her. If he so chose, he could humiliate and ridicule her with the knowledge. Who would take her seriously if it became public knowledge that she enjoyed her arse blushing under a man’s hand? She’d lose respect.
Shameful and fearful tears burned her eyes.
"Don't be afraid, princess." His tone was soft, soothing. "I won't tell anyone. I give you my word."
A choked laugh escaped her. "The word of a thief!"
"I am an honourable man. You, better than anyone, know why I steal from them."
"Steal from the rich, give back to the poor," she snipped. “I get it, I do. It still doesn't make it right, though."
"I’m aware, but you know that it's the only way for them to pay for what they've done. As long as they keep up respectable public appearances and donate frequently to political campaigns and charities, the Ministry will not punish them. You are an exception to the rule and a force to be reckoned with in all things, my Lioness, but it would still take you at least half a decade to make any notable changes in the current political climate. Change takes time, and I am an impatient man when it comes to this cause. I am not willing to let those… those frauds parade around with not even a slap on the wrist for their criminal activity.” He sounded irate now, his breathing heavy, his voice a dangerous hiss. “What they’ve done from the shadows-the purposeful financial ruining of lives, the secret support to those who would bring this Ministry down, and the misuse of magic on those without the ability to defend themselves all for their own personal financial gain-has been as evil as anything a Death Eater ever did, only much more secretive and cleverly disguised.”
“You… you’ve given this a lot of thought, I see,” she stated, hoping to coax her perp into talking about the case, rather than about her bedroom proclivities.
He seemed to regain a bit of control then, for his voice calmed. “Think about it, my Lioness: what I take back from them is of Muggle origin - items stolen by them directly or by some distant ancestor, or purchased from others who fenced the goods with full knowledge of their embezzled status. They’re far from innocent. If I see it, why won’t the Ministry? Why doesn’t it act to retrieve those goods and return them to their rightful owners?"
“Because it’s illegal to go through snooping through a person’s cache without probable cause,” she informed him. “How do you know those items are stolen? How do you know they weren’t legitimately purchased?”
“Find me a bill of sale for any of those items, and I’ll concede,” he countered. “And if you’re so interested in seeing me end my current occupation as a thief, why not convince your boss to use the excuse of dark artefact searches to get the search warrants you’ll need to get a peek into these people’s homes and vaults? You’ve done it a few times in the past, as I recall. Just start flooding the market with fake dark magical items. That’ll give you the excuse to launch the investigation.”
"That’s-" She paused, really considering his idea. “That’s actually quite brilliant, if not a bit underhanded.”
“’Needs must when the devil drives’,” he quoted the Muggle saying to her with a tender chuckle.
The more she considered his proposition, the more she was really warming up to his idea. “As you said, if we could just get a look at the secret stashes of these pure-blood families under the auspices of searching for dark artefacts, and we just happened to find stolen items, then we’d be obligated to investigate and return any items deemed stolen to their proper owners. Then you could quit!”
And he wouldn’t be a suspect anymore - which meant she’d be free to talk with him about his offer!
Excited, she sat up, causing water to splash on the floor, and the cool air to brush against her sensitive nipples. With a curse, she sank back down.
The Serpent's breathing sounded suddenly strangled on the line, and Hermione thought he might be having a seizure or something.
"Are you having a bath?" he asked in a choked voice.
Uncomfortable, Hermione shifted in the water. "Er, yes."
"Oh, you naughty, naughty minx."
Hermione gulped.
"Do you enjoy speaking with me while naked?"
"You called me!" she defended herself, unconsciously licking her lips.
"I didn't imagine you'd answer while in the bath. Although, I have to say, I'm not complaining."
"Well, you sound like you are."
"My apologies, my fearless Lioness. Trust me, I'm very, very happy right now. In fact, I believe I should level the playing field."
"What are you talking about?"
Silence greeted her, and her curiosity spiked. What was that mad man doing now?
"Ahh, much better."
"What did you do?" she asked, a little breathless at the possibilities.
"Stripped down. It hardly seems fair for you to be completely naked and I clothed."
Hermione's face burned red hot as she tried to wrap her head around this man’s audacious nature.
"I wish I could see you,” he admitted in a husky, soft tone. “Dear Merlin, I can just imagine you, your flesh all warm from the bath and pink, your pretty breasts brushing the water's surface..." He groaned, and Hermione was utterly transfixed, listening with rapt attention. She’d never had anyone talk like this to her before, not even past lovers. "Are your nipples hard? I bet they are. They'd be even sweeter to kiss than your mouth, wouldn't they?"
"Stop." She made an attempt to sound strong, but her voice came out unsteady, barely more than a whisper.
He chuckled. "You don’t want me to. You want me to chase and push you. You like me relentlessly pursuing, because you know that my efforts mean my feelings for you are strong. You’re enjoying this - enjoying me wanting you until I can’t breathe some days… aren't you, Hermione? Answer me."
His order shook her to her core, and her eyelids slid shut as a shudder ran through her body.
"Yes." A shameful admission, but she didn't care at the moment. Her body felt like it was on fire, her clit throbbed, and her core pulsed with the need to be filled.
"There’s my brave girl," he purred, and she let out a hopeless lustful moan. "I can't wait to have you tied up in my bed, my Lioness. Your hot little body spread for my pleasure... Merlin, I’m hard just thinking about it."
"Won't happen," she sighed, unable to stop her response. "You're a wanted criminal, and I'm an Auror."
"Did I say you could speak?"
Hermione squirmed, flushing hot.
"Answer me."
"No,” she admitted, “but-”
"Be silent and still, or I’ll punish you later, when I finally come for you."
Jesus, that shouldn’t be hot. He’d just threatened her, after a fashion. The sensual promise in his voice, however, sent a warm gush of liquid arousal down her thighs. Even in the now cooling water, she felt uncomfortably warm.
"Your lips felt heavenly against mine last night. I only regret being unable to taste you completely before your date arrived. I can't wait to have those lips of yours wrapped around my cock. You'd like that, wouldn't you, my Lioness? Sucking me deep into your delicious, hot mouth? Feeling my pulse and my come down your throat, my hands grabbing fistfuls of your silky hair, your nails biting into my thighs?"
She whimpered, and the hand holding the phone to her ear trembled as her other shyly touched her breast, caressing her soft flesh and circling her aching nipple. She gasped at the feeling.
"Are you touching yourself, my sweet girl? I am. I pretend it's your hand caressing my chest, gently scrapping your nails down my stomach."
He was panting now, and Hermione could hardly breathe.
Her hand lowered down her stomach, all the while picturing his bigger hand trailing down her sensitive skin.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to you when I have you, my Lioness?" He had lost all semblance of control, his words coming in low growls, and short pants. "I'm going to bend you over my couch, and spell your hands on it. Then I will spell you naked, and leave your pert arse sticking up in the air, waiting for me. I will caress it, softly at first, and then I'll spank you - ten times for talking back to me earlier, and another twenty for being ashamed of who you are. I'll make you count them, and if you falter, we'll start again."
Yes, her imagination provided her with vivid images of his whispered scenarios, fuelling her desires. Her fingers gently parted her cunt’s lips, and with only a moment's hesitation, she used her thumb to rub her clit. Her lower body arched, and a gasp left her lips.
"That's it, my girl. Touch yourself." He rasped, groaning low in his throat. "After we're done with your punishment, I will reward you for taking it like a good girl. I'll kneel between your spread legs, and do you know what I'll do then? Can you imagine?"
Her thumb rubbed more firmly her tiny nub, while two of her fingers circled her opening as she eagerly awaited his answer.
"I will lick your soaking slit, sipping your sweet juices until you cry. I won't touch you where you most want me, not until you beg me for it, my Lioness. Not until you give up all control to me. And you will. Oh, you will. And when you do, I'll suck on your tiny clit and plunge my fingers into your tight cunt."
Hermione's fingers dipped into her opening, her thumb continuing to work on her clit. At that moment, she didn't care that she wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Right then, she was not an Auror, but a woman.
"After I make you come, I'll stand up, grab your hips, and drive my cock into you hard. I will fuck you so thoroughly you won't be able to walk for a week. You want that, don't you, my love? You want my cock thrusting into you, to feel my hands bruising your skin as I take you."
Hermione cried out as she came, her walls clinging to her fingers, and her body trembling. ‘The Serpent's’ voice came in stuttered gasps, as he followed her into ecstasy.
Breathing laboured, Hermione regained her senses and immediately felt shame crowding her skull and spill from her every pore. Dear Merlin, she just had phone sex with the thief she was hunting! So much for professionalism!
A hitched sob escaped her lips. “No…” she whispered.
"Stop."
Her cheeks flared at the deep satisfaction colouring his tone. There was no question in her mind that the cursed man on the other end of the line had enjoyed this as much as she did, perhaps even more. And it was wrong. So incredibly wrong!
"For once in your life, stop thinking about everyone else, and focus on yourself,” he demanded of her. “You enjoyed what we did. It doesn't make you a bad person."
"What we did... You’re a wanted criminal and I’m entrusted to bring you to justice," she snapped.
"No one will know about tonight. I don't intend to tell. It’s our secret - yours and mine. Stop worrying."
"How do I know I can trust you?” she countered. “For all I know, you’ve been recording the whole thing and plan to use this as blackmail!"
"Silence, Hermione, now. Before you say something ridiculous that you’ll regret." He sounded offended. "And you can bet I’m going to add another twenty slaps to your punishment for insulting my honour."
Her mouth twisted into a stubborn line. "There will be nothing of the sort because it’s never going to happen between us."
He had the audacity to laugh. "Keep telling yourself that, my Lioness., but soon I will claim what is mine, and no one will be able to stop me. Sleep well, my lovely. Dream of me."
"Listen here, you-"
He hung up.
The bastard hung up.
With a shriek, she threw the phone across the bathroom and sank under her bath water.
God help her, but she wanted him so much.
The Serpent
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Chapter 12
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Harry was almost impossible to pacify after the opulent gesture from the thief.
It wasn't just the flowers or the fact that somehow, 'The Serpent' had managed to sneak them into her office-into the heart of the Ministry-without anyone seeing him coming or going that had been the last nail in her proverbial coffin, no. What had really gotten his ire up had been the card.
There was no denying any longer that 'The Serpent' was intensely interested in her on a personal level. This wasn't just about work any longer, as Harry had rightly pointed out (shouted, more like). This was about her safety from an unknown, possibly deranged, and clearly obsessive criminal whose ego was out of control.
The idiotic perp was making her life hell with his unwanted attentions.
For his part, Malfoy had handled the revelation that she was being targeted by 'The Serpent' in a slightly calmer, more rational manner: he'd simply advised her to be more careful and Harry to consider the possibility of using the thief's interest as leverage. Then, he'd stood up and taken his leave of them both, tossing a last, curious glance over his shoulder at her.
How typically Slytherin.
For an hour after that, she and Harry had engaged in a shouting match that was surely heard through all ten levels (and the sub-level containment cells beneath the courtrooms) of the Ministry. She had adamantly refused to move in to Grimmauld Place with him or to accept bodyguards on her 24-7. She had conceded to him warding her place better, though, and to a magical trace on her person to assure her quick recovery in case of a kidnapping, unlikely though such an act seemed.
Harry hadn't agreed with her compromises one bit. His face had turned a silly shade of puce as he'd spluttered and raged on about her safety.
The moment he'd threatened to take her off the case, however, Hermione had drawn the line and put her foot down, refusing to be bullied by him into a course of action that a.) would make her appear a fragile flower and incapable of wielding the awesome magic in her repertoire, and b.) would hinder her ability to properly conduct the investigation. What if she'd had to go incognito to follow 'The Serpent' back to his lair, she'd demanded of him? She couldn't very well do so with a bunch of Cozzers (as Ron liked to humorously call the Hit-Wizards) stomping along behind her now could she?
Still, the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Take-No-For-An-Answer hadn't given up. He'd pulled out the big guns and had summoned the Minister, presenting Kingsley with all three cards the thief had left for Hermione, and informing their boss that he'd suspected 'The Serpent' might have developed an obsession with his pursuer. He'd then opined that given the recent developments, he'd felt it no longer safe or wise to allow Hermione to lead the investigation.
Hermione had rebutted with logic and fact, rather than with emotion.
Fortunately for Hermione, the Minister had sided with her. Calmly, soothingly almost, Shacklebolt informed Harry that, despite 'The Serpent's' apparent infatuation, he agreed with Hermione's assessment that their perp wasn't a dangerous fellow. He'd felt the thief was more interested in a game of cat and mouse than actually harming her, and he'd announced that such arrogance suited their purposes perfectly.
"If he's too focused on outsmarting our Hermione here, then he's bound to trip up eventually. All these narcissist criminal types do, don't they? Just look at the Lestrange brothers."
The brothers' arrogance had led to Hermione's pin-pointing them and their eventual capture, as Kingsley so rightly pointed out.
"In order to make this work though, we need Hermione on the team. She's got the experience, the intelligence, and the leadership skills to bag our man," their boss ruthlessly continued. "She's a seasoned Auror, a war heroine, and a powerful witch. She knows what's best for her, Harry, and if she thinks she can handle our perp's attentions, then so be it. I'm inclined to let her run with this, as you both agreed Mister Malfoy advised. I think his obsession with Hermione is a piece of our arsenal we shouldn't flinch from using, if necessary, to reel him in."
In an attempt to stop Harry from blowing up, Kingsley asked Hermione to promise them that if at any point she felt insecure and afraid, she'd immediately tell one or both of them. Her safety was more important than catching the thief, he'd reiterated.
Smiling sweetly at her unexpected ally, Hermione made the promise, and then announced her intentions to take the rest of the day off, claiming a headache from all of the yelling she and Harry had done at each other. Graciously, her superior agreed to allow her the time off, and he led a deathly quiet Harry Potter out of her office. She avoided her friend's eyes as he left, unwilling to deal with the betrayal she knew his green eyes reflected back at her.
His intentions might have been good, but she was pissed he had tried to take her off the case. She wasn't sure there was going to be easy forgiveness between them this time.
True to her word, the moment she was alone in her office, she penned a memo to Anthony to let him know he could reach her at her home if anything came up, and then sent an invitation to Ginny for that dinner she owned her red-headed friend.
What she needed right now, was a hot bath and some Anadin.
*.*.*.*.*
Sighing heavily, she sank in her bathtub filled with steamy water. The scent of the vanilla, lavender, and honey bath oils she'd dropped in infiltrated her nostrils, relaxing her. The hot water soothed her sore muscles, and had a calming effect on her temper, and for the first time that day, she let go of some of her righteous anger.
First Malfoy with his secretary, then Harry with his bullying. What a day.
Leaning her head back, she shut her eyes and allowed herself some peace.
Ring-ring-ring-ring.
The sound of her telephone shook her out of her restful state, and Hermione realised she had been about to fall asleep in her tub. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed her wand from the side table near the tub, and heated the now cooling water before summoning her cordless phone from the living room.
The door to the bathroom was gaping open so the phone came easily to her magical call. Living alone, she saw no reason to shut inside doors, especially as none of her friends would be so rude as to Floo over without alerting her first, unless there was an emergency.
Grabbing the phone in the air, she relaxed back into the tub, and hit the answer button. "Hello?"
Silence.
Hermione frowned.
"Hello? Is someone there?"
The sound of soft breathing greeted her ears.
"Who is this? Answer me."
A soft chuckle came through the earpiece - one she instantly recognised from her night at the Zabini’s party. Her breath caught, her body tensed, and her hand grasped the phone more firmly.
"You bastard."
"Figured me out yet, my Lioness?"
No doubt about it - it was 'The Serpent'.
Looking around for her bathrobe, she was already contemplating how fast she could alert Anthony, and if she could somehow trace the call.
"I wouldn't bother." His voice was amused. He had obviously guessed her intentions. "This phone is untraceable. I took it from a nice Muggle. Very high profile, if you know what I mean. So, why don't you save yourself the trouble, and just enjoy conversing with me for a moment or two?"
"I don't have conversations with pervert criminals," she bit back, mentally debating what to do. His words implied that this Muggle whose phone he was 'borrowing' was an important figure, so it was probably one of those high-tech devices that even magic could not track. There was no reason to doubt him, either, as 'The Serpent' wasn't a liar, merely a thief. Besides, he was wicked smart. If there was even a remote chance they could track him, he wouldn't have called her at all.
"Perverted? You wound me, my sweet. Didn't we have fun the other night?"
She growled. "You body-bound me and proceeded to assault my person. I don't call that fun. Not in the least."
"Now, now, don't be harsh. We both know you enjoyed my attentions."
"Did I?" she snarked back, feeling her skin flush at his confidence. She wasn'tthat transparent... was she? "You know this, how? If you'll recall, I was Petrified. How can you be so sure I wasn't screaming at you in my head to stop?"
"Your dress was very thin, my Lioness, and you wore no bra. You might not have been unable to verbalize your pleasure, but your erect nipples were solid proof you found enjoyment from my touches and my kiss. Besides, I could easily smell your arousal. No knickers... tsk-tsk."
His voice oozed sex and hinted at amusement. Hermione felt her whole body flushing, and shame coursed through her. He spoke the truth, she had been thoroughly aroused by his gentle caresses over her face and throat and by the soft warmth of his mouth on hers, but she'd be damned if she admitted such a think aloud.
"You despicable miscreant-"
"No worries, gorgeous. I won't tell anyone you like to be restrained. It'll be our little secret."
His husky voice had lowered to a honeyed murmur, making her lower body tingle and her inner muscles clench with desire. "Shut up. You've no right to say such things to me-"
"I have every right," he easily, yet firmly countered. "You're mine."
She laughed harshly. "You're delusional. I'm not yours, and I'd never form any kind of relationship with a criminal."
"Oh, my sweet, aren't you tired of lying to yourself?"
"I'm not."
"But you are," he argued. "Every time, you deny yourself what you really want, what your body needs, you delude yourself into thinking men like your ginger boy-toy are enough to satisfy your hunger, but we both know you're a greedy thing, just like me. You want, need more. Ordinary sex won't do it for you any longer. You need a man who will take the responsibility of your pleasure into his hands without flinching and with great care, who will acknowledge your darker desires and offer them to you."
"M-my darker desires," she asked, nearly breathless in shock that he knew so much. "What... what are they?"
"You crave for someone to steal away all your hard-won control, and to fill your days and nights with endless pleasure. You want to be taken in every way... even if it's forbidden. You want to be collared and bound, to feel the sting of a palm and of leather upon your luscious bum, to be blindfolded and Silence’d and forced to trust, to watch as your body is opened and used by another for their pleasure too. You are tired of always being the responsible one, the dependable one, the one who is always, always in control. You want to kneel and obey. What you need my sweet, sweet girl, is to be dominated by a man who will cherish you and serve your every whim, while owning you, body and soul. That's why you need me. I will give you all of that and more, if you want - you have only to say, 'yes'."
Dear Merlin... How did this complete stranger-a man she had only met once, and whose identity she didn't have a clue-find out her most sinful desires? No one, and she meant no one, knew of her dirtiest fantasies. She'd never told a soul, as she knew they would be rejected by most 'normal' people. But she couldn't help it; her sexual needs shamed and excited her at the same time, and made her unbearably wet and aching with such a burning that she felt like the simplest touch would cause her to implode some days.
Not that she hadn't tried to broach the subject once or twice with Ron-he’d been, after all, the one relationship she’d been certain had been leading to marriage at one point-but he’d seemed uncomprehending of what she’d really wanted. Sex in his father’s shed had been the peak of their sexual exploits, and at the time, Hermione had been a bit too shy and inexperienced to sit him down and explain that she had interest in exploring alternative sexual scenarios, some even considered a bit deviant.
Only once, six months ago, had she dared actively search for a man who could give her what she wanted. She still vividly recalled the BDSM club she’d visited - the heavy scent of sweat, leather, and sex in the air had been an intoxicating blend to her senses. The way the tall, masked man had touched her then had been firm, yet gentle, his every caress and stroke over her hot skin a brand. He’d led her to the private rooms in the back, instinctively knowing she wouldn’t enjoy others watching her initiation into his world. He’d brought her to ecstasy, again and again and again that night. In the afters, the man had untied her and had soothed her sore wrists with open-mouthed kisses. He had taken gentle care of her body, helping her to sit and checking her over for injuries.
It had been the most beautiful, moving night of her life.
She’d ruined it, though. When he’d asked to see her again, the reality of what she’d just done had hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d let a complete stranger tie her up, spank her, and fuck her harder than she’d ever been. She’d let him come in her and on her. She’d tasted him. And she hadn’t even known his name or what he’d looked like. Embarrassed by her extreme wantonness, she’d made some excuse about having made a mistake, had fumblingly dressed, and had flown out the club as if chased by hellhounds. She’d gone home and cried, torn between what she’d wanted and craved and by the morals she’d been raised to believe.
And here she was again, quite literally being propositioned by a strange man, who not only knew of her hidden inclinations, but seemed quite excited to try them out with her. Too bad he was on the wrong side of the law. She wouldn’t ruin her career for an affair with the criminal she’d been tasked to hunt down and bring to justice.
It was time to shut this fascination down, before the fear of compromising her principles became a reality. With her body raging at her currently, it would be too easy to give in to what ‘The Serpent’ was offering. That was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. "You're delusional. I don’t want any of that," she stated, trying to sound cool and unaffected, but she heard her voice had trembled there at the end.
"Stop lying," he ordered, his voice a low growl that went straight to her core. "I'm not one of your prudish, conservative friends who would jump at the opportunity to judge you. You may think I don't know you, but I do. I know you better than you think."
"You know nothing-"
"I know you are passionate in all aspects of your life, not just in your job. I know you are beautiful, yet you're still insecure. I know your skin feels like satin, and you taste sweet. I know that when you're turned on, your breathing picks up and the tops of your breasts flush with blood. I know you are embarrassed by your sexual needs, and you think them unnatural. I know none of your previous lovers treated you as you wished, and that lack of sexual chemistry is responsible for ending most of your relationships, despite the other excuses you told yourself and your friends. I know you enjoy me talking to you like this, and that the quivering of your voice is not from anger, but from suppressed lust. Your mind may tell you I'm not suitable for you, but your body craves me.”
“N-no,” she falsely denied, closing her eyes. In her heart, she knew he was right. He was so, so right!
“Tell me, my Lioness, are you wet for me? Reach between your legs and touch your beautiful pussy. Tell me if you’re wet or not. I bet you are.”
Oh, God.
Her thighs shook and Hermione bit her lip, her mind screaming at her to hang up… and her heart and body yearning to know more that this sensual, dark man had to offer.
She didn't know how he’d discovered her most intimate secrets, but that he did gave him power over her. If he so chose, he could humiliate and ridicule her with the knowledge. Who would take her seriously if it became public knowledge that she enjoyed her arse blushing under a man’s hand? She’d lose respect.
Shameful and fearful tears burned her eyes.
"Don't be afraid, princess." His tone was soft, soothing. "I won't tell anyone. I give you my word."
A choked laugh escaped her. "The word of a thief!"
"I am an honourable man. You, better than anyone, know why I steal from them."
"Steal from the rich, give back to the poor," she snipped. “I get it, I do. It still doesn't make it right, though."
"I’m aware, but you know that it's the only way for them to pay for what they've done. As long as they keep up respectable public appearances and donate frequently to political campaigns and charities, the Ministry will not punish them. You are an exception to the rule and a force to be reckoned with in all things, my Lioness, but it would still take you at least half a decade to make any notable changes in the current political climate. Change takes time, and I am an impatient man when it comes to this cause. I am not willing to let those… those frauds parade around with not even a slap on the wrist for their criminal activity.” He sounded irate now, his breathing heavy, his voice a dangerous hiss. “What they’ve done from the shadows-the purposeful financial ruining of lives, the secret support to those who would bring this Ministry down, and the misuse of magic on those without the ability to defend themselves all for their own personal financial gain-has been as evil as anything a Death Eater ever did, only much more secretive and cleverly disguised.”
“You… you’ve given this a lot of thought, I see,” she stated, hoping to coax her perp into talking about the case, rather than about her bedroom proclivities.
He seemed to regain a bit of control then, for his voice calmed. “Think about it, my Lioness: what I take back from them is of Muggle origin - items stolen by them directly or by some distant ancestor, or purchased from others who fenced the goods with full knowledge of their embezzled status. They’re far from innocent. If I see it, why won’t the Ministry? Why doesn’t it act to retrieve those goods and return them to their rightful owners?"
“Because it’s illegal to go through snooping through a person’s cache without probable cause,” she informed him. “How do you know those items are stolen? How do you know they weren’t legitimately purchased?”
“Find me a bill of sale for any of those items, and I’ll concede,” he countered. “And if you’re so interested in seeing me end my current occupation as a thief, why not convince your boss to use the excuse of dark artefact searches to get the search warrants you’ll need to get a peek into these people’s homes and vaults? You’ve done it a few times in the past, as I recall. Just start flooding the market with fake dark magical items. That’ll give you the excuse to launch the investigation.”
"That’s-" She paused, really considering his idea. “That’s actually quite brilliant, if not a bit underhanded.”
“’Needs must when the devil drives’,” he quoted the Muggle saying to her with a tender chuckle.
The more she considered his proposition, the more she was really warming up to his idea. “As you said, if we could just get a look at the secret stashes of these pure-blood families under the auspices of searching for dark artefacts, and we just happened to find stolen items, then we’d be obligated to investigate and return any items deemed stolen to their proper owners. Then you could quit!”
And he wouldn’t be a suspect anymore - which meant she’d be free to talk with him about his offer!
Excited, she sat up, causing water to splash on the floor, and the cool air to brush against her sensitive nipples. With a curse, she sank back down.
The Serpent's breathing sounded suddenly strangled on the line, and Hermione thought he might be having a seizure or something.
"Are you having a bath?" he asked in a choked voice.
Uncomfortable, Hermione shifted in the water. "Er, yes."
"Oh, you naughty, naughty minx."
Hermione gulped.
"Do you enjoy speaking with me while naked?"
"You called me!" she defended herself, unconsciously licking her lips.
"I didn't imagine you'd answer while in the bath. Although, I have to say, I'm not complaining."
"Well, you sound like you are."
"My apologies, my fearless Lioness. Trust me, I'm very, very happy right now. In fact, I believe I should level the playing field."
"What are you talking about?"
Silence greeted her, and her curiosity spiked. What was that mad man doing now?
"Ahh, much better."
"What did you do?" she asked, a little breathless at the possibilities.
"Stripped down. It hardly seems fair for you to be completely naked and I clothed."
Hermione's face burned red hot as she tried to wrap her head around this man’s audacious nature.
"I wish I could see you,” he admitted in a husky, soft tone. “Dear Merlin, I can just imagine you, your flesh all warm from the bath and pink, your pretty breasts brushing the water's surface..." He groaned, and Hermione was utterly transfixed, listening with rapt attention. She’d never had anyone talk like this to her before, not even past lovers. "Are your nipples hard? I bet they are. They'd be even sweeter to kiss than your mouth, wouldn't they?"
"Stop." She made an attempt to sound strong, but her voice came out unsteady, barely more than a whisper.
He chuckled. "You don’t want me to. You want me to chase and push you. You like me relentlessly pursuing, because you know that my efforts mean my feelings for you are strong. You’re enjoying this - enjoying me wanting you until I can’t breathe some days… aren't you, Hermione? Answer me."
His order shook her to her core, and her eyelids slid shut as a shudder ran through her body.
"Yes." A shameful admission, but she didn't care at the moment. Her body felt like it was on fire, her clit throbbed, and her core pulsed with the need to be filled.
"There’s my brave girl," he purred, and she let out a hopeless lustful moan. "I can't wait to have you tied up in my bed, my Lioness. Your hot little body spread for my pleasure... Merlin, I’m hard just thinking about it."
"Won't happen," she sighed, unable to stop her response. "You're a wanted criminal, and I'm an Auror."
"Did I say you could speak?"
Hermione squirmed, flushing hot.
"Answer me."
"No,” she admitted, “but-”
"Be silent and still, or I’ll punish you later, when I finally come for you."
Jesus, that shouldn’t be hot. He’d just threatened her, after a fashion. The sensual promise in his voice, however, sent a warm gush of liquid arousal down her thighs. Even in the now cooling water, she felt uncomfortably warm.
"Your lips felt heavenly against mine last night. I only regret being unable to taste you completely before your date arrived. I can't wait to have those lips of yours wrapped around my cock. You'd like that, wouldn't you, my Lioness? Sucking me deep into your delicious, hot mouth? Feeling my pulse and my come down your throat, my hands grabbing fistfuls of your silky hair, your nails biting into my thighs?"
She whimpered, and the hand holding the phone to her ear trembled as her other shyly touched her breast, caressing her soft flesh and circling her aching nipple. She gasped at the feeling.
"Are you touching yourself, my sweet girl? I am. I pretend it's your hand caressing my chest, gently scrapping your nails down my stomach."
He was panting now, and Hermione could hardly breathe.
Her hand lowered down her stomach, all the while picturing his bigger hand trailing down her sensitive skin.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to you when I have you, my Lioness?" He had lost all semblance of control, his words coming in low growls, and short pants. "I'm going to bend you over my couch, and spell your hands on it. Then I will spell you naked, and leave your pert arse sticking up in the air, waiting for me. I will caress it, softly at first, and then I'll spank you - ten times for talking back to me earlier, and another twenty for being ashamed of who you are. I'll make you count them, and if you falter, we'll start again."
Yes, her imagination provided her with vivid images of his whispered scenarios, fuelling her desires. Her fingers gently parted her cunt’s lips, and with only a moment's hesitation, she used her thumb to rub her clit. Her lower body arched, and a gasp left her lips.
"That's it, my girl. Touch yourself." He rasped, groaning low in his throat. "After we're done with your punishment, I will reward you for taking it like a good girl. I'll kneel between your spread legs, and do you know what I'll do then? Can you imagine?"
Her thumb rubbed more firmly her tiny nub, while two of her fingers circled her opening as she eagerly awaited his answer.
"I will lick your soaking slit, sipping your sweet juices until you cry. I won't touch you where you most want me, not until you beg me for it, my Lioness. Not until you give up all control to me. And you will. Oh, you will. And when you do, I'll suck on your tiny clit and plunge my fingers into your tight cunt."
Hermione's fingers dipped into her opening, her thumb continuing to work on her clit. At that moment, she didn't care that she wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Right then, she was not an Auror, but a woman.
"After I make you come, I'll stand up, grab your hips, and drive my cock into you hard. I will fuck you so thoroughly you won't be able to walk for a week. You want that, don't you, my love? You want my cock thrusting into you, to feel my hands bruising your skin as I take you."
Hermione cried out as she came, her walls clinging to her fingers, and her body trembling. ‘The Serpent's’ voice came in stuttered gasps, as he followed her into ecstasy.
Breathing laboured, Hermione regained her senses and immediately felt shame crowding her skull and spill from her every pore. Dear Merlin, she just had phone sex with the thief she was hunting! So much for professionalism!
A hitched sob escaped her lips. “No…” she whispered.
"Stop."
Her cheeks flared at the deep satisfaction colouring his tone. There was no question in her mind that the cursed man on the other end of the line had enjoyed this as much as she did, perhaps even more. And it was wrong. So incredibly wrong!
"For once in your life, stop thinking about everyone else, and focus on yourself,” he demanded of her. “You enjoyed what we did. It doesn't make you a bad person."
"What we did... You’re a wanted criminal and I’m entrusted to bring you to justice," she snapped.
"No one will know about tonight. I don't intend to tell. It’s our secret - yours and mine. Stop worrying."
"How do I know I can trust you?” she countered. “For all I know, you’ve been recording the whole thing and plan to use this as blackmail!"
"Silence, Hermione, now. Before you say something ridiculous that you’ll regret." He sounded offended. "And you can bet I’m going to add another twenty slaps to your punishment for insulting my honour."
Her mouth twisted into a stubborn line. "There will be nothing of the sort because it’s never going to happen between us."
He had the audacity to laugh. "Keep telling yourself that, my Lioness., but soon I will claim what is mine, and no one will be able to stop me. Sleep well, my lovely. Dream of me."
"Listen here, you-"
He hung up.
The bastard hung up.
With a shriek, she threw the phone across the bathroom and sank under her bath water.
God help her, but she wanted him so much.