The Serpent Chapter 14 Part I
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.
A/N: For some reason, livejournal doesn't allow entries above 6000-6500 words, so I had to split the chapter in half.
The Serpent
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Chapter 14
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
For the first time since that night she'd walked into the BDSM club, Hermione felt truly desired and vibrantly alive. Every man in the room had his eye on her, she couldn't help but notice, and that sort of flattery had gone straight to her head.
Hanging on Theo's arm, she and her handsome, sexily-dressed date mingled in the crowd, stopping every other minute so he could converse with his guests and introduce her to the most prominent ones, like the dutiful host he was.
Two days ago, while enjoying an evening stroll with him after work, Theo had casually asked her if she'd be willing to attend another social event with him as his date. The event: a black tie fund-raising gala held in his art gallery in Muggle London. The crème de la crème of wizarding England's high society had been invited along with the most important Ministry officials.
Harry had sent his regrets back with his invite after learning that Hermione was going as the host's "plus one", but Kingsley was there, as was most of the upper administration.
Hermione had received her initial invite nearly a month ago, but had neglected to respond, thinking it unimportant. To her way of thinking, the gala would be just another event where pure-bloods could throw some money at a decent cause to generate some good P.R. for themselves and their families, and to lavish attention and compliments upon the "right people", all in a vainglorious attempt to regain some semblance of their former respect and prominence in society. Honestly, she'd intended upon ignoring the invite. However, Theo's request for her to accompany him had been sincere, and his genuine love for his gallery had shown in his every word, and so Hermione found could not refuse him.
Unto the breach she'd run, entrusting herself to Ginny's capable and very fashionable hands, and once again her best friend had pulled off a miracle. Hermione was the centre of attention in the packed room. Women stared enviously at her, and men's interest followed her everywhere. Her vanity flared a bit, and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of satisfaction at their admiration. To think, when she'd been a teenager, she'd been called the ugly girl!
The gown she was wearing, a stunning black, silk frock, reached the floor and fluttered delicately around her legs as she walked, the high thigh slit tantalizing onlookers with glimpses of her bare, smooth leg. The bodice connected with the skirt with a layer of fine lace, showing a fair amount of ivory skin beneath. The neckline was a scandalously deep "V" shape that didn't allow for a bra. It was sexy without being too provocative, and in combination with a simple pair of black strappy sandals, and her hair twisted up in a simple chignon, she felt she looked quite stunning.
In her hand she held a silk, black mask with black, blue and green feathers tastefully arranged around the side edges (Magenta Comstock, a somewhat infamous experimental artist, was the organiser and had decided the gala was to be a masked event).
"Merlin, my head aches!" Theo complained after an hour of socialising. He gently guided her towards one of the small, round tables set off to the side of the room, where they could sit for a while.
An elegantly dressed waiter, his black and white mask covering half his face, materialised next to him with a tray full of crystal flutes filled with Champagne. With a grateful smile, Theo took two glasses and tipped his head in silent thanks passing one off to her.
Hermione accepted the offered glass, and took a small sip. It was delicious and the bubbles tickled her nose.
"Tell me something," she began, "are these types of affairs always so... um..."
"Stiff?" Her date laughed, and gulped down half his Champagne in one swallow. "I'm afraid so. Unless of course you're interested in the newest scandal, what colour is currently in fashion, or you are here to further business relations. Then, I'm sure it's an absolute riot of a time."
"Oh, to be rich," she said and sighed melodramatically, earning a mock stern glare from Theo.
"And to think I saved you from the horrors that is Mrs. Shafiq! I should have left you with her so she could bore you to death with her idle chit-chat!"
"My sincerest apologies, my handsome Knight in Shining... Tuxedo," she offered with a grin, eyeing his immaculate suit. His tie and jacket were as black as her dress, and were in stark contrast with the starch, white button down shirt he wore under them. The only bit of colour to his outfit was the navy-blue vest and the matching, satin half-mask that was magically charmed to his face. Both accessories complimented the particular shade of his eyes, she noted.
Hands down, Theo was one of the most handsomest wizards in attendance, and Hermione felt rather lucky to be his date for such a prestigious event. Merlin knew, there was no lack of willing partners for the dashing former Slytherin, should he have wanted someone else.
It was a bloody shame his looks had no effect on her whatsoever.
Yes, she was flattered at having caught his attention, but frankly, there was no spark between them on her side of the equation.
That's not to say Theo's technique was flawed. He certainly knew how to use his tongue, lips, and teeth in conjunction to mind-blowing effect. Hermione privately admitted that if there was anyone 'normal' whom she should be lusting after (rather than a certain co-worker and a criminal), it was Theodore Nott.
Alas, no fire.
What the fecking hell was wrong with her? Why did just the thought of a certain blond prosecutor of her acquaintance have her in dire need of a change of knickers, yet the third most eligible bachelor in all of the British Isles didn't?
She shivered as she recalled their run-in earlier that evening. Sweet Nimue, her skin had felt like she'd been on fire when, upon her entrance, she'd almost immediately locked eyes with Malfoy. Even hidden as he'd been behind his metallic grey mask, she'd been able to pick him out of the crowd easily, his height and that platinum hair of his drawing her gaze.
Theo-sweet, unaware Theo-hadn't felt the need to drag her with him when he'd gone over to greet his old friend... which turned out to be a good thing, because Hermione hadn't been sure she'd be able to hold back from jumping Malfoy. The blond had looked sinful in his tailored black suit, his jacket unbuttoned to show the ice blue silk shirt he'd worn underneath and his hair fashionable messy, the fringe tucked behind his ears.
Hermione was no fool; she'd known she might run into Malfoy at the gala, not only because of his long-standing (albeit bizarre) friendship with her date, but also because the Malfoys had made a rather generous donation to tonight's cause, according to Theo. Malfoy was expected to give a short speech as the representative of his family as a result. Still, his presence troubled her. The look in his eyes when he'd raked them over her body from head to toe had left her breathless, her mouth dry, and her core pulsing with arousal.
All night long, as she greeted people on Theo's arm and danced with him, her mind and heart battled within her. A part of her wondered if Malfoy's interest was genuine. Her darkly suspicious side, however-the one that had helped her survive the war and all of the disappointments in her life to date-cynically assumed his interest was most likely based on his need to continually humiliate her. God knew, they'd never gotten along as friends, and falling prey to his charms was sure to be something he'd never let her live down.
Still, her desire for him was almost painful and unfortunately, undeniable.
She had to try harder to get over this... this sexual infatuation with her co-worker.
Taking a fortifying swallow of her Champagne, Hermione looked at her grinning date with what she hoped was a smile conveying perfect enjoyment. She didn't want to hurt his feelings by appearing bored with his party and his company; this was his special night, after all, and she was his companion for the evening's festivities.
"Sir."
Startled, they both looked up at an unmasked man, obviously an employee of the gallery. He seemed agitated for some reason.
"Smith, what is it?" Theo asked.
"There is a problem, sir."
Straitening in his seat, Theo removed his mask and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What kind of problem?"
"It's Mister Barbary. He wishes to purchase a painting, sir, and is rather adamant about doing so tonight."
Theo sighed. "I pay Mr. Williamson to deal with such matters, so why isn't he?"
Smith, the poor man, started sweating profoundly. "That's just it, sir. Mr. Williamson is nowhere to be found, sir. I called him numerous times, and I sent for him in his office, but he appears not to be on the premises."
"That's impossible." Theo's brows came together with his irritation. "I made it explicitly clear to him that he was to attend tonight for exactly this reason."
"I'm sorry, sir."
Theo turned to her, took her hand, and kissed the back of it in a polite bow-out. "Will you excuse me for a few minutes, my dear? I need to solve this problem."
"Of course," Hermione replied, making a shooing motion with her hand. "Go. I promise not to get into any trouble while you're gone."
Chuckling, he gave her a short bow, and headed off towards the front of the gallery, Smith following closely behind him and looking like he was heading to the gallows.
Finishing the last of her drink, she stood up and wandered around the massive room, taking in the paintings and sculptures. Theo's gallery was impressive, and the exhibit hosted tonight was of a new and upcoming London stationed artist. Appreciative of art, but unable to tell a Caravaggio from a Jan van Eyck, Hermione resigned herself to simply admiring the landscapes, portraits, and sketches tastefully arranged on the walls, absently noting how many of them were still-life Muggle works.
*.*.*.*.*
She had been standing in front of a landscape-some dark and desolate piece featuring castle ruins backlit by thunder that actually raged with loud grumbling and the occasional flash of lightning (wizarding paint was so extraordinary in its ability to bring scenes and people to life!)-when the hairs on her arms stood up and she was suddenly pimpled with gooseflesh. The familiar feeling of being watched by a predatory threat made her heart start hammering in her ribcage and her body tense.
Hermione reasoned it could be anyone, but she was in public and surrounded by a gaggle of wizards and witches with wands. There was no reason for her to feel alarmed, not at all.
Yet her senses were screaming at her, and her instincts told her something wasn't right.
Forcibly, she fixed a cordial smile on her face and turned, pretending to look around for her date. She searched the crowd of formally dressed guests, most of them caught up in conversation with friends and colleagues.
Come on, come on. Where are you, she thought.
No one seemed to be looking at her; but she knew whoever had been staring at her was still there. There was nothing out of the ordinary, though, and-
There.
Her eyes zeroed on a lone man ascending the gallery stairs to the second floor, hands casually shoved in his pockets. He wore an elaborate dragon mask over another that covered all of his head and half of his face. He wore an all-black tuxedo.
Immediately, she knew this man's identity. She felt it in her melting bones.
Found you!
She didn't know why or how, but Hermione was sure that this guest was 'The Serpent', and that it had been he who'd been staring at her.
Pulse racing, she passed her Champagne glass off to a passing waiter and casually moved towards her target. As a precaution, she kept her hand near the split in her dress, where her wand had been strapped to her in a specially-designed holster. The wand was invisible to others, but she felt it keenly against her sweating palm now.
As if sensing he was being followed, the thief slowed, and then finally paused between one step and the next. He turned to look over his shoulder. The mask made it impossible to see his eyes, especially at their disparate distance, but she knew he was looking right at her.
Hermione's heart gave a jolt and then fluttered, leaving her gasping for breath.
As the bottom half of his face was revealed by both masks, she could see his mouth as clear as day. His lips formed a full, sensual smile for her, one that was both taunting and challenging.
Good gobstones, how could he act as cool as a winter day - the picture of complete nonchalance, despite the fact he stood in her company knowing she intended on bringing him down? Was he that self-assured that she wouldn't act right then and there to capture him? Or was he just that unafraid of the consequences?
He's insane. Completely mad.
Before she could respond or catch up to him, he turned his back on her and resumed ascending the stairs, clearly expecting her to follow.
Wand hand twitching, Hermione restrained herself from hexing his arrogant arse. She was in a crowded room and a wand duel would only cause a panic. She had to handle this tactfully, carefully. Plastering an amiable smile on her face, she nudged her way past people on the stairs, deftly avoiding various attempts at conversation and flirtatious advanced by men already well into their cups. When she finally made it to the top, her prey was nowhere to be seen.
Slippery snake!
He'd lured her up here for a reason. Clearly, he wanted to talk to her… either that, or he intended on stealing something and defying her to stop him. Well, one way or the other, she intended on stopping him tonight!
She headed away from the guests, down a corridor marked for employees only. It branched off at the end, heading left and right. She went right. The moment she turned down the darkened corridor, she retrieved her wand and summoned her Patronus. An incorporeal, incandescent ball of light appeared (weird… what happened to her otter?). It bobbed in front of her, awaiting instruction.
"Find Harry Potter. Tell him 'The Serpent' is in Nott's Gallérie d'Art. I'm following him. Send back up."
You had to be succinct when dealing with a Patronus, she knew. Their ability to focus wavered as they tended towards frolicking and enjoying their freedom.
The Patronus spell bounced excitedly before floating up and through the ceiling.
Jaw clenched, she took a calming breath and raised her wand. "Point me to 'The Serpent'," she murmured, casting the Location Charm next.
The tip of her wand lit up and jerked her down the hall where a less impressive flight of stairs was located, presumably leading to the rooftop. Mentally debating the prudence of going after her thief alone, or waiting for her team to arrive, Hermione decided it was imperative to act now. Who knew how if she'd ever get another chance like this?
'The Serpent' was didn't make public appearances, though. She felt apprehensive that he had tonight. What had made him come here, now, and risk getting caught? Sure the gallery's security wasn't up to par with his skills, but he must have known many Ministry workers would be attending tonight. Why take the risk?
"Malfoy was right. I've too much curiosity for my own good," she muttered, braving the stairs.
A Protective Charm on the tip of her tongue, she shoved open the door at the top. It led to a small, garden-decorated terrace, she noted. Cautiously, she walked out.
The night's moon was hidden behind silvery clouds, but the city's lights all around offered adequate lightening for the dark terrace. Hermione did a quick survey, cursing under her breath when she found no one there. Gritting her teeth, she moved away from the door, pointing her lit wand around, hoping to find a trace of her criminal.
The door softly closing behind her was her only warning that she'd made an epic mistake.
*.*.*.*.*
"Protego!"Hermione quickly cast. A simmering blue light erupted from her wand, surrounding her until she was standing inside a pulsing bubble of energy.
The purple jet of light the thief had cast at her crashed against her shield and dispersed.
Dropping the shield, she ducked to avoid his next spell and cast again. "Stupefy!" she cried.
He casually side-stepped her hex and flicked his wand to lock the door behind him. "Nicely done, my Lioness," he complimented her, smiling wickedly. His voice was slightly muffled by the masks he wore, but she'd recognise that overconfident tone of his anywhere.
For a second, Hermione couldn't help but admire the gorgeously-crafted mask he wore. It was made of leather, brushed with wizard's paint (meaning it magically shimmered), and was designed to replicate the face of an Antipodean Opaleye. In this dim lighting, she still couldn't see what colour his eyes were, much to her frustration.
"Thanks," she brusquely replied. "That's exactly what I needed to hear tonight: praise from a bloody felon who tried to knock me unconscious."
"I know you're cranky because you've missed me and the amazing orgasms I can give you, love, but there's no need for bitchiness. I've missed you, too, if it helps. And it was a Petrification spell, not a Stunning Spell."
His flippant remarks enraged her.
"You condescending, egotistical- Petrificus Totalus!" she cast, hurling her spell right at him.
He cast a non-verbal counter that bounced it, and caused it to hit the ground two feet to his left. "Touchy," he teased.
She snarled. "Avis Oppugno!"
He seemed a little shocked and took an unconscious step back as a flock of yellow birds materialised out of thin air and launched themselves at him, angrily chirping. He cursed when they started pecking every piece of skin they could find.
Distracted as he was, it gave her plenty of time to attack. "Duro! Diffindo!Incarcerous!" She fired the spells in quick succession, hoping to incapacitate him and cut his masks right off his face at the same time.
Teeth bared in a snarl, 'The Serpent' dropped to his knees, avoiding her hexes and casting a quick "Finite Incantatum" to vanish the silvery ropes that had begun wrapping around his legs. He then leapt towards her, closing the distance between them, did an amazing forward roll manoeuver, and while down there, expertly twisted his body with one leg outstretched in an attempt to knock her legs out from under her. It was like something out of a Kung Fu film.
Instinctively knowing his intentions even as he leapt towards her, Hermione jumped back, avoiding his leg sweep. Unfortunately, she hadn't accounted for the fact that regaining one's balance while wearing four-inch, stiletto heels was practically an impossible task. She let loose a litany of curses as her left heel broke upon landing and she dangerously listed towards that side, thus giving her opponent the perfect opportunity to strike.
Her thief took full advantage of her weakness. Lips curled into a teasing smile, he shoved a hand in his pocket and without preamble threw some kind of black powder into the air. It rapidly diffused for several feet in all directions, blanketing the area in a dark cloud that was impossible to see through.
Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.
Curses!
Totally impenetrable darkness surrounded Hermione. She couldn't even see her hands or feet, much less locate her perp. "I'm going knock you on your arse when I find you," she threatened in a calm, but angry voice. Kicking her shoes off, she prepared to cast another Protego around herself, expecting an attack.
'The Serpent' usurped her by grabbing her wand out of her hand. She desperately scrabbled after it, grasping at air. When it became apparent that he was beyond her reach, she screamed behind her teeth in frustration and began swearing up a storm. She'd been so easily disarmed!
"Tut tut, my Lioness," her tormentor chastised. "Such language is not befitting a lady."
The voice had come from behind her. Hermione whirled and groped into the darkness, hoping to bump into him and grab hold. "Shut it, you git!" she snarled, trying in vain to catch the man. "Why did you come here anyway?" she demanded into the gloom after several unsuccessful minutes of fumbling about. "Theo wouldn't steal from Muggles. He's featuring many of them tonight in the hopes of launching their works, in fact. So, what do you want?"
A rush of air behind her made her turn. Nothing.
From out of the black smoke, a pair of gloved hands grabbed her shoulders and propelled her forward. She collided with the door that led back downstairs - the one 'The Serpent' had earlier locked. She tried the handle, to no effect - it was sealed shut with magic and without a wand, she wasn't opening it. With a frustrated sigh, Hermione resigned herself to whatever fate her thief had in store for her. She didn't think he'd actually hurt her. He was just trying to get her attention, maybe scare her a little, she figured. She'd play along until the cavalry arrived, stalling for them.
Turning her head, she rested her cheek against the cool metal door. "Why did you want me to follow you up here?" she asked.
A large, warm male body pressed up against her, and the erection pressing into her buttocks was not her imagination. Her assailant's hands roughly grabbed hers and slapped them above her head. He softly murmured a spell against her ear. The energy of his will released, and the next thing she knew, her palms were stuck to the door.
A splinter of fear rushed through her, and for the first time, Hermione actually felt afraid of this man. Had she been mistaken in her assessment of his character and motives? Would he really hurt her, as Harry had claimed he might?
His face nuzzled in close to hers, and she suddenly realised his dragon mask was gone. From her peripheral vision, she noted he still wore the black silk mask and head covering of his usual gig, though. Apparently, no matter how hot he was for her, he wasn't ready to give up his identity to her. "What are you really after, Serpent?" she demanded again, fronting a bravado she wasn't feeling.
"You," he whispered in her ear.
"W-what?" she croaked, her heart pounding now under her ribs.
"You asked me what I was really after," he elaborated, hands mapping a trail down the length of her sides, his touch firm but gentle. "My answer is you. I want you." He pressed a small kiss to the shell of her ear.
Hermione bit back a whimper, not of fear, but of excitement.
Determined not to show him how he affected her, she bit her tongue and kept quiet.
He took slow, measured breaths as he stroked her body over the thin layer of her dress. "Merlin, you're a gorgeous woman, Granger. This dress... It's made for sin. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to stay put and not move towards you when I first saw you tonight?" He grasped her hips and pulled her lower body back, pressing his erection harder against her bum. "I wanted to take you to the floor right there in the gallery entrance and fuck you deep and hard until you screamed with pleasure - and to hell with the rest of the world."
Hermione tasted blood as she bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle a moan. When he rolled his hips, gliding his steely length between her back cheeks, she was unable to prevent her very vocal reaction, though.
Merlin, this was so fucking wrong, but damn if it didn't feel so bloody right!
"I should be incensed with you," he stated, his anger unexpectedly reasserting itself. "I watched you tonight. How dare you let other men touch you, flirt with you! You are mine, my Lioness. Mine, get it?"
Hermione's independent streak reared its head, and her arousal began to simmer with not just need, but now also with a touch of her own resentment. "Presumptuous wanker. I'm not yours."
"Aren't you?" His voice was a soft breathy murmur, ghosting over her sensitive throat. Hermione shivered. "Hmm, your body seems to agree with me on the issue."
"I-"
"I told you, my Lioness, I won't tolerate you lying to me," he purred dangerously. "Didn't I tell you what your punishment would be for lying?"
Hermione's knees began to uncontrollably shake as she recalled his warning over the phone that night.
"I see you remember," he whispered. He gently nipped her earlobe and she trembled with a rush of heady desire. "Alas, we don't have time for that, my love, not if we're going to play in other ways tonight. When I punish you, though-and I will, my sweet girl, very soon-I will have the luxury of time to draw out your pleasure. You will feel the repeated sting of my palm and my light lashes upon your naked skin. You will know the weight and thickness of my toys deep within you, and the beautiful ache of my jewellery clamped down upon your sensitive flesh. Your wrists and ankles, your breasts and your hips… all will know the lovely burn of being bound by my silken ropes and leather restraints. Your waist shall know my preference for corseting, and your throat for my collars. You will beg me to let you come as I finger you, and lick you, and suck you, and fuck you over and over, but I will deny you that right. I will find my fulfilment within every one of your holes first, before I allow you a single release. That is the punishment that awaits you at my hands, my love. Are you brave enough to accept your fate, I wonder?"
Hermione shut her eyes, shivering. She could not hold back the groan of longing that escaped her throat at the thought of what lay in store for her. She blushed at her wanton desire for it to happen, knowing how very wrong it was.
The Serpent's chuckle was warm. He gently kissed her cheek and pressed his hard, covered cock against her arse more firmly. "So willing and passionate. I knew you had it in you. I knew your heart craved what only I can give you."
He sounded awed, and Hermione felt her cheeks positively flaming now. "S-stop," she pleaded, "we can't do this! This... this is wrong!"
"Don't say that," he admonished. "We share a passion that likes of which is unprecedented in most people's lives! I can feel your want for me with your every breath, and I know you can feel how you affect me." He rolled his hips and pressed his pelvis into her again, and there was no question as to the strength of his craving for her. His mouth pressed to her ear as he whispered, "I am as much yours as you are mine, my Lioness. How can you possible think this wrong?"
"How?" She laughed a little hysterically. "Because you are a criminal, and I'm an Auror! What we're doing... It'll destroy my career! Not to mention it's against the law!"
He sighed. "For once, Granger," he murmured, "just once, forget about everyone else. Forget about society's expectations and opinions. Pretend for just a moment that nothing and no one else exists, and tell me: does this-" Hermione cried out as his hands cupped her breasts and gently squeezed. "-feel bad? Do I feel wrong for you?"
Some part of her, the part that still maintained a semblance of rationality, noted that he had taken off his leather gloves. The thought of his warm skin on hers sent damp heat pooling into her knickers.
Later, much later, Hermione would think back on this moment and realise that up until this moment, in regards to her personal life, she'd been standing on a ledge, teetering for too many years with indecision. Sometime around the time of the break-up with Ron, she'd ceased taking chances in her romantic life. Every man she'd dated after him had been 'safe' and there had been no possibility of her laying her heart on the line with any of them. This night, however, was a defining moment, just the same as the night she'd walked into that BDSM club and had willed herself into someone else's arms, trusting a stranger to give her what she'd needed. This was a moment that would require her to let go of her fears and to be true to her heart's desires - to give herself permission to accept pleasure and joy, rather than allow other people's expectations and opinions (just as 'The Serpent' had stated) to define her life's path. This was a beginning, if she'd let it be.
Hermione took a deep breath… and jumped.