Discaimer: I disclaim 'er work. (Ooh, bad pun city).
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has given me so many lovely reviews. You make me go all gooey. Here 'tis, finally, more smut. Hope you like it.
Chapter Fifteen Plans in action
The persistence in Hermione Granger to be unperturbed by the glares Severus Snape sent her way that morning at breakfast only fuelled the latter's anger toward her. Snape had, with determination, transferred his anger to the woman who had caused his frustration, and resolved to put his plan for revenge in place as soon as possible. As he had all the required ingredients for the potion, that could be as soon as he wished. And he wished it to be very soon indeed.
The matter was resolved with an argument between the two on Snape's way to his second class of the day. He rounded a corner to see Hermione bent over a second-year Ravenclaw student outside her classroom, her hand on the boy's forehead and her brow furrowed in concern. Snape raised a derisive eyebrow as he drew near. The student frequently sought to disappear from his own classes by means of faking an illness, and it appeared he was not above using the trick in other classes.
Hermione, looking up, caught his look and narrowed her eyes at him. Normally, Snape would have passed on- it was inappropriate to argue in front of students- but the look on Hermione's face and the way she tossed her head as she turned back to the student particularly annoyed him.
Carefully keeping his expression blank, he walked over to the pair.
'Are you in need of assistance, Miss Granger?' he asked, his tone all politeness.
Hermione looked up and glared at him over her student's head. He knew that failing to call her 'professor' would irk her.
'No thank you, Severus,' she answered in a tight tone. 'We are perfectly fine.' Snape continued to stand where he was, his head tilted and a slight frown of concern on his face until she was forced to continue, 'I was just about to send David to Madam Pomfrey.'
'I doubt that is necessary,' Snape said, with a sneer. Hermione sighed, and turned back to the student.
'David, please go to the infirmary and ask Madam Pomfrey for a headache potion. She will send you back as soon as you feel better, okay?' She gave the boy a pleasant smile and patted him on the shoulder. The smile dissolved as soon as the boy was out of sight.
'How dare you,' she began, advancing on Snape, 'interrupt when I am consulting with a student? That's completely unprofessional.'
'I hardly think so,' drawled Snape, crossing his arms. 'I was merely giving some advice, though such a thing would not have been necessary if you had paid more attention to your students.' Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, obviously waiting for some explanation. Snape raised an eyebrow. 'David Wenham is a hypochondriac and a truant. He frequently does his best to elude classes with such an act as the one he just performed for you.'
Hermione's lips formed a thin line of anger. 'David had a headache.'
'He did not, and his playacting of it was poor. I am surprised that even you fell for it.'
'He did have a headache, and I refuse to let you talk to me in this manner. Desperate students may fake illness to escape from your classes, Snape, but I don't torture children. I don't let them sit in my classes in pain.'
Snape sneered. 'No. You let them wander about wherever they wish. I am sure the headmaster would be pleased to know the wonderful way you keep track of your students.'
Hermione ran a hand through her hair. Snape tried not to notice the way her long, loose hair brushed against her neck. 'Well, I would have given him some of my own stock except-'
'Hah,' Snape scoffed. 'I doubt that the administration of a potion you brewed would be of much benefit.' He heard Hermione gasp, and realised the double meaning of his words- though he had meant it as a further comment on David Wenham's tactics, but Hermione's sensitivity about her potions skills could prove useful.
'I can brew any potion,' she said. There was an edge of anger in her voice, and with a glance back to the nearby classroom door, Hermione walked closer. Her voice was a hiss. 'My potions are just as good as yours, Snape, and you know it.'
An idea sparked in Snape's brain, and he pounced on the opportunity. He raised an eyebrow challengingly. 'I know no such thing.' He paused, meeting her stare, wanting her to back down. To his surprise, she held his gaze for a number of minutes with a challenging look of her own, and tilted her head, waiting for an explanation.
'You did... adequate work during your years as a student. I doubt there had been improvement.'
Hermione's cheeks grew red-hot. 'I was great at potions. I hardly ever put a foot wrong!'
Snape glanced at the ceiling. 'So it was your best grade?'
Hermione glared at him. 'You know it wasn't- but not through any fault of mine!'
Snape shrugged. 'I fail to see any proof that I am wrong.'
'I'll show you- any time you like!'
'Fine. I am currently in the process of re-stocking Madam Pomfrey's first-aid stores. I will be working in my potions room tonight: you can 'show me' your doubtful talent with potions, if you really feel it is required.' Snape knew he shouldn't sound as though he was plotting, but he also had to bait the hook. With calculated ease, he curled his lip into a sneer and ran his eyes derisively over her. He was pleased to note the flare of anger in her eyes.
'Fine,' Hermione said. Satisfied, Snape nodded coldly to her and swept off. It was not until he reached the door to his classroom that he allowed himself a cold smile. His plan was going very well indeed.
***
Hermione smoothed down the skirt of her robes outside the door of her old potions classroom. She felt like she was about to attend detention- and, in fact, that was exactly the way Snape's invitation had been issued earlier that afternoon. She remembered that tone of voice, and that cold look. She also remembered this moment, before she knocked on the door and waited for that cold, aristocratic tone giving her permission to enter.
Squaring her shoulders, Hermione raised her hand and knocked on the door, then without pause reached down and opened it. Her triumphant entrance was deflated somewhat when she saw that the room was entirely devoid of Snape.
Musingly, Hermione walked into the room. She hadn't really been in here since her NEWT potions final, although she had passed nearby. She smiled as she traced her fingers along the scarred desks, stained and burnt in places. The damage added a certain charm to the room, that mad, dungeon feeling. She had never told Harry or Ron, but she had actually liked it down here. The solitude, the solace of the stone dungeon walls appealed to her academic's heart. It was only their master that made the dungeons so unpleasant a place.
Hermione walked over to the desks at the back of the room, to the desks she and the other Gryffindors habitually sat. She peered under one of the desks- yes, there was still carved 'L.B. for S.F.'- a relic of the three months Lavender had mooned over Seamus in sixth year. And there- yes, she could still make out the bright yellow stain Neville had created while attempting a sleeping potion one morning. He had added too much flubberworm, causing the potion not only to melt the bottom of the cauldron and stain the desk, but also causing it to spurt up and stain the ceiling. The two fluorescent yellow stains had been perfectly aligned, and, strangely, in perfect proportion to each other.
Hermione was smiling as she turned around, but that smile quickly faded as she beheld her potions master, arms folded, in the far corner.
'You've made yourself at home, I see,' he said. His dry tone served to dispel the cobwebs of nostalgia that the room had managed to wrap around Hermione, and she stepped forward.
'Yes,' she answered nervously. Then, drawing a deep breath, she rallied some of the anger she had felt that afternoon. 'As you seem to need the help,' she added, meeting his cold stare.
Snape parted his hands and gave a slight bow, obviously inviting her to begin her work. 'I presume you can remember where things are,' he said, striding over to the raised platform upon which his desk and cauldron were placed. 'Madam Pomfrey requires some new Skel-E-Grow potion, if it is not too much beyond you.' He stood and looked at her for a moment, then added, 'Of course, you can always start by brewing tea, if such a simple potion is now beyond your reach.'
Hermione gave into the temptation to roll her eyes at his obvious antagonism, and walked over to where the spare cauldrons were kept. 'Why do you question me so, Snape?' she asked in a caustic tone. 'Do you doubt your own ability to teach?'
Snape merely grunted. Hermione sighed. It took too much energy to fight with Snape, especially when he was being obstinate.
Gathering the ingredients needed for the batch of potion, Hermione again asked herself what she was doing here. She had lost her temper, and now somehow had ended up doing Snape's menial tasks for him. Even she couldn't see how that would show him up for a fool. Well, she thought, as she placed the ingredients on a bench, I'm here now. The best I can do is get this done as quickly as possible, and leave. With that in mind, she set to work.
Soon, Hermione was fully occupied brewing the batch of Skel-E-Grow. She knew the potion well; she had taken a course in college studying medicinal potions, as a hobby. Brewing potions always relaxed her, and reviewing the results from a new potion always interested her more than most things. Snape had been right that first day, when he had lectured at them about the subtle art of potions. There was something marvellous about creating such enticing solutions using precise timing, prepared ingredients and a well-placed word here or there.
As the potion finished brewing and she set it to cool, Hermione noted a set of bottles sitting on a side bench, along with a packet of labels, and summoned them with her wand. Quickly, she set a ladle to filling the bottles with the fluid, and had soon labelled them and stoppered them.
Her task done, Hermione looked around, startled to notice that Snape was no longer in the room. Involved in her task, she hadn't even noticed his leaving. She also noticed for the first time a large cauldron bubbling away behind his desk. Walking a little closer to it, Hermione sniffed the air, trying to discern from its scent what the potion inside could be. She had no doubt that Snape's private experiments could be very interesting indeed- she had, after all, seen his name attached to many an article in Ars Alchemica over the years.
Hesitatingly, Hermione approached the cauldron. Snape probably wouldn't appreciate someone snooping around something he was experimenting upon, but then again, he wasn't here, and Hermione certainly wasn't afraid of displeasing him anyway.
Her brow furrowed in thought as she watched the potion in the pot bubble and boil. Her many years of studying potions had taught her the value of scent and appearance- a trained mind could, through these observations, sometimes pick out exactly what the ingredients of a potion were, a handy trick when working around dangerous substances. Hermione thought she could sense a hint of pepperimp, and maybe some elucidatius petals, and what was that strangely familiar perfume... She leant closer, and sniffed. Ah, camomile. One of her personal favourites, when it came to herbs and flowers, and well-noted for its relaxing qualities.
Hermione was just pondering what the outcome of such a solution would be when she sensed a presence behind her. Quickly, she turned around, not surprised to see that Snape had crept up on her. A little discomfited, Hermione stepped away from the cauldron. Snape raised an eyebrow at her.
'No, no, Miss Granger, as you seem so interested in my private workings perhaps you can tell me what it is you've discovered that is so fascinating?'
Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot and glanced away nervously from his penetrating glare. 'I was just...' she began. She cleared her throat, reminding herself that this was a man who could no longer give her detention. 'I have finished the healing solution,' she said haughtily. 'As you seemed so disinterested in your concoction, I decided to check on it.'
Snape's lips twitched into a cold smile. 'Well, please don't let me disturb you. You will, of course, want to taste it, to see if it is brewed correctly.' The offer seemed more of a threat, and probably was. Her eyes darted to the bubbling cauldron, and Snape seemed to pick up on her fear. He let out a dry laugh. 'Of course. You think I would rather poison a young colleague, having to go to the trouble of administering an antidote just to teach you a lesson. What an imaginative child you are.' With a sneer, he reached for the handle of the ladle that rested within the cauldron, and scooped some of the solution up. Stepping forward, he placed a hand under Hermione's chin, tilting her head up as he placed the ladle to her lips.
Hermione held his eyes for a second, then glanced away in defeat. As she took a sip of the potion, she tried to keep her thoughts on the flavours travelling over her palate and not on what she had seen in his eyes. Needing to distract herself, she pondered aloud, 'Camomile, of course, I smelt that before, so the solution is supposed to relax. A hint of candleleaf, for illumination. Elucidatius petals, but with something else... soaked in wytchwater essence?' She looked up, but Snape was not looking in her direction. She continued, nervously, 'Pepperimp, strawberry, honey...' Hermione's brow furrowed as she attempted to make sense of the range of ingredients.
'A new type of serenity solution,' Snape cut in, his eyes still focused on the cauldron. 'Though not fully brewed. It should have very little effect.'
'Oh,' Hermione said, deflated. This conversation was about as strange as any she had ever had. She shook her head. It was well past time she got out of here. 'Well, I've set the bottles of Skel-E-Grow on the bench ready for Madam Pomfrey,' she said, moving swiftly to the door. As a parting shot, she added, 'And next time you need help with your potions obligations, Professor Snape, please just ask.'
***
Snape watched Hermione exit the room out of the corner of his eye, stirring the potion all the while. He smiled to himself. After that little show, Hermione had certainly got a healthy dose of the dream potion, and after administering the dose to her with his own hands, he would now have the satisfaction of knowing that she would know exactly whom had dosed her. Revenge was all the sweeter if the person knew whom they had been duped by.
Of course, Hermione would have got a sufficient dose of the potion anyway, Snape had made certain of that. The bubbling cauldron of potion had in the end served admirably; the spell he had set over it to make it distribute the solution through the air, causing Hermione to unwittingly ingest it, had also sufficiently drawn her attention for hi to force her to sample it when he returned. It was a very satisfactory outcome indeed.
With a wave of his hand, Snape got rid of the fumes still clinging to the dungeon air. He didn't want to be subjected to the results of the potion himself. He simply hoped that Hermione would be too tired to ponder too much on the ingredients she had picked out of the potion. He had strengthened elements of the original solution, improving it considerably, and had added a sleeping draught such as he suspected had been administrated to him. He was avenging himself by making her serve her own punishment, but no-one had said he had to be fair about it.
Telling himself that now the punishment had been administered, he need not concern himself further in the matter, Snape began cleaning up the room. If musings about whom Hermione would dream about entered his head, he steadfastly ignored them.
***
Hermione looked at herself in the full-length mirror she had moved into her bedroom. The whimsical mood she had woken up with had returned with the solitude of the evening, and she had given in to it, temporarily, brushing her hair until it shone. She ran her hand down her side, feeling the silk of her night-dress run underneath her palm. It was a garment that her mother had given her on her eighteenth birthday, a whimsical creation to suit her mood. She had never noticed how nice the satin felt against her skin.
Feeling suddenly sleepy, Hermione put down her hairbrush and walked over to her bed. Her hand paused as it reached for the coverlet, and she looked up. Her curtains had been closed by the house-elves, but she felt like a little moonlight tonight. Quickly, she walked over to the window, opened them, and then jumped into bed, blowing out the candle in the process. Smiling at her fancies, she closed her eyes and was quickly asleep.
It was a few hours later that she awoke, blinking her eyes fuzzily in the moonlight that stained her pillow. Blearily, she rubbed them, wondering what had caused her to awaken. Years of living in Hogwarts had changed her sleeping habits, preparing her for fairly regular interruptions to her sleep. If she had awoken, it was for a reason.
Muzzily, she looked around the room. It was difficult to see, imprisoned as she was in the moonlight shining at the casement. There- a shadow that should not have been, in the corner. She sat up and leant forward, trying to force her eyes to adjust quickly to the darkness. As she made out the figure, her eyes widened.
'Professor Snape?' she asked, pulling the sheet up over her breasts. There was something distinctly unsettling about this situation. 'What are you doing here? What's wrong?'
The figure stepped forward, and Hermione could now make out the features of his pale face. 'What are you doing here?' she repeated.
'Child,' he said softly, walking to the side of the bed. His body blotted out the light coming from the window, and Hermione shivered. He leant down and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. This is insane, Hermione thought, even as she reacted to his touch. Her eye caught sight of a telltale stain peeking out from under his sleeve, and she grapsed hold of his hand.
'You're cut,' she said, pushing back the sleeve to search for the wound. Snape's other hand closed over her own.
'A graze merely,' he said in stern tones. Hermione shook her head.
'No. You should have this treated. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey-'
'No.' Snape's answer descended like stone. 'It was not Poppy Pomfrey I wished to disturb tonight.'
Hermione pushed any interpretation of that last sentence out of her mind and stood up, still holding his wounded hand. 'Then at least let me see to it,' she said, leading him over to her dressing table and pulling out some gauze. Snape patiently waited as she cut a strip of the dressing off and fastened it to the cut, along with some paste to heal the wound.
'Finished?' Snape asked. The lack of gratitude in his tone irked Hermione, but she had no time to contemplate it as she nodded her head. Immediately, she felt his hands clasp around her forearms and was propelled backward against the wall. She raised her startled eyes to his as she felt his body press against hers.
'Good,' he said, before dipping his head. Hermione gasped in shock as she felt his lips attacking her neck.
'Professor- oh.' Oh dear, she thought as she felt the stubble of his chin rasp against her neck. Her senses were overloaded. All she knew was the feel of his hot hands branding the skin of her arms, his body imprisoning hers, and his lips and -oh yes- his tongue devouring her neck. So this is what it feels like, a distracted part of her brain pondered.
Hermione clamped her teeth together as Snape's hands moved from her arms, sliding down the sides of her body and coming to rest on her hips. He wasn't being forceful, merely leaning against her and drugging her with his kisses. His lips had now moved to her collarbone, adding to the increasing list of sensations overpowering her. Hermione savoured the heat she could feel emanating from his body.
'Oh,' she gasped again as his hand slid up her ribcage and rested below her breast. Unconsciously she arched her back, knowing only she wanted more contact, more...
Suddenly, his heat was gone, and Hermione opened her eyes in surprise. The pause as he moved away from her gave her time to realise that she wanted him to continue with this, to keep seducing her with his lips and hands. The thought flitted through her mind that perhaps this wasn't Snape, wasn't Snape guided by his own actions, but she pushed it aside. The Snape she knew wouldn't be easily overcome, and besides, what could be gained from sending him to her bedchamber? No, the Snape she knew would decide on a course of action and pursue it. The thought made her shiver.
Just as she was about to protest at his retreat, he reached for her, scooping her up and walking over to the bed. Gently he placed her upon it and lay on top of her, making Hermione sigh with pleasure.
His lips renewed their assalt on her neck, working their way down her chest and nibbling at the skin above the edge of her nightdress. Lazily, he leant on one elbow and brought his hand up over her body to tug at the ribbon holding the top of the gown together. Hermione held her breath as the bow came undone, and Snape trailed a finger down the path between her breasts. She gasped as he leant forward and placed a kiss there, moving his hand lower to massage her belly.
Again, he pulled away, and Hermione wanted to cry out in disappointment. She looked up into his eyes, and saw the wicked smile lying there.
'Undress me,' he commanded, sitting up.
Nervously, Hermione sat up and reached for the buttons of his robes. So many buttons, she thought as her shaking fingers fumbled with the fastenings. Eventually, she was able to slide the black robes from his shoulders. She unfastened the buttons of his shirt, marvelling at the sensations of running her hand over his hot chest. Unable to resist, she leant forward to kiss his chest, and felt his hand stroke her cheek. Quickly, she pulled the shirt free from his trousers and freed him from it.
She looked up to see him looming over her, and shivered in anticipation. How could she have not admitted to herself before how amazingly attrative he was? The sight of his white skin made her breathing shallow. Her head swum with the sensations he provoked in her.
Her eyes travelled down to the waistband of his trousers, and she hesitated. She looked up at his chuckle.
'Child,' he chided, an evil smile tugging at his lips.
'I'm- I'm not,' Hermione whispered uncertainly. As much as she would like to argue, there were some areas in which she was as little schooled as a child.
'I don't mind,' he whispered back, leaning over her once more. His hands closed around hers and he tugged her arms up over her head as he settled his body atop hers. Hermione closed her eyes as she savoured the feeling of it. His lips brushed against her ear and he nibbled at the sensitive skin behind it.
'I think, however, that you are a little overdressed,' he growled. He brought one of her hands down and gently slid the strap of her nightdress down her arm. Hermione shivered; partly at the sudden cold on her breast, partly in nervousness. She hadn't been naked in front of anyone since she was a little girl. Would he be pleased with her?
As though sensing her uncertainty, Snape smiled down at her.
'Tut, tut, child,' he said in a low tone. 'Can't you tell that I like it?' With that, his hand closed over her breast, moulding it with his hand. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. She hadn't known how much she was yearning for that contact until he performed it. She felt his knee nudging her legs apart, and felt him come to rest with one of her legs positioned in between his. She bit her lip as she felt his erection press against her hip, felt the heat there.
He moved his hips against hers, smiling down at her reaction. 'Can you really doubt your effect on me?' he asked, and Hermione shook her head. Seeking more of that wonderful friction, she arched her hips against his, and heard him chuckle.
'Patience,' he whispered in her ear. He brought her other hand down and slid the remaining strap off her shoulder. Hermione watched wonderingly as he slid her nightgown down to her waist and his gaze focused on her bare breasts. The desire she saw in his eyes made her hunger even stronger.
Snape leant down and pressed kisses down the line between her breasts, darting nibbles as light as a butterfly's kiss along her ribcage. Hermione wriggled. She had never known how frustrating getting only part of what you wanted could be. She arched her back, trying to edge him closer to her breasts, and he chuckled again. His hands tightened on her wrists.
Hermione felt Snape's other leg nudge between hers, sighing at the feel of his trouser material rubbing against her sensitive inner thighs. Swiftly, he released her hands and leant against her, pressing his bare chest to hers. Hermione gasped at the dual sensation of his chest on her breasts and the feel of his erection pressed up against her crotch. Leaning on his elbows to watch her, Snape began moving his hips against her, seeming to drink up the pleasures reflected on her face. Unconsciously, Hermione sought to increase the sensation by wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling herself up to him. She was pleased to hear Snape groan, and felt him thrust himself at her harder. She wriggled beneath him, closing her eyes as she reached for... something. She didn't know what was happening, she only knew she didn't want him to stop.
She felt Snape's hands grasp her hips, reaching down to cup her buttocks and press her harder against him. His lips returned to her neck, his teeth and tongue attacking the skin there. Desperately, Hermione clutched at his back.
'Please,' she breathed, trying to push him back so that she could get at his trousers. All conscious thought had ceased; she only knew that if he wasn't inside her in a few seconds, she would implode. 'Please- I want-'
Snape chuckled down at her. 'Good girl,' he said, reaching for the button at his waistband. Satisfied that soon she would have the pleasure of him inside her, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to pull him down.
'Kiss me,' she commanded, tugging him towards her. She closed her eyes as his mouth descended to hers-
And woke up with an abruptness that took her breath away.
'What?' Hermione mumbled, shielding her eyes from the sun seeping in from the window. She blinked in confusion. How did it get light so quickly?
Puzzled, she sat up, her head spinning from the remaining sensation. A quick glance around the room confirmed what her brain had been trying to tell her since she had awoken.
It had been a dream.
Hermione buried her face in her hands. A thousand thoughts swamped her mind, not least of which was the fact that her silk nightdress was in a puddle around her bare waist and her neck felt sore.
'Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!' she screamed, and threw back the covers.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has given me so many lovely reviews. You make me go all gooey. Here 'tis, finally, more smut. Hope you like it.
Chapter Fifteen Plans in action
The persistence in Hermione Granger to be unperturbed by the glares Severus Snape sent her way that morning at breakfast only fuelled the latter's anger toward her. Snape had, with determination, transferred his anger to the woman who had caused his frustration, and resolved to put his plan for revenge in place as soon as possible. As he had all the required ingredients for the potion, that could be as soon as he wished. And he wished it to be very soon indeed.
The matter was resolved with an argument between the two on Snape's way to his second class of the day. He rounded a corner to see Hermione bent over a second-year Ravenclaw student outside her classroom, her hand on the boy's forehead and her brow furrowed in concern. Snape raised a derisive eyebrow as he drew near. The student frequently sought to disappear from his own classes by means of faking an illness, and it appeared he was not above using the trick in other classes.
Hermione, looking up, caught his look and narrowed her eyes at him. Normally, Snape would have passed on- it was inappropriate to argue in front of students- but the look on Hermione's face and the way she tossed her head as she turned back to the student particularly annoyed him.
Carefully keeping his expression blank, he walked over to the pair.
'Are you in need of assistance, Miss Granger?' he asked, his tone all politeness.
Hermione looked up and glared at him over her student's head. He knew that failing to call her 'professor' would irk her.
'No thank you, Severus,' she answered in a tight tone. 'We are perfectly fine.' Snape continued to stand where he was, his head tilted and a slight frown of concern on his face until she was forced to continue, 'I was just about to send David to Madam Pomfrey.'
'I doubt that is necessary,' Snape said, with a sneer. Hermione sighed, and turned back to the student.
'David, please go to the infirmary and ask Madam Pomfrey for a headache potion. She will send you back as soon as you feel better, okay?' She gave the boy a pleasant smile and patted him on the shoulder. The smile dissolved as soon as the boy was out of sight.
'How dare you,' she began, advancing on Snape, 'interrupt when I am consulting with a student? That's completely unprofessional.'
'I hardly think so,' drawled Snape, crossing his arms. 'I was merely giving some advice, though such a thing would not have been necessary if you had paid more attention to your students.' Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, obviously waiting for some explanation. Snape raised an eyebrow. 'David Wenham is a hypochondriac and a truant. He frequently does his best to elude classes with such an act as the one he just performed for you.'
Hermione's lips formed a thin line of anger. 'David had a headache.'
'He did not, and his playacting of it was poor. I am surprised that even you fell for it.'
'He did have a headache, and I refuse to let you talk to me in this manner. Desperate students may fake illness to escape from your classes, Snape, but I don't torture children. I don't let them sit in my classes in pain.'
Snape sneered. 'No. You let them wander about wherever they wish. I am sure the headmaster would be pleased to know the wonderful way you keep track of your students.'
Hermione ran a hand through her hair. Snape tried not to notice the way her long, loose hair brushed against her neck. 'Well, I would have given him some of my own stock except-'
'Hah,' Snape scoffed. 'I doubt that the administration of a potion you brewed would be of much benefit.' He heard Hermione gasp, and realised the double meaning of his words- though he had meant it as a further comment on David Wenham's tactics, but Hermione's sensitivity about her potions skills could prove useful.
'I can brew any potion,' she said. There was an edge of anger in her voice, and with a glance back to the nearby classroom door, Hermione walked closer. Her voice was a hiss. 'My potions are just as good as yours, Snape, and you know it.'
An idea sparked in Snape's brain, and he pounced on the opportunity. He raised an eyebrow challengingly. 'I know no such thing.' He paused, meeting her stare, wanting her to back down. To his surprise, she held his gaze for a number of minutes with a challenging look of her own, and tilted her head, waiting for an explanation.
'You did... adequate work during your years as a student. I doubt there had been improvement.'
Hermione's cheeks grew red-hot. 'I was great at potions. I hardly ever put a foot wrong!'
Snape glanced at the ceiling. 'So it was your best grade?'
Hermione glared at him. 'You know it wasn't- but not through any fault of mine!'
Snape shrugged. 'I fail to see any proof that I am wrong.'
'I'll show you- any time you like!'
'Fine. I am currently in the process of re-stocking Madam Pomfrey's first-aid stores. I will be working in my potions room tonight: you can 'show me' your doubtful talent with potions, if you really feel it is required.' Snape knew he shouldn't sound as though he was plotting, but he also had to bait the hook. With calculated ease, he curled his lip into a sneer and ran his eyes derisively over her. He was pleased to note the flare of anger in her eyes.
'Fine,' Hermione said. Satisfied, Snape nodded coldly to her and swept off. It was not until he reached the door to his classroom that he allowed himself a cold smile. His plan was going very well indeed.
***
Hermione smoothed down the skirt of her robes outside the door of her old potions classroom. She felt like she was about to attend detention- and, in fact, that was exactly the way Snape's invitation had been issued earlier that afternoon. She remembered that tone of voice, and that cold look. She also remembered this moment, before she knocked on the door and waited for that cold, aristocratic tone giving her permission to enter.
Squaring her shoulders, Hermione raised her hand and knocked on the door, then without pause reached down and opened it. Her triumphant entrance was deflated somewhat when she saw that the room was entirely devoid of Snape.
Musingly, Hermione walked into the room. She hadn't really been in here since her NEWT potions final, although she had passed nearby. She smiled as she traced her fingers along the scarred desks, stained and burnt in places. The damage added a certain charm to the room, that mad, dungeon feeling. She had never told Harry or Ron, but she had actually liked it down here. The solitude, the solace of the stone dungeon walls appealed to her academic's heart. It was only their master that made the dungeons so unpleasant a place.
Hermione walked over to the desks at the back of the room, to the desks she and the other Gryffindors habitually sat. She peered under one of the desks- yes, there was still carved 'L.B. for S.F.'- a relic of the three months Lavender had mooned over Seamus in sixth year. And there- yes, she could still make out the bright yellow stain Neville had created while attempting a sleeping potion one morning. He had added too much flubberworm, causing the potion not only to melt the bottom of the cauldron and stain the desk, but also causing it to spurt up and stain the ceiling. The two fluorescent yellow stains had been perfectly aligned, and, strangely, in perfect proportion to each other.
Hermione was smiling as she turned around, but that smile quickly faded as she beheld her potions master, arms folded, in the far corner.
'You've made yourself at home, I see,' he said. His dry tone served to dispel the cobwebs of nostalgia that the room had managed to wrap around Hermione, and she stepped forward.
'Yes,' she answered nervously. Then, drawing a deep breath, she rallied some of the anger she had felt that afternoon. 'As you seem to need the help,' she added, meeting his cold stare.
Snape parted his hands and gave a slight bow, obviously inviting her to begin her work. 'I presume you can remember where things are,' he said, striding over to the raised platform upon which his desk and cauldron were placed. 'Madam Pomfrey requires some new Skel-E-Grow potion, if it is not too much beyond you.' He stood and looked at her for a moment, then added, 'Of course, you can always start by brewing tea, if such a simple potion is now beyond your reach.'
Hermione gave into the temptation to roll her eyes at his obvious antagonism, and walked over to where the spare cauldrons were kept. 'Why do you question me so, Snape?' she asked in a caustic tone. 'Do you doubt your own ability to teach?'
Snape merely grunted. Hermione sighed. It took too much energy to fight with Snape, especially when he was being obstinate.
Gathering the ingredients needed for the batch of potion, Hermione again asked herself what she was doing here. She had lost her temper, and now somehow had ended up doing Snape's menial tasks for him. Even she couldn't see how that would show him up for a fool. Well, she thought, as she placed the ingredients on a bench, I'm here now. The best I can do is get this done as quickly as possible, and leave. With that in mind, she set to work.
Soon, Hermione was fully occupied brewing the batch of Skel-E-Grow. She knew the potion well; she had taken a course in college studying medicinal potions, as a hobby. Brewing potions always relaxed her, and reviewing the results from a new potion always interested her more than most things. Snape had been right that first day, when he had lectured at them about the subtle art of potions. There was something marvellous about creating such enticing solutions using precise timing, prepared ingredients and a well-placed word here or there.
As the potion finished brewing and she set it to cool, Hermione noted a set of bottles sitting on a side bench, along with a packet of labels, and summoned them with her wand. Quickly, she set a ladle to filling the bottles with the fluid, and had soon labelled them and stoppered them.
Her task done, Hermione looked around, startled to notice that Snape was no longer in the room. Involved in her task, she hadn't even noticed his leaving. She also noticed for the first time a large cauldron bubbling away behind his desk. Walking a little closer to it, Hermione sniffed the air, trying to discern from its scent what the potion inside could be. She had no doubt that Snape's private experiments could be very interesting indeed- she had, after all, seen his name attached to many an article in Ars Alchemica over the years.
Hesitatingly, Hermione approached the cauldron. Snape probably wouldn't appreciate someone snooping around something he was experimenting upon, but then again, he wasn't here, and Hermione certainly wasn't afraid of displeasing him anyway.
Her brow furrowed in thought as she watched the potion in the pot bubble and boil. Her many years of studying potions had taught her the value of scent and appearance- a trained mind could, through these observations, sometimes pick out exactly what the ingredients of a potion were, a handy trick when working around dangerous substances. Hermione thought she could sense a hint of pepperimp, and maybe some elucidatius petals, and what was that strangely familiar perfume... She leant closer, and sniffed. Ah, camomile. One of her personal favourites, when it came to herbs and flowers, and well-noted for its relaxing qualities.
Hermione was just pondering what the outcome of such a solution would be when she sensed a presence behind her. Quickly, she turned around, not surprised to see that Snape had crept up on her. A little discomfited, Hermione stepped away from the cauldron. Snape raised an eyebrow at her.
'No, no, Miss Granger, as you seem so interested in my private workings perhaps you can tell me what it is you've discovered that is so fascinating?'
Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot and glanced away nervously from his penetrating glare. 'I was just...' she began. She cleared her throat, reminding herself that this was a man who could no longer give her detention. 'I have finished the healing solution,' she said haughtily. 'As you seemed so disinterested in your concoction, I decided to check on it.'
Snape's lips twitched into a cold smile. 'Well, please don't let me disturb you. You will, of course, want to taste it, to see if it is brewed correctly.' The offer seemed more of a threat, and probably was. Her eyes darted to the bubbling cauldron, and Snape seemed to pick up on her fear. He let out a dry laugh. 'Of course. You think I would rather poison a young colleague, having to go to the trouble of administering an antidote just to teach you a lesson. What an imaginative child you are.' With a sneer, he reached for the handle of the ladle that rested within the cauldron, and scooped some of the solution up. Stepping forward, he placed a hand under Hermione's chin, tilting her head up as he placed the ladle to her lips.
Hermione held his eyes for a second, then glanced away in defeat. As she took a sip of the potion, she tried to keep her thoughts on the flavours travelling over her palate and not on what she had seen in his eyes. Needing to distract herself, she pondered aloud, 'Camomile, of course, I smelt that before, so the solution is supposed to relax. A hint of candleleaf, for illumination. Elucidatius petals, but with something else... soaked in wytchwater essence?' She looked up, but Snape was not looking in her direction. She continued, nervously, 'Pepperimp, strawberry, honey...' Hermione's brow furrowed as she attempted to make sense of the range of ingredients.
'A new type of serenity solution,' Snape cut in, his eyes still focused on the cauldron. 'Though not fully brewed. It should have very little effect.'
'Oh,' Hermione said, deflated. This conversation was about as strange as any she had ever had. She shook her head. It was well past time she got out of here. 'Well, I've set the bottles of Skel-E-Grow on the bench ready for Madam Pomfrey,' she said, moving swiftly to the door. As a parting shot, she added, 'And next time you need help with your potions obligations, Professor Snape, please just ask.'
***
Snape watched Hermione exit the room out of the corner of his eye, stirring the potion all the while. He smiled to himself. After that little show, Hermione had certainly got a healthy dose of the dream potion, and after administering the dose to her with his own hands, he would now have the satisfaction of knowing that she would know exactly whom had dosed her. Revenge was all the sweeter if the person knew whom they had been duped by.
Of course, Hermione would have got a sufficient dose of the potion anyway, Snape had made certain of that. The bubbling cauldron of potion had in the end served admirably; the spell he had set over it to make it distribute the solution through the air, causing Hermione to unwittingly ingest it, had also sufficiently drawn her attention for hi to force her to sample it when he returned. It was a very satisfactory outcome indeed.
With a wave of his hand, Snape got rid of the fumes still clinging to the dungeon air. He didn't want to be subjected to the results of the potion himself. He simply hoped that Hermione would be too tired to ponder too much on the ingredients she had picked out of the potion. He had strengthened elements of the original solution, improving it considerably, and had added a sleeping draught such as he suspected had been administrated to him. He was avenging himself by making her serve her own punishment, but no-one had said he had to be fair about it.
Telling himself that now the punishment had been administered, he need not concern himself further in the matter, Snape began cleaning up the room. If musings about whom Hermione would dream about entered his head, he steadfastly ignored them.
***
Hermione looked at herself in the full-length mirror she had moved into her bedroom. The whimsical mood she had woken up with had returned with the solitude of the evening, and she had given in to it, temporarily, brushing her hair until it shone. She ran her hand down her side, feeling the silk of her night-dress run underneath her palm. It was a garment that her mother had given her on her eighteenth birthday, a whimsical creation to suit her mood. She had never noticed how nice the satin felt against her skin.
Feeling suddenly sleepy, Hermione put down her hairbrush and walked over to her bed. Her hand paused as it reached for the coverlet, and she looked up. Her curtains had been closed by the house-elves, but she felt like a little moonlight tonight. Quickly, she walked over to the window, opened them, and then jumped into bed, blowing out the candle in the process. Smiling at her fancies, she closed her eyes and was quickly asleep.
It was a few hours later that she awoke, blinking her eyes fuzzily in the moonlight that stained her pillow. Blearily, she rubbed them, wondering what had caused her to awaken. Years of living in Hogwarts had changed her sleeping habits, preparing her for fairly regular interruptions to her sleep. If she had awoken, it was for a reason.
Muzzily, she looked around the room. It was difficult to see, imprisoned as she was in the moonlight shining at the casement. There- a shadow that should not have been, in the corner. She sat up and leant forward, trying to force her eyes to adjust quickly to the darkness. As she made out the figure, her eyes widened.
'Professor Snape?' she asked, pulling the sheet up over her breasts. There was something distinctly unsettling about this situation. 'What are you doing here? What's wrong?'
The figure stepped forward, and Hermione could now make out the features of his pale face. 'What are you doing here?' she repeated.
'Child,' he said softly, walking to the side of the bed. His body blotted out the light coming from the window, and Hermione shivered. He leant down and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. This is insane, Hermione thought, even as she reacted to his touch. Her eye caught sight of a telltale stain peeking out from under his sleeve, and she grapsed hold of his hand.
'You're cut,' she said, pushing back the sleeve to search for the wound. Snape's other hand closed over her own.
'A graze merely,' he said in stern tones. Hermione shook her head.
'No. You should have this treated. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey-'
'No.' Snape's answer descended like stone. 'It was not Poppy Pomfrey I wished to disturb tonight.'
Hermione pushed any interpretation of that last sentence out of her mind and stood up, still holding his wounded hand. 'Then at least let me see to it,' she said, leading him over to her dressing table and pulling out some gauze. Snape patiently waited as she cut a strip of the dressing off and fastened it to the cut, along with some paste to heal the wound.
'Finished?' Snape asked. The lack of gratitude in his tone irked Hermione, but she had no time to contemplate it as she nodded her head. Immediately, she felt his hands clasp around her forearms and was propelled backward against the wall. She raised her startled eyes to his as she felt his body press against hers.
'Good,' he said, before dipping his head. Hermione gasped in shock as she felt his lips attacking her neck.
'Professor- oh.' Oh dear, she thought as she felt the stubble of his chin rasp against her neck. Her senses were overloaded. All she knew was the feel of his hot hands branding the skin of her arms, his body imprisoning hers, and his lips and -oh yes- his tongue devouring her neck. So this is what it feels like, a distracted part of her brain pondered.
Hermione clamped her teeth together as Snape's hands moved from her arms, sliding down the sides of her body and coming to rest on her hips. He wasn't being forceful, merely leaning against her and drugging her with his kisses. His lips had now moved to her collarbone, adding to the increasing list of sensations overpowering her. Hermione savoured the heat she could feel emanating from his body.
'Oh,' she gasped again as his hand slid up her ribcage and rested below her breast. Unconsciously she arched her back, knowing only she wanted more contact, more...
Suddenly, his heat was gone, and Hermione opened her eyes in surprise. The pause as he moved away from her gave her time to realise that she wanted him to continue with this, to keep seducing her with his lips and hands. The thought flitted through her mind that perhaps this wasn't Snape, wasn't Snape guided by his own actions, but she pushed it aside. The Snape she knew wouldn't be easily overcome, and besides, what could be gained from sending him to her bedchamber? No, the Snape she knew would decide on a course of action and pursue it. The thought made her shiver.
Just as she was about to protest at his retreat, he reached for her, scooping her up and walking over to the bed. Gently he placed her upon it and lay on top of her, making Hermione sigh with pleasure.
His lips renewed their assalt on her neck, working their way down her chest and nibbling at the skin above the edge of her nightdress. Lazily, he leant on one elbow and brought his hand up over her body to tug at the ribbon holding the top of the gown together. Hermione held her breath as the bow came undone, and Snape trailed a finger down the path between her breasts. She gasped as he leant forward and placed a kiss there, moving his hand lower to massage her belly.
Again, he pulled away, and Hermione wanted to cry out in disappointment. She looked up into his eyes, and saw the wicked smile lying there.
'Undress me,' he commanded, sitting up.
Nervously, Hermione sat up and reached for the buttons of his robes. So many buttons, she thought as her shaking fingers fumbled with the fastenings. Eventually, she was able to slide the black robes from his shoulders. She unfastened the buttons of his shirt, marvelling at the sensations of running her hand over his hot chest. Unable to resist, she leant forward to kiss his chest, and felt his hand stroke her cheek. Quickly, she pulled the shirt free from his trousers and freed him from it.
She looked up to see him looming over her, and shivered in anticipation. How could she have not admitted to herself before how amazingly attrative he was? The sight of his white skin made her breathing shallow. Her head swum with the sensations he provoked in her.
Her eyes travelled down to the waistband of his trousers, and she hesitated. She looked up at his chuckle.
'Child,' he chided, an evil smile tugging at his lips.
'I'm- I'm not,' Hermione whispered uncertainly. As much as she would like to argue, there were some areas in which she was as little schooled as a child.
'I don't mind,' he whispered back, leaning over her once more. His hands closed around hers and he tugged her arms up over her head as he settled his body atop hers. Hermione closed her eyes as she savoured the feeling of it. His lips brushed against her ear and he nibbled at the sensitive skin behind it.
'I think, however, that you are a little overdressed,' he growled. He brought one of her hands down and gently slid the strap of her nightdress down her arm. Hermione shivered; partly at the sudden cold on her breast, partly in nervousness. She hadn't been naked in front of anyone since she was a little girl. Would he be pleased with her?
As though sensing her uncertainty, Snape smiled down at her.
'Tut, tut, child,' he said in a low tone. 'Can't you tell that I like it?' With that, his hand closed over her breast, moulding it with his hand. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. She hadn't known how much she was yearning for that contact until he performed it. She felt his knee nudging her legs apart, and felt him come to rest with one of her legs positioned in between his. She bit her lip as she felt his erection press against her hip, felt the heat there.
He moved his hips against hers, smiling down at her reaction. 'Can you really doubt your effect on me?' he asked, and Hermione shook her head. Seeking more of that wonderful friction, she arched her hips against his, and heard him chuckle.
'Patience,' he whispered in her ear. He brought her other hand down and slid the remaining strap off her shoulder. Hermione watched wonderingly as he slid her nightgown down to her waist and his gaze focused on her bare breasts. The desire she saw in his eyes made her hunger even stronger.
Snape leant down and pressed kisses down the line between her breasts, darting nibbles as light as a butterfly's kiss along her ribcage. Hermione wriggled. She had never known how frustrating getting only part of what you wanted could be. She arched her back, trying to edge him closer to her breasts, and he chuckled again. His hands tightened on her wrists.
Hermione felt Snape's other leg nudge between hers, sighing at the feel of his trouser material rubbing against her sensitive inner thighs. Swiftly, he released her hands and leant against her, pressing his bare chest to hers. Hermione gasped at the dual sensation of his chest on her breasts and the feel of his erection pressed up against her crotch. Leaning on his elbows to watch her, Snape began moving his hips against her, seeming to drink up the pleasures reflected on her face. Unconsciously, Hermione sought to increase the sensation by wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling herself up to him. She was pleased to hear Snape groan, and felt him thrust himself at her harder. She wriggled beneath him, closing her eyes as she reached for... something. She didn't know what was happening, she only knew she didn't want him to stop.
She felt Snape's hands grasp her hips, reaching down to cup her buttocks and press her harder against him. His lips returned to her neck, his teeth and tongue attacking the skin there. Desperately, Hermione clutched at his back.
'Please,' she breathed, trying to push him back so that she could get at his trousers. All conscious thought had ceased; she only knew that if he wasn't inside her in a few seconds, she would implode. 'Please- I want-'
Snape chuckled down at her. 'Good girl,' he said, reaching for the button at his waistband. Satisfied that soon she would have the pleasure of him inside her, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to pull him down.
'Kiss me,' she commanded, tugging him towards her. She closed her eyes as his mouth descended to hers-
And woke up with an abruptness that took her breath away.
'What?' Hermione mumbled, shielding her eyes from the sun seeping in from the window. She blinked in confusion. How did it get light so quickly?
Puzzled, she sat up, her head spinning from the remaining sensation. A quick glance around the room confirmed what her brain had been trying to tell her since she had awoken.
It had been a dream.
Hermione buried her face in her hands. A thousand thoughts swamped her mind, not least of which was the fact that her silk nightdress was in a puddle around her bare waist and her neck felt sore.
'Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!' she screamed, and threw back the covers.