Chapter 3: Discomfort

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?"