Warning

This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.

Chapter 7 - Trust

"Get off me, you great, slobbering mutt!" Ron was picking himself up out of the mud as Fang raced around him, having bowled him over and trampled him in happy greeting.

Hagrid grinned in apology, calling his faithful boarhound to him, and stood aside to allow his two friends into the hut. "On yer own?" he asked. "Where's Hermione?"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"We're not sure," said Harry, with a hit of disapproval in his voice. "She left the common room earlier, and we don't know where she went. She's been really secretive the last few days -sneaking off and not telling us where she's going."

"'Ave you ask'd 'er about it?" asked Hagrid.

"She said she couldn't tell us," muttered Ron. "No idea what she's up to. Yesterday evening she disappeared and was still not back in Gryffindor tower when we went to our rooms - and that was at past eleven!"

"And she wasn't in the library," added Harry, "We looked."

Hagrid thought for a minute, then laughed. "Sounds like Hermione's got a boyfriend!"

Harry gaped. "No way! She would have told us!"

"Yeah - Why wouldn't she?" Ron looked affronted.

"'Cos she's a girl," stated Hagrid, decisively, "an' girls don' always want ter talk about - - - stuff."

Harry and Ron were not convinced.

"But - - -," Ron started, " - - - but - - - even if she did have a boyfriend - - - Who would it be?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid, "but if she wants yeh ter know, she'll tell yeh. And 'til then ye'll just have to trust 'er."

The two boys looked dumfounded.

"Treacle toffee?" asked Hagrid.

When Hermione appeared at Snape's door, he had a surprise for her. She slipped quietly into his office, but after giving her a gentle kiss, he led her by the hand back into the dungeon classroom. On one of the desks was a row of a dozen jars, neatly laid out and labeled in the same fine hand as the rest of the stores.

"For you!"

Hermione studied the jars, curiously, and Snape watched as she realized the significance of the plants they contained.

"Bumbleflower, Candyweed, Myth - these are all plants I'll need for my project," she exclaimed. He waited for her to continue. "But don't you already have these in your stores?"

"Indeed, but these are unprepared." He picked up a jar and held it up to the light, studying it. "The ingredients I have are all at least partially prepared for use, but the preparation methods we use today are vastly different from those used at the time of the wizards you are studying. Rupert the Blood-letter would have had much different equipment and tools from the ones to which you are accustomed. To be thorough in your research - which I, as your Potions Master, insist you are - you must prepare your own ingredients from their natural state."

Her smile made his efforts in obtaining these items well worth it - despite having to listen to Sprout's excited rambling about her precious Mandrakes, when he'd asked for her assistance in the greenhouses. What made it even more gratifying was her enthusiasm as she quizzed him on their preparation. Such a wonderful mind, in one so young.

Beginning work on the project had not really been Snape's intention, but he found her eagerness to be contagious. It was almost an hour later when, steaming the Myth in a small cauldron (at her direction), he felt a small hand reach up to brush a strand of his hair from his face.

"Severus. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to drag you into my project!"

He took her hand and kissed the fingers. "I enjoy watching you work. Besides, I have only myself to blame." He forced a stern look onto his face. "I believe I spoke rather severely of the need for commitment to this project, Ms. Granger!"

She returned his formal words. "You did, Professor Snape." Her face broke back into its smile. "Let's clear up."

Soon, the cauldrons and jars neatly cleared away, he took Hermione by the hand and began leading her to his office.

She held back. "Where do you live?" she asked him.

Snape stopped and turned to her. He was glad she'd asked - he'd wanted to suggest going there himself, but didn't want to risk making her uncomfortable. "Would you like to see?" She responded with a smile, and a squeeze of his hand. Reaching out, he took her face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Then, taking her hand once more, he led her to the back of the classroom. There was no sign of a door, but at a touch of Snape's wand, part of the wall began to shimmer. As he stepped through, it simply parted like a curtain, and Hermione followed, feeling a strange tingling sensation - like a thousand tiny pinpricks on her skin - as she passed through into the dark corridor on the other side.

It took several minutes of twists and turns to reach a large wooden door. "That wasn't the quickest way," Snape explained as they walked, "but the other way passes a corridor that leads to the Slytherin Common Room. It might look a little - - - odd - - - if I were seen leading you to my private quarters!" Odd was hardly the word for it!

Two things caused Snape apprehension on the way to his rooms. Firstly, she was his only visitor. Since he'd first joined Hogwarts, he had never once allowed anyone inside his private rooms. What would she think? The second thing, which gave him far more concern, was how each of them would act. Given the fact that he had - - - given the way he'd acted only two nights before, he was amazed that she would trust him in such privacy. And could he trust himself? He'd been terrified, the previous night, of overstepping the line. Controlling himself had been difficult, and he could not live with himself a day longer if he ever hurt her in that way - or in any way - again.

He'd been over this so many times in the past few hours, though, and knew that his only options were either to resolve his will and swear that he would never permit his weakness to overcome him, or never to allow himself to be in the same room as her. He made his choice, and pushed open the door, inviting her to step inside.

She looked around. So this is where the dark and mysterious Severus Snape hides, she thought. It was a darkly elegant room, with high bookshelves, reaching floor to ceiling, displaying huge leather-bound volumes. Two armchairs, of a deep crimson hue, were angled towards an imposing fireplace, framed with black marble.

At the other side of the room, a grand dining table, with six ornate chairs, was set with a single candle and a place-setting for one. The only other items of furniture in the room were a large grandfather clock, a writing desk with the lid closed and two small tables with books. Hermione had never really tried to picture his rooms, but if she had, this is exactly what she would have imagined.

"It suits you," she smiled. "And it's perfect!" She gazed in awe at the shelves of books, and began studying the titles. They were mostly Potions and Dark Arts, but one surprised her, and she reached out to touch the spine.

"Shakespeare?" she asked. "I didn't think you'd be interested in Muggle literature."

He smiled darkly. "He has some interesting thoughts on the subject of Death."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I should have guessed you wouldn't be reading the love sonnets." She continued her exploration as Snape conjured a fire then leaned against one of the fireplace's marble columns to watch her.

"You may find this one rather interesting." He had picked up a small book from a table next to the armchair, where it had been lying open, and held it out to her.

She took it from his hand and read the gold lettering on the cover. "Practicality in Potions - by T.K.Bung"

"It includes references to the work of Rupert the Blood-letter," Snape told her, "and some useful insights into the preparation of ingredients at the time. The inspiration for my little gardening expedition this afternoon."

Hermione's arms reached around him in a hug. "Thank you for the plants, Severus." She squeezed him. "It was such a thoughtful thing to do." She felt his arms wrapping around her, and detected a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Well, Miss Granger, this is an important project for you, and I am still your teacher."

"Then, your interest was purely academic?"

"Naturally," his voice was a low growl.

"In that case - Thank you, Professor Snape!" She reached up to his face and drew his head down to kiss him. Their lips touched gently, then parted as they caressed each other. It felt so good to be holding him close again, and to feel his hands softly stroking her back. Tingles began to run through her - warm tingles that made her glow inside. Her body was reacting to him, and she loved it. Pulling him closer, she stroked the back of his neck with her fingertips, remembering the effect it had had on him last night, with anticipation. She slipped an arm round his waist and drew his hips towards hers, feeling his reaction through his robes.

He straightened a little, breaking their kiss and pulling his lips out of the reach of hers.

"Hermione." The eyes she looked up into were full of desire, but his face showed his control. He didn't need to say more.

"Make love to me, Severus," she whispered.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply. "I don't want to hurt you."

She could hear the pain in his voice, and re-assured him. "I trust you. Just - - - be gentle."

He stared down at her for several long moments, then his lips once again took hers - this time with an edge of hunger that was matched by her own. He seemed reluctant to reach for her robes (understandable, thought Hermione, as she had tried to knee him in the groin the last time), so she made the first move herself by unclasping his robes and pushing them back off his shoulders. His black shirt was partially open underneath it, and she ran her finger from his neck down to his chest.

They took their time undressing each other, savoring and exploring each other's bodies with hands and tongues. She learned that she could make him arch his back in pleasure by teasing his nipples with a flick of her tongue, and that there was a place on his back that was sensitive even to the slightest touch of her hand.

They made their leisurely path to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. She sank to the bed and he followed her down, kissing her neck and face.

Hermione couldn't help but hold her breath as she felt him begin to push inside her. Their eyes locked as he did so, and she relaxed as her body instinctively moved against his. She felt him withdraw then push deeper - slowly and tenderly - making her release a soft sigh. It was nothing like their previous encounter. Severus' movements were controlled and clearly focused on not repeating the pain he had caused her.

Only when he was almost at climax did his thrusts become more forceful, and Hermione responded with her own rhythmic motion, reassuring him of her want.

They lay side by side, gazing into each other's eyes, as Hermione stroked his cheek.

But Hermione didn't feel quite the same peace and contentment that were showing on his face. If anything, her emotions now were more of a tangle than they had been two nights ago. How did she really feel about this man? He had been so tender and considerate this evening - how could he have been so different then than he was now? Yet somehow, despite that night, she felt such a reassuring comfort as they lay together, that she could hardly even reconcile the two opposite images into a picture of one man. Saying nothing, she drew against him, enjoying the warmth of his body as he held her, and allowing the soft whisper of his breathing to lull her to sleep.

She awoke in panic. The details of her nightmare were fading fast, but broken images still flashed through her mind - Severus' face in front of hers - - - pain in her body - - - unable to move! She struggled from underneath the bed's heavy covers and ran to the other room, where the fire had died to a red glow. Tears were streaming down her face, and her body was shaking with sobs. She clutched a chair for support, trying to calm herself, but was surprised by Severus' sudden grip on her shoulders.

"Hermione," his voice was urgent, behind her, "what's wrong?"

Her heart raced in alarm, as she writhed free and moved away from him. He hadn't intended to frighten her, she knew - just to comfort her - but the reaction was automatic.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she sobbed, "but I have to go."

As Hermione quickly pulled on her clothes, Snape stood helplessly in the middle of the room. Reaching up with both hands, he ran his fingers through his hair, and stood cradling his head, as though protecting it from a blow. He should have expected this, and he certainly deserved it. How could she ever trust him?

How could she ever trust anyone again?