Hello lovelies! This story has been eating at me to get out of my head for a while, so I wanted to share it with you. It will be a two-shot due to length. Enjoy!
/
Hermione's eyes flew open and landed on the clock on the wall.
"Shit," she breathed, practically leaping out of bed. She was going to be late. Again.
Brightest Witch of Her Age and she couldn't seem to get to class on time anymore. It wasn't exactly her fault, nightmares have a way of robbing you of the sleep you need at night so you take what you can get in the morning. Except when you're trying to redo your seventh year, mornings do not offer the time to sleep in.
The war was over, yes, but its residual effects had been felt by all. Even Hogwarts, a haven for the young wizarding population, felt a little more bleak, a little more uncertain. Few had returned to complete the seventh year that had been laid to waste by the war. Hermione desperately needed normalcy and sought it from the familiarity of the stone walls of the only home she had at the moment. Her parents were still in Australia, permanently unaware of her existence.
Harry and Ron had decided to sit for their NEWTS and skip the seventh year altogether, to move on with their lives and get to work. Hermione didn't blame them, but she missed them desperately. Ginny was here with her, but it wasn't the same without the missing pieces of her triad.
Hermione rushed to the mirror. She was one of the few Gryffindor girls to return, so she was granted a private room, something she was eternally grateful to McGonagall for as she barely had energy to maintain a facade of okay-ness during the day.
The bags under her eyes were an atrocity, but a quick swallow of a Pepper-Up Potion had the dark circles smooth and lighten as her sallow skin flushed to a normal color. Hermione kept a stash with her at all times, brewing more as she got low on the one thing that would make people not worry for her. As long as she looked okay, people were more than alright believing she was okay.
Hermione glanced at the clock in the mirror and swore. She wouldn't have time to cover today. Usually her lateness was just early enough where she could get ready, but today she was especially late and to Potions, nonetheless. Professor Snape was a hair less horrible than he had been, but he was still severe.
Yes, the enigmatic man had lived. Something about arming his body with immunities to poisons and venoms, particularly that of Nagini's, had been his saving grace. Hermione remembered the blood pouring from his neck onto her hands as she had worked to stem the flow. Apparently the quick and sloppy work she had done as she panicked and tried to save him had also contributed to his second chance at life, a fact that neither of them acknowledged except for his less-acerbic stance on the way he treated her. Hermione was halfway suspicious he had only been awful to her in light of her closeness to Harry as well as the mask he wore to protect the many secrets he housed in his person.
He was still frightening, intimidating, powerful, stern, and strict. But it was less cruel and more demanding. A professor that took no less than perfection.
He actually looked healthier. His thinness has morphed into a healthy leanness, making his face fill out to an extent that made his nose look more aristocratic than beak-like, his hair now kept and clean. One might even call him attractive, but Hermione was very good at compartmentalizing unwanted thoughts and feelings.
Without the unspeakable pressure, he seemed more free. It was a slight change. Something that Hermione was certain few others saw, but she was quieter now. More contemplative and watchful. His movements were no longer stiff or robotic, but smooth and simply in control. He would always be a reserved and controlled individual, but it was of his own volition this time.
Hermione cast a few charms to change her sleep clothes to her uniform, calm her curls to an extent, and clean her teeth. She looked down at the dirty wrappings that covered her arms and legs, knowing that they wrapped around her chest and torso and hips as well. She sighed. No time to change or clean them. With some muttered spells, she glamoured them away so that anyone looking at her would only see the smooth skin of her arms and legs that would peak out from underneath her school robes. And her secret would be safe.
No one knew what happened at Malfoy Manor. They thought it was only a knife that carved a slur into her forearm, leaving a cursed scar that would never heal or pale, always the angry red indicating the hatred behind the mark.
No, what people didn't know is that Bellatrix LeStrange was not only a crazy bitch, she was a smart one. Her cruciatus curse was one that never left you. When her, Ron, and Harry had escaped to Bill's house, Hermione had noticed them open up all over her body that night. She had screamed into her pillow at the pain so as to not wake anyone. There was already too much grief, too much pain from Dobby's loss. No one needed extra weight on their shoulders.
Cuts. Open and bleeding cuts, opening one by one, down and across almost every bit of her body. Only her face was really exempt, which she took as a small mercy in an unmerciful war. Hermione had done what she could while she was on the run, but it became very apparent that these cuts were also a curse. Nothing healed them, nothing made them stop bleeding, nothing made the blood clot. She was always in pain, but some potions and spells allowed her to reduce it to a dull throb such as when she continued to live during her menses. And blood-replenishers allowed her to live a normal life with no fear of passing out or dying from blood loss. She was still Hermione, just a little more reserved, a lot more tired, and always gulping down potions.
So she covered herself. Glamored it away. She stopped hunting for cures a while ago, knowing this was a special curse from Bellatrix. A curse that marked her as dirty from the scar on her arm, but one that never ever let her forget that fact or the horror that was the Malfoy Manor Drawing Room.
Hermione rushed out of the room, begging Merlin and the gods and whoever else was listening to let her a least be almost on-time.
/
Severus took a breath to begin his instructions to the seventh and eighth years waiting expectantly at their tables, but was immediately halted by the click of the door opening. His eyes first were met with the riotous curls of one of the most impressive students he had ever taught.
Her large, doe-like, amber eyes met his as she tiptoed into the class, her expression apologetic. Severus took an annoyed breath through his nose, but gave her a nod as she took her seat in the back.
"5 points, Miss Granger," he said softly. She nodded her head slowly, understanding as she quietly took out her things.
Tardiness to his class was inexcusable, but he was a new man. A free man. And he recognized the exhaustion that lined her figure, hidden by clever charms, potions, and an irritating Gryffindor spirit to show no weakness. He could extend mercy, but only in small ways. A few years ago and it would have been 50 points deducted.
"Today, you will be brewing a potion not for consumption, but for immersion. Three drops directly to the skin and all spells and charms on the body are rendered useless." He flicked his wand at the chalkboard so that his spidery handwriting began to appear. "You have the class time to brew. We will test at the end of the class. You may begin."
As his students hurried to grab ingredients and light their cauldrons, he stalked back to his desk to grade some probably heinous first year essays as well as observe the class working.
As usual, his eyes were drawn to the girl in the back of his class. Miss Granger was studiously working, her movements small but efficient as she prepared her ingredients.
She was insufferable in her early years, though intelligent and talented. However, it would seem that that talent had grown immensely, while she had become equally tolerable. Severus had suspicions that she brewed individually - it would be the only cause in the leaps she had made in confidence as well as prowess.
Somedays, Severus found himself almost - almost - wishing for her know-it-all swottiness to return, if for any other reason than to be a return to some degree of normalcy. But the eager Hermione Granger had vanished.
She had waned as she grew up. Reserved and quiet. Diligent as always, but never over-zealous. Essays were the minimum length, brilliant as usual, but concise. Her hand never shot up in the air, only answering in a soft voice whenever called upon or when the silence of the dunderheads never knowing answers caused her to speak up just to take pity on her terrified classmates. Her now quiet strength was, dare he say, alluring to the wizard, but he kept those thoughts nice and chained away for the sake of propriety and his own sanity.
There was some unspoken truce between them as well. He would never be a particularly kind man, but he could give the respect she was owed as the Brightest Witch of Her Age. A moniker he was sure she loathed, but was absolutely correct. Severus still remembered her quiet sobs as her hands tried to stem the flow of blood from Nagini's bite as she whispered quiet pleads for him to live in between her medical spells and potion administrations.
When it was all said and done, he had survived thanks to her and his particularly rigorous immunity practices when it came to poison and venom. And now he could live thanks to Potter's testimony of his part in the War. He and Potter would never be friends, or probably civil with each other, but there was mutual understanding now.
McGonagall welcomed him back to teach as Hogwarts was his only home and he was free to live his life on his own terms. He actually visited Hogsmeade just for the stroll this past weekend. People were still afraid of him, which did not bother him at all as it allowed him to stay the recluse he was comfortable being.
Time passed quietly as the class worked to finish their brews and as Severus seriously contemplated ripping his own hair out at the sheer idiocy of the first year class.
Grateful to have an excuse to end his grading of the worst papers he thought he had ever read, it was around 10 minutes until the end of class and he called his students to bottle a portion to test on a concealment charm on a rabbit. No harm was to come to the animal, but he would prefer to not test on students and the potion was only crafted to reveal charms on a living thing.
One by one his students walked up. This was a moderately difficult potion to brew, though quick, and most were fairly successful. No one managed to have the rabbit fully reveal, but there were some that helped it partially come into view. He gave them all Ps of course, but they expected his strict rules for perfection in the class.
As he was watching a Hufflepuff drip some of his potion onto the invisible fur of the mammal, a great crash was heard in the back of the classroom followed by an alarmed gasp, causing Severus's head to snap up to view the scene.
He immediately rose and briskly walked to the back of the room toward Miss Granger, who was now covered in the silvery potion. Her classmate Hannah Abbott was sitting beside her. From what he could judge, Abbot was trying to maneuver her cauldron in order to clean her station without vanishing the contents first. Apparently she had instead tripped and flung the cauldron so that the majority of its contents soaked Granger through.
"I'm so so sorry Hermione!" Hannah gasped, mortified. But she was paying her no attention.
A panic had set upon the witch, her eyes wide as she looked down at her shaking hands. Severus's gaze was drawn down and he saw the tell-tale signs of an expert glamour that otherwise would have gone unnoticed had the spell's workings not just begun to unravel. A few drops is all that is needed to dispel any charms if the potency was correct, but a full immersion would eat away at anything on the body, even clothing, immediately, regardless of concentration.
But Hermione paid no mind to the evaporating hem of her school uniform skirt. Her amber eyes snapped up to meet his, panic causing her to look for him and Severus was taken aback by the sheer fear radiating from her.
"Don't let them see," she whispered. His brow furrowed in confusion until he looked at the backs of her hands as marks began to be revealed.
Cuts. Fucking bleeding cuts.
He knew those cuts. That pattern.
With quick reflexes and a few flicks of his wand, Severus immediately transfigured the desk into a barrier that encircled the witch and hid her from view from the class. He simmered with quiet rage.
He turned to face the frozen and white-faced class.
"Leave. Immediately. Miss Granger will be excused from all other classes today."
They looked like deer in headlights.
"NOW," he bellowed, causing the students to jump and scurry out of the room in record time. Hannah was the only one to hang back, looking between him and the wooden barrier that concealed her friend.
"Hermione?" She called hesitantly.
"It's alright Hannah. Go on. I've got to let this run its course before I can get some new clothes," came Hermione's voice, steady and sure. "No harm done. It happens. All is well."
Hannah took a breath and, with a fearful glance at Severus, hurried out of the room.
Severus could feel the anger pump through his body, white hot and threatening to explode. But he gritted his teeth to control the outburst waiting to happen, not wanting to cause further harm to the witch who was probably quickly becoming more and more unclothed.
He shook his head of those kind of thoughts. Had he noticed Granger's attractiveness? Of course. No hotblooded man wouldn't. She was of age, but she was a student and that was a line he didn't dare cross. Besides, plenty of witches in the aftermath of the War had approached him to fulfill some of their darker fantasies, which he was happy to indulge, so he was not starved for the touch of a witch.
There were currently much more important things to handle.
"Miss Granger," he said softly at the barrier, "are you alright?"
/
Hermione thought she might break down into tears. This was her worst nightmare.
This type of potion destroyed any bodily charm and rendered it impossible to cast new ones within the hour. She couldn't hide.
She was grateful that Snape had acted so quickly, but now he would know. He would know her deepest, ugliest secret.
Was she stark naked right now? Yes. Was that at the forefront of her mind. Not at all.
A cloak was draped over the top of the wooden barrier that encircled her and connected to the back wall of the potions classroom, high enough to cover her head.
"Cover with this. It's spelled against this type of potion so you'll have no worries of exposure." His deep baritone was soft, almost comforting as he spoke quietly to her through the wood.
Hermione's shaking hands reached up and grasped the fabric of his black outer robes and pulled it around her in one quick movement. She didn't mean to, but in one breath, she was covered in his scent as his robes enveloped her like a tent. It was a dark and rich , almost musky scent that invaded her senses, like an aged whiskey - notes of complexity that were subtle but so deeply masculine.
It was attractive and... calming? Hermione took a few deeps breaths as his scent swirled around her, her shakes subsiding and her heart rate decreasing.
"Whenever you're ready, Miss Granger," came that silky quiet voice again. Merlin, that man's voice was dangerous. She had always noticed the lovely qualities of Snape's voice. What witch hadn't? She remembered the giggles of her classmates in her earlier years talking about how his voice was probably enough to send someone over the edge. She shook her head. Not the time nor the place for silly schoolgirl fantasies.
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she took a few more steadying breaths to gain the courage. Maybe she could use his robes to cover her entirely and no one would be the wiser. Maybe Snape would be kind enough to let her go with his robes. A panicked giggle almost released from her mouth at that absurd thought. She muttered a quick spell to return the barrier to its original table form. And was met with the black, intelligent eyes of her professor that seemed to almost flicker with rage. His mouth was in a thin line as he stared at her.
Was she in trouble? None of this was her fault! She literally was just sitting there before having potion flung on her. Hell, her potion was perfect, she just hadn't had the chance to test it.
"What. Is. On. Your. Hands." He seemed to bite out the hissed words, the chocolate tone of his voice dripped over sharp steel.
"W-what?" She stuttered.
"Your hands, witch. Show me." The man took one step forward, enough to suddenly crowd her space and he looked down at her, eyes glittering dangerously. His command snaked its way around her belly, sending shivers up her spine. But it wasn't exactly fearful shivers.
"I beg your pardon!" She cried, eyes darting around the classroom for a route of escape, but he was squarely between her and the door.
Another step forward. Hermione had to raise her chin in order to maintain eye contact. He was the most frightening and alluring man she had ever met.
"Don't make me ask again, Miss Granger. I'm not accustomed to waiting." This was a low growl and Hermione thought she was going to absolutely lose her mind.
Ever the dutiful student, she slowly unwrapped her right hand from the fabric of his robes. His long fingers caught her wrist to pull her hand out to the light, her small palm resting on his much larger one. Snape's touch was firm, but gentle, allowing her to realize if she wanted to break free, it would take only a small bit of energy. Somehow she was spellbound, watching wide-eyed as he inspected her skin.
He swore as the long fingers (Merlin those fingers) of his other hand faintly traced the cuts without touching her open flesh.
His gaze snapped back to hers as Hermione cringed.
There. It was out now.
He dropped her hand gently and turned quickly to place his back to her, fingers running through his raven hair. Hermione immediately retreated to covering her entire body in the comforting fabric of his outer robes, but her heart stuttered when she finally became aware of the fact that she had never seen her professor without his stereotypical black robes.
A crisp, white button down shirt that was tucked into some gloriously tailored black trousers that ended in clean and polished black shoes. His back was broad, giving him a deeply masculine triangle shape as his long waist tapered to meet his narrow hips.
Hermione's mouth was dry.
He didn't deserve to look this attractive from the back. What happened to the bitter old crow she had known all these years?
He turned back to her swiftly and his right hand went to the buttons at the base of his left sleeve. Quickly and efficiently, he unbuttoned the fasteners and began to roll up his sleeve with short, brisk motions.
Merlin's pants, this entire scene felt inappropriate. A man rolling up a sleeve shouldn't feel so... so sensual. But there they were, Hermione's eyes glued to the small movements that betrayed Snape's pure power and control.
But wait.
His pale skin caught the light and she saw little lighter marks that were all over his arm. They were so light, they were almost invisible, but Hermione noticed due to their incredibly familiar pattern of crisscrossing.
Her amber eyes rushed to meet his, wide with confusion.
"It would seem you were not the only subject of Bellatrix's crazed experiments with torture, Miss Granger."
/
The witch gaped at him.
Severus wanted to rage.
The Dark Lord has given permission for Bellatrix to play with Severus every now and then, to test his loyalty and his mental strength. She was lucky she was killed by that Weasley woman, otherwise her death would have been slow and agonizing had Severus had anything to do with it. But he had thought such experiments had ended long ago as the Dark Lord began to desire efficient deaths and means of torture once the stakes grew higher. This curse was one that did nothing except stay with the cursed, a thorn in their side, but deadly if not taken care of.
Everyone had heard the rumors of what had happened that night at Malfoy Manor, but it seemed very few knew the truth, and Granger was incredibly tight-lipped about it. But who was he to pry? He had witnessed his own horrors. But he also knew the loneliness of wrestling one's own demons.
Where the fuck were Potter and Weasley?
"Who has seen to these?" He didn't mean to snap at her, but something in him wanted to bring Bellatrix back to life just so he could murder her. Her gaze dropped as she looked at the floor, her shoulders shifted in a sure sign of discomfort. Would she lie? He could sniff out one in a second, but it was always interesting to see if someone would try.
"No one."
He raised an eyebrow.
"No one knows about them?" He responded, halfway incredulous she had hidden them for so long. She shook her head, those curls making the motion seem more severe.
"Foolish witch," he muttered as he gestured for her hand once more. Her eyes flashed as she took a step back.
Ah, so there was that Gryffindor spirit. Not vanquished. Just exhausted.
"Your hand, Miss Granger," he requested, the steel back in his voice at being disobeyed. That chin lifted.
"I am very much capable of handling this myself, Professor," her jaw set in the picture of stubbornness.
He smirked as he followed her step back. "Judging by your currently bleeding wounds, I would beg to differ." A flush rose in her cheeks in a physical representation of her offense as she continued to back up from him. He continued to follow her, a predator stalking his prey. He felt his cock stir in his trousers.
A student. She's a student. And you're twice her age. Pull yourself together you old bastard.
"I spent months, months, researching. Trying spells. Putting on salves. Brewing potions. Doing anything to get rid of them. Nothing works," her voice grew softer as she retreated, the fight slowly leaving her, her eyes widening slightly as her back hit the wall.
Severus stopped a pace away from her, not wanting to cause a panic in the witch. "That's where you're wrong. Do you think mine were healed by some miracle?"
Her eyes flicked down to the exposed flesh of his arm.
"Come, Miss Granger. Let me help."
/
Again, Hermione found herself gaping at Snape's back as he strode toward the door to his chambers, an unspoken request for her to follow, as he rolled up his other sleeve. So she followed, her curiosity and desperation driving her forward into a terrifying unknown.
It's not that she was afraid of the man. But he was so... intense. Powerful. Controlled. Snape was formidable in his old life, but now? He was downright impressive.
Had Hermione's desperation to please him as her Professor morphed into a weird crush over the years that had exacerbated as he grew healthier? Yes. Would she ever admit to it? Absolutely not.
Through the iron door, she padded barefoot to what seemed to be a sitting room. Everything was dark, but warm. Cozy. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but in her mind it was something more austere, not cozy. A fire crackled in front of two comfortable-looking leather sitting chairs. His maddeningly masculine scent was everywhere too.
Her eyes immediately went to the filled bookshelves appreciatively as she stood in the middle of the room, while Snape stalked off to enter into what appeared to be a small kitchen.
He returned, surprisingly with two cups of tea and motioned for her to sit in front of the fire. Usually, a fire would be much too hot, but due to the chill of the dungeons as well as what she supposed to be a charm to stave off some heat, it was quite comfortable.
Snape let her sit and get situated with his robes before handing her her tea cup, a beautiful, ornate little thing, covered in silver and green filigree. She murmured her thanks as he sat across from her, silent and contemplative as he watched her.
Hermione drank her tea in the silence, (it was quite lovely - jasmine) somewhat grateful for the respite. She no longer felt awkward in silences, but his gaze upon her was making her feel... restless. She waited for his lead.
He finished his tea - Merlin, a man swallowing shouldn't be so stupidly attractive - and set down his matching cup onto a small dark wooded side table as he looked into the fire. She bit her lip as she grew more agitated, her fingers lightly drumming on the side of her teacup.
Slowly, his gaze slid back to hers.
"Since the drawing room?" He didn't need to elaborate. Hermione nodded... silently pleading he didn't ask for more information regarding that night. She wasn't ready to face it just yet.
"You still bleed?"
"Every day," she responded. For some reason, she now felt ashamed. Weak for admitting it. Admitting it to him.
"How do you, as you say, handle it?"
She took a breath. "Bandages, glamours, pepper up potions, blood replenishers."
"I need to see more of you."
She started at the abrupt statement. "W-what?"
"I would venture to guess Bellatrix perfected her little spell whenever she placed it on you. I need to see more of the wounds to make sure what I have learned would actually help you and not harm you," his tone was business-like, but those eyes remained on her face. Curious, but not cruel.
Suddenly Hermione remembered how strong of an Occlumens he was and desperately fortified her mental walls. She didn't need him to read the panic that was overtaking her body. No one had seen more of her. She was careful to always be clothed because glamours were much harder to maintain over a larger spatial span. On weekends, she wore bulky sweaters and during class, she often kept her robes on.
"Breathe, Miss Granger," she was snapped from her thoughts by his richly sinful voice. Why did the way he spoke her last name make her positively squeeze like that? "We could call for Madam Pomfrey if you would feel—"
"No!"
His eyebrow rose at her outburst and she felt her cheeks heat. If Pomfrey found out then McGonagall would... and then so on and so forth until her secret was no longer hers.
"No, it's fine. What would be best?"
He was silent for a moment as he studied her. Hermione held his gaze for a long as she could before her eyes dropped once more, finding a place on the green rug under her feet to stare at.
"Your back should give me enough room to conduct some tests. Are you comfortable with that?" He asked, standing from his chair. Her chin raised to follow as he stood over her.
"Y-yes sir, that's fine." She saw something flash in his eyes, but couldn't place it. With a small spell, the back of the plush chair she sat upon vanished, giving him room to come up behind her to begin his inspection, all the while letting her remain on the comfortable leather.
Her hands grasped the fabric of his outer robes as it covered her body, clenching and unclenching her fists as she fought for some semblance of courage. There was something so intimate about this.
"Whenever you're ready, Miss Granger," came his murmured encouragement, that silky smoke of his voice sitting low in her belly. Hermione took a deep breath.
/
Severus was finding it very very difficult to remain in control of himself. Something about this witch was making him teeter on a precipice he had never struggled with before. Her breathless "yes sir" almost undid him. Those wide and innocent amber eyes threatened to expose the lustful animal he kept under wraps unless a particularly adventurous witch asked for it. Where he had once been annoyed by her Gryffindor spirit, he sought it out, if only to see how that spirit would submit deliciously.
He saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a steadying breath. She was nervous. Part of him wanted to search through that magnificent mind of hers for a way to soothe her, if not to understand her, but that was a strict line he would never cross.
The witch slowly shrugged off her robes, letting the fabric fall to gather dangerously low on her waist. He could tell her hands were still wrapped in the cloth so as to cover her front. Her curls tumbled down her back, covering her skin as the length brushed the chair she sat on. She had let them grow a little wilder than she used to.
Severus didn't dislike the length. He didn't dislike it one bit. But he definitely absolutely was not thinking of what it would be like to wrap it around his fist as he guided her mou—
You dirty rotten bastard. Focus.
He stepped up behind her, noticing a shudder as his closer presence was made known to her. With a flick of his wand, a small chair appeared so he could sit behind her, knees spread to rest on either side of the chair she was on.
"I'm going to move your hair, Miss Granger," he said, watching for signs of discomfort as his hands rose to the back of her neck to begin to gather her caramel tresses. They were so close to impropriety, he wanted to ensure she knew she was safe to make her choices should she decide this was no longer the route she wanted to take. "I want you to tell me should you feel uncomfortable or if you feel any pain, am I understood?"
"Yes sir," came her breathless response as his fingertips grazed the smooth skin of her neck as he began to sweep her curls to the side. He felt her body shiver at his touch as his cock twitched at her acquiescence.
Severus swept her surprisingly soft hair to the other side, letting it drape over her left shoulder so he would have a clear view.
He sucked in a breath as he took in the expanse of her back. Creamy skin marred by angry red and jagged, weeping wounds. Longer and deeper than those on her arms, crisscrossing to form a web of a painful curse. In other circumstances, his gaze may have swept down to appreciate the subtle curve of her waist as it began to flare out to meet her hips, the strength of the muscles in her back. But this was not the time for that type of examination.
Severus knew personally how painful this curse was. It had took him months to figure out how to heal it and she walked around as if nothing was wrong, continuing her school work as if life was normal. His respect for her grew as well as his frustration that she had not gone to someone, to him, for help.
But why would she have gone to you? Well she should have gone to fucking somebody.
"Why haven't you gotten these seen by someone?" He forced out, teeth gritted as he began small spells to ensure this curse was indeed the same. He wasn't sure why he felt so angry about this curse, almost a dark possessiveness that he refused to acknowledge.
She shouldn't feel anything as she ran his magical tests, but he needed her to speak so he could make sure that was actually the case. Why he went for antagonistic, well, that was just familiar territory.
"No one else would have been able to help me," the witch replied evenly.
"Ah, so it was arrogance?"
Granger bristled and moved to turn around, but he brought his hand to clasp her shoulder, anchoring her to stillness and trying desperately to ignore the warmth of her skin and the way the tips of his fingers brushed her clavicle. He continued his tests wordlessly, seeking to find the familiar fingerprints that Bellatrix would leave on her curses.
"I presumed that Bellatrix likely created her own curses like a certain Half Blood Prince that only she would know the counter for," the witch spat out angrily. "There was no mention of the spell or its effects in any medical book or spellbook I got my hands out. So I assumed it was hopeless to try to go find a Medi-witch or -wizard."
Severus smirked at her derisive use of his old self named moniker.
"Temper, Miss Granger. Wouldn't want that awful Half Blood Prince to come out to play, would you?" He watched the flush move up her neck to color her cheeks and the backs of her ears. He was just riling her because of old habits, not because he enjoyed her reactions. Of course not.
Ah. There it is. But I need to make sure.
"I'm going to have to touch you more fully, Miss Granger. Are you comfortable with that?" A small nod was her response. "Out loud, Miss Granger. I need to hear you say it."
"Yes, sir. You may... touch me." Her flush deepened and Severus had to stifle a growl. Without warning, before he lost his nerve or his wavering control, his hand splayed across her back, causing her to gasp at the sudden contact and arch, but his fingers wrapped around her shoulder once more steadied the responsive witch.
"Professor... you'll get... I'm not..." she stammered.
"Your blood has no bearing on me, Miss Granger. After all, did mine have any on you that night?" He didn't have to elaborate as she stilled, allowing his magic to move through her and dance with her own as it sought after the signature of what did not belong. A small sound escaped her lips causing him to immediately cease all action.
"Did I hurt you?" Her cheeks were aflame.
"No sir. It felt... good." A small chuckle escaped his lips.
"I'm glad you're finding this experience so pleasurable." He was toeing the line, practically over it, as he saw that blush deepen in the part of her cheek he could see.
But there were more important things to do first before he had the time to analyze this reaction to Granger. His hand once again splayed across her back, pressing into her, searching for that sign - that trace that only that particular curse left.
There.
Severus swore.
"Professor?"
"The bitch perfected it. It's a stronger curse than what I had performed upon me."
"What does that mean?"
A sigh. "It means, Miss Granger, that the counter might be more intensive than I had originally planned for."
She peeked over her shoulder, her riotous curls coupled with her wide amber eyes and naked back painting a portrait of erotic innocence.
"Intensive?"
He stood and stalked away from her to generate some space to think. To breathe. He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against his bookshelf, facing her.
"This curse is one that permanently resides in you, twisting itself at the heart of your magic. To rid yourself of it is an excruciating removal of a parasite, but..." Snape trailed off as he remembered the aftermath of administering this countercurse upon himself.
"Professor?"
He cleared his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to focus on being her damned professor and not some amorous bastard looking to get his dick wet.
"The after effects of the removal of the magic can feel like a release of sorts."
She turned toward him, his robes twisted at her front, hair trailing around her bare shoulders, backlit by a crackling fire.
Merlin's fucking balls. He was in dangerous territory.
"What kind of release?" She said slowly, eyes glued to his, completely unaware of her effect upon him.
"A physical one." Her eyebrows shot up her forehead and her mouth dropped to form a small O as she reached understanding of the implications.
Yes, little witch. Like that.
"And you... did this?" Her face was curious as if she wasn't entirely sure what she was asking.
Fucking creamed my pants like a bloody teenager didn't seem like the appropriate response.
"There are more unpleasant things to experience. I took that as a small mercy," he drawled.
"And you would see me...?" That delicious little blush was back and dusting across her cheeks and nose.
"Orgasm? Yes." She blinked at him. "That is, if you should decide to move forward. One word, Miss Granger, and everything halts."
Her gaze fell to her lap as her hands clenched and unclenched the fabric of his outer robes. She worried that bottom lip with her teeth, a move that drew Severus's eyes immediately, making his cock stir yet again.
With a sigh, she looked up at Severus, face resolved and jaw set.
"Okay."
/
She was a silly fool. This had to be the stupidest, most reckless, inappropriate situation she had ever been in.
Hermione Granger has just acquiesced to basically allow Severus Snape to get her to orgasm. Of course there was much more to the situation than that, but the way her body reacted, her impending orgasm was the only thing that mattered.
She watched the imposing man inhale and exhale as he took in her answer, his face glittering with some unknowable emotion.
He pushed off the bookshelf, his hands still held by his pockets and he stalked toward her. With the flicker of the firelight on his face that was partially cast in shadows due to his hair, he looked every ounce the aristocratic predator and made Hermione feel like every bit the prey in this scenario.
"Before we begin, you must know that all of my directions are to be obeyed immediately. For your safety." It felt like his voice had dropped to a whole other level of depth, the richness threatening to drown her.
"Yes sir." Merlin why was she whispering. She could barely find her breath.
Those eyes darkened further, if that was even possible, and Hermione felt her body heat rise several degrees. A small smirk played on his lips as he studied her.
"Stand up." She complied immediately, rising from the chair, lifting the robes with her so that she was mostly still covered, except for the expanse of her back. He slowly stepped up to her, obsidian eyes never leaving her face, and then he brushed by her. She turned to track him as he moved, surprised to find him sitting in the backless chair, his back to her and front facing the fire.
A languid movement of his fingers beckoned her to him.
"Sit."
He was motioning for her to sit almost in his lap. She would be on the seat, between those long and powerful legs.
"B-but-"
"Miss Granger, due to the extent of this curse, it may require some physical restraints. Sit." She bit her lip as she complied, her stomach doing flips as she lowered herself to sit between his legs, fully aware of every muscle in her body and how close she was to him. Soft fingers brushed her hair to drape across her left shoulder yet again. She felt the now-familiar pressure of his huge hand on her back, but then she felt his other arm snake around her waist, over the robes.
Hermione gasped.
"Shh, witch," his sinful voice was right at her ear, cause her entire body to cover itself in goose flesh, her lower muscles clenching.
"I've got you," he crooned. "Focus on your breathing. This first part will not be pleasant."
She felt him take a breath and she followed, syncing her breaths with his, an exercise that seemed to ground her.
And then it was agony. Sheer agony.
/
Severus gritted his teeth as she writhed against him, whimpering. He locked his arm around her waist, pulling her close against his chest as her body fought the expulsion of the curse.
But she didn't scream. Severus had bellowed like a madman at the pain, but her jaw was locked as she took ragged breaths through her nose, little whimpers and cries and her rigid body the only signs she was in pain.
But now her bum was right close to his crotch and, as she writhed, she ground against him in a way that made Severus swear under his breath.
Not the fucking time.
He placed more power into the spell that was currently pouring itself into her body through his touch, feeling his magic drain at the effort. This curse had made itself very comfortable in her power source.
Tiny whimpers and cries came from Granger's mouth as she fought against the pain of a curse extraction. Her head fell back to rest on Severus's shoulder, turning so her nose buried itself in the crook of his neck, a subconscious search for comfort. He spoke softly to her, nonsense and quiet praises, hoping that it would be helpful.
But then.
It budged.
A gasp and a moan and Hermione's head turned to gaze up a Severus, eyes wide open. He was drowning in those amber depths.
He could feel the dark matter start to move. Hermione's hips bucked and her back arched as he began to work the matter, drawing it out into the open. It was the beginning of a beautiful agony, excruciating pain mixed with an unknowable pleasure.
Her hips began to undulate in a steady rhythm as her mouth fell open and some of the most delicious sounds were drawn out from her lips. Her gaze drew his as they watched each other, neither in a completely conscious state of mind. Her in the throes of a curse extraction, him in seeing her being brought to a beautiful crest.
He was hard as a rock, desperately clinging to sanity so he could finish the job.
"Please, oh please," she began to whisper, her eyes screwing shut and her hips began to move faster, practically grinding on his cock.
He shoved his energy into the spell, willing the curse to move faster as he drew it further outward.
"Just. A little. Longer." He was panting.
"Please. Severus," her breathing his name caused him to bend his neck to brush his nose against her cheek, taking a breath that was supposed to be steadying, but instead filled his senses with her heady scent of vanilla, gardenia, and desire.
"A little longer, sweet girl," he murmured to her.
Groans and gasps poured from her lips as she topped the precipice. Teetering on the edge of pleasure and agony.
He could feel the curse right there. It was right there. Just a few more moments...
The curse was flung from her as a presentation of an evaporating black smoke. With a cry, Hermione's eyes flew open to meet Severus' and she fell over the precipice. He saw her come undone and be rebuilt before his very eyes. Her hands scrabbled at his knees, her modesty forgotten but remaining intact as Severus wound his now free hand up her body to press against her chest and very lightly wrap around the beautiful column of her throat, his fingers pressing to her jaw to keep her head stabilized and the robes in place. Her hips bucked and her body shook with pleasure. His name fell from her lips amid gasps and moans as her pleasure overtook her.
He held her tightly to his chest, whispering words of praises in her ear as she came against him. Until slowly, the pleasure wrung itself out of her body and her tremors subsided to leave her heavy and spent against him, gasping for breath.
/
Eep! Let me know what you think! Second and last chapter will be up soon.