Chapter Fourteen: The Beast's Lair

He slammed the door roughly behind him and Hermione and Albus stood staring after it. Hermione had stood then, her feet feeling heavy on the plush carpet as she staggered to move.

Albus accompanied her to the door with a comforting hand on her shoulder before he placed it on the doorknob before them. He saw Hermione's pale face, and trembling lips and he tried to comfort the ailing girl.

"Don't let him scare you Hermione. His bark is truly worse than his bite."
Well it's his bark I'm afraid of. Hermione thought as looked to the aged face of Dumbledore, seeing the worry imprinted upon it, and she really had no choice but to lie...for both their sakes.

"He doesn't scare me."

"Keep up." Snape snarled as soon as Hermione had come up to him in the hall outside Albus' door. "Don't dawdle."

Hermione sighed and followed the billowing robes in front of her as he stalked down the hall on his long legs, his hair flipping out and back as she tried to keep his pace. Hermione was practically running to keep up with him, all the time scolding herself for even mentioning this idiotic plan. Why was she always out to prove something?

Soon they slowed as they reached the dungeons. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth from the cold stale air and looked up to his tall back. He had to be at least six foot one, and this was no surprise. He still could look down on her with a pompous glare, just as he had in first year. It seemed as the students grew older and taller their Professor's seemed less intimidating, more human. This was not the case with Severus Snape.

Hermione was stumbling alongside him, lacking in confidence and suddenly brooding about the entire travesty as Snape muttered on about babysitting in front of her. She hoped Snape would be a gentleman; Albus had him under closer inspection and supervision, but still. Snape wasn't exactly known for his manners.

The long disquiet ended as they both came face to face with a large door. It looked surprisingly identical to the door of his home, the one in which she saved his life in. Now, the tables had been turned and he had saved her life. This thought did not sit well with Hermione. She was surprised to see Snape pulling a long key from his cloak pocket, but in the end decided that him locking his doors was only normal.

Her mind drifted to the familiar first year speech, "They'll be no foolish wand waving and silly incantations in this class..." She noticed that he also had wards on the door and she shook her head in amused disbelief. The man was paranoid. He had every right to be she suspected, after what he'd been through and all.

He saw her eyeing the key and explained dramatically, rolling his dark eyes as he spoke. "You'll get one as well...after the ceremony."
Hermione nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. Seemed Snape was taking every opportunity to remind her that they may soon be married, and she resented the fact that he'd try to scare her like that.

How could she forget the ceremony? Not even if she wanted to. It was always there in the back of her mind, reminding her that her moments of childhood freedom were slowly coming to an end.
No festivities out with Ron or Harry, no staying up in the common room and playing pranks on Slytherins. (Okay, well, she was never the one to pull pranks but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy hearing about them.) She'd soon be married to the head of the house she despised...the irony was thick.

He was beside her, fumbling with the key a moment muttering to himself. She took this time to look at him, really look at him. He really was tall, her head just making it to his shoulders. His shoulder's lean, were broad and he held such a rigid stance that she felt she was permanently slouching and straightened up then.

Moving from his lean frame she looked to the pale hands that were messing about with the lock, the hands that she had stared at for a good part of six years. They seemed to be constantly moving, and she soon found herself gazing at them, curious as to how a man like Snape could have such lovely, tapered fingers especially in his field of study.

Soon she found the panic flutter in her stomach as she looked to his profile, worried that he'd catch her looking and yell at her for leering at him. But his beetle black eyes were intent on the lock, and soon the wand that was removing wards. His lips seemed in a permanent sneer or scowl, and when he spoke he barely moved them, as if he were too good to do even that. His nose she would refer to as aquiline, yes, that seemed to be a good description. Hooked was a little too vulgar, and bulbous wasn't fitting at all. It wasn't all that bad, gave him almost a regal look in her opinion, but she could see the taunting he must have suffered because of it.

His dark hair glossed by their natural oils hung limply at the sides of his face, mussed in parts and overall looking like a great bloody bother. Hermione wondered why he didn't just cut it all off, probably make his life easier. But on afterthought she came to the conclusion that he probably wore his hair like that to block out the sounds of whispered hatred around him as he passed, to cover the face that so many feared and to close him off from those who bothered to talk to him during meals.

The feeling that Hermione was staring to have towards her Professor was beginning to feel a lot like pity. Not sappy pity, more like a longing for him to smile once and a while. But why? He didn't seem too involved with even pretending to be kind to her, seeing her only as a nuisance, a know-it-all. How many times had he openly mocked her? How many times had she run off to the lavatory to cry because of his cruelty? Suddenly the pity she once felt was gone, replaced now with stone cold fear and raw anger.

The door opened as this emotion stirred within her, not even noticing it herself. She saw that he had barged right in, not even bothering to see her inside the dark suite. She saw some lights being turned on, and when the room felt a mite bit cheerier she tentatively stepped inside, the familiar anxiety of something foreign upon her. Something she didn't know, something she didn't recognize was something that a book reader like Hermione Granger despised. The unexpected was her true foe, for why would one bother planning everything just to have it spoiled by spontaneity? That was Harry and Ron's whole problem, not once did they ever think ahead.

The ground was black and white tile, very expected she mused as she prepared to take off her shoes and pad into the room with her knee high stockings. He saw her actions and immediately told her not to bother, - 'You're not going to be here long enough to bother with that' - and she had curtly nodded and scurried over to him.

He was standing in the middle of what she would call a foyer, if you could call a suite with four rooms and a hallway a foyer. He quickly informed her that there was no kitchen. - 'Why bother when you have house elves?'- (she assumed that smug bit was in reference to her repeated tries at S.P.E.W.)

They passed into the first room to their left, the bathroom; Snape opened the door wide enough for Hermione to see in. She peered in and marveled at the fact that the small bathroom was so thorough. It was of course, green and silver. Pompous git. It was forest green tiles on the floor, which actually looked quite smart. The silver bathtub lay near the right side of the bathroom, shining in all its glory. Two forest green towels of differing lengths hung on the shining silver rod nearby, which perfectly offset the silver sink, knobs and tap quite nicely. Hermione actually gaped, everything was so clean.

Why would it be dirty? The git probably never uses it.

As if reading her rude thoughts, Snape then he slammed the door in her face, smirking at the fact that Hermione jumped back a bit taken aback, not daring to glare at him.

"Keep up." he ordered over his shoulder, moving then to the study. Again he opened the door enough for Hermione to peer into. This time she stepped closer, involuntarily brushing her arm against his abdomen. It was hard. Both parties stepped back at the contact, looking decidedly uncomfortable with the exchange. Snape was scowling deeper than before and Hermione with goose bumps all over, flushed a light red and stared into the study, impressed with the color scheme for a change.

It had short gray carpeting, and in the middle against a wall was a large mahogany desk, just begging to be used. A lone quill and piece of parchment littered the desk and Hermione longed to step in for a closer inspection, it was then in the shift of the light that she noticed the hulking objects beside the desk.

Hermione suddenly felt her mouth go dry, her pulse picking up as she beheld on either sides of the desks, two large bookshelves stuffed to the brim with books. Hundreds upon hundreds of books. Antique and restored, large and small, thick and thin... The mere scent of their aged bindings were exciting her more than winning a million Quidditch games against Slytherin. She bit her lip from excitement; for once in this time of peril thinking something good may come of the marriage.

Snape probably had access to all sorts of books from the restricted section; suddenly she felt the dire need to relieve herself, which she assumed was accumulating after this sudden rush of excitement. She scanned the room further, to the left there was a large fireplace, and Hermione could easily imagine herself curling up in the soft looking black chair in front of it, reading a good chapter of Hogwarts; a History.

"Do you think..." Hermione said, her voice suddenly becoming husky as she marveled at the various volumes mere feet away. "That I could...read some of those?"

Snape gave her a once over, dark orbs glancing at her, as she looked wistfully to the wealth of knowledge mere inches away. An oily smile spread about his features as he cocked a merciless eyebrow and gave a breezy shrug.

"I doubt it."

Hermione could only nod, her mouth slightly slack as his voice sudden brought her back from the oblivion of books, right back to her spot a few meters away from her unfathomable Professor. She was about to ask him if there were any from the Restricted Section from the library when a bit off to the side a small section of the room was occupied by dramatic black curtains, hiding something. How curious... A secret passage perhaps? This thought plagued her, and she was about to question what they hid when he once again slammed the door with a scowl.

Hermione felt the pit in her stomach dropping, and fear suddenly overriding excitement in her urge to use the washroom. Not that she would, not here anyway. No, what lay within the next room had both she and Snape contemplative, not speaking but not needing to. The bedroom. The heart of any Wizarding home. Hermione held her breath, she had been expecting this one and at the same time hadn't. Soon the door was there, in front of them and waiting.

"This," he said dramatically, "Is the bedroom."

He hadn't announced what lay within either of the other rooms, and Hermione decided it was because of lack of attention to detail, boredom and indifference or, his bedroom was just all that interesting. She decided on the first and second option. Snape snuck one glance at the paling Hermione and suddenly pushed the door open, holding his own breath as she looked in. This was after all his sanctuary, he hadn't ever had a woman in it before, and Hermione Granger wasn't the one he had ever envisioned showcasing it to in the first place.

Hermione's own dark eyes widened as she viewed the room, not even daring to step past the thresh hold and into his domain. There was something about it that intimidated her almost as much as the man himself. He was still beside her, surely sneering at her as she gaped at the extravagant room. It was a rather modest room with a higher ceiling than most. It was decorated in what appeared to be dark green wallpaper with paint silver stripes, it could have looked gaudy but it didn't. A large Slytherin crest adorned a far wall, large and silver and...ugh...Slytherin.

Figures she thought bemused, The one thing I hate more than Snape himself. Bloody house pride.

Hermione knew that Snape was a proud man, and that things like recognition were important to him, (not that he'd ever admit it) and so his resplendent room's visual decadence didn't surprise her.

It was the bed that did that.

It was a large mahogany canopy bed; long billowing forest green curtains shimmered down four long poles at the corners of the bed frame with black trim. Beyond its silken transparency she saw the large king sized bed, covered in what appeared to be expensive silken sheets over a large duvet. The pillows were the same green with black trim, and Hermione couldn't help but admit that her sworn enemies colors were extremely sophisticated.

The real question was...why did Professor Snape have a bed like that?

Snape didn't entertain women, and if he did it was surely in the gaudy confines of sleazy wizarding hotels. Hermione may have been naive about some things, but she knew Snape was no saint in the boudoirs. Again her attention was directed to the bed, standing alone it was almost beckoning her with its seemingly silken covers and soft pillows. Suddenly a thought dawned on her, one so shocking that she was ashamed it hadn't occurred to her before and she felt the blood rushing to her ears.

Oh God...will he want me to sleep in it with him?

Her eyes almost bulged out of her eye sockets and she was suddenly very aware of the breathing on the top of her head, and she looked sidelong to Snape who stood with arms crossed, watching her watching him. She felt a small blush creep up on her cheeks, wanting to speak but not finding the most tactful wording.

"You'll be sleeping in a cot over there." Snape said, almost attesting to her theories on his reading minds. He pointed to a pathetic corner in the far end of the room and Hermione breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Still she was uneasy and forced herself to look at him in those eyes of his.

"Er...we'll be sleeping in the same room? I thought the Headmaster just said the same flat."

"If this charade goes forth." Snape's dark eyes narrowed and a scowl stripped across his face, darkening his features. "There are spies everywhere within the castle." his voice was almost a hiss and Hermione felt compelled not to speak. "Ones we don't even know about ourselves. If one was to happen along my private rooms one night and find my 'wife', and I use the term loosely," Hermione contained the urge to roll her eyes at this. "In a separate room - and in turn bed - our plan would be foiled and we would be at the unrelentless end of Voldemort's wand."

Hermione felt her muscles relax as he explained, he wasn't propositioning her. Of course not. How could she have even thought that in the first place? Snape? Sex? The mere thought made her want to break out into sporadic laughter. Soon her breath was relaxed, (well, as relaxed as one standing mere inches away from Professor Snape could be.) and nodding she suddenly turned, wanting to leave that confining room and its luring seduction.

They made their way back out into the living room where the fire was still going with vigor, and she couldn't help but want to go closer, she was freezing. Snape was about to tell her to sod off back to her own rooms when suddenly a head appeared in the flames.

Hermione noticed this at once and gasped and leapt back, almost knocking Snape down as he clutched her shoulders, and told her to calm down. Only there was more cursing involved.

Lucius Malfoy's face burned in the flames, an oily smile upon his thin lips.

"Why hello Severus...mudblood."

Snape's finger's dug into Hermione's arms as he silently told her to ignore the nickname. Hermione's face was flushed with humiliation, how much more would she have to suffer?

"The dark Lord asked that I check in on you Severus, and I'm sure will be pleasantly surprised to see you entertaining your little prize."

Hermione felt Snape's words through her back as his chest rumbled behind her when he spoke. The affect was both odd and slightly comforting, and she fought not to break away. She was petrified, and wanted nothing more than to leave.

Snape knew if she ran away not only would the charade be up, Lucius would be the first to go and tell the Dark Lord. He held her tightly to him, her arms in his palms as he stared into the glowing hearth.

"Yes well, I was bored this evening." Snape said darkly, as Hermione trembled in his grasp from anger or terror he couldn't fathom. He tried to look unconcerned, but it was hard when holding a student to keep her from running "Is that all?"

Lucius smirked as his eyes flicked between them both "Anxious are we Severus?"

Snape smirked back, feeling his stomach churn. "As always." He felt Hermione's trembling heighten a moment, and then slowly stop. At least she was trying.

"Strange...you always were the one in the back during our raids. I never thought you had much care for physical contact."

"It's merely an act to derive pleasure Lucius." Snape said darkly, trying not to grimace, still pinning Hermione to him and praying that she wouldn't believe what he said next. "Very rarely is it anything but that, all I care is that I'm satisfied."

"Well then," Lucius said darkly, a twisted smile upon his pale face. "I'll leave you to it."

With that the head had disappeared and Hermione had wrenched from Snape's grasp. She was choking on tears as she rushed to the door, blindly trying to do so through an onslaught of tears.

"Miss Granger." Snape said behind her, trying to be commanding as well as sympathetic. He hadn't wanted her to hear such things, but what was he to do? He saw she was frantically trying to leave as soon as possible and had made it to the door when he spoke again.

"Calm down."

She was sick to her stomach; she had just witnessed an altercation that was sure to spawn many others. How many more times would she have to witness Snape's horrid words? How much longer would she be a pawn just to be used and mocked?

"Miss Granger," he tried again darkly, growing agitated at her frantic state. She was sniffling and looking to him with wide brown eyes. It was then that he realized just how young and just how naive she really was. Save for the disastrous dance in fourth year, he had never seen her out with a boy. Not that he'd looked, but surely if Potter's sidekick had gotten a boyfriend, everyone and their dog would know.

"What I said before comes with the territory."

Hermione was shaking, wanting nothing more than to slap him for what he said, even though she knew he did it to save them. But how could she explain the terror and disgust that passed through her every time he spoke those words? The fear she felt as he got that sinister look upon his face? He spoke again, as if trying to appease to her uncertainty.

"I mean none of it."

"That's' just the thing..." Hermione choked as Snape stood a few feet away, watching her with calculating, hooded dark eyes. "...When you say it...I believe you...and it scares me."

She rushed out the door, slamming it behind her as she raced to her dormitory with a rapidly beating heart, all the time cursing the day she ever met Severus Snape.