Chapter 3
As night bled into morning, the shadows of Hermione's jaw against her arm sharpened and solidified. Somewhere in the castle, a blonde-haired boy was pacing the bathroom floor in frustration, punching the wall every few steps. Somewhere in the castle, a thin, pale girl was staring at her window, seeing something other than her reflection within its smoky surface. And here, in Hermione's room, she dreamt about sunshine, cauliflower, and a lover's arms.
The buttery rays of afternoon spread across the grass in an oily film, and Hermione raced across its slippery surface to the hovel in the distance. Little cauliflower-men sprung from the ground to pull her back, but she kicked them away without thinking. She reached the tiny structure she had set her sights on, and breathless, walked behind it only to fling herself into her lover's arms. She knew it was him by the way he smelled, by the creases of his smiles and the rough touch of his gentlest fingers.
He greeted her with his mouth pressed lovingly against hers, sniffing affectionately the almond scent of her hair.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I missed you so."
"I had to find the right moment to sneak away," he explained, not with that thing following me around like a nanny goat."
"I'm so glad you're here."
"So am I."
They lay down in the dry grasses of the empty field and made love in the shadows of the broom-shed. In the distance, they could hear laughter and the dull thump of a bludger meet its mark.
---
In the morning, Hermione could barely remember her dream, or the last time she'd eaten a proper meal. Hastily wriggling out of her nightgown, she felt the castle cold nip at her skin with little frozen tongues of air. She threw on her clothes as quickly as she could. The common room was empty, and Ron's door was open. He must already be at breakfast she grumbled, dashing out of the quarters and down the stairs. Hermione was still muttering to herself about pack mentality when she turned a corner and bumped right into Draco, who, with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall looking bored, seemed like he had been waiting for someone.
"You again," she said levelly.
"Me again?" he asked in mock question.
"Gods, you're infuriating!" she almost shrieked, making as if to hit him, but he clutched at her wrists with strong hands and planted a kiss firmly on her lips.
---
Hermione was left standing in the corridor, shocked. Even five, ten minutes after Draco had left the vicinity, she stayed rooted to the spot as if someone had performed a freezing charm on her. True, she'd known, (to an extent) what she'd been getting herself into when she had met Draco on the train. But somehow... it had never really registered in her mind that his intentions could be any more than teasing sport.
But that kiss! Dozens of people must have seen! Wasn't Draco usually so damn self-aware of his public image? That was truly odd, Hermione decided. He was still Him, yet the Him that was He had changed . . .
He had kissed her!
Most disturbingly of all, to Hermione, at least – she had kind of liked it.
---
By the time Hermione had snapped back to reality, she realized she was dreadfully late to her first class. And - what luck - it was Advanced Potions. Running her fingers through her hair and massaging her bruised wrists, she set off hastily to the dungeons.
Man is Snape gonna kill me... Shitshitshit I better come up with a decent excuse.
She burst through the thick door not altogether gracefully, bracing herself for Snape's salvo of insults. Weaving her way through the aisles of the classroom, she sat down as quickly as possible. Before she could open her mouth to toss out a, "I'm-so-sorry-I'm-late-Professor-Snape-Peeves-was-throwing-chalk-at-me," an icy voice reached her ears.
"Miss. Granger, you take your time I see," he said quietly, writing on the board. "I think that will be detention every night for the rest of the week. 8:00pm," he looked over his shoulder at her and gave her a piercing look. "Be prompt. It would not do well to be tardy for a detention gained through tardiness."
"Yes Professor," said Hermione meekly, slouching lower in her seat. Next to her, Blaise Zabini stifled a laugh and she glared at him.
Thank goodness Draco isn't taking advanced potions, that was so mortifying!
She'd been sitting next to Harry and Ron in potions since they were first years, but as neither of them had made Snape's advanced potions class with their OWL's, she was left alone – the only Gryffindor – with a smattering of Slytherins.
Looking defiantly around the room at her smirking classmates, Hermione just counted herself fortunate that Snape hadn't said anything more biting than he had.
"Get to work Miss. Granger or I'll make it detention for all next week as well," Snape said unctuously from the front of the classroom.
Fuck.
It was a Tuesday, and four detentions was already four too many than Hermione could deal with. Five more would be beating the dead horse. She sighed and quickly started chopping ingredients.
Meanwhile, her professor was staring intently at his brunette student, with her fierce concentration and lithe little body.
Attraction is a funny thing he thought, pursing his lips.
---
The classroom was empty when Hermione stepped inside that evening, ready for an hour of cauldron scrubbing. The classroom was dark except for two candles in their sconces on either side of the blackboard. They cast leering shadows around the student as she crossed the room.
"Professor Snape?" she called out, her words echoing off the stone walls. Hermione stooped and crossed her arms.
I am not going to waste my time waiting here, she thought, annoyed.
But turning to leave, a ray of light coming from the far corner of the room caught her eye. She walked over to it and saw a stone door, painstakingly worked to look like the wall around it, standing ever so slightly ajar. Peeking her head inside, it opened up to what seemed to be Snape's private study. She edged in between the door and the wall and slipped past the door. She looked around her in awe – it wasn't a private study, it was a whole set of rooms, it seemed. Snape's quarters! The room she had entered was covered with a thick forest-green carpet, and as she walked further in, her feet sank luxuriously into it. The walls were lined with dark wooden bookcases, filled with every tome imaginable, bound in silk and linen, bark and hide. In the center of the room were armchairs and to their left, a roaring fire. At the back of the room were windows magicked to show a snowy scene outside. Doors led away from the right half of the room, presumably to more intimate spaces.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as Professor Snape came into view, standing by the far left bookcase, clad only in awhile towel wrapped around his torso, skimming through a dusty tome. He faced away from her, but heard her short gasp and shot around so quickly Hermione was almost afraid his neck would crack.
"Miss Granger," he spat out, eyes flashing. "I thought I told you to meet me in my classroom, not my bedroom."
"I - I'm sorry Professor," stammered Hermione, stepping into the light. "I just wanted to know what I'd be doing for my detention..." her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the book he was flipping through.
"Is that really..." she gasped, going up to the book. "Potions dus Novus Ordo Seclorum?" She almost stumbled forward with excitement to better see the cover.
"Yes, Potions of the New Order of the Ages." he answered, lip curled in secret pleasure. Her innocent, know-it-all act was infuriating, but somehow endearing as well. He closed the book lovingly and turned it so Hermione could see it better.
"But... there's only one known copy of this book left!" She looked up to Snape for an answer. "It contains all of the oldest potions in existence - from Ancient Greece... and Egypt... and Rome... and it can't be reproduced!" she exclaimed. "There's an anti-copy spell on it!"
"I am well aware of the book's history, Miss. Granger," said Snape dryly. "This is the only copy left, saved from the burning of the Library of Alexandria due to the sheer luck that it was checked out at the time."
"That's amazing," said Hermione, admiring the ancient book. She looked up into Snape's sharp face, and nervously voiced her desires.
"May I - may I look through it?"
Snape paused, lips pressed together tightly, those expressive lips of his. After a moment, he answered, "As you wish," handing it to her.
Hermione gave him a look of pure gratitude to be given this honor, receiving the book like it was a forbidden gem. She'd almost forgotten Snape's casual attire (or lack thereof), and as she took the book from him, she glanced at his body, blushing.
He may be roughly twice her age, and a greasy old git, as far as his students were concerned, but he was still a man at his peak... and in an intoxicatingly close proximity to a certain young lady.
Ignoring her professor, Hermione took the book and flipped through some pages. It was fascinating, but her thoughts kept wandering back to Snape's intruiging form, his shoulder length black hair, still wet from a shower, flopping lazily over one of his eyes.
And I always considered teachers aging sources of knowledge... it's hard to think they're really people like the rest of us sometimes, she mused. With their own lives to live, their own desires . . .Damn it Hermione, Snape out of it! I mean... snap out of it. Oh dear . . .
Though actually, he's just the same age as Sirius.
Sirius.
"Entranced with the Potion of Ardor, eh Miss. Granger?" Snape's voice flowed silkily into her ear from behind her. She could feel his warmth seeping into her back, her spine... and into her cheeks as she reddened, realizing she'd been staring at the same page for longer than necessary.
"It's fascinating," she breathed, spinning around.
She found herself mere inches from Snape's chest. She looked up at him, her expression wanton and petulant. His coal black eyes pierced hers, questioning her silently.
What are you going to do now?
Still holding the book, she stood on tip toe and took his bottom lip between her own, pulling it in a sensual kiss before returning to the ground. His look did not change. Then suddenly, he leaned down and caught her mouth with his own, his tongue lustily seeking entry. She backed into the wall of shelves and abandoned the book she had been so enraptured with there, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, sucking and biting his tongue and he caressed her mouth turn.
I don't care if he's a teacher, I want him, thought Hermione lustily as naughty thoughts ran through her head. Naughty thoughts were running through Snape's as well, but so were much darker ones . . .