Note: This fic doesn't fit in with the original story exactly (Duh. Did Hermione and Snape ever get it on? No.) But I am including certain aspects of the main story, such as the Order and things like that. So thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy it ! :)
Chapter Two
Snape truly despised every single person that resided under Hogwart's many layered roof. Why he subjected himself to the same torture every single day, he didn't know. All he knew was that he had to put up with dim witted fools and downright stupid twats every day for years on end with little time off. And even with his time off he was still surrounded by them and his only means of escape was either Hogsmeade on weekdays or his much loved office.
Snape didn't like to teach. He didn't take pride in the fact that his students learnt. He just thought that he might as well pass his large knowledge of potions on to other people, while in turn learning more himself. And where else to do this than at a school? Oh, and there was also the small fact that his heart (although somewhat jaded) kept reminding him that he had to 'watch over' the potter kid. He hated this almost more than anything else. He was sixteen for Christ's sake! What was the point? Lilly was dead anyway.
But even so..he just had to.
--
"Man Harry, have you done something to offend Snape recently? I mean he never usually looks that bad when he looks at you,"
Hermione listened to Ron and along with Harry, turned her head to the table at the back of the hall. Sure enough, Snape was staring at Harry with a look that could only be described as pure, unadulterated hate, he hadn't even bothered to tone it down. The man prolonged this for a few seconds before turning his attention to the plate of food in front of him. His hair caught the light at this movement and it shone for a few seconds, something which Hermione completely ignored. (Mwuahaha.)
"Maybe he marked your essay," She said with a smirk as she turned away. She couldn't help herself and grinned at the glare Harry sent her. He then mumbled something about the fact that he hadn't done it yet..
--
Hermione studied Snape closely as he lowered the parchment onto her desk. He said nothing, and when he looked at her his mouth was nothing more than a thin line. But he didn't say anything. And that was good.
She glanced down at her parchment and a spark of pure pride stabbed inside of her. He had given her an O.
Hermione suddenly blushed to herself when she realised her thought could perhaps be interpreted in 'another way.'
She frowned and wondered why she was thinking such things. Especially when Snape was partly involved. Maybe it was that time of the month. Or maybe, she had just been deprived. The only person she had ever kissed was Vicktor Krum. And the closest they had come to sex was a quick fumble during the Yule ball.
Oh dear god could she really wait until marriage?
She rolled her eyes and concentrated on the ingredients Snape was writing on the blackboard. She'd just have to wait and see. She could act the prude until marriage. Now..where was her willow root?
--
The essays had been dreadful. Apart from Grangers.
Snape was sat in front of the working class, musing to himself, something he usually did only when he was alone. Granger's had been…impeccable, even if he had to force himself to believe it. There was no denying that she was intelligent. Perhaps the most intelligent student in her whole year.
No. That couldn't be. She wasn't a Slytherin, and the more essays she turned into him the more irritated he would get with every smug look she sent him when she glanced down at her mark. Maybe he should tell her that she only just barely scraped the O. That would knock her down a few pegs. He couldn't stand having no other option than to give her good marks, let alone praise her. He didn't even praise his own house. He would never let a praise escape from his lips. It almost scared him how close he had been to thinking highly of Granger once he had read her essay. She was nothing special. She just had one of those minds that could absorb a large amount of sentences stolen from library books. She strived to impress, and that was something none of his students could earn from him. Never.
He glanced once at her, sat between Potter and Weasley. There was …something though, that had been niggling very quietly at the back of his head for quite a while now. No matter how much he wanted to...the Granger girl was completely unreadable. She didn't have the average brain. Her behaviour wasn't predictable. It drove him insane. And he had to admit to himself, he was extremely intrigued by the girl.
But, he needed to stop thinking about his students, they weren't important.
He turned his attention back to the chattering classroom and observed the room as a whole. Malfoy's incredibly blond head caught his eye and he watched him drift over the room. He wasn't picking up ingredients, in fact, to Snape's utmost surprise he stopped besides Granger, and said something to her. It obviously wasn't appreciated, as she scowled furiously at him and destroyed her ragwort trimmings with a shaking slam of her knife. The expression was almost…no, Snape wouldn't permit himself to think it.
….cute.
Malfoy look pleased with himself, and sauntered back to his table.
"Complete git," Weasley said loudly, too loudly.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley," Snape said out loud to him. That served the idiotic buffoon right. Half of the purple goo was still resting on his desk and he would be coming back that afternoon to clean it up. And hopefully the next too. He ate too much anyway.
He glanced over the Weasley kid smugly and saw that he was scowling, this wasn't nearly as endearing as Granger's. Snape felt his eyes narrow. "A further ten points," he said sharply.
"Aw, fuck, we're in negative numbers!"
"Eighty points, Weasley,"
"WHAT?" Yelled Potter as he swerved into his line of vision.
Snaped raised an eyebrow.
"A further EIGHTY POINTS. My, my, you Gryffindors are going to have to work extra hard this year," Snape said slowly. Haha. He just loved tormenting them, it was something he had grown to adored, shortly after his heart had turned somewhat evil. He smiled privately to himself and dismissed the class. Neville managed to blow up his own potion in the last few seconds while he was walking across the room, so by the time Hermione entered the hall, she wasn't too surprised to see that Gryffindor hourglass read negative five hundred points.
--
Hermione didn't know why she was walking so quickly down the empty corridor. After she had reluctantly met up with Malfoy they had both decided that they would patrol different sides of the castle separately. (A wide decision, she decided). In fact, it only occurred to her that she was going too quickly when she turned the corner and slammed into an unsuspecting person.
A wave of disbelief flooded through her when she realised exactly who it was.
"Miss Granger, what exactly do you think you are doing?"
He looked very dishevelled and had had to grab the wall to keep himself from falling . Hermione suddenly found that she couldn't speak. For those few seconds, as his face morphed into one of light surprise, Professor Snape had look positively handsome, and now, when she stared at his face to try and make herself think she was seeing things, a most disturbing thought engulfed her.
She had not been seeing things. She had just never looked before.
She suddenly gulped in a mouthful of air and squeaked out a very quick apology.
"Sorry, Professor," she said as she grabbed her fallen books from the floor. She really couldn't afford to lose anymore points right now, or the much loved house cup would be lost from their grasp completely. Snape observed her through his cold, (yet surprisingly warm, maybe it was the candlelight) black eyes.
"Miss Granger, just what are you doing at this time?" He asked again.
"I'm patrolling the corridors, Sir," she glanced at her books and quickly told him the reason why she had them. She hadn't had enough time to take them back to the common room as she lost track of the time in the library and left a few minutes after she had to start patrolling. (Malfoy hadn't been happy when she was late and mocked the ton of books in her arms, although she didn't tell the professor this). Snape obviously saw the stupidity of her actions and smirked.
Hermione almost asked him what he was doing in this part of the castle in the dead of night, but decided otherwise. Her Professor's night time wanderings were no business to her, no matter how suddenly curious she had become.
She then spoke before he could.
"I need to go meet Malfoy," she said suddenly, a look of disbelief crossed over Snape's face and she wondered if the lie really had been that bad. She then rushed past him and Snape watched until her figure became smaller and smaller and disappeared into the darkness.
As he watched her struggle with her armful of books, as he watched her totter over the cold stone floor, as he watched her very nearly crash into a suit of armour,
He almost smiled.
But he suddenly caught himself, and disappeared into the night.
--
Hermione tossed in her bed and frowned. She wanted to sleep, needed to sleep, but she was worrying about something. The image of her potions teacher's face, shadowed and so handsome in the candle light kept flickering into her mind's eye.
Was Professor Snape handsome? She had never really believed the names Ron and Harry gave him. His hair wasn't greasy, his nose wasn't overly large, he wasn't a vampire.
But, even so, had she subconsciously still thought those things? The names and judgements of the people around her could have blocked the beauty of the man that stood at the front of the potions classroom everyday. Because she had never looked at him before, never thought of him this way. And it surprised her how she had never really seen his face before.
No. She had to stop now. It was wrong. He was her teacher.
But it was just there. So easily reachable and begging to be unlocked by her mind. She wanted to let go of her inhibitions and delve into the darkest temptations her brain dared to think of.
Those large..long fingered hands. As she recalled the times that he had handed back her essays she remembered. Just how…beautifully teasing they were. How manly. Those hands resting firmly on her waist, travelling down to her hips, pulling her with unconcealed lust towards his firm, hard body…
Oh dear. This neededing to stop. Professor Snape.
And suddenly, with a stab of horror, Hermione asked herself something.
All these times..all the times she had tried to impress him…was that really..because deep down..she had always had a very well hidden -even to herself- …crush on him.
Was she attracted to Professor Snape?
Hermione nervously swallowed and sank further down into her pillow. She'd just have to find out.
--
"…Fleur Delacor was hot,"
"Hey, what about Granger?"
Professor Snape froze. There he was, unwilling listening to the mindless ramblings of his fifth year Ravenclaw Potions class…and suddenly (and he knew perfectly well why) he had become very interested. He had just heard Hermione Granger mentioned in the same light as a veela.
He had always considered the girl attractive..but now it had been confirmed that she most definitely was. The superficial mind of teenage boys always declared just who was and who wasn't. (He remembered that age very well).
But why oh why was he so bothered. Boys found Hermione attractive. That was all.
It was nothing more than knowing that Ginny Weasley had slept with practically every boy in the school, knowledge he really didn't need to know.
But yet…he couldn't steer his mind away from her. Ever since that first potions lesson back, much to the disgust of himself, Snape had remember the little patch of pink on show, directly in his line of vision. He half wished that he hadn't said anything. That way he would be free to look.
But, unfortunately Miss Granger now made sure her skirt was a suitable length before she sat down to save herself from further embarrassment. Not that she knew that he had been staring at her underwear for a good few minutes before he decided to say something.
He suddenly realised what he was doing and pushed the image from his mind. He was marking Potter's essay, and the image had put him in a considerably better mood.
But thinking of a sixteen year old girls underwear, who was your student was a bad thing to do. Very bad. Extremely taboo.
But he knew that something had been unhooked in his mind. The things that usually marked them as students, marked Hermione as a student, were slowly fading.
The image of eleven year old Hermione.
The annoyingly smug raising of her hand in lesson.
But she had matured so beautifully. He could no longer ignore the two young breasts beneath her shirt, or the soft curve of her hips beneath her robes. Even when she raised her hand when no one else did, her eyes twinkled at him when she answered. The slight curve of her full lips. The smugness. The attractiveness. Her amazing brain.
She wanted to impress him. And he suddenly wanted to tell her that she already had.
--
Muggle studies had always been a subject Hermione could allow herself to daydream in, simply because she already knew everything. And even as she tried to concentrate..she found that she couldn't.
She remembered when she first saw professor Snape. He wall tall, dark, and terrifying. He had been given a bad name by every student around her and she feared him greatly. But she still forced herself to answer his questions. And when he set her and her fellow eleven year old classmates hard essays, she would read until she knew everything.
In her second year, she remembered not fearing her potion lessons quite so much. She recalled this was the year that she began to feel frustrated. How he never praised her and never acknowledged her answers. He would mock her, and his words stung. But she refrained from crying.
Third year. She noticed how smooth his voice was. Almost seductive. She would sit there in class listening, and more often than not found herself being lost in the deep tone of his voice that floated throughout the room. And then she would get her ingredients and try to make the best potion she could, because she felt that she just had to.
In her fourth year, that was when Vicktor had taken over most of her life. How infatuated she had been with him. With Vicktor around, Snape was nothing more than her dark haired potions professor. She sailed through those classes, and the end of the year came too quickly.
Fifth. Something stabbed at her memories. Something which she had pushed away, but now strangely welcomed back. She remembered walking across the classroom, and glancing towards his desk. And a strange feeling pooled in her stomach when she realised he had been watching her. Watching her with a foreign expression on his face. And the worst thing, the thing that at that time she didn't know if she liked or not, was that his eyes hadn't been on her face, but on her body. And they had glanced away as soon as she had seen him. But they had still been there, a fact she couldn't forget.
And now, in the present. Hermione sat at her desk. She wanted him to look at her that way.. She was confident in her body now, she knew what reactions in got from both men and boys.
And perhaps…it would invoke some sort of reaction from him, my god she wanted to do that so badly.
And suddenly, she felt mischievous. Would..teasing her professor be that bad?
Yes Hermione, yes it would.
But if she did it casually…he would never know…and she could discreetly watch his actions..just to see what he did. It would be nothing more than a bit of flirting, it couldn't possibly be more than that..anything else was completely and utterly out of the question.
And he wouldn't know she was flirting with him.
She felt butterflies swarm through her. She had decided, after six long years that her Professor was in fact attractive, and she wanted to see what she could do to him.
It would all be in the name of 'discreetness'.
--
They next day she unbuttoned half of her shirt and entered the potions classroom.
--
Hermione! (Gasp!) :O
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