Cold, hard stones were pressing upon the back of her head, causing yet another migraine to stab at her without mercy. She groaned, running her tongue over her parched lips as she squirmed about on the uncomfortable floor. She turned her head to her left and cracked open a crusty eye. Her migraine increased tenfold.
Snape. Naked. No. No, no, no, no, no. This is obviously a nightmare, or I'm suffering a stress-induced psychosis. This is not real.
Hermione sat up with a start, blinking around at her surroundings with dismay. She was so shocked that she hadn't even registered the fact that she was completely naked as well. She stood up and stumbled over to the table and gripped the edge until her fingers were white and shaking. Hermione was staring at the dried potion stain that had covered the table top with a sparkling crust when she saw a tear splatter the surface and realized she was crying. She had absolutely no idea how it had happened, but she was certain that she had not been in full possession of her mental facilities.
Hermione was so wrapped up in her shock that she didn't even hear Snape say her name.
"Miss...Granger?" Snape sat up, his bones cracking as he forced his body to move. He squinted his eyes against the spelled candles in the wall sconces that lined his private lab. His job was most certainly gone, and he had no idea what his future held, but he had an inkling that it might involve Azkaban at worst.
Against the will of his body, he stood, running thin fingers through his hair before twisting the ends of a silky lock between then. It was a nervous habit he had picked up, but he had managed to keep it a private habit so far.
Hermione slowly looked over her shoulder at Snape; she was the picture of vulnerability. Her large, doe eyes were glazed and a small trickle of mascara had run a black line down to the corner of her full lips; bruised lips that he faintly remembered devouring. Her pale, downy skin had small lines from where her body had lain on the irregular flagstones last night, and as he ran his eyes down her body, he noticed there were fingerprints on her hips that had been bruised into her fair skin. At this, he scowled and bit his lip before turning away to gather up their stray clothing that littered the floor. She was pure beauty, and he had marred her for life. No, the bruises would heal, but her innocence could never be recovered.
"Damn him!!" Hermione shook as Snape's booming voice filled the small room. Her hands left the table to cover her breasts as her nudity finally hit her. She bowed her head in shame and let her hair veil her face. She made soft noises as she let the sobs she had been suppressing come.
"Damn you, Albus! Damn you, Hagrid!" He said the words like they were vulgarities before he threw Hermione's clothes before her on the table. She looked at him through her hair, using it as a security blanket. He was stalking around the room, running his hands through his inky hair, his face flushed and his eyes glassy. He seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he was nude. Either that or he just didn't care. Hermione thought it was more likely the latter.
She reached out for her clothes and plucked through them for her undergarments. She found that her brasiere's clasp had been ripped clear off. She could remember it happening, but it wasn't very clear. It was as if she were remembering something from when she had drunk too much. She broke out in gooseflesh at the memory, and was embarrassed to discover that she was turned on by the thought. She flung the garment into the fireplace with more force than necessary.
"Shit!" Snape glanced at Hermione. Hermione stared back crossly. "What the fuck was that?"
"I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?" Snape was in the middle of buttoning his robes, but let his fingers fall to his sides.
"I said, 'what the fuck was that?'" She picked up her shirt and gave it a vicious shake.
"To what are you referring to?" Snape was clearly uncomfortable with talking to her, but she didn't care.
"EVERYTHING!" she bellowed. "My water, what did you put in it, you conniving bastard?!" She sloppily threw on her shirt and grabbed her skirt, shaking it as if she were trying to kill it.
"Me?! Put something-What?!" Snape's discomfiture had flown out the window. "I did no such thing, you vicious little bitch!" With two strides, he was in front of her, his eyes flashing murder.
"How dare you, you greasy haired pedophile!" she screeched as she stumbled while trying to yank her skirt on. She wobbled and banged her shin against the heavy wooden leg of the table.
"What in God's name makes you think I'd want a go at an ugly little wretch like yourself, you presumptuous—Gah!" Hermione had picked up the nearest thing to her, which happened to be a small but heavy jar of dried chamomile flowers, and chucked it with inspirational force at Snape's forehead. He fell backwards and hit his head with a sickening swack on the stone floor. Hermione gave a small squeak and covered her mouth with both her hands. She had managed to screw and murder the man in less than twenty-four hours. She was just wondering if Azkaban allowed their prisoners books when she heard a strangled groan from the floor. Looking down, she saw Snape slowly raising up on his elbows, his eyes squinched shut against the throbbing pain between his eyebrows.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have said that," he said between clenched teeth.
"No, it was quite uncalled for," she said in a calmer voice with only a hint of anger.
"Look, why don't we try a different approach, Miss Granger. Tell me what you did while I was gone. Perhaps we can figure out what the hell happened here," he said, using the table leg for leverage to pull himself up to a standing position.
"First tell me why you were brewing a love potion, and stop calling me 'Miss Granger'. I think it's just a bit too late for formalities." She pulled on her panties while looking him square in the eye.
"Hagrid has two bloody Demiguises from the Ministry, and he had to make sure they mated. Unfortunately they weren't very fond of each other, so he asked me to brew him a potion. I didn't want to, but Dumbledore made me," he grumbled with a sour look.
"So that's where you went last night."
"Obviously," he said with a sneer. "Now tell me everything that happened when I was gone," he said as he turned and walked towards his desk.
"Well, the first thing I did when you were gone was summon a glass of water and two Ibuprofen tablets." Snape pursed his lips and gave her a reproachful look as he settled into his chair, but let her continue. "I drank half of the water with the tablets, and continued with my work. Soon after that, I apparently fell asleep. When I woke up, I drank the rest of my water and it was as if my mind left me. That was only a few seconds before you entered the room." Hermione lifted herself to sit cross-legged on the edge of the table, facing Snape.
"Hm. Obviously someone spiked your water while you were sleeping on the job," Snape said dryly. He leaned over and folded his arms on his desk. His red inkwell had been tipped over during last night's...activities, and his eyes were tracing the outline the dried stain made on the leather surface of his desk. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he snapped up, yanking his lower drawer open for his spare wand. He muttered a spell under his breath, and a small cloud of what looked like sparkling dust levitated from the desktop. He scowled and gritted his teeth as he rummaged around with one hand in a separate desk drawer for an empty vial, never taking his eyes off the small cloud of dust. He held up the vial and directed the mysterious substance into it before putting his wand down and grabbing a stopper from the drawer.
"What is that?" Hermione asked with wide eyes.
"It's appears to be Sandman's Dust. Simply blow it in the direction of your desired subject, and it puts them out like a light. It only works for small periods of time, however. So, while you were sleeping--"
"That's when whoever it was put the love potion into my water!" Hermione exclaimed crossly. Snape only snorted.
"I am awed and inspired by your talent for pointing out the obvious, my dear," he said with a mock sweet voice. Hermione glared at him. Snape ignored it. "So, tell me, who are your enemies?" Snape put the vial down on his desk and folded his arms in front of him once again.
"Enemies? I don't believe I have any." Yet again, another snort from Snape, followed by another glare from Hermione.
"My dear girl, everyone has an enemy or two. Okay, who have you angered in the past...oh...forty-eight hours?" Snape sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, waiting for her response.
"Nobody, to my knowledge," she said with a look of utter confusion. "I don't believe I've angered anyone."
"Okay, then think of everything you've done in the recent past that someone may have taken the wrong way, or someone would be jealous of," he said, waving his hand lazily, eyes still studying the ceiling.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, really...just...well, there was that one thing, but I'm sure that couldn't be the reason." Snape's head shot up.
"Beg your pardon? Please elucidate," he said with an eyebrow raised.
"Well, I'm fairly certain that it wouldn't offend them, no matter what Ron says—"
"Please, cut to the point, Hermione," his voice was starting to sound strained.
"Oh...it's just that last night I may have freed a house elf...or two, possibly. No telling, really." Snape's eyes went wide, and his eyebrow was beginning to twitch slightly of it's own accord.
"You what?" Hermione knit her brow and blushed.
"Honestly, it's little more than forced slavery, Professor! I was only doing what I thought was best for them! I shan't sit idly by while these creatures are forced into submission," she said, sticking her pointy little nose in the air with indignation. Snape was reminded of a muggle book he read once as a child that centered around a character named Mary Poppins. He shook his head to clear it of the random thought.
"Hermione Granger, have you absolutely lost your mind?"
"I beg your pardon, Severus Snape? I can assure you that I have most certainly not lost my mind," she said in a voice that was rapidly rising in pitch and volume. Snape rolled his eyes and pinched the brow of his nose.
"Miss Granger, imagine that you had a job that you absolutely adored. Now, imagine that you were exceptionally good at this aforementioned job. Can you do that for me?" He looked up and saw Hermione reluctantly nodding. "Now, imagine that your employer just out of the blue fired you."
"But I was setting them free, not firing them!" She said in an exasperated voice.
"Okay, suppose that when you confront your boss, he tells you that he's not firing you, he's simply setting you free to do whatever you wish with your copious amount of new-found free time. How would you feel?" he said in a rushed voice.
"Well, I would be quite cross," she said with impatience, "but I fail to see the point of this. That scenario is nothing like the house elves' dilemma."
"Au contraire, Miss Granger, they are almost identical. The only difference is that you would be doing the job mostly because you need the money and it makes you feel that you're accomplishing something, while the house elf is doing his job solely because he feels that he's accomplishing something in his life." Hermione's glare had lessened a fraction in severity at this explanation.
"What about Dobby? He hated being a servant," she said in a challenging tone. Snape rolled his eyes and contorted his face as if he were in pain.
"Wouldn't you if you had to serve the Malfoys for almost your whole life? He was traumatized, for god's sake," he groaned. Hermione's face went blank. Thank God, she's finally gotten it through that thick head of hers!
"So, you're telling me that the house elves I freed last night came in to my detention, assaulted me with Sandman's Dust and proceeded to put your love potion into my water." He nodded his head wearily before slumping back into his chair with an exasperated sigh. "How can you prove it?"
"Easily," he snapped before rising from his chair and darting over to the fireplace. He grabbed Hermione's brassiere and tossed it out of sight with a look of disgust and picked up a handful of floo powder from a box on the mantle. "Dumbledore's Office," he growled as he tossed the powder, causing green flames to flare. He quickly got to his knees and stuck his head through. Perhaps there was a chance his life wasn't destroyed.