KidSnatched

A/N - I do not own any of the world of JK Rowling, if I did I'd be sunning myself on a Hawaiin beach instead of living in Wales. Ah well.

There is a film reference in here, house points to who spots it - just make sure to mention your house in reviews xx

Guest 1: I did say in the blurb that Hermione garners a lot of attention from Death Eaters and I wrote warnings at the top before the story started so those who did not like did not feel like they should carry on. I focus on love triangles or squares. I have found myself in a situation where two guys I really liked, also really liked me – it's what I know.

Pgoodrichboggs: My faithful reader – I am pleased by your review – your reward is this next chapter.

Guest 2: THANK YOU! MWAH. Kissy, kissy!

Sevvieluscious: Happy to oblige my dear.

Serenite Rose: What an interesting username and that is incredibly sweet to worry about Hermione. The girl will need all the luck she can get. Especially as the story progresses.

Vampirela69: Maybe, but I was taking artistic license and I figured that she was fairly trapped so her aim would not be too hard. I hope I have addressed this issue in this chapter. I do hope you continue to read though x

Flames4thought: Wait no more, dear one.

Roon0: Thank you, dear – please enjoy the update.

Hanable-13: PM to share your worries so I can put you at ease. I always do come through with a character decision. Saying that, this is going to be a very dark story, Hermione/Multi story – some are ones she, herself, in the story baulks at but... well, you'll see... I call this genre Romangst.

Now – onto the story... More Questions brings forth more answers that asks for more questions – it is a vicious cycle. My Hermione is calm, logical, fights when necessary, and knows when to speak and when not to. It's Ron's characteristic to fly off the handle, not Hermione's.

Into the Fire

Where was she? Why was she here? Whose bed was she in? How long had she been out for? Who was the scruffian that bought her to this dingy hell? Ugh, she sighed as she rolled her head. Quickly, Hermione spotted the door to freedom at the corner of her room. Groaning, she clambered out of the grimy old bed. It was then memories flooded her mind: Of being seduced then kidnapped in a whirl and a crack. A few tears escaped the rims of her eyes as she recalled that she had deleted herself from her parents lives and sent them to Australia. Saying goodbye to the Singh family after playing with their adorable daughter. The warmth and charm of the strange man who seemed to think there was something sexual between them without a proper introduction. Coming to her senses before anything serious happened. Failing to escape, even though she had kicked him in the sensitive area, for his arms were longer than her legs and he managed to curl one around her slim waist thus preventing her from fleeing out the back door. Hiding his obvious pain in doing so. Then, she moaned, passing a hand along her eyes trying to stop the room spinning around her head. Merlin, she had even vomited before blacking out. No wonder she had a pounding headache.

Flight reflexes kicked in the moment her hand wrapped around the old fashioned knob. Holding her breath as she twisted it to escape. The click resonated through the room. Closing her eyes as she slowly opened the bedroom door. Once Hermione was standing in the corridor of the second floor, Hermione heard two voices harshly snapping back and forth in a heady debate. Though the words themselves were muffled, the tonal differences indicated at least two men. Great! She reached around her back and closed her eyes in relief that her kidnapper(s) did not leave her wandless.

Her fingers inched towards her wand as she slowly began to creep down the hallway. Nothing in this house gave her an ounce of a clue as to whom she was taken to. Who decided that she should be here? Tight knots pulled in on her gut as she cautiously stepped down the dark narrow and, please to Godric, not creaky staircase. The discussion from a closed off room the other side of the banister grew heated. Perfect, they would not hear her leave. Freedom, she could smell it. So why did she doubt it was that simple? There was something familiar about this home. She had felt the atmosphere around her somewhere before but she was still focussed on escape to pinpoint what it was. Cautiously, Hermione proceeded on. Taking gentle care with each step she took. Keeping the door from whence the voices came in her peripheral vision.

Turning her head she saw the front door – easy does it, Hermione. Two more steps down and then two strides to the door, Alohomora and get to the damn Burrow as soon as possible. Once her foot reached the ground floor of this house the voices took on some kind of clarity. Swirling her head to the direction to the closed door, stalling a little to hear what little she could of the verbal combat; she swore she heard... no? Shaking her head which only made her feel whoozy, throbbing temples almost caused her to collapse on the dirty floor of the hallway. No, she scoffed, it was ridiculous that this unkempt, festering pit of damp could be where he lived. Heart thudding in her chest, echoing through her ears, Hermione stepped on the threshold and reached for the door handle. As she was about to make her escape Hermione was swooped up in those strong arms again and physically dragged into the room that was previously closed off to her.

"I told ya," the still unknown David Essex type said good-naturedly. "Shoulda tied her up!"

"I'm surprised you can walk considering what I did to you," she stated calmly.

"Can't keep a good Snatcher down, luv," the man murmured in her ear. "Compared to a Cruciatus from Bitch Lestrange your feeble little attempt on the family jewels was nothing noteworthy."

Hermione kept her head pointed down on the floor so she still remained blissfully ignorant as to who had demanded her presence in this most unorthodox manner. The scent of old books assaulted her and it calmed her more than any sleeping draught or calming potion could.

Threadbare, damp splattered, carpet indicated the homeowner took no pride in this being their holiday residence. Gloomy aspect seemed to shroud her like a musty, dark robe. Did a Dementor reside here? This was a home that had never known love. The smog covered windows suggested somewhere near factories. So she was in a lower class workers home. Lowly born. Though she did not believe in all that. After all, Charles Dickens worked hard in a blacking factory before he emerged from the soot and the faeces into higher middle class morality, without which many people now would not be able to read or write as it was he, along with right minded fellow influentials, made sure even the poorest of the poor received an education. Himself a prolific writer despite his circumstances. Hermione knew he was no saint but she had great admiration for Charles Dickens.

Yet, the lowliest of Wizards could use a few glamours to cheer up a place. Damn her compassionately big heart as it treacherously allowed room for sympathy toward its unhappy occupant. Why would anyone want to dwell in this dump if they could remain snug in the Castle or find a hotel to live in – Hermione would have gladly sacrificed her entire wages to do just that if this was the alternative.

"My wards are strong enough."

WHAT? Don't panic, Hermione. She was in Professor Snape's home just as she feared. Professor Severus Snape's abode. Why? What did he want with her? It cannot be sexual – Hermione did not think herself anything beautiful – in her mind this man would only view her as this sexless brainiac with a penchant for jumping up and down on her chair when she knew an answer. So, if it is not sexual – as Professor Snape would surely prefer older, prettier, more intellectual women than a frousty haired, mudblood such as her, what was it he needed from her? Couldn't be knowledge, as Professor Snape's intelligence was sexy at best and interesting at least. Suddenly, she felt like Mary in The Secret Garden. A sallow, plain, ugly duckling. So, she breathed a sigh of relief. Safe in her assumption that it was not a sexual motive. Hermione wondered if it could be to do with gaining knowledge of Harry for his Lord...

Little did she know that Severus Snape blasted those rose bushes because her gorgeous periwinkle blue gown opened his eyes to her femininity. Like any moral man he felt disgusted by the way his body reacted to her inborn grace, elegance and charm. Fidgeting a little, Hermione supposed that, as Snape was a Death Eater he could demand such, though she did not see why he would. What else could it be if it was not for rape or knowledge – the only other alternatives were...

Surely he would not... no... Hermione had to be logical and stoic about this. Deep down, she was still confused over his actual loyalty. Something she wanted to hash out with the Wizard once and for all, just like she allowed Sirius the chance to explain, it would be unjust not to allow Professor Snape, a man whom she admired for his wilful presence, and respected for his intelligence, even if misapplied, in the Dark Arts. A man whom she would never be able to forget. A Teacher with still so much life wisdom to impart. He had to be Light... right? If only he allowed her a little trust...

"You knew she'd try ta escape?" the kidnapper said with incredulity, "so why din't we keep 'er gagged?"

"I would have been extremely disappointed if she did not at least make an attempt," sneered Snape. Odd, Hermione thought. Why was he not torturing her on the spot? Not that she wanted him too. "Though I remain unconvinced that you have delivered," all Hermione could do was squirm slightly. "I have explained the description of the girl to you hundreds of times," he stepped closer so her gaze rested on bright shining, black dragon hide boot. Wincing as she thought of the damage it could do to her should he decide to kick her. "It is obvious you have not listened to a word I said," Hermione wondered how the Professor could doubt her identity. "You know I specifically asked you to bring me a frizzy haired termagant of a girl." Gulping Hermione thought it safer to let them discuss her over her head for now. "What I see you brought me instead, is a shapely young woman who has sense to keep her mouth closed, and tamed follicles," Hermione frowned a little at that as she was certain she was still the same Hermione Granger he had in his classroom for six years. "Something I am more than aware Miss Granger is incapable of doing." Hermione did her best not to protest at that. What Snape said next shocked her slightly and caused her to re-evaluate her first summation of why she was bought here. "Not to mention I said she was nothing noteworthy to look at – yet here stands someone whom even I could tolerate to look upon and spend a pleasant evening with."

Alright, Hermione sighed as she took study of the way his trousers moved when he thrust his hands in the pockets and then she felt his hand brush some of her hair aside and she found her knees quivering. Almost swooning at the herbal scent he carried with him. The way he said those words; what was his idea of a pleasant evening? That could mean anything!

"NAH YOU told me to bring you the best friend of the inexplicably stupid Potter brat, and," the man sighed. "No disrespect intended Sev, but I think you need your eyes tested. I mean," she felt another hand brush through her hair and her breath slowed within, scared to move in case he used her locks as a weapon against her. "What I see is a sexy lithe young filly who needs a piece of meat wedged bet..."

"Yes, thank you, I need none of your Snatcher Slang when your eyes tells me enough of what you wish to do to my guest." Clearly Professor Snape was tired of this man being in his home. "I want to ask you a question, girl!" he snapped. "So stop studying my shoes and look up," like the obedient little schoolgirl she was, Hermione did as was told. "If you really are Miss Granger I would expect no hesitation: You caused a HATSTALL when you were sorted, if you really are Miss Granger – what was the other house you were almost selected for?"

"Ravenclaw," Hermione said then immediately flickered her gaze back to his footwear.

Guest? So she was right, he clearly meant her no harm and his intentions were pure. Unfortunately. Not that she was that disappointed, just, it would be kind of hot to be ravished by the enemy. Not that he was as far as she was concerned. Just that if she was to be taken as a Death Eater slave she'd rather Severus or, even Draco, be her master than someone of Dolohov's ilk.

Laughing, the man brought her gently closer to him whilst now her eyes were finally braving to look at her surroundings, trying not to act like a fawn in headlights. Surreal. Too surreal. Gazing around the sitting room she closed her eyes not trusting herself to look into the fathomless depths that were his gorgeous eyes of her former crush. The day he found that out was the most embarrassing moment of her life. Earning an unfair 10 points off and a private lecture from McGonagall.

Swaying her head in an attempt to free her curls from this tough man's grip only aggravated 'Essex' and he took delight in equal measure, as he used that as an excuse to tighten his hold. A thick caramel coil soon wound around his wrist. Eventually she also gave up trying to avoid her former teacher's sneering leer. Timidly, she raised her eyes, still not trusting herself to speak, for what could she say? The stern Professor was different in his own home. Guarded, but less abrasive. This was his house, his rules went. It did not help that the Artful Dodger's descendant was trying to make his claim on her.

"This man don't believe we 'as a connection, darling," the still unnamed captor said in her ear. "Why don't you convince 'im and we can finish what we started earlier?"

Hermione gritted her teeth and flashed a look of fire towards whom she must consider an enemy though it hurt her terribly to do so. "I cannot lie," she whispered though she hoped her gaze spoke for her.

"See," the man smirked against the smooth cheek. "Mutual consent – we're all adults here, eh, Sev?"

"Mr Snape!" Hermione said through gritted teeth. "No one as intelligent as him should be so degraded by such an inane nickname like that!" Great, he killed the most powerful wizard, yet you feel the need to defend him like you do Neville. "That is... I mean... He should be feared and respected – awed silence should follow in his wake at even a twitch of his robes." All the while gazing straight into his eyes hoping that he was using legilimency so she could convey how much she hated her predicament of being this close to the uncouth Wizard that held a hank of hair possessively twirled around his wrist and lower forearm. "So, it's Mr. Snape to you."

"Ooo, 'ear that, looks like you got yerself a girl at last, Sev!" That last word hissed dangerously. As if this man had marked her for his and saw Snape as a rival for ownership. "What 'Ouse were ya in, luv?"

"Gryffindor; where dwell the brave at heart!" Hermione said staunchly.

"Explains why you're so fiery tempered," the man's fingers pinched into her flesh. "Now back to my crotch," I'd rather not, Hermione thought rolling her eyes. "You din't exactly give it your all luv," now he licked the rim of her ear. "Besides," he sighed, "your dear Mr Snape gave me an ointment to calm down any swelling so I'm raring to go again, angel – don't want to disappoint that sweet old Mrs Kirkbride after all, do we?"

"Is that a threat?" Hermione's breath quickened. Just the thought that her old nanny with such fascinating stories could be in trouble would hurt her heart more so than Dumbledore's death.

"Hmm, not unless you want it to be, luv," the man growled as he pushed his erection into the curve of her butt. "Come on – darlin," he started pressing hot little pinpricks of kisses all down the side of her neck, nibbling behind her ear. "Tell Mr Snape to let us go an we won't be bothered by his overlarge hooter in our business ever again."

Tilting her chin defiantly, looking Snape squarely in the face. Begging him to step in: "You know nothing of me, Sir!"

"I know that you're a lioness ready to pounce, luv – want me to tame the beast inside?"

When it was clear that Snape was not about to rescue her from this man's grip, Hermione took it into into her own hands. Swiftly, she elbowed the oaf in the solar plexus. Shocked by how well aimed that blow was, he released his grip on her hair. 'Essex's' cheeks puffed out as he was actually winded by her assault. Without giving him a chance to recover, she whirled around and lifted the back of his coat gruffly yanking it over the man's head. In a surprising move she then jumped on his back, grabbed his wrists together, effectively trapping his arms between her legs. Twirling her wand in circles she muttered: Incarcerous, whereupon his wrists became magically bound behind his back. Forcefully, she kneed him in the small of his back making the man bend double. Straddling him now around the waist Hermione kept his tied hands to his back with her knee. Puffing due to the exertion, Hermione blew her growing bushier by the minute hair away from her face as a free hand was pressed to the back of his neck. A harsh kick behind his knees made him groan and collapse completely on his front. Not wasting a second Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist still keeping her small hand on the back of his neck pressing his face in the dust filled threads of Snape's miserable looking excuse for a carpet.

Once she was certain he could not get up easily Hermione drew her wand down the length of his legs extending the cord down in one strong strip until it reached his ankles which she had stuck together previously to make sure he would not kick her back. Swirling her wand in steady circular motions making sure his legs were tight. Once Essex of the Magical world was truly trussed and subdued, Hermione flicked the wand to a plain chair smirking with pride as it shot forward. Placing a sticking charm on the seat she yanked the offender by his admittedly gorgeous hair and thrust him on. Pointing her wand to his throat, tilting his chin in the process using his ponytail as leverage, she lifted an eyebrow in a show of cold hearted calculation. Honeyed eyes glinted maliciously at him.

"One more inappropriate comment like that, luv," she mimicked perfectly, "I will hex you from naval," she jabbed the point where his belly button would be, "to nose," she then raised the point of her wand to the bridge of his nose. "Got that, darlin'?"

Severus watched in admiration as this former pupil was breathless due to her efforts. Hair crackling. Wild. Caramel coloured eyes shining with heat. Heart shaped lips parted and plump – the rise and fall of her breasts would catch any red-blooded man's attention. Severus Snape, despite rumours, was certainly hot blooded and as flawed as any other man in the face of an over exerted attractive female.

This was when she expected fury at being outsmarted; like before with Death Eaters but, instead, the yet to be named man's lust filled gaze swept up and down her body. Finally, lust fuelled indigo eyes settled on the view of her slightly exposed generously full breasts encased in black satin bra.

"I knew you liked it rough," he winked. "See what I mean, Sev," the smirk plastered over his face caused Hermione to almost lose her resolve and go with him to wherever he lived, those swoon worthy dimples on display again had managed to weaken her knees and almost take him up on his offer. Almost, but not quite. "She gets me. Now, I'm not leaving if she don't come with me and I promise to keep your secret for you."

A sneer, worthy of the Potions Master himself, splayed across her delicate features causing the man in the chair to falter slightly. Forcefully, Hermione grabbed a hair slide from her curls that tumbled down like a river of molten caramel twists down her shoulder hiding the side of her face. All Snape wanted to do was run his fingers through those untameable locks. Growling, Hermione placed a travelling charm on the delicate trinket.

"Not likely, luv," she snarled as she pressed it into the rapscallions palm. Suddenly the scoundrel was gone.

"I seem to have greatly misjudged you, Miss Granger," her former Professor said as she turned around. Hair following the speed of her turn. "What I am shocked at, however, is that you have yet to attack me."

That was a valid point but Hermione was too tired to argue right now. The self-defence both magical and muggle took it out of her. Her Professor/Captor could see she was wilting. One long, elegant stride, was all it took before he cupped her elbow – the one she hit the Dimpled Dastard with, and gently led her to an ancient chair. Chivalrous, Hermione thought, as he firmly took both her hands in his as he sat her down. Not one Gryffindor male, Remus aside, had ever shown that genteel side to them before. Yet the Slytherin Snark showed more manners in one gesture than she was ever likely to experience from Ron. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice was wont to say. How was he so kind to her knowing that she could, theoretically, turn him in with one Patronus call to Harry? Damn my need to be justified, she sighed, to want to be proved right about this man.

"I suppose I should," she admitted weakly. "I gave Sirius Black time to talk when everyone believed his biggest crime was the murder of all his friends – it would be churlish if I did not offer you the same courtesy as regards your own unclear motives."

Whatever reply Severus was expecting that was not it. "Hmm," in another shockingly chivalrous move, he knelt down and checked her face for signs of being beaten. Thankfully she was unharmed. Hermione felt a little pool of warmth settle in her belly at the sign of his obvious concern. Then she remembered how he leapt in front of her to defend them from a werewolf. "He did not hurt you, elsewhere?"

"No, your reminder stopped him from going too far," she smiled sadly. "I almost caved in."

"That man can screw for England."

For some reason that made Hermione chuckle. "I will be more careful in future, Sir."

"With him or with anyone?"

His concern for her, after weeks of supposedly murdering Dumbledore, did not seem to quite fit with the evil traitor that Harry saw Snape as. Puzzled; she felt her ex-Professor move close to her. It was strange he required an answer from her.

"Anyone," she sighed in a timid voice. "Even you."

"Just what I needed to hear," was his relieved response. The care he seemed to expel from the darkest depths of his jet gaze, softened his features and his stance was one of absolute compassion. Seemingly begging for her trust. "Miss Granger, I suppose you would trust me enough to make you a cup of tea?"

Silently, she nodded. "I suppose another sneak escape would be useless, Sir?" she smiled playfully.

"I am afraid so," the Professor smirked back – dear gods, she has dimples! He thought, how am I going to survive in this small wreck for a night knowing this is actually Hermione Bloody Granger. Complete with charming accoutrements I just want to explore. "It is for your own safety, after all."

Well, this has escalated rather quickly from dread to being alone with him to now wanting to be closer than arms length with him, Hermione thought, down cub. Think of Voldemort in the shower – that should cool your indiscriminate libido. "You are aware Harry is out for your blood right now," Hermione said. Regret and sadness laced her tone. "I tried to get him to think about how you looked – to read between the lines – the moment your name comes up he blocks me out."

"There has never been a time when a Potter was not out for my blood," Snape said, resigned to the life that fate threw him. Even his heart seemed to yearn again – he wondered if Lily would have liked Hermione? Of course she would, he could just imagine how the two would have chatted by the Lake. Gulping down that particular fantasy he looked her in the eyes and said: "I do feel though at least one of The Golden Trio requires something of an explanation. You, I felt, was the one who would be more likely to listen with a relatively neutral pair of ears."

Laughter mixed with incredulity at hearing the most sarcastic Professor of all time pay her a compliment in disbelief Hermione shook her vast mane of curls trying to contain her amusement. Something has happened to the female member of the Golden Trio, Snape mused, she was not as aggravating here as she was in the classroom. A student he had always derided. Loathed. Yet, she was in his sitting room weeks after he murdered the epitome of Gryffindorian Morale, and was comfortable enough to banter. Not even a half-hearted attempt to hex him though he knew she had done so in the past.

Suddenly, Severus realised, she was less a girl and more a woman. That was not a comfort to Snape. It meant she was perfect for the likes of Greyback to make his Wolf Mate. That, Snape decided, would be something he would definitely save her from – even if it meant going against Dumbledore's orders.

Eileen, Lily, Narcissa and Bellatrix aside – Snape rarely had girls or women come to his home. Or be bought to his abode. Especially ones that were scantily clad in a khaki green strappy vest top with a silver bra strap tempting him to brush her golden shoulder, and a pair of tight stone wash light blue denim shorts. Elongating her already long legs. Why she ever had a crush on him was a mystery! Hopefully that had lessened. Otherwise her presence in his home tonight was not going to go well for him. He doubted she would take kindly to the suggestion of keeping warm together.

Once he returned with a mug she gratefully wrapped her fingers around the heat. "I suppose when I leave shortly after your explanation I am going to be what... Obliviated?"

"No, I would not do that – what is the point of explaining something to you only to wipe the conversation out?" Gracefully, he leaned back in his own leather, brass studded wing back chair, steepling his fingers, tapping them against his pursed lips. Long, beautiful fingers that Hermione found herself constantly staring at whenever she could. Imagining them pump... oh hell, she had not got over her crush one whit! "I am displaying an odiously Gryffindorian trait in that I have decided I can trust you."

Blushing, Hermione coughed: "Sorry," she sipped as she glanced around the Dickensian sitting room. "Thank you, sir," she took another confident draught of her beverage. "You remembered?"

"I observed everyone's habits during that summer sojourn in Grimmauld Place," he smiled. "Benefit of being a spy." Tilting his head observing the young long limbed woman before him. "You liked yours tasting of tannin. I know," he elegantly sipped his own. "I do too. Milky tea is a waste." Snorting, Hermione hid her smile behind her mug. "I may have to disabuse you of something though."

"What?" now she was worried.

"I am to keep you here overnight," he said.

"On whose orders?" she sat up. Anger sparked behind her eyes. "I won't betray Harry, Sir," she hissed.

Ah, there was the Hermione Granger he knew. "I am not going to require you to do so, Miss Granger," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Honestly," he leaned over trying to keep his tone gentle. "Are you calm now to listen?"

Immediately, Hermione folded her legs underneath her as she sat holding the vessel containing the soothing nectar. "Yes, sir," she sighed chastened by his response.

"Professor Dumbledore's Portrait has ordered me to keep an eye on you for tonight, it appears your plan to protect your parents has been found out and the Dark Lord has sent a group to the Airport to kill them."

"WHAT?"

"Remain calm," the Professor said. His voice seemed to soothe the distressed lady. "Surreptitiously I have passed this information along and, right now, Remus and Tonks along with Arthur and Kingsley with a few other Aurors are there to make sure they get on the Plane before..."

"I was so careful," she muttered. "I did not tell anyone, not even my friends."

"I applaud your caution, Miss Granger."

"I was not careful enough," she sank down further into the oversized chair gulping down the still piping hot tea in one throat burning swallow to shock her out of her burning shame at failure. "How," she gasped as her voice was hoarse, "was I watched?"

"Possibly, there are various groups of Death Eaters – some, normally the younger ones, are used to go into Muggle Pubs in areas where..."

Hermione groaned. "I went to the pub last night with some Muggle friends of mine," she sighed and glanced at the listening Professor, "I went to the loo to have a little cry – I swear I put silencing charms and muffled my voice."

"Someone clearly finited your spells," Professor Snape surmised. "You needed to clear your head and talk to yourself in order to do so?"

Glumly, she nodded. "I was an..."

"No," he said softly, "you had no idea you were being followed."

"I did when you were following us around at school."

"I have a rather significant presence when I require it to be so."

Offering a small smile she leaned over. Professor Snape wished she would not do so. No wonder that scum had such a licentious leer on his face. Tender, pale, firm ample breasts tempted even him. He was just a man. Severus had to avert his eyes to her face.

"So – by this," she twirled her hand back and forth between them, "I trust you are still on our side but even less openly so?"

"Correct."

Nodding, Hermione stood up. Tapping her fingers on the mug as she began to peruse his books: "This house seems sad," she sighed. "If this house had emotions it would be crying all the time."

"This has not been a particularly bright part of my life," he replied following her with his eyes. Unlike Bella she did not touch anything – just allowed her fingers to hover over spines of books that took her interest, some of them dark by nature. Inching her face closer to peer at curiously shaped objects. Some of them made her blush. Especially at a Wizarding knick knack of a couple passionately copulating right in front of Floral Properties In Healing Potions by Rose E Blümkind. "I may add you should not tell Potter about this."

Scornfully she laughed and faced him: "You have just met Harry, it seems," she smirked. A woman, Severus sighed. A lovely woman. "Do you think he'd believe me if I did?"

"No," he smiled. Hermione felt her heart flutter. That old crush came back with a vengeance. "I am surprised you do."

Tilting her head down on the floor she glanced coyly from beneath her eyelashes: "I can't imagine why you would kill Professor Dumbledore, Sir, but I am sure you do not take joy in his demise."

"An understatement."

"I am sure you had your reasons – there was no way Draco could have done it – that THING," she spat, her hatred for the Dark Lord evident in her aspect. Snape raised an eyebrow in admiration for her positive passionate dislike. So at odds with her usual compassionate nature that he felt there was hope for her yet. "Just because he could happily kill as a teenager does not mean everyone can. Draco may be many things a murderer I am sure he isn't."

Amazing how she could be so wonderfully perceptive when it came to people yet never bothered to read between the lines in text. Enigma indeed. He found himself near her as she seemed to cackle with the oncoming set of adult magic. Better tread carefully, Severus.

"Who was the man who brought me here?" Hermione asked as she idly took in his extensive Potions shelves. Strange that he held barely any Defence Against The Dark Arts texts. It made Hermione wonder if those rumours were just that, rumour. His first speech tipped her off that his heart lay behind a cauldron and a stirring rod than it did in duelling. "He did not introduce himself."

Snape was standing just inches away from her. Stretching up he pulled a book down from a shelf Hermione would not have been able to reach and offered it to her. Gulping at the gasp she emitted when his shirt sleeve brushed against her skin as he took her now empty mug from her hands so she could hold the book.

"Matthias Scabior," he replied. Gods, she smelled delicious. "The best at what he does. Inordinately clever and amazingly aggravating."

Hermione giggled as she tenderly leafed through her hosts manual. "Do you have anyone in the Order that you can trust – one to explain your reasons too without fear of a wand being pointed at your throat?" she asked, compassion was her thing, and she really wished he had a friend on his actual side, to confide in. "Remus may listen."

"How about you?" he whispered.

Wait, what? Hermione closed her eyes and took in a deep breath as she realised he was stroking his fingers up and down her arms. What was wrong with her body? Why could it not melt in a pool of liquid with kind people?

"We... um," her throat constricted. Alone, with Professor Snape, wasn't going to be as simple as she first anticipated. Now trepidation flooded her heart. Somehow she knew this night was not going to be her on the sofa and him in the bed. Wow, he shuffled further forward. "We don't h-have," now she felt a slight nuzzling on the top of her head. "H-have good history, Sir," she tried to emphasise the 'sir' but, unsurprisingly, it did not deter him. "All right," she quivered as she was sure his lips had just buried themselves into her jaw. Already she was blacking out. Ensnaring the senses held double meaning now. "But you are going to have to sit down once again as shall I and I promise to be as unbiased as I can."

It seemed as if someone had stolen a fur coat from her and dumped her in Siberia when Snape stepped away – all the breath returned to her and she hugged the book to her chest as she unsteadily made her way back to her seat where, now, she tried to sit as chastely as possible. Those dark eyes that used to terrify her now plunged her into territories unknown. Yet, she did not feel afraid. The man had all but made her collapse with barely a touch. Still, she rather liked how it felt when all his focus and attention were on her.

"There is nothing to fear – I realise just now – it was improper and inappropriate for me to touch you the way I did," he hung his head in sheepish shame. "I have surely offended you with my unthought of attention."

Chewing her lower lip Hermione glanced across the room at this complex man. How could Sirius hate such a shy man, for he seemingly was, despite his dark posturing. All Hermione saw here and now was a man who felt he had stepped out of line with her. A man who was seemingly used to feeling repellent around women. A man who reminded her of Harry Potter far too much. A lonely man. How her compassionate heart bled for him, all Hermione wished to do was swipe aside his hair from his face, crawl into his lap and tell him he was being silly. Remembering this was Severus Snape tampered down that urge.

"Do I look offended?" she said instead.

Shyly – an emotion that Hermione would never have equated with Professor Snape until now, as he seemed to ooze snide confidence – Professor Snape looked at her with obsidian orbs: "Worryingly not," he smiled a rather cute lopsided grin that reminded Hermione of Remus when he was around Tonks. "Though you should be."

"Why?" she asked.

Hell, she thought, if you treated us like this in school I'd have to compete with all the Witches in Hogwarts. There was definitely something there, Hermione surmised. A hidden handsomeness which he seemed reluctant to let out. Thinking back on it, this Wizard did far more to help them throughout their time at Hogwarts than any other, to make sure they were safe. Severus was a good man. Maybe that was her crush talking. Still, she just could not see this man as evil incarnate. Deeply flawed, yes. Evil? No!

"Pardon." He blinked owlishly.

This is not how you are supposed to react, Miss Granger, you are supposed to be disgusted by the fact that I dare to look upon you with a smile let alone hold you in my oily clutches. A young lively, beautiful... yes, you are beautiful – should recoil from me with disgust. Yet here you sit, long limbed, wild-haired, with acres of flesh exposed to my all too appreciative gaze – oh Sweet Salazar – the moment you can Severus, you need to brew yourself a Libido Dampening Potion and drink the entire cauldron. If she knew what was going through the sewers of your mind she'd brave the wards and flee.

"Explain why I should be offended?" she asked again. That light that ignited the rim of her iris' when she was about to debate sparkled with her as her face flushed with excitement at the prospect of discussing this like adults instead of shouting like children. "You should know I do not buy into prejudice. If I hated Purebloods as much as a tiny arrogant few hate my kind would I not be just as bad?"

"Yes but..." my gods she's beautiful and her breasts are swaying as she is waving her hands around. Dumbledore you are as meddlesome in death as you were in life.

"Or is it the perceived inter-house Rivalry – I'm Gryffindor and you're Slytherin so I should be outraged?"

"I guess..." not the point but please let me get a word in. Oh and now your bouncing up and down – at 12 that was irksome but now you are 18 I wish you'd sit bloody still so I could keep myself from pouncing on you. Please to Godric, do not look further down than my face, "... Miss Granger..."

"Or is it because you are technically a teacher and I a student?"

"Well..." hmm, yes thank you for pointing that one out. Now I have naughty Head Girl fantasies as I hand you out a 'detention.' Down snake!

"Then again there is the age difference is there not?"

"Um... not..." 19 years but who is counting. Certainly not Remus with Tonks. "That is..."

"Or because you feel you 'murdered' Professor Dumbledore I should be disgusted by the sight of you?"

"Miss Granger," he hissed firmly. Putting on his Professorial Voice. Finally, he rolled his eyes, a word in edgeways. Though she made for some interesting discussion points. "May I answer your questions?"

"You never let me answer yours," she said stiffly. A raw spot with her. The Professor tilted his head to the side and regarded her posture. After a pregnant pause long enough to have bred a big bouncy baby of regret passed between them, Hermione sighed: "Go on, then."

"Yes, to retaliate into the same mindset would definitely make you as bad as those who buy into the Pureblood ideal, but," he smirked, "I am not a Pureblood," hmm, was she smiling? "Secondly, the inter-house rivalry is, indeed, a falsehood too – I believe you are aware of many happy marriages between Slytherin's and Gryffindor's as well as Slytherin's and Hufflepuff's for that matter – so that is not as strong a barrier as certain people would like to believe and," he felt it again – the urge to flirt with her. Snape leant forward holding her gaze completely as if there was an invisible unbreakable force between them, "if I were to pursue you believe me that would not come into first consideration to stop."

Hermione coughed and tried to glance away – the fur coat was back and now she was in Hawaii. "Sorry sir I..." now was her turn to be cut off.

"The Teacher/Student is a little grey I am aware – but you are the age of consent and I can honestly tell you that if we were to allow that form of behaviour between us – there would not be too much objection as many times past it has occurred that students in the final year begin relationships with their Professors – it happened in my time, in point of personal reference."

Now Hermione was eyeing the door wondering if she had the strength to leave before she turned to mush. Here she was, in Professor Snape's house, debating on a rhetorical relationship. A rhetorical relationship that could easily become a real relationship if he continued gazing at her like that. "That... is..." she began slowly. "I mean to..."

Like she did with him, he acted towards her. Cutting her off before she could formulate an appropriate response. "The age difference I shall somewhat grant you as a concern but as Magical Humans live longer than Muggles – a heck of a lot longer – it becomes rather moot. Again there are a long line of age-gap unions that last well into their 200th years."

Blushing at that Hermione now focussed a clouded gaze on his more than delicious hands – those long callused fingers. The way they clasped on his lap and rubbed up and down his thighs invitingly so. A small, primal part of her wanted to curl up in his lap and let the man protect her. The larger thinking part of her wanted to have more fireside debates like this; "I just..." she tried again to explain her motives behind her queries.

"As for the 'murder' of Dumbledore I believe that is what you wished to discuss as a friend?" he arched an eyebrow.

What the hell am I supposed to do tonight if I have to sleep down here and he is up there? "I was trying to think of things somewhat from your perspective," she whispered still looking at those elegant hands. Remembering how he stroked her bare arms moments before. "I cannot imagine you with someone you would not consider an intellectual equal."

"There are few I would consider such, unfortunately," he smirked, tilting his head just so, "most of them are men."

This elicited an awkward laugh from her. This conversation was bordering on flirtation: "What of me, sir?" her voice shrunk and she felt like a child again.

"I could certainly help you in many ways, Miss Granger," he smiled as he realised her attention were on his fingers. Hmm, how shall I play this? "But first I..."

Both Hermione and Snape shot straight up as the Wards crackled around them. Someone was banging on the door. Peeking through the curtain to look at his unwanted guests. Visibly blanching he took Hermione's biceps and apparated with her to his bedroom.

"Stay!" he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Who is it, Sir?"

"If we're to be friends, I would rather you call me by my given name, Hermione."

Dehydrated! Need water! In Snapes bedroom. Oh boy, calm down. "Who is it, Severus?"

"The Lestrange family – Bellatrix, Rabastan and Rodolphus. All would kill you in an instant."

"They would not come into..."

"They are Death Eater's, Hermione, of course they would – under the bed!"

Hermione never felt more afraid in her entire life. Bellatrix was the reason why Neville was practically an orphan. As for the other two – goodness knows what they would think if they saw her in Severus living quarters – least of all his bedroom. Dressed the way she was the men would leer even if they did disapprove of her kind. After he set some particularly complicated wards on the bedroom – he went downstairs.

Another arrival at the door. Snape's voice low but clear. The reply spoken of in a cheeky chappy voice that made Hermione cringe. At the right price, would Severus sell her out just to save face with his comrades? That would leave her to either the leering attentions of the unmarried Lestrange or the roguish Snatcher...

Hermione kept quiet – playing scenes from Schindler's List and Anne Frank's Diary in her mind. Why could there not be a Wizard version of Oscar Schindler? She wiped silent tears from her eyes as she tried not to sneeze from the damp and dust.

Footsteps thundered up the same steps she crept down on earlier. The oncoming threat persuaded Hermione to crawl further in the shadows – three pairs at least. She counted with her ears. Male judging by the stride. Brace yourself, she thought as she grabbed her wand to defend herself with if needed.

The rattle of the bedroom doorknob echoed with the violent palpitation of her heart – could someone be able to break down Severus' protective Wards or work out why he has his bedroom so guarded?

Courage, Hermione, courage.

… The door creaked open ...

Taster for next chapter: Snape and Hermione get closer and Lucius makes an entrance.