Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.

Rating: R for language and sexual situations.

Summary: A young girl flees her deepest fear, and finds herself face to face with the Potions Master in the dead of night. Time-travel.

Pairing: Severus/Hermione

A/N: The tone changes a bit in this chapter.



Lightning Strikes



by Auror Borealis



Chapter 6



Snape was at his desk in the classroom when Hermione and Callie entered. He did not look up right away.

Hermione watched as Callie perched, uninvited, on a corner of the desk and proceeded to tell Snape all about the Care of Magical Creatures class. His lack of response did not seem to deter her in the least. Every so often, she would interrupt her narrative to ask Hermione for confirmation on some point or other. As the girl chattered on, Snape's head slowly came up, and his eyes locked with Hermione's. They stared at each other, each reflecting that they would willingly have given any sum to know what the other was thinking.

"I'm glad you found something pleasant to do." Snape finally spoke to Callie. "It is almost time for dinner. Go and change your robes."

Callie looked down at herself; white unicorn hairs covered the front of her robes. She looked at the younger versions of her parents and grinned. She was about to leave them alone together, she thought. Cool.

When the door closed behind her, Snape rose and circled the desk, leaning back against it, only a few feet from where Hermione had seated herself in the front row of desks.

"Are you enjoying your detention, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you for it, by the way."

Snape said nothing.

"It just doesn't seem possible, does it?" Hermione finally said. She could not believe that she was initiating this conversation with her Potions professor, but she badly needed to talk to someone about the implications of Callie's existence. Harry had chased after Ron. There was only one other possible candidate, and he was glowering at her.

"Which aspect of this does not seem possible? I agree that it is all highly unlikely. Bizarre, even."

"That you and I… that we made… her."

"Indeed. I have not yet recovered from the shock."

He didn't look shocked, but then, Hermione wasn't sure she'd know that look if she saw it. There was another implication she wanted to discuss, this one a bit more personal. She took the bull by the horns.

"And also, that at some point in the future, you and I are going to have sex."

Snape looked impressed.

"I congratulate you on your directness, Miss Granger. I'll admit, the mind does boggle. Weasley, I noticed, does not seem to have any trouble picturing it clearly."

"Yes. Hmm." Ron would hate her for discussing him with Snape. Well, then, she just wouldn't tell him. "Let's be honest, Professor. I've never had any reason to suspect you of liking me any more than I do you."

"Nor should you, because I don't. Since we're being blunt here," he paused and looked inquiringly at her; she nodded. "I find you and your friends annoying and insufferable. My primary reason for being unable to imagine you and I engaging in the activities necessary for procreation is that I prefer to shag women of my own intelligence level. And as well as you may perform in your classes, an intelligent woman would not spend her evenings exchanging saliva with a whinging, jealous prat such as Ronald Weasley."

Wow, thought Hermione, the gloves were definitely off. Snape was being abominable, but something about the exchange was undeniably exciting. He was talking to her as though she was an adult.

"And what business is it of yours who I snog?"

"None whatsoever. Not now, that is. But you will remember that you began this discussion, not I. And we are having this chat only because at this moment, living, breathing proof of our future liaison is in my rooms, changing into clean robes." He straightened and walked slowly toward her. "Since she does exist, and as we have both accepted her relationship to each of us, it naturally follows that we will, at some point, put aside our mutual antipathy long enough to fuck each other. At least once. Have I shocked you, Miss Granger? I'm not done yet. I believe that her arrival into our world will take place some four years from now, is that correct?"

Hermione nodded, dazed from Snape's uncharacteristic crudeness.

"Sometime within the next roughly three and a half years, Miss Granger, you will need to accustom yourself to the idea of having me in your bed. As I must do with you; although now that the idea has occurred, I must admit it is not as revolting as it initially seemed." He stood in front of her, and his scent, sandalwood and musk and the faint odors of various potions ingredients, enveloped her. It was making it difficult to breathe. He placed his hand on the desk and leaned over her, their faces inches apart.

Hermione's breath was growing ragged. Control yourself, she told herself sharply. He's trying to intimidate you, put you off balance. But the sensation skimming across her nerve endings wasn't intimidation.

"Break it off with Weasley, Hermione. I suggest that you not delay too long. Doing so will only make it more painful, you know."

Hermione was incensed. How dare he? "Callie's existence doesn't mean you own me, Professor Snape. Or that you ever will."

"No, Hermione. I have no desire to own you. But when you are carrying my child, you and I will marry."

Hermione started.

"Yes, Hermione. You will marry me. I will not allow you to bear my bastard, and I cannot imagine you wanting to do so. And when we marry, make no mistake." His lips were almost brushing her own. "You will be my wife in every respect. And there will be no room for Ron Weasley in our bed." His tone was menacing and entrancing at the same time. Hermione felt something primal steal from her unconscious, where it had lain dormant all her life, into her waking mind. Snape's tone evoked something primitive and pleasurable. Ron did not have the power to make her feel like this, and Snape had accomplished it with one conversation, not a pleasant one at that. She closed her eyes.

Snape's lips descended on her own, feather light. It was not blatantly sexual, but it wasn't chaste by any means. She knew it for what it was; he had just claimed her. It felt terrifying and glorious.

A throat was cleared loudly. Callie stood in the doorway, smiling. Snape slowly straightened up, not bothering to try to conceal what they'd just been doing. It couldn't come as a surprise to Caledonia, after all. Hermione sprang to her feet, her face crimson. She grabbed Callie's hand and pulled her out of the Potions classroom, not looking back.

The next day, after dinner, Hermione had asked to be excused from her detention for the evening. To her surprise, Snape had agreed, telling Callie to accompany him back to the dungeons. Hermione struck out for the Quidditch field. She needed to talk to Harry.

"He asked you to marry him?" Harry's voice was a dismayed squeak.

"No."

"But you just said he did."

"No, Harry, you aren't listening, are you?"

"I'm having trouble getting past the part where he kissed you."

I understand, she thought; that kiss had the same effect on me. Temporarily, of course. The beginnings of resentment were burning in Hermione. I'm supposed to dump Ron and then just wait for him? Wait for some mysterious point in the future when I'll toss out all rational thought and jump into bed with him, let him knock me up? Not bloody likely. Except for the dumping Ron part, maybe, she thought with a twinge of guilt. So much had changed, so quickly. "He didn't ask. He told me that I was going to marry him. End of story."

She flopped down onto her stomach on the soft grass of the Quidditch field. Harry sat beside her, still in his Quidditch robes, looking flushed and sweaty after the long, brutal practice. He was harder on the team he captained than Oliver Wood ever thought of being, she thought.

"What are you going to do?"

"Throw myself off that damned Astronomy Tower, I think."

Harry's jaw dropped with dismayed shock.

"Honestly, Harry, I'm just kidding." She rolled over onto her back and laid her head companionably in his lap. "But it's not a good sign that you took me seriously, even for a moment. This is bloody awful."

"So… you really talked about sex? He actually used the word fuck?" Harry's voice was a bit hoarse.

"I know, it's unbelievable. Who knew Snape was human enough for it to be an issue?" She laughed. The whole incident seemed much less awful now that she was telling Harry about it.

"Did… did he do anything else?"

"Anything else? Like what?"

"Well, you know…"

"No, I don't know, Harry. Spit it out."

The flush still stained Harry's face. "Did he… touch you anywhere?"

"Harry, you're not about to rush off and challenge him to a duel, defend my honor, all that rubbish, are you? Because I swear, if I have to deal with one more scene like that today…"

Hermione had cornered Ron, and without telling him about yesterday's encounter with Snape in the Potions classroom, told him that the evidence of her inevitable future involvement with someone else in so serious a manner, coupled with his inability to be civil to a young girl who had never done anything to harm him, made her feel that it would be best to end their romantic relationship now, before things became even more entangled. Ron had railed at length against Snape, about how unfair it was that she would at some point be willing to sleep with the sorry bastard, and she'd never let him do more than touch her breasts through her clothing. She realized now that deep inside, she had not wanted more, not from Ron. Probably not ever. Ron had threatened to go down to the dungeons and beat the hell out of the Potions master. And that was without knowing about that kiss, and everything that went along with it, she thought ruefully. Snape was right; Ron did have a tendency to whinge endlessly sometimes. Not the stuff of a long-term relationship. She hoped their friendship could be mended, but that was going to be up to Ron. She had other things to worry about at the moment.

"No, Hermione, I wasn't even thinking of that," said Harry. He absently trailed his hand up and down Hermione's arm. It tingled pleasantly. She supposed her nerve endings were still raw from yesterday. Harry looks very nice right now, she thought to herself. The smell of cologne and soap and sweat and grass mixed pleasantly around him. He was looking down at her head in his lap, his hand still caressing her arm. His lips were slightly parted, and the look in his brilliant green eyes, which glittered in the light of the full moon overhead, was completely unfamiliar to Hermione. The rise and fall of Harry's chest was still rapid; strange, she thought, since Quidditch practice had ended twenty minutes earlier. The rest of the Gryffindor team was long gone. It would be curfew shortly, but Hermione didn't want to move from where she was. It felt too nice.

Harry's hand moved from her arm to her neck, stroking her softly. The touch was no longer comforting; it was enflaming.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, sitting upright. "What on earth are you doing?"

Harry closed his eyes briefly, shame and frustrated lust mingling in his expression. "I'm sorry, Herm. You just broke up with Ron today, I shouldn't... He'd kill me if he knew that I… And you've had all this… this Snape stuff to deal with. But you were just lying there, your head in my lap, and talking about sex…"

Oh my God, thought Hermione, horrified. "I… I turned you on?"

Harry nodded.

"Just from talking about sex I won't have for years?"

"Well, that and the fact that you kept shaking your head when it was in my lap. It kept…"

Holy shit, thought Hermione. "I was… rubbing your…" She couldn't say it.

"Uh huh." That mix of embarrassment and arousal on his face was kind of cute, Hermione thought.

This is definitely a personal record, thought Hermione. Three guys talking about wanting to do me in the space of three days; although with Snape, it had sounded more as if he was steeling himself for some unpleasant duty. But even so… It's amazing I'm still a virgin. I had no idea I was so hot. She laughed.

Harry's expression was shuttered. "I know I shouldn't have touched you like that. I'm sorry. But you don't have to laugh about it." He stood and grabbed his Firebolt.

Hermione jumped to her feet. "Wait, Harry! I didn't… I wasn't laughing at you. I promise."

"Then what were you laughing about?"

"The idea of me being so irresistable." She smiled self- deprecatingly.

Harry grinned sheepishly, and reached out to caress her cheek. "You are irresistable. Or at least you have your moments." He laughed as she tried, laughing herself, to smack him. Her expression sobered suddenly.

"Harry, what happened just now… it was just what you said, right?"

Harry looked at her, not understanding the question.

"You're not in love with me or anything, are you?"

"No, Hermione." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, steering her back towards the castle. "Don't worry, I'm not in love with you. Just in lust a little." He licked her ear wetly, causing her to laugh again.

"Good," said Hermione sincerely. "I don't need any more 'entanglements,' as Snape calls them, right now. Especially not with you. Besides, I don't want to lose my other best friend."

"Ron'll come around, Hermione. And you won't lose me. Especially not by letting me have my way with you, if you're ever so inclined. I have to admit," he said, and Hermione was certain his words were not all in jest, though he was regarding her with a mock leer, "it would make it more fun to sit through Potions, looking at Snape and knowing I nailed you first."

They made it to Gryffindor Tower just before curfew. As they entered the common room, Hermione whispered into Harry's ear.

"Go upstairs and have a good wank. I'd say you stand in dire need of it."

"You're no fun. Unless you'd care to come and make sure I do it right?"

"I think you need a more expert instructor. I'm sure Malfoy would help you if you asked nicely. Good night!"