The throbbing was becoming more pronounced in his temples, time again to join the world of the living. As his eyes opened to let in a minuscule amount of light, he expected to find himself the useful condition; robes soaked with blood or muscles still twitching from unspeakable curses. However, this was not the case. In its absence was the cagey stare of one tattered Hermione Granger. As Snape opened his mouth to speak Hermione took a step back, a wand clenched in her ready hand. He could see the shades of a dried and faded crimson that clung still to her fingers. It was his. If she had treated him, he could guess why she was in a huff. Time to initiate the conversation.
"What hour is it, Miss Granger?" His voice was parched.
"It should be evening Professor." She said in a detached, professional manner, "There's water on your bedside table."
He reached for the drink with his left hand, noting the dark mark in full display. He took a sip and swallowed.
"So, you've seen it." He spoke casually. "Not only that," he continued, "but I assume that you continued to treat me after doing so. Why?" His black eyes peered into her cautious ones.
"'Why?' is a question that I have asked myself, and that I would like to ask you." she responded.
"What if I did it, Miss Granger, because Iam the bad guy?" he said coolly.
She flinched.
He sat up, noting that he was in his nightshirt and that his cuts were mending. She had seen far too much of him for a young girl. His student had treated and changed him as if he were the child.
He leaned forward, "That's right, I have you all alone and vulnerable here in my chambers. Evidence that I'm certainly not decent in the least."
He watched her finger move up the wand.
"More to the fact," he sustained, "you will not injure me otherwise you would not have spent the night healing my wounds."
Her wand dropped as he stood up. He did not know which role to play anymore. This tired actor had worn too many masks, memorized too many lines, and gotten lost in too many plot holes. It had been years since he had last lived by impulse in the shadow of meticulous, scrutiny. He glanced at the girl whom had dawdled around him for so many short years. This courageous, once thorn in his side had nursed him. She was radiant with youth and he was draining her slowly of the innocence that he had craved to return to. No matter how much he damaged her, he wanted it all. But he had to maintain the charade.
"I'm the enemy," he breathed as his arms engulfed her. He domineered a kiss into her petal-like lips and sought to taste her fully.
He forced her to respond, her hands traveling up his midsection until she pressed him away. Her eyes gleamed with surprise and confusion. "Professor?" She flushed.
He had to keep playing the game. He told himself that this tactic would be enough to frighten the girl away from any and all connections with dark magic. As such, he would not treat her as a partner, but as his tool. He did not respond to her query, instead he brought his mouth to her throat.
"Ah!" She gasped. "Professor!"
She squirmed as he placed a large hand on her teardrop shaped breast. He couldn't look at her face. He wouldn't. It was too late to go back now. Guilt mingled with passion as pleasure began to fill within him. In continuance of his trek of her body, he began to unbutton her blouse and peel back her bra to reveal the smooth pink flesh of her nipple. He couldn't help but place his mouth around that perfect circle. He bit and swirled his tongue around until he could feel it peek. Through the rush to his head came the drowned out sounds of her delight in his actions.
He had expected to hear revulsion. The shock of this discrepancy allowed him to pull back and assess the situation. Although he said he wouldn't look, her face was strikingly amorous. The plan wasn't working. In fact, it was headed in the alternate direction. From the look on her face she would be signing up to join the dark army the next day.
"Damn it." He exhaled as he pressed a hand over his forehead and through his charcoal locks. Sense was slowly returning to him, bringing him back from the heavens and binding him to the dark from whence he came. The path that he had been traveling for so long was now obscure. What were the right decisions anymore? Where was Lily?