#slytherinknowitall

[slytherinknowitall]

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 5: Devotion [Part II]

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Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

It felt like an eternity had passed before Hermione’s senses finally came back to her. Her head was still swirling from her violent climax by the time she managed, albeit with great difficulty, to prop herself up on her elbows and look down, the edges of her vision a bit blurry yet.

And that was when she saw him: Professor Snape, sprawled half-naked between her bare legs with his head resting on her thigh, panting heavily, his lips and chin glistening vaguely with her own arousal in the feeble light.

Hermione did not exactly know why, but this sight caused her next breath to catch in her throat. He just looked so damn alluring at this moment, unlike anything she had ever seen before. Like Eden’s forbidden fruit. Straightaway, the warm, flushing feeling in her lower belly returned, and she could not help but clumsily sit back up and launch herself at him. She pulled him into a hungry, heated kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

At some point, her hair tie had to have gotten lost, because now her wild mane of curls was cascading down her back and over her breasts, nearly engulfing the two of them as they worshipped each other again with their tongues. Hermione was still so high off of her orgasm that any shyness was all at once forgotten, and the only thing she desired right then and there was to reciprocate, to make him feel just as good as he had made her feel. And so one of her hands slipped between them and somewhat ineptly palmed the hard bulge in his trousers, prompting Snape to groan into her mouth. Spurred on by his reaction, she rubbed him more brashly through his clothes, and he jerked against her touch.

Breaking their kiss, he pulled back until only their foreheads were touching.

“What are you doing to me, witch?” he rasped in a gravelly voice, and Hermione was not able to suppress the wicked grin that spread across her face. She would have been lying if she had said that his response to her did not make her feel as good as almighty. She had the sudden urge to find out just how much she could affect him.

Inspirited by her Gryffindor nerve, she thus inclined her head and kissed his neck as her fingers made quick work of his belt buckle and the buttons of his slacks, partly exposing the front of his underpants. She cupped his clothed groin once more and revelled in the hissing noise that escaped him.

She continued to touch and kiss him, taking delight in his unusual vocalness; and in her boldness, she soon pulled back and made an attempt at yanking down his trousers. It was a feeble endeavour, however, as his seated position made it impossible for her to pull them past his hips, and she was immediately taken aback by this slight hiccup. It felt like the wind had been taken out of her sails, causing her ephemeral confidence to shatter like glass. What was she supposed to do now? She briefly considered whether she should ask him to get up on his knees, but the mere thought of making such a request made her feel even more embarrassed. She cudgelled her brain in desperation, but her consternation was unwarranted, as Snape seemed to have read her mind already. A quick flick of his wrist was all that was needed to vanish his remaining clothing, leaving him completely in the nude.

Hermione gasped when she abruptly found herself confronted with his nakedness. A path of trimmed hair, whose dark tone clashed with his pale skin, led from his navel down to the junction of his thighs where his already weeping erection stood pointedly. Slightly reddish in colour, it looked so incredibly stiff and – for want of a better term – angry.

The Muggle-born’s heart was pounding so fast and loud that she was certain he must be able to hear it. This was the first time that she was seeing a phallus in the flesh, and even though she could only compare it to some rather insipid medical illustrations she had seen in books, she still knew that Snape was definitely well-endowed. His penis looked so long and notably thick that she had trouble imagining how it was supposed to fit even just halfway inside her.

But despite her flabbergasted state, her innate know-it-all nature quickly took over. Before she could curb her curiosity, she had already leaned forward in order to examine him more closely. His straining manhood was all flushed, with veins and ridges and silky-smooth skin, a glossy, milky-hued droplet spilling at the tip. Unwittingly, she reached out and allowed one tentative finger to brush across the head, watching in fascination as the organ twitched in response to her touch.

However, even though his sex seemed to react with eagerness to this minute caress, Snape did not. Without warning, he jolted backwards, practically recoiling from her, and Hermione froze, with her hand still in the air.

“I –” His tone was barely recognisable, sounding all breathless and scratchy, and Hermione thought that even the blindfold could not fully mask the conspicuous wild look of his eyes, his neatly feathered eyebrows raised so high that they almost disappeared in his hairline. For a long moment, neither one of them dared to move.

“I’m sorry,” she then said, careful to keep her voice calm and quiet for fear that he would otherwise again react as though Peeves had just dropped a barrage of Dungbombs on him. “I shouldn’t have touched you without your permission. I’ll just –”

Scarcely had she begun to back away that his hands suddenly shot towards her and encircled her forearms with surprising precision.

“No, please!” His hoarse voice was a mere thread of sound. “Forgive me!”

He lurched forward and pressed one frantic kiss after another onto the insides of her wrists.

“It’s just –, you cannot imagine how –” He swallowed hard, and she watched his Adam’s apple jump in his throat. “Having you … touch me like that … with your scent filling this room so potently and your taste on my lips still …”

His entire body shuddered almost convulsively.

“The curse … it nearly overtook me just then. But I promise –, I swear that I’m in control now!”

Hermione was taken aback by the discernible difference in his speech. These unrestrained, overwrought words – they sounded nothing like Severus Snape, Hogwarts professor and potions extraordinaire. She could not quite put a finger on why this odd change in behaviour bothered her so much, but something about the way the tips of his hair were all of a sudden crackling with sparks of unbridled magic unnerved her.

“It’s all right,” she said softly. “I understand. I won’t do that again.”

“No!”

For an instant, the grip he had on her tightened, squeezing her flesh painfully, before he loosened it again.

“No, you … you can touch me,” he added somewhat more calmly, though still with a pressing imperativeness to his voice. “If you want.”

A wave of unease welled up from her belly. There it was again – that sickening suspicion that the dark magic striving to corrupt his mind was perhaps much closer to the surface than she would have liked to admit. Unlike before, she did not think that he was trying to scarper anymore. No, rather something within him now seemed to be all too keen on staying; and she somehow got the impression that this shift did not bode well for her.

Regardless, they had already come this far – there was simply no way that she could abort their mission this close to the finish line. And so she told him, “Show me how.”

He released one of her hands and pulled the other towards him, wrapping their intertwined fingers around him. He urged her fist down towards the base before more quickly drawing it back up in a sort of twisting motion. Repeating this action a mere handful of times – she had always been a quick study, after all – he ultimately allowed his hand to fall away so that she could continue the movement on her own.

Yet again, she was glad for his temporary blindness, since she could only imagine his reaction to the expression she surely had to be sporting at the present. She was – for want of a better term – utterly mesmerised by the feeling of his rigid member in her hand. It felt hot, oh so very hot, and somehow both improbably stiff and velvety-soft at the same time. With each pump of her hand, it seemed to grow even harder, swelling within her closed fist. The way his bollocks appeared to have a mind of their own, ascending upwards and nearly disappearing at various times, had her spellbound.

Most importantly, however, Hermione was bewitched by the actual act of touching him like this – of being able to affirm that under all those layers of black cloth, he was just as fragile as the rest of them.

He felt so … human.

“Grasp it a bit more firmly,” Snape whispered, and a low rasping sound was torn from him when she followed his instructions. He appeared to fold in on himself, his head dropping to her shoulder, his unsteady breaths tickling her skin. He bucked against her hand and at once, her fingers became slick with precum.

A shock wave of heat pulsed through her blood. Witnessing him in such a state – it made her feel powerful beyond measure. Because she was doing that. She was the one turning him on like this. She was the one causing him to groan like this, and immediately she craved to draw more of those delicious sounds from him. Increasing the pressure on his cock, she began to speed up her pumps. Up, twist, down. Up, twist, down. She let herself get lost in the rhythm.

“Enough!” Snape suddenly barked as his fingers forcefully seized her waist, and Hermione let go off him as though touching him was scorching her skin.

For a heartbeat or two, they remained in this queer position, both of them unnaturally still. Then he pulled back a little and raised his chin towards her.

“I apologise. I did not intend for that to come out sounding quite this brusque.”

Hermione thought that she could detect a slight flush on his cheeks.

“It’s just –, I … I got …” He ducked his head. “Too … close.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

“I suppose that means …”

“Yes.”

“It’s … time.”

“Yes.”

Hermione felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of her face.

This was happening, she thought, this was really happening. Professor Snape was going to fuck her.

Right. Now.

A chill rushed across her skin, sharp and cold. The time between that ill-starred order meeting and the present moment abruptly seemed to have gone by far too quickly. How had they already reached this point? Hadn’t he knocked on her door only a few minutes ago? For an agonising instant, she was consumed by dread – and then her eyes fell on Snape.

He was a truly miserable sight. The Slytherin was hunched over, cowering almost, his hands balled into shaking fists at his sides. It was then that the reality of their situation hit her like a ton of bricks. For the most part, her nervousness came down to the typical jitters one could expect to get when faced with the prospect of losing one’s virginity. It was clear, however, that his worries were not of the same nature. Indeed, he looked absolutely horror-stricken in anticipation of what was to occur; and Hermione was promptly disgusted with herself for her self-centredness. To think that she would permit herself to wallow in her own qualms, when his state of mind had to be much worse – no, it simply would not do. After all, she was supposed to help him!

Putting aside her own concerns, she thus scooted over to the middle of the bed, took one of his hands into hers and gently but firmly pulled him towards her. Snape was compelled to follow her as she leaned backwards until her back met the mattress. Their bodies collided without much grace and came to lie in a huddle of limbs.

Snape instantly tried to remove himself from her, of course, but Hermione stilled him with one hand on his shoulder and the other cupping his face. Stroking his cheek with her thumb, she gave him an encouraging smile he could not see.

“Please don’t try to run again,” she entreated. “We’ve almost done it now. Just hold out a bit longer, okay?”

The only response she got was a delayed, curt nod, and she had to hold back a groan of irritation.

Easy, Hermione. Remember, this is even harder for him than it is for you.

“Ready when you are then,” she therefore told him, a weird cheerfulness in her voice that sounded fake even to her own ears.

Snape, too, appeared puzzled if his rigid posture was anything to go by, but Hermione decided to play ignorant. What followed was a long, awkward pause which only ended once the wizard finally sighed in capitulation. With slow, reluctant movements, he shifted his weight to one side and took himself in his hand. As he guided his member towards her centre, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“You know that you can tell me to stop at any point, right?” He hesitated. “Well, at least until …”

He trailed off, and though she saw his words for what they were – another stalling attempt – she could hear the earnest trepidation in them as well. She could only imagine how uncomfortable the thought of being wholly out of control had to be to someone like him.

“I know.” Hermione reached between them, curling her fingers around his trembling ones and lining him up with her entrance. “Keep going.”

Nervously, Snape moistened his dry lips. His pelvis pushed forwards, and Hermione squinched her eyes shut. His cock was definitely much bigger than his fingers had been, and the unexpected roughness of his initial thrust did not help. A croaky whine filled her ears, and this time she was very nearly certain that it had come from him.

Fortunately, he seemed to regain his composure following that first shove of his hips and waited for her muscles to unclench before he pressed on, gradually sinking into her as far as her body would allow him. To her astonishment, it did not hurt. There was a momentary, slight pinch as he filled her and then … nothing. Frankly, this unforeseen circumstance left her genuinely confounded.

Even though all signs may point to the contrary, at the end of the day, Hermione Granger was but a young woman who had only relatively recently had her sexual awakening. As such, she had in fact read the occasional dirty article or semi-helpful advice column in certain teen magazines that had somehow found their way from Ginny’s extensive collection into her hands and had even secretly listened in on the gossipy testimonials shared between her giggly dormmates over the years. All that had led her to believe that a girl’s first time was supposed to be far from pleasant, outright painful even. Yet all she was experiencing right now was a strange feeling of vaguely uncomfortable fullness.

She briefly wondered whether or not that had anything to do with the pain relief potion Snape had given her earlier; however, she was pulled from her thoughts in the twinkling of an eye. In her confusion, she had experimentally canted her hips in order to decipher this alien sensation, and her heart jolted when one of his hands suddenly thwarted her rather harshly.

“D-don’t!”

Hermione’s lips parted in silent surprise. Never before had she heard the ever-steady, ever-contained wizard stutter like this. In fact, she could not remember ever hearing him stutter at all. The apparent distress in his voice disconcerted her – and at the same time, it excited her, too. To evoke such an uncharacteristic reaction from such an incredibly self-possessed man like Severus Snape with nothing more than a slight movement of her body was downright exhilarating. Without conscious volition her pelvic muscles contracted.

“Hermione!”

“Sorry! That –, that wasn’t intentional, I swear.”

Throwing his head back, Snape visibly clenched his teeth.

“It’s … fine,” he managed to spit out, evidently with great effort. “Just give me a moment.”

Making every endeavour to lay cooperatively still, she observed his face. The tendons in his jaw were locked in acute restraint, looking more akin to steel hawsers than anything else, and there was a deep line running vertically between his brows, reminiscent of the one which had oftentimes manifested itself in the classroom, whenever he had had to do his utmost not to unleash his fury on one of the – as he so affectionately liked to call them – dunderheads who had just recklessly caused an explosion in their cauldron. The only noise in the room was the sound of small bursts of air being forced out of his flaring nostrils in rapid succession.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the tension in his features eased, and his expression gentled. Snape removed his hand from her waist and following another short moment of indecision began to move. His hips rolled forward, rocking against her in shallow thrusts, very slowly at first and little by little becoming a bit more daring.

As he stiffly slipped in and out of her, Hermione gnawed at the inside of her lip. Again, his movements did not hurt, but they did not feel good either. It must be his girth, she thought, or maybe her own build was simply too small or maybe both of those facts were equally true. Either way, she was sure that they had to be physically incompatible somehow, because right now the only thing she could focus on was that disagreeable stretch she felt.

She was not quite sure why this was disappointing to her. After all, she had not gone into this whole curse-breaking-spy-shagging-fiasco with any romanticised notions in her head. However, she would be lying if she had said that the ease with which he had gotten her off earlier had not caused a bit of hope to swell within her. She was still thankful for the absence of the expected pain, of course, but some frustration nevertheless reared its ugly head. In an attempt to squash it, she tried to distract herself.

She was under no illusion that she would most likely never again see the man who was currently hovering above her like this – without his armour of billowing robes and countless buttons, without his sneering remarks and that perpetual scowl of his. She would never again see him this unguarded. This exposed. Therefore, she was determined to make the most of it by running her fingers across any body part she could reach: his arms, his pectoral muscles, his neck. As she traced the dip of his spine, he let out a soft grunt which made the corners of her mouth curl upwards a bit. Even if the previous pleasures he had given her were now missing, she could at least take solace in this – in seeing this powerful man react to her touch. React to her. Suitably mollified, she allowed her hands to continue to roam across his broad chest. Subconsciously, the muscles in her body began to relax, and so she was somewhat dumbfounded when his thrusts were suddenly bearable. No, they were more than bearable – they actually felt kind of nice. She was unaware of the fact that when her legs had settled more comfortably on either side of him, she had inadvertently opened herself up to him more which greatly helped allay that awful stretching sensation.

All the while, Snape had been holding his body taut in an effort to keep his weight off her, bracing himself against the mattress on either side of her head. The muscles of his lean arms were straining, noticeably flexing beneath his pale skin, and when thinking back to this moment later she would use this fact as an excuse for her following actions; though truth be told, she merely acted on a sudden impulse that demanded him closer.

Her legs wrapped around his waist at the same time that she reached out and linked her arms behind his back. She pulled him towards her with all her strength, and his reaction to this unanticipated change in position was immediate. An almost pitiful-sounding moan escaped him, and his head dropped to her left shoulder. One of his arms stretched upwards, his fingers becoming entangled in her curls, whilst his other arm slid under her neck and cradled her close. Simultaneously, his hips surged forwards, impaling her in one sharp stroke, and for a moment, Hermione struggled for air.

“Fuck,” Snape groaned without even seeming to realise that he had spoken. His grip on her tightened as he rammed his cock into her again. And again. And again.

Hermione screwed up her eyes. She knew that it was the curse causing him to act in such a manner – to be reduced to expletives, to sink his teeth into the crook of her neck in an effort to stifle his gasps and whimpers, to cling to her like she was his salvation. Still, she shifted her lower body just so and met his movements with her own. With each thrust, his hips snapped against hers and his pelvis met her swollen clit in a truly glorious manner, drawing breathy moans from her. No longer did his rhythmic invasion of her body feel foreign, no, it was starting to feel good. Really good.

So that’s what all the fuss is about, she thought just before Snape stupefied her mind with a searing kiss. His lips were needy, the pace of his pounding relentless. She let one of her hands trail the path between his shoulder blates and felt him shudder.

“Ah,” he suddenly panted into her mouth, ceasing his vigorous strokes. His chest was heaving with excited breaths as he pushed himself up on his elbows. “I –, I’m about to –, to … Are you ready?”

In spite of his urgent words, Hermione could hear the evident uncertainty in his voice. Instead of answering him, she cradled his chiselled face in her hands. She pressed a soft kiss onto the tip of his nose before she reached around and slowly unravelled the tight knot that had kept the ominous blindfold in place from the moment the curse had struck him until now. The piece of cloth fell from his eyes, and she found herself confronted with his bluish-tinged eyelids.

“Open your eyes,” she told him, even as her heart stumbled over its own rhythm. “Look at me.”

But he did not. Indeed, he tried to turn his face to the side. Her hands refused to let him move so much as an inch though.

“Hey. It’s all right. Really.” She stroked her thumb across his cheekbone. “I know that it’s … that it’s frightening. But I’m here; we’re here. It’s almost over. Let’s unburden you.”

In that exact moment, she did not feel any fear. She could not be certain as to what was about to happen, of course; she did not know how devastating and destructive the curse would truly prove to be. But even so, she thought that right now she was maybe the calmest she had ever been. Because for once, her mind was not in a state of organised chaos. For once, she was not stuck in that suffocating spiral of overthinking and strategizing and obsessive planning, always anticipating contingencies, always worrying, always anxiously awaiting the next tragedy. Perhaps the reason for it was that there was simply no point. There was no need to look for alternatives, whatever the outcome, because the circumstances did not permit it. There was only one way out, and all they could do now was to let it happen. This inevitableness – it was almost a relief.

She kissed him again, on the mouth this time. Gentle and sweet. It was not a kiss of passion but rather one of reassurance. A kind of promise.

“Trust me,” she whispered, and after a heartbeat, his lashes finally swept up.

Their eyes immediately locked, and for just a split second, Hermione saw the Potions Master as she had never seen him before. His gaze was full of so much vulnerability and uncertainty, tenderness and bewilderment. This bizarre jumble of emotions filled her heart and made her want to bitterly weep at the same time.

But then, his demeanour abruptly changed. To the witch, it almost appeared as though his eyes suddenly glazed over, their pitch-black colour somehow getting even darker. His brows knitted together as if enraged and his lips drew back to reveal his uneven, gritted teeth, which morphed his face into something akin to a grotesque grimace.

With a guttural snarl that sounded less like a human and more like a savage beast, Snape arched his back and drew back only to then promptly slam back into her with unprecedented force, sheathing himself to the hilt in her warmth. Hermione gasped and gripped the sheets as he plunged into her again and again, hard and fast. His pace quickened with each thrust, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It took her all but biting her tongue to keep from making a troubled sound, worried about overly upsetting Snape or whatever was left of him, hidden deep inside that creature-like madman who was so roughly fucking her right now.

It was not painful, necessarily – she was far too wet for that – but his forcefulness felt simply overwhelming. It was way too much. She did not try to mask her expression of discomfort; in truth, she even purposefully screwed up her face in an exaggerated manner. After all, should Voldemort truly demand access to his servant’s mind tomorrow night, it was crucial that her supposed distress look somewhat convincing. In the same vein, however, she did make sure to keep her arms tightly wrapped around her torso, covering up as much as she possibly could.

Meanwhile, Snape continued to pound into her with abandon. Accompanied by feral grunts, his furious thrusts were becoming more urgent and erratic by the second. Hermione watched him through the lashes of her squinted eyes. It was all but frightening how different he looked to his usually so composed self, staring at her with those wild, lust-crazed eyes, the veins of his neck protruding to an alarming extent. This was no longer the same Severus Snape she had known thus far – no longer the same snarky professor whose magical prowess she had always admired whilst sitting inside that dark, stuffy dungeon classroom; no longer the same brave man who had sacrificed it all in the fight against the dark side; no longer the ardent lover who had so easily made her become undone and crumble like sand in his arms. No, at this moment, he was truly nothing more than a vessel for that dreadful curse which was holding him prisoner inside his own body.

A desperate moan left Snape’s lips. His breathing was starting to get laboured, and he was little short of frothing at the mouth when he all of a sudden in his rage took hold of her hips, burying his nails in her flesh. Hermione unwillingly yelped in pain as he pulled her towards him in such a frenzy that he lifted her lower body off the bed. This shift in position created a new angle, and even though his movements were still far too harsh and brutal for her sexually verdant self, he was now suddenly hitting that spot within her again which sent a surge of excitement through her abdomen. Hermione whimpered as she felt her inner walls flutter around his length, tightening and throbbing with need. With each powerful stroke, a newly familiar feeling was gradually beginning to build inside her core. Stars danced behind her lids every time he ploughed into her, and against all odds, she yet again found herself climbing and climbing and climbing and –

A throaty roar resonated off the bedroom walls as Snape at last soared into oblivion and spilled himself inside her with one final deep thrust. For an instance, it was like time had stopped, and all Hermione could sense in her foggy state was the peculiar way he was pulsing within her – and then he collapsed on top of her, pinning her underneath his form, his face buried in the crook of her neck. They lay like that for what felt like hours.

“I-is it over?” Hermione ultimately managed to choke out with great difficulty once she had caught her breath, her voice sounding terribly shaky. “The curse … is it broken?”

At her words, the wizard tensed up, and for a mere second, Hermione was seized with panic. In the heat of the moment, she had completely forgotten about their earlier conversation, and so now her wand was lying amidst a messy pile of clothes on the floor, entirely out of reach. She felt her stomach contract into a tight ball as her eyes darted around the room almost feverishly, looking for an escape. After all, she knew that she was no match to him, neither physically nor magically – especially not whilst he was lost to curse-induced delirium.

But then, at last, Snape visibly relaxed.

“No, I … I think … I think it’s over,” he panted between short gasps, and Hermione breathed an audible sigh of relief.

They had actually done it. They had broken the curse. It was over.

The following moments were spent in silence. The unlikely pair remained in their unwonted position, him atop her, their bodies still joined in the most intimate manner. Snape was surprisingly heavy, his weight pressing her into the mattress to the point that she nearly felt smothered, but she somehow could not bring herself to care. For some reason, it simply felt right to have him pressed so tightly against her, to experience those slight tingles every time he exhaled against her skin. Hermione did not think that she had ever felt this content before in her whole life. She would have bottled up and preserved this very moment for all of eternity if she could have.

When he finally stirred and consequently propped himself up on his forearms, she immediately mourned the loss of his touch. Though she still had to wince a bit from soreness as he pulled out of her.

All the while, Snape hung his head low, his long hair masking most of his face – which Hermione did not like, not one bit. Just like she did not like the fact that he was suddenly so quiet again. Whilst she was normally well-accustomed to his long bouts of silence, she could not overlook how vocal and attentive he had been just minutes earlier. Slowly but surely, she was growing concerned. After all, the Potions Master was rather infamous for his frequent violent mood swings. Therefore, she could not stop herself from worrying about what his current state of mind was or even what would happen next, now that they had done what they had needed to do. Would they now simply go back to their previous ways? Were they now again merely ex-professor and ex-student, distant acquaintances at best? Would she never again be allowed to see this side of him, the caring and softer him? Would they never again speak about what had transpired between them today? Though she certainly did not have any romantic feelings for him, the idea still hurt.

Her ongoing whirlwind of thoughts was only interrupted when Snape pushed himself off of her and rolled over. However, just before he came to a rest beside her, Hermione could have sworn that she felt his lips ghost across her left shoulder for merely a wisp of a second.

That was how they found themselves laying side by side on her much too narrow bed, their sweaty, naked bodies practically clinging to each other wherever they happened to touch. The only noise in the air was the sound of their laboured breathing. Something wet and sticky was slowly starting to pool between her legs, staining the sheets beneath her, but Hermione barely noticed. She was still so dazed that she could hardly even think straight. Even now, it felt like every inch of her body was on fire, aglow with the carnal intoxication which continued to flow through her every vein. She was faintly aware of a pounding ache gradually radiating from where he had been grabbing onto her earlier during his manic rampage; there was no doubt in her mind that she would wake up tomorrow morning with finger-shaped bruises adorning her hips.

All of a sudden, the man beside her seized her by the wrist, taking her by surprise.

“Thank you.”

It had scarcely been more than a whisper, but Hermione had heard the words – and the sincerity in them – nonetheless. By the time she turned her head to look at him, however, Snape had already let go of her again. He was staring straight up at the ceiling with a blank expression, his gaze fixated on nothing in particular. Whilst his face was impassive, his posture appeared curiously casual. Resting on his back, he had one bent arm stretched out above his head and the other draped across his abdomen. This pose, paired with his alabaster skin, his aquiline nose and the strands of charred-black hair sticking to his forehead which was beaded with sweat, made him look straight out of a classic painting, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him.

“You’re welcome … Severus.”

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[slytherinknowitall]

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 4: Devotion [Part I]

(Click here for chapter 3!)

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Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Snape’s sudden question knocked all wind from her lungs, immediately bringing her brain to a standstill.

At first, she was not even sure that she had heard him correctly. Surely, he had not just said what she thought he had; there was simply no way. But as the words echoed through her addled mind over and over again – may I kiss you, may I kiss you, may I kiss you – she could not help but turn to him in shock, with her honey-brown eyes opened wide.

“W-what?” she asked in a breathless whisper, her voice sounding awfully choked.

His face contorted seemingly in agony.

“If this is your first time, I want to –, I would like to try to make this an at least somewhat enjoyable experience for you.” He spoke in a manner which was a lot faster than he usually did, nearly causing him to stumble over his own words. “And it would also make the whole process significantly easier if you were … aroused to some degree.”

Hermione stared at him open-mouthed. All of a sudden, she was painfully aware of the blood rushing through her ears, the rhythmical throbbing inside those minuscule veins being almost deafeningly loud. She was completely and utterly speechless, something which had only occurred so rarely in her life. Snape actually wanted to kiss her? To have this be more than just a quick, rough shag of necessity? Her eyes wandered to where his hand was laying on top of her thigh. Was this why he had been touching her this whole time? To arouse her?

“Though I would of course understand it if you would rather I did not,” Snape was quick to add when she did not reply straightaway, still too flabbergasted to speak. The hint of self-hatred was back in his tone, and Hermione loathed herself for making him feel this way, for making him think she was rejecting him.

Because she was not.

Without thinking, she grabbed his arm and held it in place when he made to remove his hand from her thigh. It sounded insane, but she liked him touching her there. She wanted him to keep touching her there. Even amidst her current emotional turmoil, the feel of his firm hand against her clothed leg was nothing short of heavenly. She dared not think of how his hands might feel on other parts of her body, of how his fingers might feel stroking her bare skin.

“You can kiss me,” she heard herself say. “If you want.”

Snape remained completely motionless; however, the muscles of his hand tensed up beneath hers, and Hermione thought that even with the blindfold on, she could see his eyebrows draw together at her words. Although it had been his suggestion, he was clearly still hesitant for some reason. Perhaps he did not quite believe her, not after she had failed to answer him right away. Hermione wanted to scream.

When she had originally volunteered to help him break the curse, she had admittedly not given much thought to how it would all actually transpire. Even whilst she had been vehemently sermonising in an attempt to persuade him to accept her offer, she had not given any significant amount of consideration to the inevitable consequences of her efforts. Only when he had presented her with the second potion had reality truly set in; only then had she become fully aware of the fact that this could quite possibly end up being a very painful and traumatising experience for her and begun to feel frightened.

But now, Snape had just openly confessed that he would prefer her to be an active participant in this rather than an expedient object. He was willing to kiss her, to touch her – and Hermione desperately wanted him to, she realised. She needed this to be something more than a clinical, mechanical act, needed to trick her brain into believing that she had simply embarked on a sensual adventure with someone who actually cared about her and her well-being rather than think about the fact that she was actually about to have sex for the very first time because of a curse which had been meant to eradicate her kind.

Just like he had done not minutes earlier, Hermione bent her knee and turned her body until she was able to look at Snape straight on. The change in position caused their joined hands to slip towards the inside of her thigh, and she had to suppress the hiss that was threatening to escape her. Reaching out, she took hold of his other hand and slowly brought it up to her face. The feathery touch of his fingertips against her right cheekbone felt electric. With his hand so close to her nostrils, she was able to detect his unique scent which had been cultivated from years of daily brewing and made him smell of fresh-cut grass, sandalwood and smoke.

The way his shoulders abruptly stiffened told her that Snape understood what she had tried to wordlessly convey, and so she let her hand fall away from his. The old, somewhat saggy mattress shifted under his weight as the wizard leaned forward. Hermione closed her eyes. She could sense his hand slowly wander lower, capturing her chin between his fingers. The way his thumb just ever so slightly skimmed across the contour of her lower lip sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

Snape continued to draw nearer until he was close enough so that she could feel his breath on her skin, and then he stopped. Hermione knew that he was giving her enough time to pull away, and for just a split second, she wondered if she should. But no, she knew in her heart that she wanted this. She wanted to help him, wanted to break this goddamn curse, and she also wanted him to kiss her. Hence, she gave a single tiny nod of her head, and that was enough for Snape to close the distance between them.

His lips brushed against hers only lightly at first. They were rather thin but incredibly soft somehow, and though they were barely even touching her, this simple caress was enough to make something explode inside her chest and send sparks flying all the way down to the tips of her toes, making it very hard to breathe. When she did not shrink back, Snape dipped his head down and pressed his mouth against hers just a bit more aggressively, and Hermione felt like her entire body had been set ablaze. She was so overwhelmed by sensations she had never known she was even capable of feeling that she thought that if she were to open her eyes right now, the world around her would be spinning and whirling and tilting. In fact, she was so sure of it that she reflexively brought both of her arms up and clung to him as though she was trying to keep herself from collapsing.

“Okay?” Snape muttered against her lips, and not quite trusting herself to speak, Hermione simply pulled him back into the kiss.

Their lips moulded together, dancing in perfect harmony almost as if they had never done anything else. Hermione let out a wild gasp when his hand promptly wandered to the back of her neck, gently tipping her head to create a better angle, and once more when his tongue suddenly darted out to tentatively trace the seam of her bottom lip. She could not believe that it was Severus Snape of all people making her feel this way – like her blood was boiling underneath her skin, like the air around her was bursting into blasts of electricity – with nothing more than a simple kiss. Following an instinct, she parted her lips and was rewarded when his tongue slipped into her mouth. His taste was clean if a bit sharp, a hint of Firewhisky in the essence of his breath. In her callowness, she tried to mirror his actions, and soon their tongues were moving in unison, exploring and teasing and worshipping.

Hermione felt so hot. This kiss was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. The smooches she had secretly exchanged with Viktor back in fourth year, which had always been rather awkward and drooly more than anything else, had certainly never felt this good. It was clear that Snape had more expertise and that he knew what he was doing. His skilled movements were doing unbelievable things to her. It felt like her lips were burning, aching almost, but in a good way.

Wanting – no, needing – more, her hands left his shoulders and moved upwards until her fingers knotted in his raven-black hair. She twisted and pulled, roughly beckoning him closer, and he happily complied. Their lips met with more force, and Merlin, was it glorious. When his hand then all of a sudden squeezed her thigh, Hermione could not stifle an unintentional whimper. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clutched him to her; and she silently rejoiced when one of his sneaked around her waist in response.

The increased physical contact felt marvellous, though their positioning, with their legs trapped between their entwined bodies, did make things a bit difficult. Still, wanting more – always more – Hermione leaned forward and pressed herself against him as much as she possibly could. In return, Snape let out a deep rumbling sound. She sensed him tighten his grip around her midst and squealed into his mouth when he suddenly lifted her up and pulled her towards him, seemingly without any effort. She soon found herself on top of him, straddling his lap.

Although she had just been furiously snogging him, this sudden closeness nevertheless did not fail to make her face and chest flush bright red. It was all just happening so fast. It felt like only a second ago that their lips had first touched with such caution, and now her body was already wrapped around his so intimately, hugged to his so tightly.

Worst of all, in her inexperience, everything somehow felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Hermione simultaneously wanted to stick her tongue down his throat and run away screaming. Even though she should probably be thankful for the fact that this whole situation was not nearly as awkward and uncomfortable as she had predicted it might be, it almost scared her how good merely kissing him felt. But of course, there was no turning back now. She could not possibly show any hesitation, not now, not before the curse was broken. Snape had already been so reluctant to go through with it to begin with, had been so unwilling to in any way “compromise her virtue”. It was essential for the safety of all womankind that he not pick up on her uncertainty, even if she was half mad with dread right now.

However, unfortunately, he seemed to have noticed already.

Releasing his hold on the nape of her neck, Snape pulled back until she could see him clearly, and she yet again internally thanked the stars that his usually so penetrating gaze was hidden behind a strip of plum-coloured silk. Moreover, the blindfold also graciously protected her from his Legilimency skills – or at least she was pretty sure it did. From what she had read about the topic, he should not be able to delve into her thoughts without at least looking at her. But then again, he was such a talented wizard … maybe he could? No, no. Best not think about that.

“Is everything all right?” he asked in that gruff voice of his, a burning edge to his words which nearly coaxed a tremor out of her.

Hermione gulped. “Yeah,” she breathed softly, trying her hardest to keep from faltering.

“Are you certain? You seem a bit flustered.” His brows scrunched up in a frown, and he let his hands fall from her form. “Perhaps I have acted too impetuously. I beg your pardon … I forgot myself.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“No, it’s –, it’s fine!” she hurriedly reassured him. “Really! I was just startled, that’s all.”

“Don’t you lie to me! I may be without sight, but I can still sense how much you are trembling,” he spat in a dangerously low tone. “This was obviously a mistake. I should have never even come here.”

With that, he made to shove her off of him. Hermione felt a wave of acid well up from her belly.

“No, r-really, I swear!” she spluttered feverishly, resisting his attempt to push her aside. “I’ll admit that I may be a bit nervous, but that’s only because I have never done this before! But that doesn’t mean that we have to stop!”

Snape did not answer, but she could see his mouth slowly set into a grim line. Blind panic began to well inside her.

No! You cannot let him leave, not now!

Hermione’s wild thoughts were spinning around in her head at lightning speed. Oh, but what could she possibly say or do to prevent him from darting out of the room this very second?! The curse had to be broken, and it could only be broken if he stayed. She had to convince him somehow, someway – even if that meant that she would have to practically beg her erstwhile teacher not to leave her bed. It was a humiliating thought, but it simply had to be done. For the greater good. For his life to be saved. And, she realised, for her, too. Because deep inside, she knew that she did not want him to leave, curse or no curse.

“We don’t have to stop, because –” The witch willed herself to swallow her embarrassment. “Because I like this.”

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to grab his hands and put them back on her hips.

“I like the way you touch me.”

She reached out and took his sunken face into her quivering hands.

“I like the way you kiss me.”

She pressed a soft, closed-mouthed peck onto his unmoving lips.

“I-I,” she stammered, her voice but a whisper. “I like the way you make me feel.”

She kissed him again, and for a painfully long, drawn-out moment, his lips remained hard as stone. Hermione’s heart dropped into her stomach. Oh no, now she had messed it up for good – now he was going to reject her once and for all! She had failed in her one mission.

But then, she suddenly felt Snape clench the fingers on her hips, roughly pulling her closer. She barely had any time to think before his lips attacked hers, fiercely and hungrily and passionately. A choked sob escaped her when he unexpectantly bit her lower lip with his worn teeth, giving her the sensation of that good kind of pain.

“Do you mean that?” he groaned low in his throat between kisses.

Hermione’s head was spinning. “W-what?”

Snape’s lips left hers and trailed down to her throat, nibbling their way to the crook of her neck in warm and wet kisses.

“Did you mean it,” he muttered against her skin. “When you said you like me kissing you?”

His mouth latched onto the very spot at the side of her neck underneath her jaw where her heartbeat was pulsating at a rapid rate, and Hermione thought that she was about to lose her sanity. Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Y-yes,” she managed to stutter out.

Snape slipped his hands underneath her woollen sweater, almost making her jump, and let his potion-stained fingers dance across the small of her back.

“You like me touching you?” he whispered.

“Yes ...”

His lips wandered back up and stopped just shy of her mouth, hovering right above it. She breathed in his heady scent.

“You like the way I make you feel?” he murmured hoarsely.

Hermione licked her dry lips. “I do.”

“Why?”

Confused, she opened her eyes. “What?”

Letting out a loud growl, Snape seized her waist again and pulled her towards him even more, in doing so rolling her hips against his crotch and eliciting a breathless “Oh!” from the young woman.

“Why?” he repeated almost with a snarl.

“Because you make me feel … make me feel … so … alive.”

In an instant, his lips were back on hers. His insistent tongue delved into her mouth, ravishing her mercilessly, and Hermione could not help but mewl when his hands moved downwards and took a firm hold of her buttocks. His touch felt divine, and it made her body ache in all the good ways.

“G-gods, yes!” she moaned weakly into his mouth in a voice that sounded foreign to her own ears when he drew her nearer, making her rock against his groin.

It just all felt so unbelievably good. So good, in fact, that she could not stop herself from grinding back against him – and that was when she felt it.

Something hard.

Hermione nearly froze. Indeed, it took all of her carefully crafted self-control to keep from showing her shock and surprise in any discernible way. She could not give him even a single miniscule reason to doubt her certainty, of course, lest he should try to take flight again. However, that which she had just felt down there was irrefutable proof that he might just be just as affected by all of this as she was, and it also served as an all too real reminder of what was obviously soon to come. The thought alone was enough to give her a sudden stab of anxiety in her gut.

Don’t be ridiculous! You’re a Gryffindor, you’re brave! You can do this!

The Muggle-born swallowed hard. She knew that the most vital thing to do right now was to quiet those multitudinous frantic voices inside her head. So, in a bid to keep from overthinking, she simply continued to kiss him, excitedly and desperately and voraciously. And despite herself, her unsteady fingers began to work on opening the first of the many buttons running along the front of his black frock coat – which, though having fought face to face with bloodthirsty Death Eaters on multiple occasions, may just be the most terrifying thing she had ever done in her entire life. But all the same, she thought it a good idea to keep her hands busy right now, and unfastening those countless tiny buttons without the aid of magic seemed to lend itself.

By the time she undid the last button, the tips of her fingers had practically grown numb. In lieu of knowing what else to do now, Hermione gingerly pushed apart the fronts of the garment, and Snape shrugged it off along with his outer robes, revealing a tight-fitting, all-white dress shirt. She toyed with his regency-style cravat whilst his mouth wandered down to her neck again, leaving faint love bites in its trail. Hermione strained her neck and leaned into his caress, relishing in the involuntary shudders his sucking and nibbling induced.

After a while, Snape righted himself and leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“May I?” he enquired, tugging at the hem of her jumper.

A nervous frisson shot through her. She was painfully aware of the fact that she was not wearing any sort of undershirt underneath her sweater, and the mere idea of being so exposed in front of him made her feel awfully shy all of a sudden. She almost wanted to smack his hands away; however, she immediately chided herself for that thought. It was surely silly to act all coy about being topless in the presence of someone who was blindfolded, especially if the sole objective of this whole endeavour was for them to shag anyway – and even though she might be lacking experience, she still knew that that required at least some amount of nudity. Besides, she reasoned with herself, she had started it when she had begun to fiddle with those stupid, little buttons of his.

And so, she simply gave an affirmative “Mm-hmm.” that sounded more confident than she actually felt and dutifully lifted her arms when he proceeded to pull the jumper over her head, tossing it onto the floor behind them.

The frigid air hit her bare skin like an arctic breeze and made every single hair on her body rise into goose bumps. Hermione shivered, though she was not quite sure whether that was by virtue of the cold or rather the way his calloused hands felt against her back. They roamed her body, travelling from the waistband of her jeans up her spine all the way to her shoulder blades, caressing her as Snape kissed her again, softly and sweetly this time. This gentleness was hardly any less maddening than when he had been so brazen earlier; it caused her stomach to do somersaults and nearly made her forget all about her self-consciousness.

It was only when he slipped the straps of her bra off of her shoulders that she grew tense again. Yet as if on purpose, Snape chose this exact moment to deepen their kiss, fuelling it with newfound ardour; and Hermione well-nigh melted. She was so distracted by his lips that she did not even seem to notice when his hands sneaked down to her bra clasp, quickly unhooking it with expertise. The delicate undergarment falling from her form took her by surprise, but the man left her little time to react. Never breaking their kiss, he circled her in his arms and gathered her against him. Her nipples brushed against the rough fabric of his shirt, and it sparked off thrills of pleasure throughout her body.

The world was all heat and tension. Snape sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, and Hermione was shocked at how eagerly she responded, pressing herself against him and consequently heightening that delicious sensation caused by having his chest rub against hers. She could sense Snape’s right hand travel up the line of her body and slip between them, cupping her ample breast. His digits skimmed against her taut nipple, and she trembled all over.

Her lips instinctively parted when he turned his attention to her neck once more. Dipping his head, he slowly worked his way down her throat. As his mouth at last closed around the mound of her other, hitherto disregarded breast, Hermione felt her chest grow so tight that it became impossibly hard to breathe. He flicked his tongue, and she felt something hot shoot through her. The wet warmth of his mouth made her feel like she was only one spark away from exploding and kept her mind occupied enough to numb the insecurity she would have ordinarily experienced, now that his fingers were grazing the nasty scar that she had acquired two summers ago at the Ministry of Magic – the one unconcealable remnant of Dolohov’s curse which still marred her torso, spreading across her ribs like veins of lightning.

Without thinking, Hermione reached out, allowing her fingers to entangled themselves in Snape’s lank hair. She hauled him up only to promptly crash her lips against his. Her kiss was fervid and unyielding, and he answered her with enthusiasm. He grunted when she rocked into him again, and she was glad to notice that she was not the only one breathing heavily.

Desperate for more skin contact, her hands found his neck and fumbled around until they finally managed to free him of his cravat. Next, they tackled his dress shirt, working so clumsily that she very nearly ripped off a button or two in the process. When she had at long last succeeded in opening the shirt, she greedily pulled it apart and made to touch him – but before the edges of her fingernails could even graze his chest, Snape shackled her wrists without warning, stilling her hands with such force that it hurt.

Hermione yipped and gave him a bewildered stare. “What’s wrong?”

But Snape did not respond. He simply kept holding onto her arms with a grip as hard as steel, his face strangely expressionless.

A deep line formed between Hermione’s eyebrows. To say that she was confused would have been an understatement. Just a moment ago, he had been so zealously kissing and touching her, and now he sat as still as a statue. This sudden change perplexed her, and that feeling only continued to grow until she could no longer bear to look at him. She finally dropped her gaze – and that was when she saw it.

At the sight of his naked torso, Hermione could not stifle a sharp intake of breath. Snape’s entire upper body was absolutely littered in countless bruises and scars, both faded and fresh. Thick, jagged furrows cut across his chest, intersecting here and there with deep, angry gashes, more or less healed puncture wounds and circular lesions which looked suspiciously like cigarette burns. Some of the marks were seemingly new and still pink in colour, whereas others were so silvery white that they stood out noticeably, even against his deathly pale complexion. Her widened eyes had trouble finding an untainted part of his chest, one which had not at one point or another fallen prey to brutal violence. Her qualms about her own scars suddenly seemed more than infantile.

“What … what happened?” she rasped in an anguished whisper. “What in Merlin’s name was done to you?”

No response.

“Who did this to you?”

Snape opened his mouth, but not a sound came out. He slowly closed it again as his hold on her wrists loosened. He let his head slump forward, his hair falling around his face like curtains.

Hermione pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She could feel her eyes start to burn with tears. For so many years, she had seen Snape as nothing more than her dour, surly Potions professor, an enigmatic man of unmatched brilliance, crude words and ruthless insults who had always either caught her and her friends in their idiotic escapades or helped clean up the mess afterwards. Yes, once she had learnt of his bravery in the fight against evil, she had begun to regard him with an entirely new type of silent admiration. But up until now, she had not been able to fully fathom just how great the price he paid for his loyalty to the cause. Before her was a broken man – a man who was forbidden from ever breaking but still already had; who had been broken and forced to mend himself over and over again; and whose battered body told harrowing tales of degradation, torment and suffering. The realisation threatened to tear her heart into a million pieces and only made her more determined to spare him the punishment he would undoubtedly receive should he not find a way to break the curse.

Slipping out of his grasp, her hands reached out and made contact with his skin. Snape did not move a muscle as the tip of her index finger cautiously traced the smooth and straight seam of a particularly prominent scar which ran diagonally in a vicious, red line from where his left collarbone connected to his shoulder down to his sternum. Next, she felt the irregular ridges of the scarring that sullied the right sight of his abdomen, creating a large, sunken recess in his skin. Hermione continued in this manner, mapping his chest with her touch and committing every single undeserved mark to memory for safekeeping, determined to brand them all into her mind so that she should never dare forget his sacrifice.

“It’s not right,” she ultimately told him as she delicately removed the silver-coated cufflinks which fastened his sleeves together. She slid his shirt off of his shoulders and watched it pool around his haunches. Laying her hand flat against his stomach and feeling the rapid rise and fall of his shallow breathing, she pressed a gentle kiss right above his heart. “You don’t deserve this. Any of this.”

Snape flinched when her fingers curled around his inner left forearm, where she knew his Dark Mark to be.

“You don’t,” she repeated, and she did not protest when he wangled out of her grasp and roughly pushed her backwards. His hands groped at her breasts, twisting her buds between his fingers. As he lapped at her throat, he emitted a pained groan that for some strange reason sounded like music to her ears. Hermione moaned and threw her head back. She did not stop him when he unzipped her jeans and shoved his hand down her knickers with savage urgency.

Yes, do what you want to me. Whatever you want, you brave, brave man.

Running his fingers through her thatch of soft curls, he found her wetness. He pressed down on the swollen nub between her damp folds, and Hermione bucked against his touch. Straightaway, a warmth blossomed within her, unfurling in her belly like roaring fire, as his index finger brushed against her clit in such a deliberate manner that it caused her breathing to seize and her thighs to tremble.

His inexplicable command of her body was utterly incomprehensible to her. She could not understand how it was that Snape seemed to know exactly where to touch her, how to caress her sensitive skin in a way that made every single muscle, every single tendon of hers twitch excitedly in agonised anticipation. They were virtual strangers, having never so much as exchanged more than a few sentences at a time before tonight, and yet he was currently coaxing her to levels of ecstasy she had not believed possible. Never before had she experienced something like this, a pleasure so raw that it was almost painful. With each slow, circular motion of his finger, an unbearable pressure was beginning to build within her; it created a type of sensation which she had never known previously, but one which she intuitively knew she would now continue to chase until the day she breathed her last. She was teetering at the edge of something she did not know, and she thought she might die – die if he did not stop but also die if he did.

Hermione wanted to cry out in unexampled frustration when he suddenly pulled his hand away, but the only noise that left her lips was a surprised yelp as he flipped the two of them over, trapping her between the mattress and his broad frame. In an instant, his mouth was back on hers, and she lost herself in the feel of him. Through her half-lidded eyes, she was able to vaguely make out the ungraceful movements of his long legs as he hurriedly kicked off his dragon skin boots. She could but feebly slide her limbs around against the sheets when he sucked at her pulse, momentarily paralysing her ever-active mind.

Snape moved from her neck down to her chest, his tongue tracing an invisible path leading from between her breasts to her belly; and ironically enough, the only thing she could think of was how glad she was that she had happened to have showered earlier in the afternoon. He licked the outline of her navel, leaving a tingling sensation in his wake, before he sat up and shuffled down to the end of the much too small bed, which squeaked alarmingly under his weight. Wrapping his wiry hands around her ankles, he gently eased first one and then the other foot out of her tennis shoes, which soon came to a rest on the room’s wooden floor with two loud thumps. Then he leaned forward again, hooking his fingers in the loops of her jeans, and Hermione obediently lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them off along with her underwear in one swift motion.

The cold draught, which was somehow omnipresent in the Black family residence even during the summer months, immediately nipped at her exposure, mercilessly clawing at the wet heat emanating from her arousal. Hermione briefly mused that she should probably have felt abashed again, being totally naked except for her knitted socks, but truth be told, she was beyond caring at this point. The only thing she wanted right now was to feel his hand between her legs again.

The old bedspring gave a grating creak when Snape bent down and lifted her left foot towards him. Hermione arched her back with a content sigh as he showered her calf in open-mouth kisses that tickled her skin. She ran a finger over her tingling lips, subconsciously yearning for the moment when his talented tongue would yet again collide with hers – preferably whilst at the same time continuing his oh so titillating efforts from before.

But evidently, the wizard had other plans in mind. Slowly sliding his hand up behind her knee, he kissed his way up her leg, and it was only when his sensual caressing reached the inside of her thigh that Hermione suddenly realised where he was headed. A bolt of panic hit her.

“No, don’t!” she shrieked as she writhed in his arms. Clamping her knees together and accidentally almost striking his jaw in the process, she tried in vain to scramble away from him.

With his strong arms still wrapped around her squirming legs, Snape raised his head and fixated his sightless gaze on her.

“Hermione,” he said calmly, but it was as if she could not hear him. She simply continued to struggle in his awkward embrace, kicking and flailing her limbs.

“Hermione!” he repeated himself, louder this time, and finally she stopped her thrashing.

The brunette watched with bated breath as Snape let go off her and sat back on his heels.

“What is the matter?” he asked evenly. “Would you like us to stop?”

All colour drained from her face.

“No! No, not –, not stop, just –” She swallowed dryly, unable to wet her parched throat. “There’s no need for you to do … to do that. Can’t we just move on to –”

Snape pursed his lips. “You are not ready yet.”

“But –”

He cut her off by abruptly leaning forward until he was almost looming over her. He nudged one of her knees with his elbow, and at first, she was afraid that he might try to pick up right where he had left off. But no, he was moving upwards and not downwards, and so she let him push her legs apart.

Snape carefully settled himself over her. Through his clothes, she could feel his erection press against the cradle of her thighs, making her stomach churn with both excitement and dread. His hand found her cheek, and he brushed his thumb against her temple almost tenderly.

“You trust me, do you not?”

Hermione took her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes.”

“Then relax.” He pressed a chaste kiss on her Cupid’s bow. “Please.”

His other hand glided down the smooth curve of her body and came to a rest on her hip. His fingers massaged her muscles, urging away the tension which had gathered there.

“I … I don’t know if I can,” she confessed in a whisper.

Snape kissed her. His mouth never left hers as his hand moved from her waist down to her knee and back up again, eventually taking hold of her backside. He squeezed her arse, and despite her current state of restlessness, Hermione still could not help but delight in the feeling of his rough palm against her overheated skin.

“I understand. But just try.”

His hand had somehow found its way between her legs again, and Hermione felt a heinous whimper being pulled from her when the pad of his thumb rolled over her clit.

“Try to relax. Try to let go enough to allow me to do this for you. Believe me, it will make … everything after this a lot easier.”

She groaned throatily when the friction against her most sensitive flesh increased, and Snape hushed her cries with his mouth. He was positively devouring her, his tongue subduing hers as he resumed his relentless attack, rubbing and stroking her bundle of nerves in a way that made a sudden flare of heat pulse through her. Tendrils of fire began to pool deep inside her core and her hips jerked helplessly against his touch. His lips slid down her jaw whilst her hands reached out gracelessly, clutching at his back and feeling countless more, yet unseen scars there.

Nuzzling her throat, he lightly nipped the lobe of her ear before he descended further, laving her breasts and sucking at her sensitive nipples. Hermione briefly tensed up when Snape’s thumb slipped lower, but he just dipped into the slickness of her folds for a second before quickly turning his attention back to her clit. Her own wetness only added to the sweet torment of his touch, and that – in addition to his flattened tongue running over the gathered tip of her left breast – had her heated and chilled and panting and breathless all at once.

Damp breaths scudded across her fair skin as Snape marked his way further down her body in covetous kisses, the agonisingly slow movements of his thumb never stilling. Once he reached her lower belly, he diverted to the right and dragged his lips across her hip bone and down her leg. At her knee, he inclined his head and journeyed north again, only this time on the inside of her thigh, his sleek hair tickling her skin.

Sucking air in through her teeth, Hermione scrunched up her eyes. She tried her best to hold still, she really did. Yet as soon as she felt the ghost of his warm breath dance across the most intimate parts of her body, she could not stop her legs from kicking out minutely, could not stop her muscles from clenching up in nervous apprehension. But Snape held on tight to her hips. His sinewy arms, which had at some point unbeknownst to her hooked underneath her legs, kept her pelvis firmly on the mattress as he drew back and began kissing her other leg, downwards on the top of her thigh and then upwards again on the inside. Before he reached her centre though, he switched sides anew. He repeated his actions, his thumb meanwhile maintaining a steady pace on her clit, and this exasperating process was duplicated over and over and over again, to the point of utter vexation. Every time, his face inched closer to her pussy, but he never quite made the expected contact, never quite touched her where her traitorous body demanded it most.

Hermione was caught in an infernal spiral of anxiety and desire. She thought her whole body must be vibrating, humming with the sheer force of what could only be described as mounting, borderline angry frustration. Every spot of skin his lips touched was scalding hot, every kiss like a searing brand mark. She somehow felt like yelling and sobbing at the same time. Because right there and then, even though her heart was in her throat, more was the only coherent thought in her mind. This slow torture was simply not enough. She needed more. Something. Anything.

“Unnnh!” she grunted out – and he deigned to show mercy at last.

Giving her engorged nub one last upward stroke, he removed his hand and rested it on her belly. His fingers were drenched in her excitement; the witch could feel it being smeared onto her skin. But before she could ponder that particular oddity any further, something warm and wet traced the line of her sex. A silken caress parted her folds, and the sensation was so suffocating that she had to grab onto both of his forearms as though they were the only thing that could possibly keep her tethered to the real world at this very moment. A low, ragged noise resonated through the darkened room, and Hermione could not have said for sure whether it was coming from her or from Snape.

The feeling of his tongue… it was exquisite. Her toes began to tingle curiously as the soft flesh lapped at her wetness with bird-like fluttering movements that were not slow, but languid. Unhurried. Sweet Merlin. Twinges of pleasure licked up her spine as Snape tasted her. He explored her all over – straight up the centre, along the sides, left to right. Hermione could feel her legs begin to shake when the tip of his tongue finally dragged across her tender clit, so plump with aching need. As if on their own accord, her hands found the back of his head. Nimble fingers intertwined in silky tresses at the same that a strangled sob burst unbidden from her throat.

With his face poised between her thighs, feasting on her essence, the dark wizard growled – no, rather, he positively purred – in response, and the resulting vibrations caused every single nerve ending in her core to fire off in rapid succession. He was teasing her now, she was sure, drawing wide circles and then narrow ones, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, flicking his tongue every now and then in a way that made her eyes roll into the back of her head.

It was ravishing agony. This systematic deconstruction of all she had ever known to be true, this complete unravelling of her very being – it lasted for what felt like days. His skilful tongue kept pushing her higher and higher, closer to some unknown precipice but never quite allowing her to fall. Somehow through this thick, hazy mist of delectation and carnal bliss, she was eventually able to sense Snape shift his position on the bed. But even so, she was still taken by surprise when just a moment later, she felt something stroking her sex, an unaccustomed, gentle caress tracing her entrance. This sudden development caught her off guard. Her body merely stiffened at first, and it was only when she felt the slight pressure of something trying to push its way inside that she snapped out of her stupor and attempted to pull away, to push his head away from her.

A firm hand wrapped around her waist and held her in place. Not hard enough to restrain her, but with just enough force to temporarily still her movements.

“Shh.” His breath felt wickedly hot against her skin. “You’re doing so well. So, so well. Just trust me. Please.”

Hermione was sure that she was going mad. Someone must have secretly hexed her earlier, causing her to now suffer from the delayed effects of a poorly cast Confundus Charm. Or perhaps one of Snape’s potions had indeed been laced with something after all. There was simply no other explanation as to why she so willingly and swiftly settled back on the mattress – settled back into a position where she was so entirely at this man’s mercy – just a moment or two after his quiet utterances had registered in her brain. Her irrational actions could most certainly not be attributed to the low ripple of his voice that was still reverberating through her bones, bringing fresh need, fresh desire. It also definitely had nothing to do with the fact that the Potions professor had just actually praised her for the very first time in all the years she’d known him or the fact that his tone sounded desperate. Like he was begging – for reasons other than the curse.

Still, as soon as she felt it once more, that something trying to breach her opening, her legs involuntarily tried to clamp together. Yet Snape persisted, always pausing but never stopping, and in spite of her innocence, her body in its highly aroused state offered little resistance. By and by, his finger slowly pressed forward until it had at last slid all the way inside her. There was no pain; just a strange, somewhat uncomfortable fullness. Whatever stinging there may have been was quickly soothed by fleeting brushes of his tongue, and by the time he started to move, to plunge and twist, she was fidgeting again – not to escape his touch but rather to fight the sensory overload which threatened to inundate her wholly. Every measured stab of his finger, every drag of his tongue was marked by a whimpering moan.

Another finger joined the first at the same time that Snape sucked her clit into his mouth, and Hermione gasped. She sunk her heels into his lower back as the dull burn of being stretched collided with the curious sensation of feeling the blunt edges of his worn-down teeth graze her swollen bud. Her toes curled when his tongue began to swipe back and forth, the slow but steady movement causing her knuckles to turn white from her death grip on his hair. She bucked beneath him as if to remove him from her.

“Please, I –, I don’t think I –, I can –”

Her barely coherent words became lost, bleeding into one another when Snape curled his fingers within her, suddenly brushing against a hidden spot deep inside her core that caused her inner walls to clamp down around his slender digits nearly to the point of pain. Still, he worked in and out of her tight opening, each inbound thrust stimulating this newly discovered part of her femininity in a way that stole all the air from her lungs.

Clutching fistfuls of black hair, Hermione threw her head back against the pillow with a wretched sounding wail. It was too much. It was all just too much. His fingers, his mouth, his tongue, his nose – his goddamn, perfectly hooked nose, pressing up against her pubic bone like that. The sensations were so intense that she was certain there was no way she could handle them all without falling apart. He was going to kill her.

The tingling feeling was moving up her lower limbs now, making her thighs quiver and tremor and jitter. All of a sudden, every nerve ending seemed to originate from between her legs. It felt like her entire body was convulsing. Flashing stars were falling behind her eyelids as something tightened in her belly, curling tighter and tighter around itself. The feeling continued to build and build until it became almost unbearable – and then the world exploded into colours as she finally reached her release with a strangled cry.

(Click here for chapter 5!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 3: Discomfort

(Click here for chapter 2!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Hermione nearly winced when the sudden sticky sweetness of the contraceptive potion flooded her mouth, coating her tongue in a thin film that tasted of artificial cherry flavour.

“Is this really necessary?” she croaked weakly after she had forced herself to choke down the syrupy liquid. “I’m telling you, I buy my potions solely from licensed apothecaries. I can even show you the bottles if you want.”

“I know. I just … I tend to not trust what I have not brewed myself,” Snape muttered quietly as he pulled yet another phial out of the pocket of his coat and made to hand it to her.

But Hermione did not take it. She instead eyed the small crystalline container with suspicion, trying to discern the shimmering, carmine-coloured concoction inside it.

“A pain relief potion?” she asked in disbelief once her sharp mind had narrowed down the choice. “Now, surely that’s excessive!”

Snape did not say anything in response. His head tilted downward towards the floor so that she could not quite see his face, he simply held out the phial to her with one arm.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheeks. Under normal circumstances, there would be no way that she would ever ingest any magical substance without first verifying its exact purpose and possible effects. Merlin forbid she should accidentally consume anything poisonous or – perhaps even worse – Veritaserum. Of course, she did not believe that Snape would try to slip her anything that could do her harm. Not only had she not been lying when she had told him that she trusted him, but she also thought him wise enough not to try anything nefarious when there were several very angry people lurking around Grimmauld Place at this very moment who were, in the literal sense of the word, out for blood. However, even though she had let herself be persuaded by the wizard to drink a contraceptive potion from his personal stock, she thought that pre-emptive pain relief was taking it a bit too far for some reason. She did not even want to imagine why he deemed it necessary for her to take it; otherwise, she might just bolt out of the room in fear.

Still, ever the brave Gryffindor, Hermione remained exactly where she was, sitting on her rickety bed in her dimly lit room in her necessity-driven new home, right next to her former professor, their legs touching just ever so slightly. Her brain was in overdrive. It was only now that she realised the absurdity of the fact that Professor Snape would even happen to have contraceptives on hand. She would expect any Potions Master worth their salt to carry a basic array of potions with them at all times, of course; and she could definitely see how analgesics would be indispensable to a double agent. But contraceptives? Really? Did Snape truly walk around with those sorts of potions on his person, too? But then again, she reckoned that the unpredictability and the danger which followed him like shadows required him to always be prepared for anything life might throw at him. So maybe having contraceptives close at hand was not as weird as it may have seemed at first glance – after all, they had just found themselves in a situation where they were needed, hadn’t they? The thought alone made Hermione’s heart ache. That man beside her really did spend every second expecting the worst. He was obviously very well aware of the fact that he himself was the only person he could truly rely on, and so he made sure to gird himself for all possibilities. She struggled to imagine how he must be feeling right now, with his fate quite literally depending on her mercy. So how could she deny his unspoken request to ease his mind just a little? How could she refuse his wish to at least somewhat mitigate the potential aftermath of what was to come?

“Fine,” she therefore finally relented as she snatched the phial out of his hand and uncorked it. “If it makes you feel better.”

She brought the bottle up to her lips, tilted its bottom heavenward and, having learnt her lesson, downed the potion in one big gulp. All the same, a nasty, acidic aftertaste clung to her teeth. Hermione then banished the two now empty phials to her nightstand with a quick wandless spell, and then the room was silent.

“You should know,” Snape uttered at last, breaking the quiet. “That I am not entirely certain on the specifics of the curse. I had heard vague whisperings about it during the First War, and as far as I know, they never managed to figure out how to make the effects permanent. But of course, I cannot be sure that they never succeeded in their endeavours. So I want you to keep your wand at the ready just in case.”

“Okay,” Hermione replied softly.

“I mean it,” he insisted. “If the curse is not immediately broken, promise me … promise me that you will do whatever is necessary to incapacitate me.”

He turned towards her and looked at her with his unseeing eyes. “Put me in shackles or hex me into oblivion if you must. Just … do not let me leave this room to wreak havoc on the world.”

Hermione was at a loss for words. It was like an invisible rope had wrapped itself around her neck, constricting her throat. The patent desperation in his voice made her skin crawl.

“Promise me!” Snape demanded more forcefully this time, yelling almost; and his right hand found her knee, digging its digits into her flesh.

“Okay, okay!” Hermione cried out, the dull pain of his fingers grasping her thigh partially obscured by the foreign sensation of having him touch her so intimately for the very first time. “I promise!”

At her compliance, Snape loosened his grip; however, he did not let go completely. His hand remained on her leg, unmoving, and Hermione thought it strangely titillating.

“S-so how do you want to do this?” she asked, trying hard to ignore the unfamiliar prickling feeling which was starting to spread inside her belly. “Are you just going to pull off the blindfold now?”

“No. I will remove it at the last possible moment so as to minimise the effects. The curse should be broken upon, err, culmination, so I would think it best to take it off right before then.”

“Oh. All right …”

Hermione’s face felt awfully hot all of the sudden; though she did not know whether that was by reason of having an ex-teacher talk so frankly about sexual intercourse in front of her or rather the way his thumb had begun to slowly draw lazy circles on her thigh.

“You are aware of the fact that all of this will in all probability not stay between us? The Dark Lord will want to know how I accomplished the task of breaking the curse.”

“That much I figured. So … you will tell him that it was me?”

“I will have to. I will also most likely be forced to share my memories of it with him.”

Hermione could not stifle the gasp that escaped her lips. Nearly stupefied with horror, she whispered, “You what?”

“He will want to see, Hermione. He always does. He seems to get enjoyment out of watching his loyal subjects cause mayhem and distress to others,” answered Snape in a low voice, his thumb stilling in its movement. “Though I will be sure to only show him the very end of it. And you have my word that I will try my best to … make it as unrevealing as possible.”

Hermione felt tears of embarrassment swell up in her eyes. The mere notion of her first sexual experience being showcased to the most vile and ruthless wizard of all time was nothing short of humiliating. It was already bad enough that their fellow Order members knew what she and Snape were about to do. She could hardly bear the thought of having to face Harry, Ron and all the others once this was all over, of having to look them in the eyes knowing that they would know. However, the fact that not only would the tale of her deflowering be a highlight of the next Death Eater meeting but also that the act itself would be mentally witness by He Who Must Not Be Named himself made her want to hide away from the world forever. She let out a strangled sob.

“Are you all right?” asked Snape with obvious concern, the hand on her knee twitching.

“Yeah, I just –, I –” She used the sleeve of her jumper to frantically wipe away the tears which had rolled down her reddened cheeks, leaving behind scorching hot trails on her skin. “I’m sorry. J-just give me a minute to pull myself together.”

“Hermione, you do not have to go through with this if you do not want to. In no way will I bear you any ill will if you back out now.” Snape turned until most of his right leg was resting on top off the bed, making him face her more directly. The shift in position caused his hand to travel up her thigh a little bit, and despite her current state of near hysteria, this still made Hermione’s heart skip a beat. The warm feeling inside her stomach was spreading at a rapid rate now. “I know that this is asking a lot of you. Please do not think that you must do this for my sake.”

Looking up at the ceiling, Hermione blinked several times until the tears finally stopped flowing. Willing herself to take a few deep breaths, she waited until she felt composed enough to say, “I’m not backing out. It’s just … knowing that –, that he is going to watch … it’s mortifying.”

Snape frowned. “I know. Believe me, I do not expect you to ever forgive me for any of this.”

Hermione gave him a weak smile. It was weird somehow to smile at him; it was not something she could remember ever doing before. And even though he could not see her do it, it still felt a bit strange.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” he said with a sigh. “If I had not so stupidly let my curiosity get the better of me, I would have never touched that bloody artifact and we would have never even been in this situation to begin with.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. “Well, there is nothing we can do about it now.”

Snape made a strange noise that almost sounded like a chuckle. “Right … I guess not.”

What followed was a long silence, during which neither one of them said anything. At some point, Snape’s thumb continued its ministrations, gently rubbing across her denim-clad upper leg in a soothing manner. However, Hermione barely even noticed the renewed movement, as she had a thousand thoughts running through her mind. It was obvious that at some point, the mood inside the room had shifted. Now that they had said what needed to be said – now that all cards were on the table – the next step was obvious: they needed to actually break the curse. Hermione had been truthful when she had told him that she was not going to bottle out. Unfortunately, he had not been completely mistaken when accusing her of having a saviour complex. Despite her nervousness, her inherent determination to help others no matter the cost prevented her from even entertaining the idea of backpedalling now. She could not in good conscience allow the curse to either have Snape attack an innocent person or perhaps, if not broken at all, sentence him to death. Still, merely imagining the things which were about to happen made her feel almost light-headed.

At the end of the day, she was not only still a virgin, but she also did not have much experience with the opposite sex in general. A short romantic escapade with Viktor Krum three years ago, which had been limited to some rather uncoordinated snogging hidden behind the tall shelves of the Hogwarts library, was pretty much the extent of her sexual expertise. She knew how it all worked in theory, of course – after all, there were countless books on the topic. But having spent the majority of her teenage years involved in a war, she had never given much thought to how or especially to whom she would eventually lose her virginity. She certainly would have never expected it to happen with Professor Snape, much less in such a peculiar manner. Obviously, she trusted him not to maliciously cause her any harm; however, though she had previously denied it, she was in actuality afraid that the curse would indeed rob him of all self-control and turn all of this into mere violence. Besides, how was it even meant to go down anyway? Was she just supposed to pull down her knickers, spread her legs wide open and wait for him to take from her what he needed? Would he even be able to simply perform or would he expect her to help him – for lack of a better word – rise to the occasion? She cringed at the thought of her unexperienced hands trying desperately to stimulate him somehow, of having him bark orders at her in his stern teacher voice and –

“May I … kiss you?”

(Click here for chapter 4!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 20: Celebrating You

(Click here for chapter 19!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

“Hermione, my dear, I keep telling you that you’re getting too thin! Would you like a piece of my famous cinnamon apple pie? It’s fresh out of the oven!”

The young witch smiled. Sitting at the large wooden table in the Burrow’s kitchen, the family’s famous clock ticking away in the background, she was flipping through the morning edition of the Daily Prophet as the Weasley matriarch was busily preparing breakfast for everyone. Coming back had felt like returning home – she had desperately needed some time away from all the N.E.W.T.s pressure at school, and it had been so nice to see the redheaded nonuple in its entirety again. And while she and Ron were still a bit uneasy around each other, they were at least back on speaking terms.

“No, thank you, Mrs Weasley. Personally, seven in the morning is just a bit too early for dessert!”

Hermione turned her attention back to the newspaper in front of her, but she could not seem to focus on the words written there – because the only thing busier than Mrs Weasley’s kitchen was her mind. She could not stop thinking about Professor Snape. The two of them had unarguably got close over the past few months. While he had definitely hated having her as an apprentice at first, it did not seem like that was the case anymore; or at least he did not show it any longer. She could not be sure, of course; but she had the feeling that he enjoyed being around her just as much as she enjoyed being around him.

Though she had initially felt uncertain following her talk with Ginny, she had ultimately decided that she simply could not stay away from the Potions Master. He was her safe space, her rock. Whenever she was around him, she finally felt alive again. A rush of ecstasy would travel through her entire body like wildfire every time he brushed against her or even merely called her by her first name. And so she had come to the conclusion that maybe fancying one of her teachers was not that bad, after all. She obviously knew that nothing would ever come of it, but she figured she could at least enjoy their unlikely companionship while it lasted. Still, she would probably not let her best friend know that she had chosen to disregard her advice.

However, there was one thing that was bothering her. From her apprenticeship application, Hermione knew that it was Professor Snape’s birthday in one week’s time; all possible tutors had been listed with both rank and date of birth. But what made her sad was knowing that no one, not even he himself, would care. With how self-isolated he was, she was certain that there would be no party, no birthday cards and no presents (except for one from Dumbledore, perhaps), and he was worthy so much more than that! He might be kind of a grouch and not the most pleasant teacher, but he was a brilliant man and deserved to have his life celebrated. And after the amazing gift he had sent her for her own birthday, she wanted to give him something in return.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

“Hey, Mrs Weasley?” The older woman turned around, a pan of still sizzling bacon in her hand. “Can I ask you something?”

*************** *************** ***************

If there was one place in the entire castle where you did not want to be during the winter, it was the dungeons. They were already disgustingly cold and permanently damp under normal conditions, but the colder months made them almost unbearable. And so on this particular Friday night in early January, as Severus was working in his classroom, the temperature was so low that he could see his own breath.

He was slowly walking around the room, placing a sheet of paper on each of the student desks one by one. His first class after the weekend would be the second year Slytherins and Gryffindors, and he had prepared an especially difficult surprise exam for them. He obviously knew that none of them had studied for Potions over the holidays, but he did not care – after all, there was a reason for his reputation as the meanest teacher at this school. But always one to favour his own house over those troublesome Gryffindors, he was planning on casually dropping a small hint while conducting his weekly visit of the common room the following day.

Now, one might think that Severus was simply being a very diligent teacher who liked to make sure that all of his tasks were done ahead of time – which was true. But on this specific day, his actions had an added motive as he was trying to distract himself from the fact that today was his 38th birthday.

He had never been one to attach much significance to the date that marked the anniversary of him taking his first breath. Truthfully, he could not remember the last time he had celebrated it; it had always just been a day like any other. But this year, it was different. This year, he had been loathing its arrival. Why? Well, because turning a year older merely served as yet another reminder of how messed up this attraction to his student really was. It pulled him out of a dream world in which he was not her professor, in which he was not a lot older than her and in which he still had a chance to get with her. A twenty-year age gap – how could he not feel like detestable reprobate?

Deep in thought, he startled at a sudden knock at the door.

“Professor!” Sticking her head through the open crack, Hermione immediately started to beam from ear to ear once she spotted him in the poorly lit room. “There you are! You know, after checking your office and your rooms, I almost thought you had vanished into thin air!”

Severus was completely nonplussed. “Wha-”

But before he could even get a proper word in, her head swiftly disappeared behind the door again. After about ten seconds of weird noises and sounds – and even the occasional swearing under breath – the door was pushed open to reveal a party hat wearing Hermione Granger, a lit Muggle sparkler in one hand and a relatively large gift box in the other. Taking five big steps into the room, she arrived in front of him and held out the package with both hands, almost risking setting it ablaze with her hand-held firework.

“Happy, happy birthday, sir!”

The wizard was speechless. He felt like a young pubescent boy all over again as all he could do was stare dumbfounded at this perfect woman standing across from him. After a long day of studying, this wonderful creature had made her way into the glum dungeons to congratulate him, even putting in the effort of wearing one of those ridiculous paper cones on her head. Severus did not know what he had done to deserve her. Just two minutes ago, he had hated himself and the world and had wanted nothing more than for this day to be over. But like the wind, she had swooped in and brightened his day, completely overwhelming him with emotions. The way she was looking at him, full of excitement and joy, and the beautiful colour of her rosy cheeks made his knees weak. Who knew that he would one day find happiness like this in a friend of Harry Potter?

“Come on, open it!”

Her exclamation abruptly brought him back to reality. Trying hard to ignore how inviting her plump lips were looking at that very moment, he accepted the box before replying, “Another gift, Hermione? You really should not start to make a habit of this. Otherwise, some might begin to think that you are trying to bribe your way through school.”

“Oh, stop it!” she called out, the delightful melody of her laughter filling his ears.

“But why would you get me a birthday gift? Apprentices do not have to give their tutors anything; it’s not part of the tradition.”

“I know,” said Hermione as she placed the now burned-out sparkler on the desk next to her. “But I just wanted to.”

Severus felt his heart melting. He truly did not deserve her. She was too good for him, an angel.

Opening the lid of the box with a shaky hand, he pulled out some sort of emerald-coloured piece of fabric.

“What is this?” he asked confused.

“It’s a jumper!” she said, taking the garment from him and holding it out so he could properly see it. Indeed, it was a deep green pullover made of thick wool. “I know you normally only wear black, but I thought that this shade would go well with your light complexion, and it also fits your house colours! So even if you won’t wear it on the daily, it would at least be good for Quidditch games.”

He had to admit that he was amazed by how much thought she had put into this. “Hermione, I appreciate this greatly, but you really should not have spent your money on me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart; however, I cannot accept this gift.”

“But I didn’t spend anything. I made it myself! I asked Mrs Weasley for help as I’m not really acquainted with the art of magical knitting. I didn’t tell her why I wanted to learn it, of course; but you wouldn’t believe how excited she was to pass on her secret housewife tips and tricks to me. I guess that Ginny has always been a little too much of a tomboy for her.” She let out a small snicker.

Severus experienced a warm sensation spread from his middle all the way to his fingers and toes. Not only had she remembered his birthday, but she had also taken time out of her busy day to carefully craft this sweater for him – no one had ever genuinely cared this much for him!

“Hermione.” He had to swallow as it suddenly felt as though he had a frog in his throat. “Would you perhaps like to join me in my quarters for a cup of tea? Plain, of course."

(CHAPTER 21 COMING SOON!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 19: A Festive Farewell

(Click here for chapter 18!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

There were many reasons why Severus hated Christmas.

To begin with, he loathed most customs associated with the festivity. Gifts were only given out of a sense of obligation, Christmas cards were completely pointless as they only gathered dust for a few weeks before one was able to throw them away without having to feel guilty, and let’s not even mention those annoying Christmas carols. For some reason, people also suddenly seemed to think that the season was the perfect time to get friendly with him and try to involve him in all sorts of “fun” activities – how absurd! And while he normally greatly enjoyed any time he got away from his bothersome pupils, the headmaster still always found a way to ruin it somehow. Not only did the old coot get crazier with his decorations every year, but he also forced Severus to take part in the annual Christmas dinner. However, what the professor found the most ridiculous was that the wizarding world would even celebrate a holiday based on the religious beliefs of Muggles. He could understand how those who grew up in or married into Muggle families might want to carry on those traditions, of course. But these days, even pure-bloods participated, and that was just ludicrous. But if he was being completely honest with himself, he really just disliked anything that reminded him of his childhood in the non-magical world.

This year, however, Severus had a whole new reason to hate Christmas. As one of the school’s Heads of House, this morning he had received a copy of the list of students who wished to stay in the castle over the holidays. But even after reading through it three times, he had not been able to find Hermione’s name on it anywhere; and while he would have never admitted that that was the cause, he had been in a sullen mood ever since. The prospect of not seeing her, of not talking to her for two whole weeks made his heart ache.

At present, the Potions Master was sitting at his desk and quietly watching as his sixth-years were streaming out of his classroom. To give the students enough time to make their way to Hogsmeade Station, the last day of the first term traditionally consisted of only the first period. Once the last pupil had left, Severus got up and walked into the storage room. He always liked to use the holidays to reorganise the small space and get it ready for the next semester.

But only a few minutes later, his work flow was interrupted when he suddenly heard the door to his classroom open. Stepping out of the storage room, he soon laid eyes upon the figure of Hogwarts’ Head Girl. She was standing a few feet away from him in the middle of the empty room, her round face makeup-free and her unruly hair pulled back into a half-updo. It seemed like she was already dressed for the long train ride back to King’s Cross: she was wearing a pair of casual jeans, ankle booties made of leather, a nude sweater and a light blue coat so big that it was threatening to swallow her small frame. As always, she was looking absolutely stunning.

“What are you doing here?” Severus spat. Seeing her now was only making his emotional turmoil worse.

Hermione was obviously taken aback by his reaction. “I came to say goodbye. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I did not sign up to stay over the holidays this year.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” he mumbled under his breath.

She gave him a confused look. “Um, well, I would have told you earlier, but it was kind of a last-minute decision. Yesterday, Ginny persuaded me to spend Christmas with her family at the Burrow, and so I had Professor McGonagall take my name off the list. Harry will be there, too, and I thought that maybe I could use this time to try and patch things up with Ron.”

Argh – whenever he heard that name, Severus could not help but instantly feel annoyed. He was starting to dislike Weasley almost as much as James Potter. He would never understand why someone as smart and amazing as Hermione Granger would want to be friends with a numskull like that.

“But before I leave, I just wanted to give you this.”

Severus watched as she pulled out a small metal tin from the pocket of her coat and handed it to him.

“What is this?” he asked before carefully unfastening the bow tied around it and lifting the lid. “… Biscuits?”

“I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something to show my appreciation, and this was the only thing I could make on such short notice.”

He raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. “You made these?”

“Yes!” She let out a joyous laughter. “The house elves normally don’t let anyone touch their pots and pans, but I guess they’re still a bit terrified of me because of my past S.P.E.W. efforts. As long as I promised not to slip them any socks or hats, they gave me free rein to use their workspace. So this morning before breakfast, I sneaked out of my tower, baked these and used a static charm to keep them warm.”

Severus had to suppress a smirk. Oh yes, he still vividly remembered how she had used to so fiercely campaign for the rights of those magical creatures during her fourth year. It had been a pointless endeavour, of course, as the majority of house elves were submissive by nature and wanted to serve a master; but he still secretly admired her persistence and kind-heartedness. He picked up one of the cookies.

“Mmm,” he said as he took a big bite, a nutty flavour filling his mouth. “I have to admit that these are rather delicious. It seems as though your culinary capabilities are just as good as your brewing skills."

“Thank you for the compliment, sir, but I’m normally quite the disaster in the kitchen, honestly. But thank Merlin that not even a cook as disastrous as me could ever mess up this foolproof recipe from –“ Hermione made an abrupt pause, her smile disappearing from her face. “From my mother.”

The wizard frowned – why was she sad all of a sudden? But before he could ask her about it, the young woman took one look at her watch and immediately gasped.

“Oh no, I’ll have to hurry if I don’t want to miss the train!” Biting her lip, her gaze wandered to the ground. Was she blushing? “But before I say goodbye, there is one more thing I’d like to do …”

Severus eyed his young apprentice with suspicion. As an experienced teacher of well over a decade and a half, he was all too familiar with the look she had on her face – it was the look of a student who was definitely up to something mischievous. But even so, he was not at all prepared for what happened next as Hermione stepped forward and embraced him in a hug so warm it could have melted mid-winter snow.

“I wish you a very happy Christmas, Professor Snape,” she whispered against his chest. “Being able to study under you is and will always be the greatest gift!”

For a split second, Severus was paralysed by the sudden intimacy. But then, one hand around her petite waist and the other entangled in her hair, he pulled her closer.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he muttered back, inhaling the clean scent of her perfume.

And as he watched her disappear through the door not even a minute later, his cold, bitter heart felt just a little bit warmer.

(CHAPTER 20 COMING SOON!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 2: Doubt

(Click here for chapter 1!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Less than ten minutes later, there was a timid knock at her door, and Hermione would have been lying if she had said that that sound did not make her heart skip a beat.

Putting aside the book she’d been absentmindedly flicking through, she walked to the door with a rather stiff and unsteady gait before pulling it open to reveal the familiar figure of the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape,” she whispered breathlessly, trying hard to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. “Um, please, come in.”

Stepping aside, she watched as the man hesitantly took one cautious step into the crammed room; and the unusual sight of his visible wariness made her mentally smack her own forehead.

Of course. He can’t see!

“Here, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out her hand without a moment’s thought. When she touched his forearm, he drew a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, sir.”

Snape did not say anything in response. For an agonizingly long time, they just stood like that in the doorway of her bedroom, her hand on his arm, the awkwardness in the air virtually palpable. It was only when there was suddenly the sound of commotion coming from downstairs that Hermione summoned up the nerve to pull him inside, locking the door behind them. Getting out her wand, she applied a silencing charm as well as some protective wards for good measure.

Better safe than sorry. It certainly wouldn’t do any good to have someone just barge in.

Turning back around to face him, she tentatively grabbed his elbow and guided him towards her bed. She could not help but silently cringe as she saw him there, seated on her tiny twin-size bed, thinking about what might be happening soon in that very spot. But alas, her small bedroom, which she had moved into a mere two months earlier, did not offer any other sitting accommodations. And so, though her heart was trembling so very terribly, she went and sat next to him.

For a while, neither one of them spoke. Kneading her fingers, the young woman struggled to ignore how uncomfortably close she presently was to her former teacher as she stared out the window overlooking the deserted street outside. Looking back, she could not have said with certainty whether it had only been a few minutes or several hours, but by the time the streetlights came on, she finally plucked up the courage to say, “I’m glad that you decided to come here so that we can talk in private.”

“I did not have much of a choice,” Snape admitted huskily. “Alastor practically pushed me upstairs while Albus tried to contain everyone else in the kitchen.”

“They’re still not very thrilled about this, aren’t they?”

He gave an affirmative grunt. “Most of them were ready to jump at my throat and kill me with their bare hands right there and then.”

“Oh …” Hermione had to swallow hard. “I’m sorry. They really ought not to treat you like that.”

“I don’t blame them. I truly have half a mind to turn my own wand on myself.”

A troubled frown creased Hermione’s forehead. There was an obvious hint of blatant self-hatred dripping from his words, and she did not like that. She did not like that one bit.

But before she even had the chance to respond, he continued, “I will be honest with you … I do not even know what to say to you right now.”

Vaguely tracing the diamond pattern of the quilt they were sitting on with one finger, she tried her best to sound nonchalant as she mumbled, “Well, why don’t you simply tell me whether or not you accept my offer.”

“Miss Granger, I –”

“Would you mind if we used first names?” she interrupted him. “Just for today. It’s just that formalities would make this whole thing even weirder than it already is.”

She saw him hesitate for a second.

“All right … Hermione,” he ultimately conceded, and it was so weird to hear him properly address her by her given name for the very first time – though she had to admit that it sounded quite nice coming from his lips. Something about that deep voice of his made her stomach clench up into knots. “As much as I appreciate it, I obviously cannot accept your proposal.”

“Why not?”

“Even forgetting the fact that you were my student for seven years and that I am a lot older than you, I could never in good faith make you endure such a thing. This, this curse,” he spat out the word with disgust. “Is a lot more powerful than you could ever even imagine. It would strip me of all control and force me to do unspeakable things to you that could very well destroy your sanity.”

He turned away from her in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his facial expression which was filled with nothing but self-loathing. “Even now, I can feel the dark magic coursing through my veins, tugging at my mind. It senses your presence. I can hear it whisper to me, bidding me to just rip off this stupid blindfold and take you right here. Merely sitting next to you already requires more will power than any time I have had to shield my mind from the Dark Lord.”

The witch’s breathing hitched in her throat. His crude confession made her heart beat so fast that it was almost threatening to break out of her ribcage. Willing herself to take a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay put.

No. No, you can do this. For the Order. For Harry.

“I don’t believe that Professor Dumbledore would have sent you up here if he thought that there was a chance of me being seriously harmed,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “And I also don’t believe that any kind of dark magic would ever be able to entirely overpower your morals and your good heart.”

He snorted with biting laughter. “Then you clearly do not know me well at all. Or him, for that matter. All that old madman cares about is the cause. We are all nothing but mere chess pieces in that little, rigged game of his he likes to play.”

“Don’t say that –”

“But it’s the truth! Don’t you see?” His tone gradually got louder and louder. “Any reasonably sane man in his position would have simply hired an unsuspecting prostitute, slipped her a couple of potions and then sent her back home with an altered memory and a nice, big bag filled to the brim with Galleons, blissfully unaware of any specifics. But not Albus. No, in his mind, raping the Muggle-born third of the Golden Trio is the perfect way to feign loyalty to the enemy and thus securing his plaything’s rank among the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Ha! As distraught as he might have acted, he knew from the beginning that you’d be the one to volunteer. Only you’d be foolish enough to let the greasy git of the dungeons fuck you in an attempt to save his pathetic, miserable life. You and your stupid saviour complex. So please, don’t be so naïve. This is all just a fucking charade to that bloody bedlamite!”

What followed that angry outburst was silence – complete and utter silence. Not even the rustling of the trees outside or the rapid palpitations inside both of their chests seemed to be able to penetrate their noiseless bubble. Hermione could feel her own pulse thumbing in her ears, and her mouth felt almost disgustingly dry. Wordlessly counting to a hundred, she at last opened her eyes and dared to cast a glance at the wizard. He was sitting in a hunched-over position, his face buried in his hands. Never before had she seen him like that, so evidently helpless, so vulnerable. For some reason, it nearly made her feel physically sick to witness him in such a state.

“I understand your apprehension, I really do,” she muttered gently. “I’m not quite keen on having to do this either. But I honestly don’t see any other way out of this mess. Somehow or the other, the curse must be broken … and time is running out.”

“I know,” he croaked out, the words muffled by his hands.

“And for all his faults, Professor Dumbledore is right. We cannot put ourselves before the cause. Especially not during dark times like these.” She could not stop her face from twisting into an anguished grimace. “Besides, I dare say that you are being a bit naïve yourself if you think that tricking a stranger would not weigh heavy on your conscience, too.”

Snape slowly lifted his head a little, allowing his chin to come to a rest on the pressed-together tips of his fingers, which were horribly stained from years of daily brewing.

“I don’t think that you are fully aware of what you are getting yourself into here. This would not be like any of your previous sexual encounters, Hermione. There would be no romance, no pleasure, no satisfaction. It would be hard and fast and downright animalistic.” He squared his shoulders. “And though I have never made it a habit to keep up with my students’ private lives, I do not think that it would be wrong of me to assume that an ever-busy academic like you most likely has little experience with such things.”

Hermione felt the warmth creep into the apples of her cheeks as her whole body stiffened, and that movement did not go unnoticed.

“I mean, you do have some experience, right?”

No answer.

“Oh god, you aren’t still a virgin, are you?” Snape rasped despairingly before letting his head fall back into his hands.

Hermione shifted her weight with unease. “I do not attach any value to my virginity if that is the problem, sir,” she was quick to assure him, glad to know that he could not see how awfully red-faced she was at that very instant. “When you think about it, it’s really nothing but a social construct. Will I be a different person afterwards? No. Will you be dead should I refuse? Most likely. So the decision is easy, really. The only reason why I … why I haven’t done it yet is because such a situation has simply never arisen before.”

“No! No, this is deranged!” he cried out as his entire body seized up and started to shake. “How could I ever live with myself knowing that I took something like that from you?”

She bit her lower lip. “I very much doubt that it would be that much better to wait for my first true love or maybe even just a drunken night out to come around first,” she argued with furrowed brows. “Because even in that case, it would be awkward and fumbling and, in all likelihood, disappointing. With you, now, it would at least serve a bigger purpose. It would be special – in its own absurd way.”

“I can’t,” he whispered in a quivering voice.

Suddenly feeling bold, Hermione grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms towards her, forcing him to face her.

“You don’t have a choice,” she told him in a beseeching yet stern manner. “You are far too valuable to the Order to stupidly risk your life like this.”

Snape opened his mouth as though to say something in response, but then he quickly closed it again. Pulling free from her grasp, he leaned back until his shoulders were touching the wall against which her bed had been pushed. He looked like a picture of misery. His complexion was of a deathly pale colour, his jaw was clenched, and a few beads of sweat could be seen running down his forehead.

“I do not want to do anything against your will,” he insisted weakly.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that if I were you. I –“ She dithered for just a second. Come on, Hermione. Don’t lose him now. “I am rather physically attracted to you.”

His head jerked up in surprise. “You are?”

“Y-yes,” she replied bashfully, all at once feeling dreadfully shy. “I find you quite handsome, actually.”

She was not lying just to make him feel better either. Truth be told, she’d had a slight fascination with him ever since he took over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position during her sixth year, when his passion for the subject really started to shine through – particularly during his more physical demonstrations.

Still, she was glad when he did not ask her to elaborate any further. Watching as he ran a tremulous hand through his jet-black hair, she heard him say, “Surely you are aware of the fact that some men would not take kindly to the fact that you are not chaste anymore?”

“Good!” Hermione huffed exasperatedly. “If they truly measure my worth as a person by who I have given my body to, then I’d rather have them think of me as used goods and leave me alone all together.”

“And what about Weasley?”

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “What about him?”

“He seemed … very much opposed to the idea.”

“Oh, he can sod right off!” she snarled angrily, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want anything from him. I never have.”

Walking the short distance to her nearby dressing table, she pulled open one of its drawers and fished out a black hair tie which she then used to fasten her brown curls into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Checking her appearance in the half-tarnished mirror, she could see the man rub his hands across his thighs in obvious discomfort.

“It could hurt,” he said in what sounded like a last-ditch effort to keep from having to yield himself to his fate.

Turning around, her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“I’m sure that I have experienced worse,” she told him calmly, and for a moment, neither one of them said anything. Hermione sat back down next to him. “But like I said, I don’t think you’d ever be actively out to hurt me. I trust you, you know?”

Even though they were mostly hidden behind the blindfold, she could still see his eyebrows lift in surprise. It was abundantly clear that even the mere notion of someone like her trusting someone like him seemed utterly unfathomable to the dark wizard.

There was another short moment of heavy silence. Then, a deep sigh escaping his lips, he finally asked, “Are you really sure?”

The tone of his voice nearly broke her heart. He was normally such an assertive and stern man, but now he just sounded so defeated. It made for an easy choice.

“Yes.”

(Click here for chapter 3!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 17: Falling For The Underdog

(Click here for chapter 16!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

The following weekend, Severus found himself in a situation that he would have never thought possible – he spent the entire day with a woman.

Despite it being a Saturday, Granger had arrived at his private quarters quite early. While he usually woke up long before the rest of the castle, Severus had never really considered himself a morning person. He normally worked late and slept little, often waking up in a cold sweat after just a few hours of sleep due to horrible nightmares. So needless to say, he had been rather surprised when his apprentice had shown up at his door long before the house elves had even started to prepare breakfast. As he’d let her in, he had asked himself if perhaps she was suffering from the same problem as him.

The two of them had spent a lot of time together over the past week. Ever since he had given her unimpeded access to his rooms, Granger had come by even more often than before, and so they had often spent their evenings together. Everything inside him was still screaming that this was wrong, that they were becoming way too comfortable with each other. But yet, he could not help but feel a rush of ecstasy surge through his entire body every single time she walked into his sitting room.

He had given her the password in what had been almost a moment of mental aberration, and he had soon started to regret it. He had tried telling himself that the reason for that regret was that such an action was simply inappropriate for a teacher, but deep down, he knew that he was really just scared of rejection; scared that she would not take him up on the offer and that she would find it creepy and weird. But the next day, when he had come back from teaching the fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors, he had found Granger in his sitting room, fussing over a small sandwich platter from the kitchens which was placed on the table in front of her. Severus still could not have described the emotions he had experienced upon seeing this. On one hand, he had felt massive relief. On the other, it had felt weirdly domestic for some reason; almost as though he had come home after a long day of work to a loving home – something which had been completely new to him.

Sometimes, the pair would be working on potions together, and other times, Severus would be sitting at his desk marking essays while Granger would curl up on his sofa as she studied. Today, however, they were doing what both of them loved the most: reading.

The Potions Master was seated in one of his big wing chairs, a copy of his favourite journal, The Practical Potioneer, in his hands, whereas Granger was spread out across the sofa as usual, deeply engrossed in his volume of Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré Les Pieds by medieval French wizard Malecrit. Over the last couple of days, Severus had slowly begun to notice how eager she seemed to get her hands on classics from the wizarding world, and he did not exactly know how to feel about that – to him, it somehow appeared as though she was almost desperately trying to make up for the time she had spent growing up around Muggles.

They had both been reading in silence for a while when Severus stumbled across an especially interesting paragraph on the uses of Alihotsy in magical antidepressants. Opening his mouth to share this new piece of information with the knowledge-hungry witch, he looked up and instantly had to draw a sharp breath. Unbeknownst to him, Granger had shifted in her position a few minutes ago, and now her grey skirt had ridden up just far enough to reveal her toned thighs as well as barely the slightest hint of the subtle crease running horizontally underneath her behind.

Severus gulped. It was hard to ignore the way that the shadows of the fire burning a mere few feet away were dancing across her tender, milky flesh. Why was she wearing her uniform – a uniform with what now suddenly seemed like a ridiculously short skirt – on a day with no classes?! For a split second, the thought that she was trying to seduce him crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed that. Never in a million years would Granger be the type of person to try to recreate a scene from a low-budget adult movie, especially not with one of her professors. And if he was being honest with himself, he would have found her appearance bewitching even if she had been wearing a potato sack.

Having long forgotten about what he had originally wanted to say, he blurted out the first thing he could think of. “I do have to say, I find it rather bizarre that Miss Weasley of all people would behave in such a manner towards you. I would be terrified of making someone even remotely angry if they knew of my deepest secret.”

Granger did not even look up. “But that’s not how friendships work.”

“What?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“A real friend would never betray you just because you’ve had a fight with them,” she said as she pushed herself up into a seated position. Severus did not know if he was glad or disappointed that her legs were now covered again. “A promise is a promise. That fact doesn’t change just because you’re having a disagreement or because you don’t like each other anymore.”

Yet again, he was pleasantly surprised by her maturity; it made him feel a tiny bit less like a predator preying on an innocent girl.

“Plus, the real problem is Ron. I love him –“ Severus felt a slight sting at these words. “But he’s just so unpredictable sometimes. And at the end of the day, Ginny will always side with him, because he’s her brother, and Harry will do the same, because he’s his best friend and because Ginny is his girlfriend. All three of them are on the Quidditch team together, and they all share common interests. I am the odd one out, and so if someone has to leave the group, it will always be me first.”

Severus was stunned. He wanted to disagree, wanted to tell her that what she was saying was wrong – but he knew that it was the truth. Just like himself, she was and would always be an outsider.

“Anyway,” Granger continued, taking a look at her wristwatch. “I think I have to go. I still want to stop by the library to pick up some books before it closes. Thank you for having me, as always.”

And with that, she stood up, straightened out her clothes and put the book she had been reading back in its place on one of the countless shelves lining the dark room before making her way to the exit. But just as she was about to disappear through the hole in the wall, she lingered for a second.

“Professor Snape?”

Severus was caught off guard by how nervous she suddenly sounded. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

She took her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but the other teachers normally address me by my first name when I’m alone with them. So perhaps you could do that, too? Only in private, of course.”

Severus gave her a calculated look. It probably sounded nonsensical, especially after he had already allowed her into his chambers, but he was still somewhat afraid of getting too close to her. Wasn’t using her first name taking it a bit too far? But at the same time, her request flooded his soul with a feeling of genuine happiness.

“All right … Hermione.”

*************** *************** ***************

“Come on, Hermione, I know you’re in there! Open the door!”

The brightest witch of her age was surprise to hear what sounded like frantic knocking as she climbed up the stairs leading to her Head Girl suite. It was not long until she arrived at the top and discovered a certain redhead banging on her door.

“I know you’re really mad at me, but can we please just talk about it?”

“Ginny?” she said, making the other witch jump in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed before running towards her friend at the speed of light and hugging her so hard that the two of them almost tumbled over. “I am so, so sorry! I know I treated you like crap, and for a stupid reason, too! I don’t know what got into me, I’m just so stressed right now, and I let Ron get the better of me! Harry is also sorry, but Ron is still mad, and so he feels like he’s sort of caught in the middle, and –“

Hermione took a step back and offered her a smile. “Gin, it’s all right. No hard feelings, okay?”

“Oh, you are truly too good for this world!” Ginny called out before moving in for another suffocating embrace.

Hermione could not suppress a chuckle. She was still upset about how she had been treated, of course; but she had learnt a long time ago that sometimes, being happy was more important than being right. War hero or not, at the end of the day, she was just a girl, and a girl needed her best friend.

Now that their frivolous fight was finally behind them, it did not take long before the two teenagers fell back into their old ways. They soon found themselves on Hermione’s bed, with countless Muggle nail supplies spread out around them, talking about this and that. However, the newest Hogwarts gossip was not really able to awaken Hermione’s enthusiasm like it usually did. Something had been occupying her mind for a few days now, and it took her a long time before she finally mustered up the courage to bring it up.

“Hey, Gin …” she said meekly.

“Yes?” Ginny replied, biting her tongue in concentration as she carefully painted the tiny nail of one of her little toes in a pastel pink colour.

“Um …” Hermione had absolutely no idea how to broach the subject. “I need your advice on something.”

It was only then that the sixth-year looked up.

“What’s going on?” she asked concerned.

“So …” Taking a shaky breath, she decided to just make it quick and painless, like ripping off a band-aid. “I think that I might be starting to like Professor Snape.”

Oh Merlin, she had finally said it aloud! After many sleepless nights of confusion, dismay and solitary pining, she had finally admitted it – to Ginny and to herself.

Too scared of her reaction, Hermione did not dare to look Ginny in the eyes. But to her surprise, the only response was a high-pitched giggle.

“Hermione, you like all teachers. So I’m not at all surprised that you like that tosser, too. Even though I do not know how you could, especially enough to become his apprentice and –“

“No, I –“ She rubbed the back of her neck with a trembling hand. “I think I might fancy him.”

“WHAT?!” yelled Ginny as she jumped to her feet, knocking over a couple of bottles of nail polish and spilling their content all over the comforter in the process.

“Ginny, please!” she tried to calm her down, but it was to no avail – the whirlwind that was Ginevra Weasley had already been unleashed.

“You have a crush on Snape? SNAPE?! The greasy git of the dungeons? The most hated teacher in all of Hogwarts? That Snape?!”

Her look was filled with nothing but disbelief and betrayal.

“Gods, I don’t know!” Hermione’s eyes were starting to burn and fill with tears. She could not help but feel embarrassed. “I have all of these confounding feelings, and I don’t know what to make of them, okay?!”

“Hey, hey, come on! It’s nothing to cry about.” Ginny hurriedly sat back down and rubbed her back reassuringly, though she still had horror written all over her face. “Even if we’re talking about Snape here.”

A salty tear rolled down Hermione’s blushed cheek. “I don’t even know when it started, I just –“ The words got stuck in her throat as she erupted into sobs. “How can I like a teacher in that way?! Like, maybe that could even get me EXPELLED!”

Ginny pulled her into a half hug. “Now, calm down, we’ll figure this out somehow! Why do you like him?”

Hermione sniffled. “I don’t know! It’s just that he’s being so nice to me!”

“Really?” Ginny tilted her head to the left, obviously doubting the statement. “Snape and nice?”

“Yes, extremely nice!” Hermione blurted out as she wiped her flushed face with the back of her hand. “You know, after our stupid argument, I felt so sad and miserable. But then he invited me over, and we had some tea, and he let me vent. He consoled me, Gin!”

In hindsight, the brunette would later realise that she did not know how exactly he had become aware of their fallout in the first place. She certainly had never openly mentioned it in front of him. But at that moment, with her raw emotions causing mayhem inside her mind, the thought did not occur to her even once.

“You’re kidding!” Hermione could only shake her head before she broke into tears again. “Hey, I’m sorry! It’s just hard to imagine that someone like Snape might actually have some real human feelings.”

“Well, he does! I feel like he actually cares about me, you know? Like, it almost feels as though he’s my friend. He even gave me the password to his rooms so that I would have somewhere to retreat to.”

“WHA–“ Clearly forcing herself to remain calm, Ginny took a deep breath. “Are you being for real?”

“Of course! I’ve been spending time there every day!”

Shocked, Ginny put a palm on her chest. “Hold on! Severus Snape, a grown man and teacher at this school, is allowing you, a beautiful 18-year-old student of his, in his private quarters where the two of you are completely alone? Ew, what a creep!”

“It’s not like that!” Hermione protested, her facial features contorting into a grimace. “Never once has he done anything even remotely inappropriate! We just work on something together or read some books, and sometimes we eat meals together. If anything, I’m the one who has taken it too far.”

“What do you mean?” No response. “Hermione?”

“I hugged him once …”

It was merely a whisper, but she heard her nonetheless.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

Hermione hung her head, burying her hands deep in her massive brown locks. “I hugged him in the Entrance Hall during the Hallowe’en Feast. We had talked earlier about how he didn’t want to come because of how much he hates dressing up, but then he surprised me by showing up with his teeth charmed to look like a vampire and … I don’t know, I just became so excited, and before I knew it, I was hugging him!”

Ginny could only look at her, baffled-eyed. “Did he, like, hug you back?”

She thought about it for a second.

“Yeah, I think so.” She scrunched up her face. “I liked it, too.”

No one said anything for a long time. Then, letting out a forced laugh, the redhead ultimately mumbled, “Wow, I … really don’t know what to say.”

“I’m screwed!” Hermione exclaimed as she teared up again.

Ginny let out a huge sigh. “Look, at the end of the day, you cannot help who you fall for. And while I’m certainly not a fan of the Dungeon Bat myself, you definitely could have done worse.”

Ignoring the other girl’s glare, she continued, “He’s smart, just like you, and according to what you told me, he’s also treating you right. And to be honest, he’s not really as ugly as we all make him out to be. So liking him is not as ridiculous as it might sound at first. Plus, maybe this infatuation is just a phase. So many girls get crushes on their teachers at some point. Chances are by tomorrow you’re already over it.”

She grabbed her hand. “The only thing I’m worried about is how friendly you two seem to be getting. This could actually get you into major trouble should anyone notice. And it will also not help you get over this silly crush if you keep seeing him this often. So maybe just try and distance yourself for a little while, ‘kay? I bet that once this whole thing with Ron blows over, your feelings won’t be all over the place like this anymore.”

(Click here for chapter 18!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 16: Sit, Drink, Talk

(Click here for chapter 15!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Severus could not help but notice a change in his apprentice’s behaviour over the next couple of days.

Unlike her last emotional low, Granger did still show up to class; however, she’d stopped raising her hand and kept her head down working quietly during the majority of the lessons. She also appeared to have changed her regular meal times, and, whenever she still could not avoid running into her “friends”, she would sit at the opposite end of the long Gryffindor table, eating alone. Sometimes, she would also just skip meals all together. And while she continued to visit his office on the daily, her mood had definitely changed as well. She seemed a lot sadder and less carefree than usual. Severus would often try to engage her in interesting discussions about potions and the like, but they would all soon fizzle out as she did not appear to want to talk much.

Severus was becoming increasingly irritated. Not only did it hurt him to see her feel that way, but he also selfishly wanted his Hermione back – the one he could spend hours quietly working on potions with, the one that would pester him with countless questions, the one that would give him a great big smile whenever she walked through his door. Now, she was only a shadow of her former self, and he hated it.

And so, he decided that he had to do something about it.

*************** *************** ***************

Hermione threw her heavy bookbag on her bed with a loud grunt. She was feeling extremely frustrated. Not only was she currently struggling to come up with a solution for an especially tricky equation that was part of the Arithmancy homework she would have to hand in the following week, but she had also been unable to cast the new spell they had learnt about in Defence Against the Dark Arts earlier today. And while it was almost dinner time now and her stomach was actually growling, she really did not feel like going down to the Great Hall and facing her estranged friends. She could not stand the way they stared at her whenever she was forced to walk past them to sit down as far away from them as possible.

She sighed as she bent over and gave Crookshanks, who was curled up at the foot of her bed, a quick cuddle. Perhaps she could sneak down to the kitchens later and manage to grab a quick bite that way. Straightening, she then turned and walked into her small study, where she sat down at her overloaded desk and began to work on trying to solve that stupid equation.

It must have been about an hour and a half later when her concentration was interrupted by an all too familiar tapping noise. Sure enough, there was a little school owl sitting on the windowsill. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

Another late-night delivery? Surely it couldn’t be …

An uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she walked over, opened the window and made sure to give the bird a treat before carefully untying a small scroll from its left leg. After watching the animal fly away into the starry sky, she returned to her desk and unrolled the letter. Just like last time, there was no sender; however, the penmanship was all too familiar.

My office, 10.30 pm.

How strange, she thought. Why would he want to see her after curfew? Tapping her fingers against the tabletop, she allowed herself to ponder for a moment. But no matter how hard she cudgelled her brain, she simply could not come up with a plausible explanation for this ever so peculiar summoning.

Standing up, she began to pace around the room. The only possible reason he would invite her over this late that she could come up with was something forbidden, like dark magic or an illegal potion. Hermione could feel her cheeks start to burn. While she had never been one to break the rules, the thought of Professor Snape being a – for the lack of a better word – bad boy made her feel queasy in all the good ways for some reason.

Stop it, Hermione! That’s Professor Snape you are thinking of!

But with way too much time left on her hands until she was supposed to meet up with her tutor, the Muggle-born’s thoughts began to run wild: Professor Snape showing her a ground-breaking discovery he had just made, Professor Snape smuggling her out of school grounds to bring her to a secret gathering of the wizarding world’s best potioneers, Professor Snape regarding her intently as his lips were getting dangerously close to hers … Because if Hermione Granger was good at something, it was overthinking.

By the time she stole out of her tower to make her way down to the dungeons, Hermione had completely forgotten about dinner and Arithmancy. She had been too preoccupied by thoughts about the purpose of their meeting. Not by thoughts about Professor Snape, she tried telling herself; but subconsciously, she knew that she was lying to herself.

She did not know where it had come from, why her head was suddenly filled with unchaste ideas about her teacher. She was a bit too old to attribute them to pubertal confusion. All she knew was that she admired Professor Snape. He was a well-accomplished Potions Master, one of the smartest yet most mysterious people she had ever met and, if she was being honest with herself, not too bad looking either. He intrigued her, and the beating of her heart had suddenly quickened when she’d read his note. What would this encounter have in store for her?

It was a long walk from the Head Girl Tower down to the Potions professor’s office, but Hermione knew that she would not get caught. Among the perks of her position was knowing the patrol schedule as she too was sometimes required to aid school staff when it came to making rounds through the castle’s endless corridors. Her outfit was a bit more casual than what she would normally wear to see one of her teachers. She had combined a pair of light wash jeans with lined slippers and a really thick, bright-red woollen sweater, with the latter intended to protect her from the penetrating November cold – after all, Hogwarts was not exactly known for its good insulation. She had debated about whether she should have kept on her uniform but ultimately decided that Professor Snape could not expect her to be dressed formally if he sent for her past regular school hours.

It felt like an eternity had passed before she finally turned the corner and found herself in the corridor in which Professor Snape’s office was located. She knew that she was running a few minutes early, and she had actually planned to wait them out before knocking on the door; but to her surprise, the wizard was already waiting for her in the hallway. Seemingly out of nowhere, she felt her hands get sweaty.

“Good evening, Professor,” she said quietly; it was merely a whisper. “Aren’t we going inside?”

Snape mustered her for a second, noticeably surprised by her attire, and Hermione promptly started to regret her fashion choice; however, he did not comment on it. Instead, he let his voice resonate from the stone walls as he replied, “No. Tonight, we shall retreat to my private quarters. Follow me.”

And before she could get another word in, he had already spun around and was hurrying through the gloomy dungeon maze.

Hermione could feel her chest tighten painfully as she tried to keep up with the man’s long legs. “Private quarters? What in the name of Merlin is going on?!” the voice inside her head screamed. Sure, she had been in there before, but that had been during an emergency situation; she would have never thought that he would ever invite her back. Yet again, her own thoughts were threatening to overwhelm her.

Soon, they arrived at the portrait marking the hidden entrance to the professor’s rooms. Hermione could hear him mumble something under his breath before she watched the painting swing open. Almost instantaneously, she felt his hands on her shoulders. He practically pushed her inside.

Stepping into his sitting room, she immediately felt calmer. She had fallen in love with this place the very second she had first laid eyes upon it. The countless books lining the walls, the dark yet homely interior design as well as the overall cosy feeling just filled her with joy. If she were to imagine her dream home, it would definitely look something like this.

As soon as she turned around, however, her blissfulness swiftly turned into nervousness again. There he was, Professor Snape, just standing in the corner and staring at her with an expressionless face that made her whole body stiffen up. His presence was looming over her, and it somehow made her feel excited and scared to death at the same time.

You’re not twelve anymore, Hermione. He doesn’t scare you any longer. He’s still the same person you’ve been spending time with every day for weeks now!

But she simply could not help it. Merely standing next to him made her feel incredibly anxious.

“Sit down,” he all of a sudden ordered, pointing at one of the wing chairs in front of the fireplace – and without thinking, Hermione complied.

*************** *************** ***************

The only thing interrupting the silence was the crackling sound of fire. Sitting in the other identical chair just a few feet away, Severus watched the girl closely. She seemed nervous for some reason – her right leg was bouncing up and down restlessly, and she was back to gnawing at her bottom lip. Her eyes would not meet his; instead, they were clued to the floor. But he guessed that he could not blame her since it was indeed an incredibly weird situation.

Truth be told, he felt very much the same. Internally, he was chiding himself for being such a slave to his emotions. He knew that it had been wrong to invite her here, of course; that it would only make their relationship more personal which it definitely should not become. But he had just felt this inexplicable urge to do something, and, with how inexperienced he was when it came to social interactions, this was the only thing he could come up with – to try to make things better.

Admittingly, Severus was still a bit shocked by her look. He obviously knew that students often chose to wear casual clothing outside of class; after all, he had been a student at one point, too. And needless to say, he had seen her dressed in something other than her uniform before – during their coincidental confrontation in the Hospital Tower, a couple of times at Grimmauld Place, and in the memories which he had secretly viewed over a month ago, to name just a few instances. But for some reason, tonight was something else. Her outfit was definitely not special or provocative by any means, yet it threatened to disarm him wholly. The way the tight jeans hugged her curves, the way that the red of the jumper complimented her complexion – she was effortlessly breath-taking. It literally took him all of his hard-earned self-control not to start drooling right then and there.

When he had initially come up with his plan to help her feel better again, he had not thought about how it would all actually go down, and so quite frankly, the awkward silence was intimidating him a bit now. In an attempt to break the tension that currently filled the room, he conjured a silver tray with a large teapot, two dainty porcelain cups and a plate of biscuits straight from the nearby kitchens. A flick of his hand was all that was needed to propel the iron kettle into the air and command it to pour out the piping hot herbal tea. Leaning forward, Severus then handed Granger one of the cups without a word before setting the other one down on the small wooden table beside him. She accepted the beverage without complaint; however, after a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Severus noticed that she still had not touched it.

“Drink,” he said a little bit too loudly, making her jump. But still, she did end up taking a small sip. His own cup continued to sit on the side table untouched, where it would remain like that for the rest of the night.

Taking a deep breath to gather up his courage, he then finally managed to force out the words, “Now talk.” He prayed to the gods that she had not heard the slight crack in his voice.

“Pardon?” Granger looked up at him with her brows furrowed in confusion.

Severus gulped. This was not going well.

“Talk,” he repeated hoarsely, staring directly into her whiskey-coloured eyes.

“About what, sir?”

He was not sure when it had started exactly, but he had come to hate it when she used honorifics to address him. It merely served as a reminder of their teacher-student relationship – of how inappropriate his crush really was.

“Your … feelings.”

As expected, her mouth dropped open. “Um –“

Severus interrupted her quickly, internally starting to panic.

“Miss Granger, I simply cannot work like this! I need an apprentice who is able to dedicate herself completely to the subject of potion brewing, and the conflict with your little friends is obviously preventing you from doing so. You left me with no choice but to do something about it! If I have learnt anything from mainstream literature and cinematography, it is that women like to solve their problems by talking about them. So go ahead.” He knew that he was speaking too fast – he was painfully aware of it, in fact – but he simply could not help it. “Talk.”

Granger’s puzzled facial expression showed just how lost she was for words. “Professor Snape, I don’t –“

“This is probably the only time I will ever say this aloud, but you are truly an excellent apprentice. I enjoy working with you, and so if this is what it takes for you to become productive again, then please, by all means, speak!”

It was rather fascinating how easily readable she was sometimes; Severus was practically able to watch her inner debate with his own eyes as a whole array of different emotions washed over her face. Finally – it felt like it had been forever – she came to a decision.

“I mean, I can understand that they feel a bit let down by me, but I still don’t think that their reaction was justified,” she mumbled, the primitive dance of the flames inside the fireplace reflecting in her pupils.

Not saying anything, Severus waited until she was ready to continue. He had learnt a long time ago that most people would eventually start talking again just to make the unpleasant taciturnity go away.

“Every single year, during the height of Quidditch season, I barely get to see all three of them. But did I ever complain? No! I have always understood that that’s their passion. I have always put their needs and wants before mine. I come to every single one of their games to support them, to cheer them on – yet they complain whenever I ask them to join me for a study session at the library. But then as soon as exams roll around, I’m suddenly in high demand again …”

Barely holding back tears, her whole body began to shake, and there was nothing that Severus wanted to do more than to close the short distance between them, to hold her and calm her down like he had done that one night in his office. But he forced himself to stay put.

“I don’t even know how many assignments I have helped them with over the years. You better don’t believe that even half of the essays they have submitted to you were actually written by them. I normally take academic integrity really seriously, but shit!” Severus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise at her use of a curse word. “Ron and Harry wouldn’t even have made it past first year if I hadn’t helped them. I pretty much pushed them through six years of schooling myself, and this is the thanks I get? THEY DIDN’T EVEN CARE ENOUGH TO SPEND TIME WITH ME ON MY BIRTHDAY, BECAUSE OF FUCKING COURSE QUIDDITCH IS MORE IMPORTANT! DID I SAY ANYTHING BACK THEN?!”

The petite woman was screaming at this point.

“Do they think I enjoyed being pushed to the centre of a bloody war just because I was friends with The Boy Who Lived? Do they think I enjoyed putting my life on the line every single day starting when I was still just a child? Time after time, I saved their asses from certain death, and now that the war is over, now that I do not have to worry about that shit anymore, they get mad at me for finally doing what I enjoy?!” By now, her face was covered in tears. “How dare they fuck me over like this! HOW DARE THEY! It’s like our friendship only exists on their terms. So what if I fucking missed lunch with them? Oh yeah, because that totally cancels out the time I got FUCKING TORTURED by that bitch Lestrange; when I was almost killed but did not say a single fucking word because I had to protect them!”

Granger let out an agonised whimper as she grabbed the left sleeve of her jumper and yanked it up, revealing a horrific sight: there, on the inside of her forearm, the word MUDBLOOD was carved into her delicate flesh over and over again, marking her from her wrist all the way up to the crook of her arm. The cuts – the dozens of them that were there – must have been extremely deep, as each dark red letter was elevated noticeably from her pale skin.

Without thinking, Severus jumped out of his seat. He was by his beloved’s side in no time.

“Bellatrix,” he hissed under his breath. The witch was lucky that she was already dead, because he certainly would not have been nice to her – not after seeing this. Kneeling next to the weeping girl, he carefully held her fragile arm in his wiry hands as he nonverbally cast different diagnostic spells.

“Why have I never seen this before?!” He had known that Granger had briefly fallen into enemy hands during the final battle; but no one, neither the Order nor the Dark Lord, had ever mentioned that torture had taken place. He could feel himself get angrier by the second. “Albus should have told me!”

Granger would not meet his gaze. “I don’t think he knows. Nobody knows. I usually cover it up with a charm.”

The anguish in her voice made his heart ache.

“This looks bad,” he whispered, even as everything inside him screamed to go on a murderous rampage. “But I am sure it could be fixed. We could try an ointment, maybe a potion. If you’d just give me enough time to come up with –“

“No,” she cut him off, pulling back her arm and covering up the marks with her sleeve again. “It’s of no use. She used some type of ancient pure-blood curse so it would never go away. Trust me, I’ve tried everything.”

Severus was taken aback by the sudden lack of emotion in her voice.

“I’ll just have to live with it. It’s a daily reminder of my real place in the wizarding world … a daily reminder of how worthless the blood running through my veins really is.”

Hopelessly despaired, Severus wanted to say something – anything – to the contrary and was desperately searching for the right words. But in the end, he stopped himself; nothing he could possibly say right now would make this situation any better. He had seen his fair share of magical injuries over the years, but this was definitely one of the worst. If Granger was right – if this had really been an ancient curse – then there was nothing he or anyone else could do. The fact that she was able to cover it up when needed was already incredible and showed just how unbelievably capable she truly was.

Still wanting to comfort his little witch and show sympathy somehow, he found himself reaching out and carefully placing his hand on hers. He heard her draw a sharp breath upon contact, and for a split second, he was afraid that she would pull away from him. But then, ever so lightly, she squeezed his fingers.

They stayed in that position for a very long time, holding hands in silence as they watched the fire slowly burn out. It was not until there was only a handful of dying embers left that he spoke up again, having to clear his throat first after not saying anything in so long.

“I know that nothing could ever possibly replace your friends, but if you want to then you can come here anytime you wish. I have a lot of books that I am sure you would enjoy, and if you ever don’t feel like eating in the Great Hall, the house elves do offer rather good room service. And they are very much discreet at that, too.” His heart was beating so fast and loud that he was sure all of Scotland could hear. “I wouldn’t really mind your company either. After all, you do seem to be the only person in the entire castle that is able to hold an intellectually stimulating conversation for longer than five minutes.”

For the first time tonight, he saw the corners of her mouth lift a little.

“I’d love that,” she said softly.

Severus could not stop himself from grinning back at her.

“Great!” he exclaimed without a care in the world about whether he sounded just a little bit too enthusiastic in that moment. “Then let me just quickly jot down the password for you.”

“A-are you sure? I mean, I could just knock!”

Severus chuckled at her shocked expression as he stood up and walked over to his secretary desk.

“I think your position as Head Girl proves that you are more than trustworthy. As long as you promise me that you are over your ‘breaking in and stealing from other people’s private stocks’ phase from five years ago, I think that we should be just fine.”

Granger’s face instantly mottled crimson.

“You know that was me?” she whispered, positively mortified.

“You were sitting in the Hospital Wing a half-human half-cat. It did not take a genius to connect the dots. Besides, who do you think brewed you the antidote?”

“Oh god! Sir, I am so, so sorry! I –“

“It’s all right. Here,” he said, handing her a small piece of paper. “Come and go as you wish. Even when I am not here.”

“I, I –“ Severus could not help it – the mean professor inside him still for some reason enjoyed seeing a student stammer helplessly right in front of him. “I don’t even know what to say, sir. Thank you so much. For your kind offer and for letting me get it all out. I appreciate it, really!”

An hour later, as he laid alone in bed, Severus could only think of one thing: he never knew that Granger could swear like that.

(Click here for chapter 17!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 18: Hogsmeade Rendezvous

(Click here for chapter 17!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

“Where are you going?”

Already halfway out the hole in the wall that made the entrance of the Potions professor’s chambers, Hermione turned around surprised. “Um, I was just going to the lavatory.”

Snape gave her a calculated look from his seat in front of the fireplace. “You could just use mine, you know. It’s the door to the right.”

“Oh, o-okay …” Hermione trailed off, feeling terribly abashed by how much she was stuttering. “Thank you.”

And with that, she staggered through the room to said door before disappearing into the bathroom behind it.

Once inside, however, the witch immediately had to gasp in amazement. The bathroom itself was not special; if anything, it was rather dilapidated. In the middle of the room, a big, round bathtub was embedded into the floor. It had most likely not been used in a really long time as it was covered in a thick layer of dust. The left corner of the room was home to a huge walk-in shower, one of its faucets leaking heavily at its base, and opposite of that, there was one of those outdated, eggshell white toilets with a flush chain, its lid slightly crooked. The only piece of furniture was an elongated wooden cabinet that extended from one end of the wall to the other. On top of it, there was a washbasin, with its enamel already starting to chip in some places.

But the one thing that made the room extraordinary was that one of its walls was not made of stone – instead, it was just one big window looking out into the depths of the Great Lake.

Her mouth wide open, Hermione took a few steps towards the glass just as a school of small fish swam by. The murky water gave the entire bathroom an eerie, greenish tint – how amusingly fitting for the quarters of the Head of Slytherin. Taking a closer look, she could see the amazing panorama that was normally hidden away within the depths of the lake: the ground mostly consisted of natural boulders covered in seaweed, with countless aquatic creatures either swimming around freely or using them for hiding. A small Grindylow could be seen; it had apparently repurposed a lost suitcase as a nice, little home. Above it, a group of Selkies was patrolling. And maybe it was just imagination, but Hermione thought that she could even make out the shadow of the friendly Giant Squid dancing around in the background somewhere.

The Muggle-born waved her hand around, trying to catch the attention of the creatures; but they paid her no mind. She soon realised that the glass must be enchanted in some way, acting as a sort of magical one-way mirror. Regardless, she was mesmerised. She had always loved the water and how it gave her the freedom to move around weightlessly. So unsurprisingly, she had fallen in love with the Great Lake during that first boat ride she had taken as an incoming first-year. But while she had spent many beautiful hours by its shore, she had never once seen it from this perspective before. After all, she had been unconscious during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.

She was so captivated by the beauty in front of her that a sudden loud knock at the door made her jump.

“Hermione? Is everything all right?”

Shit. She must have been staring out of that window for too long!

“Yes, I’ll only be a minute!” she called back and could soon hear footsteps walking away from the door.

Quickly using the toilet, the thing for which she had originally came here, she washed her hands and was just about to leave the bathroom, her slender hand already on the doorknob, when she suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of the Floo Network coming from the other room. Hermione pulled back hesitantly. She did not know who the mysterious visitor was, of course; but at any rate, it would be better if no one saw her in her teacher’s quarters and started to ask questions.

I really should have taken Ginny’s advice to heart. What if Professor Snape’s guest needs to use the loo, too?

She carefully placed her ear on the door, not once thinking about the fact that she might be eavesdropping on a very private conversation.

“Severus, my boy!” The cheerful voice obviously belonged to Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione’s heart missed a beat. Had she returned to the sitting room just one second earlier, she and Professor Snape could have been in a really sticky situation!

“Headmaster.” Snape’s voice was almost too low to understand. Hermione had to smirk when she thought about the long face he was certainly making right now; she knew all too well how much he disliked the older man’s antics. “What brings you here today? Unannounced, if I might add …”

There was a thud-like noise, and Hermione assumed that it came from Professor Dumbledore sitting down in the wing chair she had occupied just minutes ago. She prayed to the gods he would not notice that the seat was already warm.

“I came to enquire your expertise, of course! You see, I’ve recently received an interesting flyer from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and immediately felt intrigued by one of their products, the WonderWitch’s Everlasting Eyelashes. Now, with how busy I am right at the moment, I can’t just get up and leave to take a quick trip to Diagon Alley, and with Christmas right around the corner, shipping would take ages. But then I thought, ‘Well, Severus is such an intelligent and capable brewer, I am sure he could help me out!’”

“So let me get this straight … You are asking me, a Potions Master who could brew you everlasting life in a bottle, to throw together a simple eyelash serum?”

“Yes!”

Hermione let out a silent laugh. Sometimes, it really was hard to believe that Professor Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of his time.

For a few seconds, no one said anything. “I am not even going to get into how ridiculous this is,” Snape then said in an impassive voice. “But even if I wanted to fulfil your request, I couldn’t. Any magical cosmetic product requires Mooncalf oil which I do not have in stock right now.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I thought as much which is why I already placed an order at the apothecary in Hogsmeade. It should be ready to be picked up right about now!” The next part made Hermione perk up her ears. “Why don’t you take Miss Granger with you? Ordering potion ingredients is something she should familiarises herself with during her apprenticeship, and I am sure that it would also be good to get out and away from the seventh-year stress for a bit.”

“May I remind you that students, regardless of their age or position, are not allowed to leave school grounds just like that?”

Hermione heard what sounded like footsteps on a rug.

“You have my special permission,” replied Dumbledore with a chuckle before once again, the sound of flooing resonated through the wizard’s quarters. Still, Hermione waited another minute or two before emerging from her hiding spot.

Professor Snape was still sitting in the exact same spot as earlier and did not even look up as she walked past him. But when she finally arrived at her chair, she noticed a small mug filled with plain black tea hovering above it. Her face immediately broke out into a smile. The first few times he had prepared a cuppa for her, she had just figured that he had not been considerate enough to offer her any milk or sugar. But during one of her visits – the professor had just left to get something from his office – a small house elf had appeared and handed her the beverage with the words, “One black tea straight up, just like Master Snape says Miss Hermione likes it!” It was only then that she had realised that he had been paying attention to her, after all.

“Looks like we are going on an outing today,” Snape suddenly said before taking a sip of his own cup without lifting his eyes from the book on his lap. He liked his tea disgustingly sweet with at least half a dozen spoonfuls of sugar and enough milk to make it have an almost white appearance – Hermione had been paying attention to him too, of course.

*************** *************** ***************

“What do you mean it’s not ready yet?!”

“Ze delivery arrived just a few minutes ago,” explained the young apothecary at J. Pippin’s Potions in a thick Eastern European accent. “I still need to veigh it and carry out ze usual tests to prove ze content’s auzenticity.”

“I’m a bloody Potions Master! I can do that myself!” Severus growled threateningly, but the man did not even bat an eye; he had obviously not been a student at Hogwarts and therefore had never learnt to fear the bat of the dungeons. Severus could not help but feel a tiny bit uneasy. He knew that he had softened up a lot over the past few months, and now, he was afraid that at some point, he was going to lose his innate authority completely.

“As one, you should be avare of ze laws and regulations dictating zat I am not allowed to give you any goods vizout checking them zoroughly beforehand.”

Severus snorted in disgust. “Well, how long will it be then?”

“If I ztart right now,” the apothecary answered. “Probably about an hour.”

“AN HOUR!” The only thing that outburst got him was a nasty look. “What am I supposed to do for an hour?!”

“It’s okay, Professor.”

So far, his apprentice had kept in the background. But now, she took a step forward and positioned herself between the two wizards, blocking their direct view of each other and therefore immediately reducing the tension in the room. She looked him directly into his eyes, a slight smile on her face as she gingerly placed her hand on his forearm. Severus instantly felt like he had a gigantic lump in his throat.

“When you think about it, an hour is not even that long. We could have a look around the other shops or maybe even get a drink somewhere.”

“With all due respect, I can’t just go to the Three Broomsticks and have myself a butterbeer. Merlin forbid someone should see me in there!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a smirk. “If you want to be absolutely certain that you won’t meet anyone you know, then I have just the place!”

At first, he was rather confused and also a bit intrigued by her smug expression; however, that feeling quickly died down when about ten minutes later, he found himself jammed between the wall and a small gaudy table in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.

Severus felt extremely uncomfortable, almost like a fish out of water. He had known about the place, of course. It had always been the dating hotspot for Hogwarts students, even back in his days. But unsurprisingly, since he had never been one of the popular kids and thus had never scored a date, he had not once set foot inside the infamous tearoom.

Looking around, he felt overwhelmed by the seemingly endless amount of tacky and frilly décor covering every single inch of the small room. All corners were filled with ridiculously small, round tables pilled with cheap china and fake flowers, the walls were plastered in a terribly ugly floral wallpaper, and there were a few random bright pink garlands hanging from the ceiling here and there. The man did not understand how anyone would ever voluntarily frequent this establishment and thanked the universe that he and Hermione were the only customers at that moment; he did not even want to imagine the weird stares the two of them would otherwise have got.

Speaking of Hermione, he turned his attention to the young woman sitting across from him. She looked so pretty with her cheeks flushed red from the cold and her brown hair all fuzzy from the fluffy woolly hat she had been wearing earlier as she studied the menu in absolute concentration. Severus could not help but be a bit flustered – this was feeling suspiciously like a date, and that made his stomach do somersaults.

“I think I’ll just have a cup of coffee,” Hermione finally spoke up. “But I’ve heard that their tea selection is also quite good if you’d rather have that.”

When he shook his head, she put down the menu to signal that they were ready to order which in turn set Madam Puddifoot in motion. She was certainly an interesting character – her greasy black hair tied into a strict knot at the top of her head, the corpulent witch had quite a bit of trouble navigating through the cluttered salon without knocking over a bunch of chairs. When she finally reached their table in the far back, she proclaimed in her screeching voice, “What can I get for you, my darlings?”

Severus raised one of his black eyebrows – no one had ever called him that.

“Could I get a caramel macchiato with an extra shot of caramel syrup, please?”

“Oh, good choice! You must have quite the sweet tooth!” The older woman let out a deafeningly high laugh before turning around to face Severus. “And what about you? The same or –“

“Black.”

The short and crisp reply seemed to throw her off for a second. “A-alrighty then … I’ll have your beverages with you shortly.”

And with that, she staggered away, knocking over a nearby gilded statue of an angel in the process.

For a few minutes, there was an awkward silence. Stealthily studying her through his lashes, Severus noticed that as Hermione was letting her look travel around the room, she was fiddling with the bracelet she was wearing around her left wrist. He had seen it before; it was the very one she had received from Dumbledore for her birthday. This made him think of his own gift, the one he had so stupidly gone overboard with. He realised that he had never got the chance to explain himself regarding that foolishness. But just as he was about to open his mouth, he was interrupted by two cups of steaming hot coffee suddenly appearing on their table out of thin air.

Surprised at first, Hermione let out a small squeak. Severus then watched as she carefully pulled her cup closer before taking a rounded sugar bowl from the table next to them and adding about three teaspoons worth of white sweetness to her beverage without tasting it even once. Afterwards, she took her small spoon and used it to gingerly skim off the heavy layer of whipped cream topping off her drink, devouring it little by little.

Severus was observing her so intently – almost as though he was mesmerised by her trivial movements – that he had to force his eyes away from her form in order to finally take a sip from his own mug. He took a few seconds to savour the bitter taste in his mouth.

“Miss –“ He quickly scanned the room and only continued when he saw no sign of the café’s owner. “Hermione, do tell how you thought of this place? I never took you as the sappy type.”

“Oh! Well …” She seemed a little nervous all of a sudden, a bit of whipped cream still stuck to the corners of her mouth. “I’ve actually been here before.”

Severus tilted his head just ever so slightly – he did not like where this was going. “Have you then?”

“Yes …” Why was she suddenly avoiding eye contact? “With Viktor Krum.”

BANG – it was like a bullet straight to his heart. He had completely forgotten about the fact that she had been that Krum bloke’s date to the Yule Ball three years ago. Of course – any woman, even a bookworm like Hermione, would be incapable of resisting the famous foreigner’s mysterious charms. Severus began to feel nauseous. How could he ever compare to someone like that?

“How romantic,” was all he managed to squeeze out, his gaze fixated on the floor.

“Not really. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Viktor is a really great guy, not at all what you would expect from a student of Durmstrang, and I enjoyed his company greatly.” BANG, BANG – another two hits right to the chest. “But while we certainly took a liking to each other, the real spark was just never there. And either way, it would have never worked out in the long run. That whole Quidditch thing is so not my cup of tea and a long-distance relationship at that age? No, at the end of the day, it was for the better that we separated on friendly terms.”

What?! Could it really be true that the Bulgarian was not in her life anymore?

“Plus, Ron kind of ruined it with his jealously anyway.”

The Weasley boy! Severus would have never in a million years thought that he would one day be thankful for that brat’s existence.

“I guess that Viktor was just not the guy I’m looking for.”

Not thinking rationally, Severus decided to be bold. “So what are you looking for then?”

Her cheeks somehow became even more flushed than before.

“I don’t really know,” she said quietly. “I guess I want someone who cares more about academics than sports. Someone who would not get annoyed with me for spending hours reading, because he would be just as immersed in the pages as me.”

There was a short pause.

“But I think that most importantly, I want … I need someone who understands what I went through during the war. Someone who has felt the same pain that I have felt. Because how could I ever explain that to an outsider?”

(Click here for chapter 19!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 13: Dressed-Up Figures and Undressed Souls

(Click here for chapter 12!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

The remainder of the month went by in a breeze, and looking back, the Potions professor realised that it had been the happiest time of his life.

Severus still felt uneasy about his feelings towards Granger, of course; so much so that he even promised it to himself to never act on them. Quickly backpaddling on the thought that the two of them could become friends – after all, a teacher and a student becoming too close would always be weird, no matter the circumstances – he instead decided to quietly admire his beloved from afar. In a bid to distance himself from her and her enticing charms, he restricted their private lessons to the two mandatory sessions a week and made sure to drop a snide remark here and there – though they somehow never seemed as harsh anymore. It did not help, however, that the young woman seemed unfazed by all of that; she would still always show up to their meetings beaming at the Potions Master’s face.

So at the end of the day, he still could not help but experience almost juvenile-like euphoria. She liked him, too! Granted, she was not in love with him or anything, but indeed just the fact that his new object of affection liked him on a platonic level made Severus feel all kinds of ways. As a result, his behaviour seemed to change. Although he tried his best to behave like his normal mean self, he would sometimes suddenly find himself softly humming as he made his way through the castle’s countless corridors, and every once in a while, he would even accidentally chuckle at some of his colleagues’ lousy attempts at jokes over dinner. He also caught himself daydreaming about the Gryffindor more frequently, but he did not mind it that much anymore. Instead, he chose to quietly enjoy all of these new-found emotions.

As for Granger, well, she was back to her bubbly, know-it-all self. She had quickly begun to show up for class on time again, handing in excellent essays and fiercely waving her hand around trying to be “the chosen one” who got to answer questions. That behaviour also extended to their apprenticeship lessons, with her bombarding her tutor with countless questions about this and that, attempting to extract every single bit of knowledge, howsoever small, from the talented wizard’s mind. Severus could not help but be a tad bit amused by her eagerness to learn. He was still trying to maintain his reputation as the snarky, greasy-haired git of the dungeons, of course; so on the rare occasions when he actually answered one of her questions, he would do so in his typical scoffing fashion. In reality, however, he was delighted by their relatively one-sided conversations. He was utterly fascinated by the way her mind appeared to work as well as the huge range of topics in which she took an interest. After years of unsuccessfully searching for a suitable conversational partner with which to have intellectually stimulating discussions, he had finally found one – and in a member of the Golden Trio at that!

A few weeks ago, they had even taught their first class together. Severus had to admit that he had been sceptical at first about that part of the apprenticeship programme; however, Granger had done surprisingly well. Having come in prepared with a perfectly outlined lesson plan, she had no trouble properly instructing a group of second-years on how to brew the Fire Protection Potion. A nice and helpful teacher, her presence had seemed to make the pupils breathe a little easier in what is otherwise a rather strict class; some had even managed to create potions that were noticeably better than any others they’d handed in before. Though this of course did not mean that Severus planned on making any permanent changes to his personal style of teaching. The reason behind his sternness was completely logical: Unruliness had absolutely no place in his classroom, as safety always came first in a potions lab!

On one particular Thursday – the day before Halloween to be exact – the Head of Slytherin found himself in the dimly lit Potions classroom, brewing yet another one of Madam Pomfrey’s last-minute orders; unfortunately, the matron had apparently not taken to heart his elaborate lecture about ordering often-needed potions well in advance. Working side by side with his apprentice, they were preparing a batch of Antidote to Common Poisons and a few phials of Laxative Potion respectively.

Just as Severus was rummaging through his storage room in the search for some lavender essence, he heard his student speak up.

“While everyone knows that the headmaster is a – for the lack of a better word – special character, I must say that I’m still a bit dumfounded by this announcement,” her melodic voice resonated from the ancient stone walls. “Having spent the better part of my childhood in the Muggle world, I am obviously familiar with the practice. But all those scary things, those creatures that Muggles dress up as – most of them actually exist in the wizarding world! So why should we magic folk put on costumes like that? I just find it quite bizarre and …”

Finally having found the little ampoule for which he had been searching, Severus returned to his workstation as Granger continued to ramble on and on. He obviously knew what she was talking about. Just this morning at breakfast, Dumbledore had suddenly announced that this year’s Hallowe’en Feast would come with a little twist: It would be a fancy-dress party Muggle style, and everyone attending was expected to show up wearing a costume. Snape groaned at the mere thought of it. This year, the old man was just implementing one silly rule after another. Sometimes, the half-blood believed that the headmaster came up with all of his crazy antics with the sole purpose of annoying his younger colleague.

“Anyway,” the witch said, at last concluding her babbling. “What are you going as?”

Severus, who was in the process of measuring out the correct amount of Honeywater for his potion, stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the young woman with a stone-cold expression.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked snappishly.

His protégée’s hazel eyes turned big. “Oh, um, I’m talking about the Hallowe’en Feast, sir,” she stuttered rather sheepishly. “I was just wondering what your costume will be.”

“Costume? Miss Granger, am I really to believe that you would be stupid enough to assume that I, Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin, would take part in such a ridiculous display of foolishness?!”

He could practically see her confidence crumble before his very eyes, and he would have lied if he said that that did not make him feel a tiny bit bad. After hectically searching for something to say for a few moments, she dropped her gaze.

“Of course not,” she then mumbled. “My apologies …”

Granger quickly turned her attention back to her project, and so Snape did the same, trying hard to ignore that slight sting he felt in his chest.

For a while, they worked in silence. Once he finished his potion, Severus began looking for the little piece of parchment paper on which Poppy had written her order, wanting to double check if he had prepared the correct amount. Following a minute-long search, he finally found it on Granger’s side of the desk. When he went to pick it up, however, he noticed a strange, scarlet red dot on it.

Confused, he turned to face his apprentice, intending to ask her about it, when he noticed what appeared to be a fair amount of blood smeared all across the girl’s chin and lips. While he had long ago taken note of her tendency to subconsciously bite her lips whenever she was anxious or scared, he had never seen it get so bad to the point that she would make herself bleed like that. Severus could not help but feel guilty about this; it had to have been his unkind reply which had caused it.

“Miss Granger,” he muttered softly. When she looked up in surprise, he handed her the white handkerchief he always carried in the left pocket of his cloak. “You are bleeding.”

He watched as she hastily brought up her right hand to her face and then stared in disbelief at the shiny red liquid which now covered her fingertips.

Not giving her a chance to speak, he said, “When I was just a mere child growing up in Muggle England, Halloween was not yet what it is today. It did exist, yes, but the act of dressing up and having little get-togethers was not as wide-spread yet.”

Walking past her to the table, Snape picked up a small, clean blade and started cutting a few sprouts of Agrimonia into small pieces.

“However, I do distinctly recall one time when the town I was living in announced that it would host a celebration in the community centre, complete with costumes and all kinds of entertaining activities. Rather untypical for that dirty hellhole, really …” He sighed. “So I spent the whole day getting ready, gathering supplies for my costume from all around the house and borrowing some of my mother’s makeup. After hours of work, I had finally finished creating my ensemble and was about to leave, excited for the hours of fun to come, when my father came home from a day at the bar.”

He looked up, meeting the gaze of his student. Her expression had confusion written all over it.

“My father was not a kind man, Miss Granger. I am afraid that I take after him quite a lot when it comes to having anger issues.” His lips formed a thin line. “He was especially not fond of anything magical. He despised my mother and I for our abilities, calling us freaks, monstrosities. When he saw that I was dressed up as a wizard, he lost it. He tore apart my carefully crafted costume before my very eyes, and that night, I received the worst beating of my life as my mother just passively watched. It was so bad that I was not able to go to school for two weeks afterward.”

Granger gasped in shock. “That’s terrible! I –, I … I am so sorry, sir.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and Severus thought that he could see tears forming in her eyes.

He waved off her concern with a simple gesture of the hand. “That was a long time ago, Miss Granger,” he said seemingly nonchalantly, but his trembling hands gave him away as he added the shredded plant to the cauldron in front of him.

“However, I do feel like it is understandable that ever since that day, I have taken a dislike to this particular festivity.” Of course, that was only half of it – but he did not think it appropriate to disclose the trauma connected to the murder of his childhood love. “And while being one of the teachers at this school has made me feel compelled to take part in the yearly feast thus far, I have decided to allow myself to refrain from participating this time.”

What followed was silence. While the seventh-year was evidently at a loss for words, Snape continued to diligently prepare the green-coloured potion. He knew that he probably should not have shared such private information with her. But for some reason, it was just so easy to open up to her, to share his painful memories with her.

It was only after he had finished the magical concoction and went to grab a box of crystalline phials for bottling that Granger said, “It’s certainly not my place to speak of your awful experiences or offer any solutions, sir. But perhaps tomorrow is your one chance to regain the experience you were so wrongfully robbed of.”

Not knowing what to answer, Severus remained quiet.

*************** *************** ***************

Even though it was now her seventh time experiencing the event, Hermione still could not help but be amazed as she entered the Great Hall.

Like every year, the huge room had been decorated in great detail for the Hallowe’en Feast. A few dozen black cauldrons stuffed with gigantic lollipops as well as large pumpkins, some filled with candy and others with candles, were distributed throughout the hall. Looking up at the Enchanted Ceiling, she could see the dark night sky with seemingly endless stars sparkling in the distance. Flying in and out of low-hanging black clouds, both live bats as well as flaming orange streamers were swooping over the long tables which were filled with sheer massive amounts of food and drinks: devilled eggs and butternut squash soup, candy apples and carrot cake, butterbeer and gillywater, roasted turkey legs and fish pie. There was even an apple bobbing station in one corner.

However, the one thing which stood out the most was admittedly the people’s attire. Students and staff alike were dressed in various costumes, some magical and some obviously Muggle-made. In a sea of creepy clowns and heavily made-up princesses, Hermione was able to spot Lavender Brown standing in a secluded nock, dressed as a gigantic pink and baby blue cupcake, flirting with a sixth-year Hufflepuff boy wearing a cheap one-piece skeleton suit. Sitting at the edge of the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy could be seen in an exquisite Victorian-era gown, appearing to be disgusted with the way his two friends Crabbe and Goyle, who were dressed as a mummy and a pirate respectively, were stuffing their faces with black pudding, roasted potatoes and mince pie.

Making her way to the Gryffindor table, Hermione made sure to say hello to Luna Lovegood as she walked past her. The eccentric witch was wearing an unidentifiable mixture of different patterned scraps of cloths paired with a wide array of flashy accessories, which was probably meant to represent some strange creature of which no one but her had ever heard. After fighting her way through the sizeable crowd, the Head Girl then finally reached her friends.

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, waving his fork, and the piece of Beef Wellington impaled on it, at her. He was dressed in an Auror uniform. “You look smokin’ hot! You’re a sexy kitten or what?”

He flashed her a crooked smile, but she merely cringed at his lousy and rather vulgar attempt at flirting – it seemed as though he still had not got the memo that she just was not interested in him that way.

But it was in fact true that she was dressed as a cat. After taking the longest time deciding on a costume, Hermione had spent the better part of her afternoon getting ready for the feast. Throwing her outfit together from scratch, she had put on a tight-fitting, long-sleeved bodysuit and paired it with fishnet stockings and a pair of high-waisted faux leather shorts – all in black, of course. She had then used her magic skills to transfigure a pair of fuzzy socks into a headband with feline ears, followed by turning an old scarf into a tail. To top off her outfit, she had added a black lace-trimmed collar as well as high-heeled over-the-knee boots. Her makeup was kept simple, with only some basic pencil eyeliner strokes across her face to mimic a cat’s primary features, and as for her hair, well, she had just let it do its own wild thing. Granted, the outfit she was wearing was a lot more revealing than what Hermione would normally go for, but for some reason, she did not care that night. She thought that her look was fierce, and it made her feel powerful somehow.

Ignoring her pasty-skinned friend’s goggling eyes, she smiled at the couple seated next to him. Harry was dressed as a noble king, cheap plastic crown and all, and Ginny, who was sitting on his lap, was wearing a scarecrow costume. She greeted them, and they all chatted for a bit, but for some reason, something appeared a bit off with her best friend; the redhead seemed somewhat distracted. Not wanting to make a scene in front of everybody, Hermione made a mental note to ask her about it later. She was used to Harry being morose around this time of year, but seeing Ginny that unusually quiet set off red flags in her mind.

Turning her attention to the table filled with all kinds of tasty dishes, her mouth started to water. Before she helped herself to anything, however, she cast a glance at the High Table. A quick scan of the people seated at it later, she had to suppress her laughter. Sitting on the large golden chair in the middle, Professor Dumbledore instantly stood out in what was apparently a life-size replica of his favourite candy, sherbet lemon. Next to the headmaster, Professor McGonagall was sporting a kind of toned-down, more age-appropriate Snow White costume, which made her look surprisingly adorable. Professor Vector and Professor Babbling were both dressed up as Cleopatra, Madam Hooch had put on her favourite Quidditch team’s uniform, and Professor Sprout was – surprise, surprise – some sort of plant. A zombie Professor Flitwick could be seen conversing with Professor Sinistra, who was wearing a stripped burglar costume, and Hagrid was dressed in a painfully small Popeye costume. Professor Trelawney was a mouse, Professor Burbage resembled a gumdrop machine for some reason, and Lupin depicted a dog – that last one made her giggle yet again. The only one without a costume was Professor Binns, though that seemed obvious, given his ghost body.

Merely one person was missing: the Potions Master. Hermione could not help but feel a little bit disappointed. She had known that he probably would not show up, but she had still allowed herself to have some hope.

The young woman spent the next hour or so devouring Hogwarts’ finest foods while conversing and laughing with her housemates, almost forgetting about her tutor’s absence from the feast. Finally leaning back with a full stomach, she stuck her hands in the pockets of her shorts.

“What the –“

Stunned, she pulled out a tiny, folded piece of paper which had definitely not been there at the beginning of the night. Opening it under the table, out of view from her seatmates, she read the short note.

Entrance hall, now.

Hermione instantly knew whose meticulous handwriting that was. She had to give it to him, sneaking a message into the very clothing she was wearing without her noticing required skill, and she was definitely impressed. Excusing herself from the table under the pretence of having to use the bathroom, she quickly left the room through the tall double doors, forcing them apart just wide enough for her to slip through.

Once in the Front Hall, she glanced around but saw no one. Taking one more step into the room, she sharply jolted when she suddenly caught movement out of the corner of her eyes. She whipped around just in time to witness the Potions professor emerge from behind the Slytherin house point hourglass. Looking at his oval face, she could have sworn that she saw his eyes widen for a second as they wandered across her body.

“Professor Snape,” she said, a bit out of breath.

“Miss Granger, you are … a cat?” She could hear the clear disbelief in his voice, and for some reason, that made her snigger.

“Well yes, sir, it’s my costume!” She frowned as she eyed his attire. “But I can see that you stuck with your decision not to dress up.”

“That is not entirely true.”

Her eyebrows knitted in bemusement. “I don’t think I understand. You look the same as you always do.”

She could see him take a deep breath, almost as if he were psyching himself up, before he did something that she was sure no one had ever seen him do: He flashed her a big smile.

Hermione let out an audible gasp of astonishment. At first, she was too shocked to do anything but stare directly at him. Professor Snape’s smile seemed a bit unnatural and more or less forced, but she still had to admit that it made him look a lot younger and less stern. That in turn made something unfamiliar stir deep inside her, but she chose to ignore that for now.

It was only after a few moments that she noticed something odd about his teeth. His two upper incisors seemed a bit out of place. They were quite long, almost as if they were fangs. Combined with his long, dark robes, that kind of made him look like a –

“You’re dressed as a vampire!” she spat out, positively flabbergasted. When he gave an affirmative nod, she felt a rush of excitement travel through her entire body. He had actually done it! Severus Snape had dressed up at her suggestion!

Hermione knew that she was about to push her luck hard, but she was simply so overjoyed that she could not possibly control her emotions. With one big leap, she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around her teacher.

“Happy Halloween, Professor!” she rejoiced as she buried her face in the black fabric covering his broad chest.

*************** *************** ***************

He could feel the warmth radiating from her body which was tightly pressed against his. He could smell the fruity scent of her favourite shampoo coming from her voluminous locks as they tickled his beaked nose. He could hear her slightly accelerated breathing, his arms wrapped around her torso rising just a little at every breath. He could see a small birthmark, so tiny that it was almost invisible, situated at the nape of her neck. And for just a moment, he allowed himself to melt into her hug, his eyes closed shut.

Severus Snape was doomed, and he knew it. But in that exact moment, he did not care one bit.

(Click here for chapter 14!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 15: Where Your Priorities Lie

(Click here for chapter 14!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

“All I am saying is that I really don’t think you should be too hard on her, sir. She’s still struggling with being so far away from her family for the majority of the year,” Granger said as the pair made their way up one of the narrow staircases connecting the remote dungeons to the rest of the castle. “She’s very sensitive, you know.”

Severus snorted at her defence of the Hufflepuff student; she certainly took her job as Head Girl just too seriously sometimes.

“I do believe that this is Miss Zeller’s third year at this school now. Sensitive or not,” he spat the word out with some disgust. “It is about time that she gets a hold of herself. I already expect nothing from her, and yet she still somehow manages to disappoint me every single time that she enters my classroom.”

The witch shook her head in disagreement as she gave him a disapproving look, but Severus thought that he could see the corners of her mouth lift a little.

Reaching the Grand Staircase, their conversation shifted to something more academic: an interesting Potions Weekly article they’d both read. It really seemed as though the ice between the teacher and his student had broken even more ever since their little nighttime encounter in front of the Hospital Wing. Over the past two weeks, Granger had ventured into the dark depths of the dungeons on a daily basis; once or twice, she had even gone two times in a single day. Splitting their time between Snape’s office and the Potions classroom, the two masterminds had prepared assignments, maintained Poppy’s ever-dwindling medicine stock and even discussed the wizarding world’s newest scientific achievements here and there. Whenever there’d been time, Severus had tried to quench his apprentice’s thirst for knowledge by teaching her about exotic potions that were way too complex to even be mentioned on the regular Hogwarts syllabus. And while he had been trying hard to keep up his guard in front of his inamorata, Granger had slowly started to share more and more personal details of her life during each exchange – like the time she had opened up about the pressure put on her from a very young age by her dentist parents to live the healthiest lifestyle possible. “Can you believe that I never had a bite of chocolate before my very first ride on the Hogwarts Express? That was the first time that I’d ever been without their supervision. I felt like I had committed a criminal act!”

Deeply engaged in their discussion about a particularly fascinating part of the article, the both of them startled in unison when the large, old door leading to the Great Hall suddenly swung open just a few feet ahead of them. Out came three familiar figures: A tall and lanky freckled ginger and another slightly smaller boy with untidy jet-black hair who had his arm slung loosely around the shoulders of a thin redhead.

“Oh!” Granger let out a small gasp as she recognised her peers. “I’m sorry, Professor, but I need to go now. I think that I’ll spent the evening studying since I have the feeling that there is going to be a surprise quiz tomorrow in Charms; but I’ll try to stop by in the morning before breakfast to drop off those essays I corrected last week, if that would be all right?”

All Severus could do was to give her a curt nod before he watched her run off after her idiotic friends.

*************** *************** ***************

“Hey, you guys! Wait up!”

Hermione greeted her fellow Gryffindors with a big smile when they finally turned around to face her. With a few more bounding strides, she caught up to them.

“Where are you going? I thought that we were having lunch together today.” It took her a moment to catch her breath. “You know, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Instead of a response, all she was met with were three blank stares. After several excruciatingly long seconds of awkward silence, it was Harry who spoke up first.

“Hermione, lunch ended ten minutes ago. We waited over an hour for you,” he said softly.

“What?!” It only took the brunette one quick look at her trusty wristwatch to realise that he was right. “Merlin, I am so sorry! I didn’t notice that it’s already this late …” she muttered perplexed.

“This is the fourth time you have stood us up now!” snapped Ron, his ears turning red. “What were you even doing that’s more important than your own friends?”

“Professor Snape and I were just finishing up some potions to use in a demonstration for the second-years on Friday. I’m really so sorry, I didn’t think it would take this long!”

“Hermione, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time down there with that git lately,” Ginny said with a slight pout on her face. “We barely get to see you anymore.”

“Well, I guess it’s true that the apprenticeship is taking up a lot of my time and energy at the moment. Together with my duties as Head Girl, I –“

“It just feels like you care a lot more about Snape and his stupid potions than you do about us,” Ron interrupted her, his lips nothing but a thin line.

Hermione looked absolutely baffled. “But that’s not true! I love you guys, and you know that! I admit that perhaps I’ve been spending a little bit too much time with Professor Snape as part of my studies, but I have just been … I guess I didn’t realise that –“

“Yeah, you didn’t realise, just like you never do. With you, it’s always just books and grades.” The youngest Weasley boy snorted. “Let’s go!” he then gestured to the other two to follow him as he stormed off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Ginny did not even say a single word before turning to follow her older brother, her gaze pinned to the floor. Harry, however, gave his best friend a quick shoulder squeeze paired with an empathetic look before running off as well.

Before she knew it, Hermione was all alone. Still somewhat in a state of shock, her bottom lip began to quiver, and it looked like she was holding back tears as she too wandered off, most likely to seclude herself in the library, entirely unaware that a pair of dark eyes was following her.

(Click here for chapter 16!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 14: Can You Keep A Secret, Professor?

(Click here for chapter 13!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

It was late at night, and Severus was in a truly splendid mood as he made his way through one of the school’s deserted corridors.

Just a few hours earlier, his house’s Quidditch team had absolutely smashed those stupid little Gryffindors he despised so much. 60 to 190 points – he still marvelled at that superb score. Finally, after all those years, his beloved Slytherins were again on their way to take home Hogwarts’ Inter-House Quidditch Cup! He could not help but smirk as he thought of the shocked expression on Potter’s face when Draco Malfoy had caught the Snitch right before the Chosen One’s eyes. After the game, the Potions Master had then spent the rest of his night harvesting Sopophorous beans from his secret acreage hidden deep within the Forbidden Forest and was now on his way back to his chambers. Ah yes, today had been a good day!

Snape was just about to turn the corner when he heard the unmistakable creak of a heavy door echoing through the nocturnal quiet. Maybe it was a remnant of his spying days or maybe it was the teacher in him evermore prepared to catch some unsuspecting students breaking the rules, but he immediately stopped dead in his tracks and squeezed his body against the wall before risking a stealthy look into the corridor to his right.

At first, he could not see much as the light coming through an open door situated a mere few metres in front of his position was simply too bright; it took his eyes a second or two to adjust. It was only then that he realised he was looking at the entrance to the Hospital Wing. Funny – he hadn’t even noticed that he had wandered into the Hospital Tower. But maybe that should not have come as a surprise, considering how much his mind had been all over the place lately.

Turning his attention back to the scene before him, he could make out a person looking suspiciously similar to Madam Pomfrey standing in the doorway, evidently speaking with someone out of his sight. The wizard’s brows puckered. Normally, Poppy had a zero-tolerance policy when it came to her sleeping schedule; one that she defended with all kinds of nasty hexes, as he himself had had to experience first-hand. The only exception, of course, was in cases of emergency; but in that instance, every one of the school’s teachers would have been informed. And Severus knew for a fact that Albus’ Patronus would have easily found him no matter where he had been, even deep down in the woods.

Trying to get a better look, he scooted a bit closer, making sure not to step out of the protective cover provided by the nighttime shadows, just as the matron moved aside to let her conversation partner exit the room. To say that he was surprised when he saw Granger set foot in the dark corridor would have been an understatement.

He had not seen her since they had shared that quick hug in the Entrance Hall; as far as he was aware, she had not even attended the game earlier. Presently, she was dressed in what seemed to be a light grey bathrobe over a pair of red plaid cotton pyjamas, with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck – certainly a drastic difference to the risky Halloween costume she had worn just a few days earlier.

Severus watched as the Gryffindor exchanged a few more unintelligible words with the elderly healer before turning around and walking off into the direction of the Grand Staircase, her cloth slippers audibly dragging across the stone floor. He waited until the door to the infirmary had been pulled shut before moving to stealthily follow her. The thoughts in his head were running wild. Why had she been there, at this time of night at that?! Had she somehow gotten injured? Had she contracted some sort of disease? Panic already arousing in him, Snape forced himself to calm down. No, he would have been told if his personal apprentice had become sick or gotten hurt. Also, he knew that Poppy would never discharge a patient in the middle of the night. So what was really going on?

The strides of his long legs great, he was quick to catch up to her petite figure.

“Miss Granger,” he growled, causing the witch to jump in surprise. “What were you doing in the Hospital Wing at this hour? It is almost one o’clock in the morning, so you are not only outside of visiting hours but also past curfew!”

“Merlin, keep your voice down or someone will hear you!”

Severus did not even have enough time to get angry about being shushed by a student – or to blush at his new love interest tightly gripping his arm – before Granger pulled him into the nearest empty classroom. Pulling out her wand, she quickly locked the door and cast a privacy charm before turning around to face him.

“My apologies, sir.” She regarded him with a slight frown on her face. “But I simply could not risk anyone eavesdropping on us.”

“I demand to know the meaning of this right now, Miss Granger!” snarled Snape.

After giving him a long and calculated look, the young woman tilted her head as she asked, “Can you keep a secret, Professor?”

“Keep a secret?” He almost felt as though he had just been insulted. “I was a Death Eater and a double agent for longer than you have been alive, you foolish girl!”

Granger ignored his little emotional outburst. “I will take that as a yes.” She walked over to one of the wooden tables in the front row and leant against it. “My visit to the infirmary did not concern myself.”

Severus just glared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Rather, I was there to act as a sort of moral support for Ginny.”

“Miss Weasley.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” she confirmed nonetheless. “I’m sure that you noticed her absence at today’s game. You see, her and Harry have been an item for a while now. But it seems as though they recently had a little mishap.”

The Potions professor was growing more and more impatient. Potter and anything concerning him was one of his least favourite subjects.

“A mishap of what sort?” he pressed her.

“Well …” Seemingly searching for the right words, Snape thought that he could see her face turn red a little. “A mishap as they became more intimate. Carelessness in the heat of passion, if you will.”

Snape’s eyes turned big and he could feel a burning sensation starting to spread in his cheeks.

“You mean …” He could not even bring himself to say it.

Granger nodded. “Ginny got pregnant. She obviously freaked out, not knowing what to do. So after she confided in me, I set up a secret appointment with Madam Pomfrey.”

She did not elaborate further, looking at him as though he should know where the story was going. But after a few seconds of Severus just staring back at her blankly, she finally lost her patience.

“The pregnancy was terminated.”

“WHAT?”

Granger simply rolled her eyes. “Come on, Professor! Don’t act like you aren’t aware that things like this happen at our school all the time. Every year, there’s at least half a dozen of girls seeking Madam Pomfrey’s assistance in such matters.”

“No, I did not know that!” he barked back. “What do the girl’s parents have to say to all of this? And Potter?!”

She offered him a sad smile. “He doesn’t know.”

“What?!” he exclaimed appalled. “How could that idiot not know he impregnated a fellow student?”

“Ginny just never told him. I advised her to do so, of course; but she didn’t want to. And at the end of the day, it’s her body and her choice. All I can do is be there for her as a friend.” She crossed her arms. “It’s probably for the best anyway. Harry would have tried to convince her to continue with the pregnancy for sure, and they’re just not ready for that kind of responsibility. I mean, neither of them has even finished their education yet! And while Harry might have brought about Voldemort’s downfall, he cannot even keep up with his schoolwork, let alone take care of a child.”

Severus was taken aback by the maturity in her voice. “She is probably right,” he thought. He did not even want to imagine having to deal with another Potter brat in eleven years’ time; just the idea of it made him shudder. Still, the thought of two students being sexually active made him highly uncomfortable somehow. Ironic, considering his own current emotional state.

“And so that’s the reason why I was in the Hospital Wing,” he could hear the brunette conclude.

“Very well.” He let out an audible sigh. “10 points from Gryffindor.”

“Excuse me?!” she bellowed.

“Miss Granger, as the school’s Head Girl, you should lead by example. Wandering around the castle after curfew is a punishable offence.” He smirked. “Regardless of the circumstances.”

It was painfully obvious that that was an attempt at lightening the mood, and the brightest witch of her age threw her hands up in frustration.

“You really are something, Professor Snape! I guess I better get going before you deduct even more points – for ridiculous reasons, I might add!”

She removed her magical guards and made for the door.

“One last thing, Miss Granger.”

A head of full brown locks turned to him. “Yes?”

Severus regarded her quizzically. “Why would you tell me such damning information willingly?”

“Oh, I don’t believe you would ever tell, sir. You would have to admit to having conversations with your apprentice in private, after all.”

And with one last cheeky grin, she disappeared into the night.

(Click here for chapter 15!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 11: Just A Filthy Mudblood

(Click here for chapter 10!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Over the course of the following month, there was a noticeable cold distance between the Potions Master and his apprentice. Somehow, his snarky comments following the brewing accident seemed to have affected the young witch a lot more than any of his other equally mean remarks in the past. As a result, she stopped raising her hand during class and was always the last one to enter and the first one to leave the gloomy dungeon room – if she showed up at all, that was.

Severus knew that it was very much unlike her to skip class, of course; but he left it at deducting points whenever she did. At the end of the day, she was Minerva’s responsibility and not his. In fact, he was rather glad about the change in her behaviour. He was glad that her essays, which had used to be so elaborate and verbose, were now kept to a minimum and soon turned dull, reading no different to other students’ work. He was even more glad that she wouldn’t make eye contact with him and only gave one-word answers as needed, even during their private lessons. Her complete refusal to communicate with him made it a hell of a lot easier to get her out of his head. After a few weeks, he stopped having indecent thoughts about her all together which finally put his mind at ease – that silly infatuation had only been a phase after all.

Or at least that was what he believed until one fateful Friday evening in mid-October.

Snape was sitting at the cluttered desk in his dark office, grading papers about Lobalug venom and its uses in potions written by his third-year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. The essay in front of him at that very moment was starting to turn into a sea of red ink and Severus rolled his eyes in frustration. While they certainly had their good qualities, he had yet to encounter a Hufflepuff with a single ounce of talent for potion brewing.

Just as he was about to write a particularly nasty comment at the bottom of the three-foot-long parchment roll, there suddenly was the sound of commotion coming from outside the door.

“Piss off!” the deep voice of a man could be heard resonating through the dungeon hallway.

“No!” Severus instantly matched the high-pitched tone of the second person to Granger. “As Head Girl, it is my duty to protect all students from any physical or emotional harm, and I clearly saw you use the Stinging Hex on poor little Stewart Ackerly as he was going up the Grand Staircase. So whether you like it or not, you will be accompanying me to your Head of House for appropriate disciplinary action at once!”

“Listen here, you minger!” the male retaliated angrily. “I will not be told what to do by someone like you, do you fucking understand?! I do not give a shit about what stupid little title that knobhead of a headmaster gave you or what idiotic principles you think you need to uphold – I will not be bossed around by a Mudblood! The war may be over, but don’t think for a second that you will ever be more than the scum of the earth! Your kind shouldn’t even be allowed at this school!”

When Severus then heard a loud bang directly followed by a squealing outcry, he finally jumped out of his chair and rushed to the door. By the time he had pushed it open and run into the secluded corridor, Theodore Nott had already cornered Granger in an alcove, pushing her significantly smaller frame against the mouldy stone wall as his wand was buried deep in the flesh of her throat.

“I should really just take you out here and now. Not that anyone would care about one less rotten Mudblood tainting –“

All the Potions professor needed was one simple hand movement to nonverbally and wandlessly disarm the Slytherin and catapult him several feet into the air, eliciting an anguished yelp upon impact with the hard ground. Meanwhile, the now freed witch dropped to the floor. Breathing heavily, she struggled to contain her tears as her hand shot up to rub her flushed neck.

“Miss Granger, would you please go into my office and wait there while I … take care of this situation,” Severus muttered, dangerously calm as he walked towards the young pure-blood cowering in front of him.

“But –“

“Now, Miss Granger.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her frantically use the sleeve of her grey sweater to wipe her reddened eyes as she slowly got back up on her feet, throwing once last glance at her assailant before brushing past them and disappearing into the office.

Once Snape heard the lock latch, he grabbed the boy at his feet by the collar and violently pushed him against the wall, much like the wimp had done to the Gryffindor just seconds earlier.

“Mr Nott,” he basically spat the name into the lanky adolescent’s face. “Just what is it that you think you are doing?! Not only did you defy the orders of the Head Girl – someone who has nearly as much disciplinary power as any professor at this school, mind you – but you also just threatened and physically assaulted another student!”

He could practically smell the teenager’s fear. “But Professor, she deserved it! A Mudblood like her –“

“DO NOT EVER DARE TO USE THAT WORD IN MY PRESENCE AGAIN!” Severus roared, the veins of his neck protruding painfully. “Now that the Dark Lord is gone, I will no longer be tolerating this kind of behaviour at this school! Slytherin or not, you would do better to keep your idiotic prejudices to yourself – because if I ever hear you or anyone else use such terminology again, you will learn the hard way that there are worse things to go through other than the Cruciatus Curse, believe me!” With that, he pushed Nott away from him.

“To show you just how unacceptable your behaviour was, I shall deduct 250 points from Slytherin,” he continued, not giving him a chance to speak. “In addition, you will be serving detention twice a week for the rest of the school year; I do believe that Mr Filch could use some help scrubbing the toilets. You will also no longer be permitted to attend any Quidditch games or take part in any Hogsmeade weekend visits. Oh, and I shall also deduct another 50 points for your assault on that Ravenclaw boy.”

Giving him one last scowl, he pointed down the hallway. “Now, get out of my sight!”

Severus watched on in disgust as Nott hurriedly picked up his wand before scurrying off into the depths of the dungeons. Taking a few minutes to regain his composure, he remembered himself around that age.

An outside and a misfit, he had always tried so very desperately to fit in. He’d only had one real friend in his entire lifetime who had truly cared for him – Lily. But in his foolish arrogance, he had managed to screw even that up. It had been then that he had made the biggest mistake of his life: joining Voldemort’s ranks and becoming a Death Eater.

Subconsciously rubbing his left forearm, he felt disappointed in how ignorant he had been. Looking back, it was so easy to see the stupidity of it all – bitter witches and wizards who hadn’t been able to accept the fact that the blood purity they so frantically tried to cling onto no longer possessed any significance whatsoever and a maniac who had turned himself into a monster trying to become immortal. Severus may not be able to change the past, but he would be damned if he let this idiocy carry on any longer.

Shaking his head, he turned around and went back into his office. At first glance, he thought that Granger had somehow managed to sneak out while he had been telling her attacker off as he couldn’t detect her anywhere in the little room. But then he discovered her sitting on the old, rickety three-legged stool he kept in the back corner, her legs hugged tightly to her body.

“Miss Granger –“

At his words, she abruptly startled up, and Severus could see her tear-streaked face. She was a blubbering mess. An agonised sob escaped her mouth before she quickly hid her face behind her hands.

Stunned, Severus walked over to her and carefully placed his hand on her quivering shoulder, trying very hard to ignore how his heart seemed to skip a beat as he touched her.

“Miss Granger,” he repeated. But yet again, he only received more pitiful whimpers in response.

Snape let out a deep sigh before squatting down in front of her. While he had made many students cry in his days, he had never tried to console one before.

“Please look at me, Miss Granger. Why are you so distraught?” he asked in what he believed to be a soothing tone.

After a few more sniffles and sobs, her shaking voice could finally be heard coming from underneath the mountain of untamed curls.

“He’s right,” she said softly, keeping her face well-hidden.

Severus frowned. “Certainly not. Even though Mr Nott may be of a different opinion, the positions of Head Girl and Head Boy are important ones that have proven themselves useful for many centuries now and – “

“No,” she interrupted him hoarsely. “He’s right about me being a Mudblood.”

Severus was flabbergasted. “Don’t say –“

“BUT IT’S TRUE!” she practically screamed, her head shooting up to reveal the anguished expression on her blotchy face. “Voldemort may be dead, but things haven’t changed! In people’s eyes, I will always be worth less because I am Muggle-born. It doesn’t matter how hard I try; even if I’m the best at everything, I will never be more than a, a –“

A lone tear escaped her chocolate brown eyes. “A filthy Mudblood.”

When Severus didn’t react immediately, still too dumbfounded to speak, she grimaced bitterly before jumping up and bolting for the door.

“Miss Granger, don’t –“ he pleaded, grabbing her by the wrist which in turn caused her to lose her footing and fall back onto him. Unable to remain upright following the accidental collision, he soon found himself on the dusty floor, with the bawling girl lying on top of him.

Severus promptly tried to get back up again, embarrassed by the sudden physical contact, but Granger just sobbed even louder and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Fuck. Fuck. What is she doing?!

He momentarily panicked, not knowing what to do. But then – following a sudden urge inside of him that could only be described as the basic human instinct to comfort the suffering – he awkwardly embraced her shaking frame and started to slowly stroke her back.

“Miss Granger,” he muttered gently, the words leaving his mouth seemingly involuntarily. “I might have to obliviate you after saying this, but believe me when I say that you are worth more than all of Britain’s pure-bloods combined. This school has never seen a pupil as brilliant and smart as you. It is not your fault that those backward-thinking fanatics cannot come around to accept that one’s blood status has nothing to do with one’s magical abilities, you being the best example for that. You are not worth less just because you were born to non-magical parents. If anything, you are superior to those of us who grew up solely in the wizarding community, as you can move around the Muggle world freely without causing much of a stir – you’ve got the best of both worlds, really!”

When his lousy attempt at a joke was met with only more wailing and trembling, he hurriedly carried on with his speech. “Besides, you are a war hero, Miss Granger! If it hadn’t been for your wits and resourcefulness, Potter would have been killed a long time ago; probably not even at the hands of the Dark Lord but rather due to a botched brewing attempt or the like. You played a key role in the downfall of the most dangerous wizard to have ever existed, and any Death Eater that is still left out there as well as those who continue to sympathise with that antiquated mindset would do better to fear you. I mean, none of my Slytherins were even brave enough to become my apprentice. Tell me how anyone could claim themselves to be of superior descent if they cannot even bring themselves to face the bat of the dungeons? Not that any of them would have been academically ambitious enough anyway …”

Severus made a small pause before he continued, “As hard as it may be, do not let their ignorant remarks get to you, and do not let yourself be consumed by hatred for them either, as there is already enough hate in the world as it is. If anything, feel pity for them. Their dim-witted pride occupies them so much that they cannot even get any joy from life. They let themselves be controlled by their fear of becoming insignificant, of losing the power they once held. They cannot admit to themselves that they have nothing left but their half-burned family tapestries filled with incest and tragedy. And once they come to their senses and realise their mistakes – which hopefully, they one day will – be the bigger person and forgive them. The heavy burden of their sins will be punishment enough. I –“

He struggled to find the right words. “I myself am guilty of such a shameful past, and I have spent the last 20 years paying for it. Unfortunately, some people do not seem to learn from history, and it truly mortifies me to see my Slytherins, the students of my beloved house, follow in the footsteps of their misguided parents. It’s … it’s just not right and it never will be.”

No longer audibly crying, the girl in his arms appeared to have at last been calmed down by his words, and Severus was glad about that; just like many men, he was absolutely terrified of a woman’s tears. Taking a deep breath, he finally did what he had done so rarely in life and never to a student at that: He apologised.

“My actions towards you were so often intolerantly mean, Miss Granger. Not only regarding the unfortunate incident with the Boil Cure, which was really caused by my carelessness rather than yours; but also all the years I let you and your …” Trying not to upset her any further, he searched for a neutral word to use for her dunderhead friends. “Peers suffer from my admittingly despotic teaching style. I had to uphold a certain façade, of course; considering that I was still pretending to be on the Dark Lord’s side. However, I often took it too far. Especially you, Miss Granger, should not have been put through all that, as you were an excellent, outstanding student. I know that I certainly do not deserve it, but I hope that you can find it in your heart to one day forgive me.”

Not daring to breathe, he waited for a response – but there was none. Granger remained completely quiet.

Sheer terror arose inside him. Had he gone too far? Did she feel cornered by his sudden confession? Oh, he knew that he shouldn’t have done that! Opening up to anyone – particularly a student – was just asking for trouble. Now she would undoubtedly go out and tell all of her moronic little friends about how much of a weak pussy he really was, and then they would never take him seriously ever again! Just the thought of it was enough to cause him to abruptly become irate.

“Enough of this nonsense,” he said in his typical cold and threatening voice. “For your pathetic behaviour, I shall deduct 40 points from Gryffindor. House of the brave, my arse! Now, get off me at once!”

Still, no response.

“Miss Granger?” Severus asked a bit less forcefully this time, a look of slight confusion appearing on his face. “Miss Granger! … Hermione?”

Just then, a loud snore escaped Granger’s lips – she had fallen asleep minutes ago.

Not wanting to wake her up now that she had finally settled down, Severus carefully readjusted her position on his body and let his head fall back until it came to a rest on the stone floor. He would wait a while to make sure that she was properly asleep before moving her off him and getting back to work. And meanwhile, he would just ignore that stupid feeling forming in his stomach.

Yes, that’s what he would do.

*************** *************** ***************

When Hermione woke up the next morning, her body was aching terribly, but at the same time, she felt extremely well-rested. To tell the truth, she hadn’t slept that well since her fifth year. Sirius’ death had made it all real back then, and she had been battling terrible nightmares ever since. A faint smile appeared on her face – maybe those days were finally behind her!

Her eyes still closed, she snuggled up closer to the life-size teddy bear behind her which her older cousin had won for her at their town’s fair more than a decade ago. Only that teddy bears normally didn’t groan or pull you closer to them – and so the brunette was abruptly wide-awake.

Understandably shocked and confused, Hermione’s eyes flew open, but she immediately flinched in pain; for some reason, her eyelids were swollen and hurt when she tried to open them. How weird, had she been crying?

A quick wandless healing spell later, she was finally able to take in her surroundings. Not that this helped her confusion at all: All she could see was a dark room, dimly lit by a few magically enchanted candles fixed to a dark grey stone wall. Was she in the dungeons? If so, she certainly couldn’t remember how she got there. And why was she lying on the floor? The young woman was quite frankly baffled.

Just then, her “teddy bear” called attention to himself yet again with another loud grunt, reminding her of what had caused her to wake up in the first place. By now, she was certain that whoever was behind her wasn’t her beloved stuffed animal, of course; as it was not only a mere Muggle product without the ability to move or make sounds, but it had also been located on the bed in her childhood room the last time she’d seen it. So who was it that was holding onto her with that grip made of steel?

She frantically ran through the possibilities in her head and for a split second, she even believed herself to have been kidnapped by one of the few remaining Death Eaters still at large, but she quickly dismissed that thought; one of Voldemort’s fanboys surely wouldn’t be hugging her spoon-style.

The next scenario that her mind came up with was a drunken night that had ended in a make-out session with some random guy. Not that she had ever done anything like that before, but that was what always happened in the movies, right? She couldn’t remember getting drunk; however, Hogwarts was famous for its secret student parties. Normally, it would have been her job as Head Girl to prevent those, but what if she had got herself caught up in something just this once?

Hermione furrowed her brows. Oh god, what if it was Ron?! Had she finally given into his advances? She couldn’t help but feel sick to her stomach at the thought of his bloated lips kissing her mouth and his pasty hands roaming her body. If that was really what had happened, then their friendship would be over – there was just no way she could ever look him in the eyes again.

And so even though she would rather not know, she simply had to find out whose hands were holding onto her waist at this very moment. Gulping, she slowly turned her head towards the person behind her. But instead of seeing the expected ginger head of hair and the freckled face of her best friend, she was looking straight into the sleeping face of Severus Snape.

“Oh no,” the girl whispered, her eyes wide in shock. “Oh no, no, no, no, no! What the –“

When the sudden noise caused him to stir, she quickly covered her mouth with her hand – it wouldn’t do any good to waken the Dungeon Bat before she had figured this whole situation out.

After what felt like an eternity, the wizard finally settled down again, and it was only after her lungs started to ache that Hermione realised that she had been holding her breath.

Okay, Hermione, relax! There has to be a reasonable explanation as to how you and Professor Snape ended up like this. Just think!

Purposely avoiding looking in her cuddling partner’s direction, Hermione racked her brain – but she simply could not come up with a plausible reason for their current situation. She didn’t have any classes taking place in the dungeons on Friday evenings and she also couldn’t remember having any extra apprenticeship lessons scheduled with her tutor; not that she would have had agreed to one in the first place. So why had she come down here? And what’s more, what had led to her and Professor Snape cuddling on the cold floor of his office?

Already close to a panic attack, the previous night’s events finally came back to her: How Theodore Nott had attacked her. How Professor Snape had come to her rescue. How she had been able to hear him tear the Slytherin apart. How she had broken down crying. How she had tripped and fallen onto her teacher who had then tried to comfort her. How safe she had felt in his strong arms before drifting off to sleep.

Hermione’s relief about this G-rated explanation was short-lived, however, because she soon noticed how her professor’s face was just a mere inch away from hers. Being this close to him felt so embarrassingly intimate that she couldn’t help her face turning beet red. She made a feeble attempt to remove his arms from around her body, but that just caused him to squeeze her even tighter. Merlin’s pants, what was she supposed to do now?

Trying to ignore Snape’s soft snoring, she pondered for a few seconds before ultimately reaching down between them. After some awkward fiddling, she finally managed to extract her wand from the pocket of her skirt. A basic conjuring spell later, she was holding a fairly large white pillow in her hands.

She took a shaky breath – so far, so good. Now came the tricky part: In one swift movement, she slipped out from between his arms while simultaneously replacing her form with the cushion. While the Potions Master certainly didn’t seem too happy about losing his cuddly toy – Hermione could have sworn that she even saw him pout for a split second – he soon settled back down. His apprentice exhaled in relief.

Trying not to make a sound, she stood up and quickly made herself presentable again by smoothing out her rather wrinkly clothes and fixing her tousled hair. Checking her wristwatch, she realised that it was only 4.53 a.m. – with a bit of luck, it was still early enough for her to sneak back to her tower without anyone noticing.

But just as she was about to head for the door, Hermione took another look at the sleeping man. Snape looked surprisingly peaceful as he lay there, with a five o'clock shadow gracing his cheeks and a bit of drool coming out of the corner of his half-open mouth. He definitely didn’t look as angry or threating anymore, that was for sure. Not that Hermione had ever been scared of him; she had never truly believed him to be that mean monster all the other students – especially her fellow Gryffindors – made him out be. Yes, he had definitely intimidated her during her younger years and he had even made her cry once or twice. But knowing that he had been putting his life on the line trying to save the world from Voldemort, Hermione had always respected and trusted the Potions professor. He was one of the good ones, regardless of how grumpy and nasty he could be. And while he had deeply hurt her feelings with his mean words following the accident, she couldn’t be mad at him anymore after his actions from the previous night. He had not only saved her from an attack, but he had also tried to console her.

A small smile appeared on her lips as she stepped closer to his sleeping figure. Leaning forward, she examined his face. While he certainly wasn’t a classic beauty, he could still be considered handsome. His hair looked a bit uncared for and his nose was a little too big, but with that strong jawline and those prominent black eyebrows, that only added to his rugged and manly look.

He looked so calm and content in that moment that Hermione almost reached out her hand to touch his cheek. Instead, she swiftly conjured a blanket with which she covered his resting form. She then walked over to his desk, which was still filled with dozens upon dozens of documents and essays, and ripped a small piece of parchment paper off a blank roll. Using Snape’s golden quill, she quickly scribbled down some words before quietly moving to the door and leaving the room, the dark-haired wizard still sound asleep on the floor.

*************** *************** ***************

It was not even an hour later when Severus opened his black eyes. Still dazed, he let out a hoarse grunt as he propped himself up on one elbow. He wasn’t surprised about waking up in his office; he had oftentimes found himself there after being summoned by the Dark Lord and spending long nights at Death Eater raids. However, he had never woken up with a pillow underneath his head and a fluffy blanket draped across his body.

Following a brief moment of confusion, he remembered the previous night.

I must have fallen asleep as well.

After a quick scan of the room, he was sure that he was alone. Feeling a heavy migraine approaching, Severus let out a deep sigh before climbing to his feet. He didn’t even want to think about the Gryffindor’s opinion on him now.

With a simple flick of his wand, he swiftly sleeked down his jet-black hair and made his beard stubbles disappear before making his way to the desk. While he felt absolutely whacked physically, he had to admit that he had slept surprisingly well. In fact, he hadn’t slept that well since his own years as a student. Severus frowned. Not that that had anything to do with the little know-it-all, he told himself.

Slumping into his leather chair, he was just about to reach for one of the bottom drawers in search of some bottle of hard liquor to drown his memories of the previous night in when he noticed a short note written in that small, neat handwriting he knew all too well sitting on top of a pile of yet to be corrected essays.

Thank you. – H.

As he read the brief scribble, he could feel a strange, warm feeling that he hadn’t known in about two decades creep through his body.

Shit.

He was starting to like Granger.

(Click here for chapter 12!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 12: A Friend For The Lonely Beast At Last

(Click here for chapter 11!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

The following days went by way too fast, and the weekend was over before Severus knew it.

He had spent the two chilly autumn days locked away in his quarters, not leaving the cold confines of the dungeons even once. While he would normally spend his free days hunting for rare potion ingredients and interesting literature or working on improving his already impeccable brewing technique, he had passed the past 48 hours buried beneath countless pillows and thick blankets in his large four-poster bed. The only contact to the outside world had been provided by the school’s ever-diligent house elves, who had both kept the Potions Master’s rooms clean and delivered warm meals three times a day – not that the man had touched much of the food.

On Monday morning, Severus woke up with a throbbing headache. A quick look at his watch told him that breakfast was probably already in full swing, but he didn’t feel like eating. Most of all, however, he didn’t feel like facing a certain brunette before he absolutely had to. So instead, he got up and moved to the bathroom with sagging shoulders.

As he was standing in the shower a few minutes later, letting the icy cold water pour over his lithe body, he tried hard to ignore the intrusive thoughts that had been plaguing him all throughout the past days. They all had something to do with some newly discovered and rather confusing feelings for a little know-it-all, of course.

While he had dismissed his earlier impure thoughts about Granger as the simple result of prolonged abstinence, these confounding emotions were of a whole new calibre. Physical attraction was one thing; he could deal with that. But fancying one of his own students – let alone maybe falling in love with them – was simply too much. It made him feel almost physically ill.

Severus had never been one to handle his own feelings well, and his relative inexperience when it came to the opposite sex – especially in the romantic sense – only added to his confusion and uncertainty. The only woman he had ever been interested in, the only one he had ever loved, was Lily. And he had always thought that she was the love of his life. Even almost two decades after her violent death, her mental image was still looming over his scarred heart. The redhead had been the one thing that had kept him going throughout the war; she had been the only reason he had tried so desperately to keep that stupid Potter boy alive – and the only reason he had continued to live.

But now, he was slowly but surely starting to question all that. Whatever it was that he was beginning to feel towards Granger was so different and so much more intense than anything he had ever experienced before. Somehow, it even felt more powerful than his love for Lily had ever been to begin with. And over the weekend, the wizard had come to the shocking conclusion that the only reason he had ever been that obsessed with his childhood sweetheart was because she had been one of the few people to ever show a genuine interest in him as a person. Whether Severus liked it or not, he had always been someone who craved the attention and acceptance of others. That had been the main reason he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord in the first place. Lily had been his friend, she had treated him with respect; and teenage-him had mistaken that for love. Looking back, he realised that it had never been her that he’d been craving; it had been her kindness towards him. The fact that his personal archenemy had also quickly started to show an interest in her had only made Snape more determined to make her his, of course.

His feelings towards Granger were of a different nature. She had never been his friend; in fact, Severus was pretty much sure that she hated him just as much as the rest of the student body – even if she never really showed it. So it wasn’t her continued affection he desired. No, he wanted her. He wanted to run his calloused fingers through her voluminous curls, he wanted to listen to her babble on for hours about some random boring topic, he wanted to hold her and sleep next to her like they had done in his office. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t striving to possess a woman but rather to give himself to her – and it was driving him absolutely insane. Even forgetting the fact that she was his pupil and personal apprentice, those feelings still managed to make him feel vulnerable and weak.

The half-blood sighed before stepping out of the shower and drying himself off with a towel. He took his time with the rest of his morning routine, but it didn’t take long before he found himself in the Potions classroom, surrounded by an annoying, hyperactive flock of second-years. And unfortunately, it seemed to only take a blink of an eye before those young students were then soon replaced by the seventh-years – with Hermione Granger being on time for the first time in weeks.

Severus noticed her presence instantly. She looked the same as always – her brown mane was pulled back into a classic Dutch braid, and her spick and span uniform was topped off with her polished Head Girl badge – yet somehow, the sight of her gave him an armada of butterflies in his stomach. She must have noticed his intense gaze, too; as she gave him a quick but radiant smile before hurrying to her usual seat in the front row. He would have lied if he had said that that small gesture didn’t make his dark heart jump a little.

Staggered by his inner turmoil, the professor frowned as he waited for the class to settle down. As soon as the last chitchat faded away, he briskly made his way towards the front of the classroom. Lightly tapping his wand against the black board, a dozen or so rows of brewing instructions appeared.

“Today –“

He let out a small cough, trying to get rid of that sudden lump in his throat.

“Today, you will be brewing Doxycide. Now, as you all surely are aware, this specific potion has the purpose of temporarily stunning Doxies. These fairy-like creatures are common household pests, so this remedy will likely prove useful to each and every one of you at some point. As anyone with even just a handful of braincells would know, these beasts are –“

The Gryffindor’s eyes were following his every move, and he was uncomfortably aware of that. They seemed to burn through his skin right into his soul.

“Um … bad.”

The little slip-up had an instant impact. There was immediate commotion, with loud chatter practically bouncing between the heads of shocked teenagers, and Severus’ eyes grew big as he unsuccessfully tried to mask his own surprise – never in his entire career as a teacher had he ever tripped over his own tongue like this before!

Not having the slightest clue how to handle this most unprecedented situation, he simply muttered a quick “The required ingredients can be found in the supply cupboard. You may get started.” before disappearing into his office, his long black robes whirling up around him as he did so.

*************** *************** ***************

Snape waited an extra ten minutes following the chime of the old Clock Tower before finally emerging from his hiding place, making certain to give the students enough time to finish up their potions, clean their workspaces and leave.

As he re-entered the dark teaching lab, he scrunched up his large nose at the foul smell of Doxycide; while he’d become inured to most unpleasant smells over the years, he for some reason still could barely stand the solution’s disgusting stench. Nonetheless, he marched to his desk and was just about to sit down and organise the countless parchment rolls spread across the table when a soft voice suddenly caressed his ears.

“Professor Snape?”

Startled, he spun around. Standing on the doorstep, there was Granger. Her heavy book bag swinging from her delicate shoulders, she was holding another three or four books in her arms. Over the course of the lesson, some of her locks had become undone and were now framing her freckled face nicely.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to take you by surprise!” Biting her bottom lip, she gave him a quick grin.

“Miss Granger, I …” Severus was at a loss for words. Trying hard to ignore his beating heart, he was frantically searching for something, anything to say. Never before had he struggled for words like this in front of a student.

When he didn’t continue, Granger stepped into the room and said, “Oh, well, I apologise for ambushing you like this, but after what happened last Friday, I really feel like we should talk.”

“Fuck!” Severus thought panicked. “Now she will accuse me of being a bloody pervert! What kind of teacher falls asleep hugging a student, anyways?! You really should have known better, Severus! She has probably already reported you to that duffer of a headmaster and demanded to switch apprenticeships! Hell, the whole school likely already knows about that little slumber party, what were you –“

“Thank you.”

Snape was completely taken aback. “Wh-what?”

Her rosy cheeks became even redder. “I would like to thank you, sir. What you did for me was more than kind. The way you defended and comforted me … I cannot express my appreciation enough.” She flashed him another shy smile. “Oh, and also thank you for sending that house elf up to my rooms with my belongings after I ran off. That was very thoughtful of you.”

Severus could only stare at her, his mouth slightly agape. “So … you are not going to switch to another professor?” he asked meekly, the disbelief in his voice clearly audible.

Granger laughed nervously. “No, of course not,” she answered as she fiddled with the cuticle of her right middle finger. Furling her eyebrows, her gaze then wandered to the floor. “If anything, I’m here to apologise for my behaviour over the past couple of weeks. I just … overreacted, I guess.”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, during which the flustered wizard did not allow himself to breathe. Could it really be that she was grateful for his actions? Perhaps she didn’t dislike him after all? While he would never – could never – permit himself to give into his irrational emotions, Severus let himself believe for just a split second that maybe, just maybe, the two of them could become something like friends instead.

Don’t be stupid! She may not hate you, but she still thinks of you as nothing more than an old, crusty codger.

Or did she? Helplessly overwhelmed by his inner conflict, he simply had to know the witch’s true feelings. Meeting her hazel eyes with his, Severus silently and effortlessly delved into Granger’s smart mind. As soon as he entered, he was amazed – he had never encountered such an extraordinary brain before. He didn’t have time to marvel at it, however, as he was in a hurry to search for any thoughts concerning his person before the Muggle-born would notice his presence inside her head.

Once he found them, however, he was stunned – there was not the least bit of hatred or disgust. Instead, Severus was rushing through a vortex of muddled memories.

First, he found himself in his own classroom more than six years ago, watching a slightly younger version of himself hold his typical introductory speech in front of a bunch of bright-faced 11-year-old Slytherins and Gryffindors. Looking around, he soon spotted a familiar bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl. Concentrating on her, he was able to feel the astonishment and admiration radiating from her.

The next memory seemed to be a couple of years younger, located yet again in the dungeon classroom. He saw himself aiding to a hurt Neville Longbottom lying on the ground after what seemed to have been another botched brewing attempt. Standing amongst the crowd of students gathered around the scene, a fourth-year Hermione Granger was looking at the two of them with both worry and fondness in her eyes. To Severus’ surprise, the latter seemed to be directed at both of them equally. He didn’t have a lot of time to process this, however, as the image promptly vanished before his own eyes.

The last distinct memory was only a few months old, taking place in a little suburban town somewhere in Muggle England. A casually dressed Granger was sitting on a small twin bed situated in what he suspected to be her bedroom. He raised an eyebrow at the various shades of green that the room was arranged in before stepping closer to the young woman. She was presently bend over a piece of parchment paper, and upon closer inspection, he realised that it was a letter from Hogwarts – an application for the apprenticeship programme, to be more exact. He watched as she used a small beige-coloured quill to fill in Professor Severus Snape next to the words Desired Tutor. Looking at her bare, makeup-free face, his breath was taken away when he saw her grin broadly, seemingly filled with excitement. Astonished, Severus slipped back into reality.

“Is everything okay, sir?” Granger asked with obvious concern in her voice, blissfully unaware that her privacy had just been invaded.

Snape gulped. “Yes, Miss Granger. Everything is quite all right.”

And when the girl smiled at him this time, he couldn’t help but smirk back at her. Perhaps they could become friends, after all.

(Click here for chapter 13!)

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[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 10: Oh, How Intimate First Names Can Be!

(Click here for chapter 9!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Severus cut her off before she could even get a single word out.

“Miss Granger, today, you will be preparing a rather easy potion which you have already learnt about during your early years at this school: the Cure for Boils. As I will be instructing the first-years in how to brew this particular potion tomorrow morning, I thought that it would be wise to have some ready-made phials of it on hand. After all, we both know how foolish and dim-witted some students can be.” He was, of course, referring to how Neville Longbottom once had made a cauldron melt while unsuccessfully trying his luck at this very concoction.

“Now, when you first learnt how to brew the Cure for Boils, you used a formula from Magical Drafts and Potions. This time around, however, you will be working according to the instructions found in the Book of Potions as that version does not consume as much time. As you can see, I have written the directions on the blackboard. You may take the required ingredients from the storage room and get started.”

As Miss Granger obediently and – by the grace of the gods – for once wordlessly got down to work, the Potions Master sat down behind his desk. He pulled up some essays to correct; however, he couldn’t concentrate on them no matter how hard he tried. He stared at the letters and words written in smudged ink for what felt like hours, but his mind couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences out of them. It appeared as though this was becoming some sort of pattern for him; he hadn’t been able to be productive for weeks. Whenever he would try to do some research or even just to read a book, his head would start to fill with images of a certain insufferable know-it-all.

Severus was hopelessly distraught. He was beyond disgusted with himself for acting like a teenage boy going through puberty all over again. It didn’t matter whether he was eating in the Great Hall, teaching in his classroom or walking through the castle’s ever-busy corridors – whenever there was a quiet moment, he couldn’t help his thoughts wandering to his apprentice. To combat this, he was trying to keep himself as busy as possible and had even began to lash out at the student body more than he usually already did. But his desperate attempts proved to be fruitless; once he would lie in bed at night, the darkness engulfing him, he couldn’t put a stop to his imagination anymore.

His mind would be plagued by mental pictures of the Gryffindor Princess, some real and some nothing but chimerical. Miss Granger in his private laboratory, bend over a cauldron, small beads of sweat running down her slender neck into her cleavage. Miss Granger in his sitting room, spread across the fluffy carpet in front of the fireplace, reading one of his beloved books while only scantily clad. Miss Granger straddling him on his bed, a cheeky smile on her face as she moves in to kiss him with those luscious lips of hers.

Worst of all, he couldn’t help his body’s reaction to these forbidden thoughts either, and that made him feel like a complete sicko.

Severus knew that he was doomed. Why oh why did this have to happen to him out of all people?! The Head of Slytherin – a former Death Eater and more often than not referred to as the greasy git of the dungeons – lusting after Gryffindor’s on-site smartass who was half his age; could it really get any worse? Had he honestly gotten so desperate for female touch that he had to resort to fantasising about a girl still wearing her school uniform?

He had only been in love once in his life and that had ended in tragedy. Except for some random encounters with witches he didn’t care for, he didn’t really have any experience when it came to the opposite sex. And so even if his silly, little crush weren’t so immorally wrong, it could never work out anyways. The Dungeon Bat wasn’t exactly what one would call a chick magnet. His nose was disproportionately large, his skin was almost sickeningly pallid, and his entire body was battered and scarred from the torture he had had to endure as a follower of the Dark Lord. A smart girl like Hermione Granger could never love an old wreck like him.

NO! Who was even talking about love?! Severus was simply getting turned on by her admittingly rather shapely form, that was all – he was a man, after all. Yes, while he had had many good-looking students walk into his Potions classroom over the years – with some of them even having being stupid enough to try to offer themselves to him in exchange for better grades – none of them had ever caused such a reaction before; but that was probably just due to the fact that the war was finally over now. With him not having to constantly fear for his life anymore, his body was seemingly starting to act “normal” again and that included his libido, too. With not many options available to him cooped up here in the middle of nowhere, it was no surprise that he would eventually stoop as low as to desire someone as annoying, overzealous and pesky as Granger. Mind you, she had indeed grown up to be a beautiful and attractive young woman. Him suddenly not getting irritated anymore by the constant flow of questions leaving her mouth and instead thinking about that very mouth in a perverted way meant absolutely nothing; he was simply horny.

At least that was what Severus was trying to tell himself.

To make matters worse, he had gone completely overboard with that stupid birthday gift. After having been forced to play along with this silly tradition, Snape’s mind had been completely blank on what to get his apprentice. Following a frantic one-hour search of his rooms, he had still not been able to find anything suitable for an 18-year-old girl.

“Well, she is a bookworm …” he’d thought after finally deciding on his volume of Long-forgotten Secrets of the Mayan Wizarding Culture – Potions, Spells and More. Severus had never been a huge fan of this book to begin with; while it was certainly a good read, he had always thought that it was completely overrated and therefore not worth hanging on to. Still, Miss Granger would probably get some enjoyment out of it somehow.

He had only realised his mistake once he had already sent off the owl. Even if he himself didn’t think much of the book, the witch would surely be bewildered as to why her teacher would gift her something so rare and valuable. There was no doubt in his mind that she would start to question his intentions sooner rather than later.

Severus let out a small grunt. He would have to find a way out of this misery. From here on out, he would try to further limit his contact with Miss Granger; continuing to outright ignore her during class and giving her tasks to complete elsewhere instead of holding their apprenticeship lessons. He could also do some research and look for a potion that would help suppress his bodily desires. Worst case scenario, he would simply have to pay a quick late-night visit to the sketchier part of Diagon Alley and find a willing Galleon-seeking witch to take his sexual frustration out on. Perhaps he could also have a talk with Albus and ask him to reassign Miss Granger to –

Suddenly, there was a loud blast coming from the other side of the room. Alarmed, Severus looked up from his papers, but all he could see was a half-destroyed cauldron and a lot of dark blue smoke – there was no sign of his young pupil.

His heart leapt into his throat. “HERMIONE!” he cried out before sprinting to the scene of the accident. With a quick flick of his wooden wand, he at once got rid of the chaos, and it was then that he discovered Miss Granger lying on the cold dungeon floor, covered in a mixture of unfinished teal-coloured potion and what he suspected to be blood. Her head of curls was a fuzzy mess and her face was completely drained of colour.

Severus immediately dropped to his knees and grabbed her by the arms to pull her onto his lap. Thankfully, the brunette was still breathing; however, the blow of the explosion seemed to have knocked her out.

He feverishly thought about what could have caused such a catastrophe; brewing Boil Cure was a simple task after all. With a brief glance at the blackboard, it finally dawned on him: He had forgotten to add a warning to only stir the potion very gently after adding the pickled Shrake spines; otherwise they tended to get “overexcited” and therefore become explosive. The Potions Master had obviously assumed that Miss Granger would have known this already, but it seemed as though even the knowledge of Hogwarts’ most brilliant student wasn’t all-encompassing.

Severus couldn’t help but to silently scold himself for this rookie mistake as he swiftly conjured up a cushioned stretcher on which he then carefully laid down his apprentice. After a quick visual assessment of her injuries, he was sure that the damage wasn’t too bad apart from some cuts and bruises. As a next step, he ripped open her singed and torn blouse, trying hard to ignore her now visible frilly bra. Using some basic cleaning spells, he made quick work of the sticky potion and blood mixture before focusing on the main problem.

“Vulnera Sanentur,” he whispered as he dragged his wand along the wounds on her chest and arms. He had invented this very spell during his own years as a student; and while it had originally been intended to mend severe injuries, it had become his go-to healing spell over time – because naturally, he had always had the most faith in his own creations.

A quick Repairing Charm later, Miss Granger’s tattered clothing was back to its original state. Severus then disappeared into his storage room just to come back out a few minutes later with a crystalline phial in one hand and a small jar of ointment in the other. He placed the latter on a table nearby before yet again kneeling down next to his patient. Supporting her head with his left hand, he poured a few drops of Wideye Potion down her throat; it had come from the very batch they had brewed together not even two weeks earlier. Sitting back on his heels, all he could do then was to wait for her to wake up.

Soon enough, Granger started to stir and eventually let out a muffled groan before opening her brown eyes, seemingly disorientated. It was only when she attempted to sit up that her teacher spoke up.

“You shouldn’t try to get back up quite yet … unless you enjoy feeling lightheaded, of course,” he said with an icy undertone as he stood up and moved back to his desk, sensing her questioning look following his every move. He sat down in his black leather chair and waited for her to speak.

“What happened?” she finally managed to ask, her voice still husky.

“It seems as though I have overestimated your brewing abilities greatly, Miss Granger, as you appear to have disregarded the required safety precautions concerning the use of Shrakes in potions, subsequently blowing yourself up. As a result, you have not only forced me to interrupt my work and come to your aid, but I will now also have to utilize my free time later this evening to prepare the required potion for tomorrow’s class. For this unbelievable foolishness, I shall deduct 15 points from Gryffindor.”

A tiny tear started to slip down her left cheek, but whether it was caused by the pain from her injuries or his cold words the wizard did not know. The incident hadn’t been completely her fault, of course; but Severus didn’t care. He told himself that she should have better than to make such a ludicrous mistake. Now that he knew that she would eventually make a full recovery, worry and shock was replaced with sheer anger – anger over his doom-laded error, anger over how distressed the sight of her unconscious and wounded body had made him, anger over how he was nothing but a slave to his primal needs and anger over how he had frantically called out her name just minutes earlier. He was practically seething.

“I will let you know that I expect better from someone who is not only this school’s Head Girl but also my personal apprentice. I expect a lot better … Now, I suggest you take this jar of dittany,” he commanded sternly, pointing to the small tin sitting on the desk to her right. “As I am sure you know it prevents scarring. Or maybe you don’t. Who could be sure after such a grave mishap?”

Apparently, he’d gone a step too far with his mocking, because the young woman’s crying promptly turned into uncontrollable sobs. Standing up abruptly, still a bit unstable on her legs, she bolted from the room, leaving the ointment as well as all of her other belongings behind. Snape grabbed the pieces of parchment covering his desk and flung them against the dungeon wall in blind rage. Damn Hermione Granger, damn those oversensitive Gryffindors, damn his own emotional turmoil!

Later that night, Severus was lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

“Hermione,” he whispered, letting the name roll off his tongue in a hushed voice.

For some reason, saying her given name out loud seemed a lot more intimate than any of the deviant, shameful fantasies he’d had about little Miss Granger.

(Click here for chapter 11!)

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