Chapter Six: The Animals Within

Hermione lay in her bed, stirring on occasion with a few quiet moans as she remained fast asleep, lost in the world of dreams. Her nighttime immersions into her subconscious mind had slowly begun to change, taking on a strange form of intensity-a pull, if you will, toward something she didn't consciously understand.

A growl sounded from somewhere close by as her eyes remained closed. She was resting, gathering strength-for what, she did not know. But when the growl came again, she peered up through half-lidded eyes into the black gaze of someone or something that sat shrouded in shadow before her. He seemed to be sitting on his haunches, his back arched, and his arms braced in front of him, as if he were an animal instead of the man he clearly resembled.

Again, he growled, more forcefully this time, as he rose and stalked over to her silently. Though his features resembled that of the man himself, his arms and legs were longer, lankier, and afforded him the ability to move about on all fours.

She stood, her limbs taking on the same animal-like characteristic that allowed her to move just as gracefully on four legs as the male, only her posture was not proud. Instead, she was crouched lower to show that she was beneath him-that she was submitting to his obvious power.

He began to walk in a circle around her, assessing her, studying her. She lowered herself until she lay flat on the ground on her stomach. He stopped, facing her right side, and his mouth opened to deliver a threatening snarl, revealing long, sharp fangs. For an instant, the image of his head changed to that of a black wolf. He leapt toward her, pushing her onto her side. One hand found her neck, further lowering her status, letting her know that he was superior.

After a few moments, his growls became softer as he stepped over her, communicating that she was beneath him, and yet, belonged to him. She gave a quiet whimper as he lowered his head to nuzzle her face and neck and shoulder. She turned her head slightly to see his face, and his expression was dark and foreboding rather than comforting. And yet, she didn't feel threatened by him. She felt like that was where she truly belonged.

He moved off of her to lay at her back, the night air catching his cloak to cover her as well. She rolled to her stomach again, pushing against him to snuggle closer to his warmth and stability. She wedged her head under his, and at that moment, the moon came out from behind the clouds, cloaking them in a silver light where they lay in a small meadow in the middle of a mountain forest.

She awoke, but she wasn't fully conscious. Her body had found the real world while her mind was still in a daze-still caught in a dream-like trance that called her forth to do something that could only be explained by instinct. She swung from the bed, her eyes glazed and not quite seeing, mistaking the world around her for imagination. However, her body fully understood what she was doing and why it was necessary she do it.

Slowly and silently, she stepped out from the tent and into thick veil darkness where not even the moon illuminated the earth. She didn't have to know where she was going to get there. She simply followed that strange pull that tugged her in the direction she needed to go.

Eventually, she reached the little grove of trees whose giant roots sprouted from the ground, building a nature-made barrier around the patch of tall, soft grass. In it sat the one who called to her. He was nestled between the roots of the tallest tree, sleeping soundly in his element of total darkness. He was unaware of her presence, lost so completely to the world of dreams from which she had only partially escaped.

Easily, gracefully, she made her way over the wall of thick roots, sinking to her hands and feet. She crawled over to him in much the same way she'd done in her dream. Her head was lowered as she reached his side, peering up curiously into his sleeping face. His head was bent, his chin resting upon his collar bone, his soft, black mane falling in curtains and shading his features. On such a warm night, his cloak was not wrapped about him as was his custom. Instead, it had come to rest in a heap at his hip. His arms lay in front of him lazily.

She pressed herself against him, forcing his arm to move about her shoulders as she nestled into his side. Her head rested upon his chest, and she whimpered, an odd sort of sound. Her hand grasped at his cloak and pulled it around her, fully encasing her within his protective presence. His scent radiated from him like an aphrodisiac. Again, she made an odd sound, rubbing up against him.

He leaned his head back against the tree, unconsciously aroused by her action as a sleepy moan came from somewhere deep in his throat. When her lips met his cheek, her tongue peeking out to taste his skin, he growled softly, appreciative of the gesture.

Satisfied with his reaction, his acceptance of her presence, she finally settled down to rest again, the two of them masked in the night beneath the cover of the trees.

x-X-x

His eyelids twitched, the bright, golden rays of sunlight finding him and rousing him to wake to the new day. He still felt immensely tired, however, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he could not afford to sleep any longer. He had a mission to complete, even if that mission had proved to be unsuccessful thus far.

Not quite awake and accepting of the dawn, he kept his eyes lidded, silently wishing he could simply…rest and skip just one day. He couldn't, though, and the thought made him sigh in resignation as he forced himself to return to reality. Yet, as he began to take inventory of his surroundings, he noticed a few things that were very unusual.

First of all, there was a strange, unfamiliar heat radiating from right beside him along with a light pressure upon his chest. Second of all, he could both feel and hear a steady heartbeat that was not his own. He was aware of a light breathing and could feel the rise and fall of those breaths against his ribcage. Thirdly, he could discern that someone's leg was entwined with one of his.

But the most noticeable oddity of all was the strong, overwhelming female scent that assailed his nostrils. It was delicious, arousing, and evoked within him that feeling of possession.

That primal nature eventually subsided to allow his human mind to function at last, and with this switch came the realization that all of these sensations were not right-that they should not be present. His eyes flew open and darted to his right as he finally awoke to the reality of the situation.

He was horrified and livid to find Granger curled up at his side, sleeping with him, against him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His cloak encompassed her, and…when the hell had he placed his arm around her? How long had she been there? Was it possible that something had happened between them that he could not recall?

He yanked his arm away with a growl and pulled his robes from around her sleeping form.

"Miss Granger!" he snarled, well beyond furious at this point.

She awoke with a start, sitting straight up with a startled gasp. Her eyes were wide and swimming with surprise, fear and confusion. "What!" she squeaked, staring back at her potions master, trying to assess why he was there, and why he looked so angry. Had she slept too long?

Looking around, she noted that she was not in the tent. Her eyes narrowed as she took in her surroundings, confused and disoriented. What the…?

"Do you mind explaining to me what, in the name of Albus Dumbledore, you were thinking when you came to the rather disturbing conclusion that you could sleep with me? Or perhaps you can tell me what led you to that startling revelation, and why you obviously believed somewhere within your delusional mind that it was appropriate?"

Hermione stared at him blankly at first, but then, a look of utter shock and disgust crossed her features. Was he accusing her of trying to seduce him?

"How dare you!" she screeched. "How dare you accuse me of such an act! I would never-"

"But you did!" he growled. "Don't…deny it-don't…lie…to me…" His voice lowered into that dangerous, velvety whisper that every Hogwarts student had learned to fear. His face was mere inches from hers now, his first defense being the art of intimidation. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't going to work this time.

"I did not!"

He pulled his face away. "Then explain to me why I awoke to find you here, with me, sleeping in such a close proximity that it could be considered unquestionably intimate?" he demanded, his voice now full of forceful authority and outrage.

She had no answer for that. She had no idea what he was talking about-no clue as to how she had gotten outside of the tent. Furthermore, the fact that he would jump to such a absurd conclusion angered her.

"I don't know! I didn't do it willingly!"

"So am I to assume you were under the control of the Imperious Curse?" he fired back.

"No!"

"Well what other explanation could there possibly be, Miss Granger? Come! Use that ingenious mind of yours! Surely the insufferable know-it-all can come up with a reasonable answer!"

Completely affronted now, she slapped him with as much force as she could muster. Big mistake. His swift reflexes reacted instantly, his hand shooting out to take hold of her wrist. His face held a malicious sort of darkness the likes of which Hermione had never encountered. He was beyond livid-so far beyond that he had become ultimately dangerous, and he no longer cared what he said or did.

"You filthy little mudblood!" he spat in a low, threatening voice. He knew that was a low blow, and ordinarily, he would never, ever use that word, but he had lost all semblance of sense in that moment. He was terrified that something else had happened that he wasn't aware of, and he was angry that this heated exchange was taking its toll on him in a most uncomfortable way.

Although she found herself afraid now, Hermione resolved to never show it. She stared him in the eye with a look that could kill, mortally offended and damnably pissed.

"Who's to say that I did anything?" she challenged. "How do I know it wasn't your doing?"

He pulled her closer so that his face was near hers once more, his own deadly glare matching her own (although he was mentally cursing himself because pulling her closer was not part of his intimidation tactic this time). His voice was still low and dangerous. "What makes you think I would willingly touch you?" he said with the deliberate, biting tone that left her entirely certain of his meaning. Once again, he was referring to the fact that she was muggle born. Damn the Slytherins and their obsession with the status of "pure blood."

Snape was trying more to reason with himself than with her, but Hermione didn't know that. At that moment, an unknown strength came to her, filling her with the need-the drive-to fight. With a growl of her own, she threw herself at him, forcing him to the ground. She was above him, her face suddenly overtaken by the animal that lay just beneath the surface. She raised her hand as if she were about to hit him, but he took hold of her arm and flung her away before she had the chance.

He rose to his feet quickly, gazing down at her with a glaring intensity. His patience had been expended, and now he was through with these silly games of hers. "You think you can match me?" he goaded. "You think you can stand up to me? If you believe that, Granger, then you truly are a fool."

Hermione pushed herself up and ran at him, fist poised to strike, the need to attack the thing that enraged her driving her to action. But Snape was not an easy target. He caught her fist in his hand, stopping her momentarily before flinging her to the side.

She hit the ground hard, landing a few feet away from him. His eyes shifted to watch as she struggled to right herself. "Pathetic…" he said, expressionless, knowing that she couldn't challenge him. Even with her war experience, compared to him, she was too week, too inexperienced, too fragile.

She raised her head and torso just enough to pierce him with a vengeful glare. A slight smirk tugged at his lips at the attempted threat. "You cannot rise to meet me, let alone surpass me. As much as you would like to 'put me in my place,' the fact is, you are unable to do it. So give up the tough-girl act and pull yourself together!"

A brief moment of silence passed between them as Hermione called back the ability of speech. "You're a bastard," she hissed, not quite satisfied with her choice of words, but unable to come up with a better way to explain her sheer anger at such a hateful git.

"It will take a lot more than a simple profanity to insult me. You'd best try harder next time." He turned from her then to leave the grove in order to find a quiet place to collect himself. "Get up and get a grip on your sensibility. There's no need to act like a mangy mutt, even if we are surrounded on all sides by forest."

She didn't say a word as he left her, but her eyes continued to bore into his back, fighting against the utter loathing she was beginning to feel for him. She slowly began to get to her feet. He wouldn't get away with it. He wouldn't get away with accusing her of being a slut, nor with insulting her blood status as well as her strength and intelligence. She would show that arrogant prick that she would not allow him to tread on her so easily.

With angry determination, she marched back to the tent to change and collect herself before she had to come face to face with Severus Snape once more.

A/N: Intense! BWAHAHA! So Severus has been feeling the side effects of possessiveness and the need to dominate and claim Hermione as his mate. He's been overcome with sexual desires. And although it seems Hermione has experienced some of that, the side effect she evidently harbors is that of the beast!

What a heated chapter, yes? Ah, the aggression, the fighting, the threats and the darkness! What ever will happen next? How will they go on with this little mission of theirs to find Wolfsbane? O.O