Chapter Six

"All darkness shall be hid in his secret places: a fire not blown shall consume him." Job 20:26

Snape knocked on Hermione's door but there was no answer. "Miss Granger, may I come in?" he asked, his voice cold. No reply. "Miss Granger!" No reply. "I'm going to have to come in, so you've been warned," he finally said and undid the locking charm on the door. Being a Death Eater had its advantages sometimes.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a small object he didn't recognize. "Miss Granger, why didn't you open the door?" he began when he noticed she was shaking, pink in the cheeks and breathing strangely. "What is it?" he said harshly.

She looked at him with an unusual fright in her large, dark eyes. "Asthma," she panted. Her hands shook horribly. Snape went a shade paler. "You're going to Nurse Pomphrey," he ordered.

"It's. okay. Took. inhaler," she held up the strange object. "Needs. time to work."

Snape paced up and down the room. "What brought this on?" he snapped.

She frowned. "Usually exercise or stress. Must. be stress," she smiled weakly.

"How often does this happen?" he asked, his frown getting darker when her shaking did not decrease.

She couldn't answer straight away. "Not often. Hardly. ever."

"How long ago did you take that?" he asked, pointing to the inhaler.

"Half an hour," she replied, her fear increasing.

"Take more," he commanded, in clipped tones.

She looked at him helplessly but did as he said. He sat in a chair in the corner of the room and watched her closely as through she was a lab rat or an experiment. Her shaking got worse and her face pinker after the second dose. Snape's hands clenched as he watched with narrowed eyes. After 15 minutes or so, she was shaking less and the panting had nearly gone. "I feel like crap." Hermione declared at last. So did Snape. "Why did you come here?" she asked him.

"Er. Dumbledore told me to," Snape said awkwardly.

"Why?" she asked bluntly.

"Ummm. to find out if you were okay," Snape replied, fiddling with his cloak. Hermione stared with fascination of the beautiful, strong, slender hands. Apart from the fact they were blue white, they were exquisite hands for a man. She had often caught herself staring at them in class over the years.

"Obviously not," she said ironically, tearing her gaze away from his hands. Her hands still trembled slightly as she put her inhaler on the bedside table. Snape observed this, displeased at her condition.

"What's bothering you?" he asked coolly. It wasn't a tone that inspired confidences.

"Well. Let's see. My parents are dead, I have a guardian who hates me and now the whole school things I'm fucking aforesaid guardian." Hermione said sharply.

Snape's head snapped up and he stared at her with glittering, black, unreadable eyes. She stared right back, trying to control her body's slight trembling from the asthma. "What makes you think that?" Snape murmured, sounding more dangerous then when he hissed.

"Well. I know my parents are dead because Dumbledore told me so. I know you hate me because you've never made any secret of the fact. I know the school thinks I'm fucking you because my friends told me as such," she replied sarcastically.

"Will you stop saying that word?" Snape snarled suddenly.

"No! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Hermione yelled, her eyes narrowed.

"You have the mouth of a gutter snipe!" he said with icy disdain.

"Oh, not a Death Eater's whore?" she challenged, eyes gleaming. The gloves were off with a vengence now, she thought.

Two spots of red appeared in Snape's cheekbones. "How dare you!" he whispered, getting up suddenly and stalking over to loom ominously over her.

"Oh no! That tactic is not going to work anymore." Hermione bit out, and got up and stood on the bed glaring down at him. "No more looming over me!"

"Miss Granger, get down!" He commanded furiously.

"Make me, why don't you?" she said flippantly. "I'm not your student anymore."

"No but you are my ward. Now, as I told you - get down!" he said through clenched teeth.

"Nope. You just don't like people standing over you for once," she taunted. He turned around infuriated and Hermione hopped down expecting him to go back to his seat but he didn't, he turned around again only to find himself almost standing on top of her. As Hermione was small, not much more than 5'3" the top of her head only reached Snape's chest. He expected her to step away from him but she didn't, if anything she leaned closer and glared up at him ferociously. The very fact that she wasn't trying to get away from him stunned him so that he stood very still staring down at her, quite paralysed. Why wasn't she repulsed by him, he wondered dimly? The shock must have showed on his face because her face cleared and she asked, "what's wrong?"

He clenched his hands and said condescendingly, "nothing. I'm glad you've had the sense to get down. You shouldn't be doing that so soon after an asthma attack." He stalked back to his seat and sat down, glowering darkly at her and glad his cloak covered up his body's shameful reaction to her physical proximity. He crossed his long legs deliberately. "Now," he began stiffly, "the rumours around the school are rubbish as we both know. You'll be leaving in a few days. Don't worry about it."

She nodded, sitting down on the bed cross-legged and putting her small, sharp chin in one hand. She looked dejected. He never remembered seeing her look dejected before. She always looked confident - precociously so. Annoyingly so. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had the ridiculous urge to comfort her suddenly but didn't dare go over and sit near her. Especially not on a bed.

"Was that it?" She asked dully.

"Er. yes. I think so," he replied, fiddling with his gown again. She nodded again, not looking at him. He realized that he was being dismissed. "Do you need anything, Miss Granger?" He asked coldly, not moving.

She frowned for a moment as she thought. "No. I don't think so," she said flatly.

He got up. "Fine. I'll be on my way. Good night, Miss Granger," he said, with a nod.

How did he manage to make my name sound like an insult, she wondered? She didn't bother replying. She heard the door click as he went out.

"And as for my hating you Miss Granger, of course I don't. I never have," Hermione said sarcastically to the empty room.

* * *

Snape hurried back to his private dungeon rooms, his face hot. Had that girl just provoked an unmistakable sexual response in him? Why now, after so long? Why her, of all women? He cursed roundly under his breath. How the hell was he going to get through the next few months?

He stalked through to his private bathroom, stripped off and sank into the hot water in his obsidian tub. He scrubbed himself with some scentless soap and reflected that maybe an ice cold bath would have been more effective right at that moment. He groaned and sank under the water to wet his hair which he proceeded to scour with a shampoo that smelled of incense.

He sat there a long time, hoping his physically present problem would go away. It didn't. He sighed and got out, drying himself with a drying charm. He examined his body. It wasn't much really. Tall and lanky with lean muscles and not an ounce of fat. His bones were too prominent, even in his face. He had a small amount of fine, dark hair on his chest, and lower arms and legs but otherwise was quite smooth skinned and pale. Very pale. His skin was the unhealthy blue white of skimmed milk except for his face which had a sallow tinge.

Hurriedly he pulled on his black cotton pajama bottoms and went to find his bed. Tonight, he was going to be smart. He took a sleeping potion.