Animal Magnetism

Disclaimer: I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

Chapter 6

Halfway down the hall, Severus Snape tried putting together the new facts of Miss Grangers' mysterious condition with what he knew of the incident and decided nothing added up. Especially that she was moving around like nothing had happened. How had she sustained such injury and lived? How did they occur when there was no evidence of a second partys' involvement, either magical or natural? Her wand had obviously fallen to the base of the island when she fell, there was traces of blood and torn clothing at the top proving the drop. But how had she left the castle and main grounds without triggering the protective wards? He frowned in consternation.

Though he was sure the stasis spell had done as much harm as good, he was amazed at the difference seen in just the hour she'd been awake. 'The fact she was awake at all was a bloody miracle,' he thought with no small degree of scorn. 'Foolish Gryffindors.' It's like they get a kick out of nearly getting killed, the way they rush around without thinking. Or they just enjoy the attention. She certainly seemed to. Yet you'd never guess she'd so recently been an inch from death. There was still a slight pallor and pronounced features due to loss of blood and weight, but she'd quickly regained a healthy albeit slightly feverish flush. And if her attack on the food, [the second she thought he couldn't see] was any indication, her appetite was in full bloom, which boded well.

Her musculature oddly hadn't seemed to suffer in her infirmity, which posed more questions. He ticked off all the points as he categorized them mentally. He'd had her 'vitals', as the mediwitch termed them, sent to his lab- but at least he had something to go off. The bursts of wild magic around her, seen when she was unconscious and then again minutes after waking, were difficult to get a grasp of and therefore presented a problem. Of course it could be the high level of danger and survival instincts kicking in and setting off a rapid-fire chemical overload leading to the outburst? The rush of hormones, if her odd behavior was any indication, proved an interesting side note.

Though, he supposed, he had no real way of knowing if that was indeed odd behavior for her, so it was just a guess for now. He sighed. Or maybe he just needed to sleep. That easily explained the slowed mental process, trouble formulating ulterior theories, and his untoward fascination with the young witch's autumn-colored hair. But the way her mouth looked closing in on that fork…? The professor shook his head as if to clear it. Maybe while running tests on her abnormal blood-work he should research transference spells that affected the senses…

True to his word, Snape had returned at the end of the hour to question her some more about the night she was fatally wounded, though he maintained his position just outside her square of 'personal space.' And looked even grumpier and more annoyed than usual, she noted. Especially since they went nowhere with the mock interrogation- because of her refusal to submit to Leglimency, according to Snape, and because he couldn't accept her word that there'd been someone else there. Hermione still insisted there had to be a way even though there was no supporting evidence and he'd called her a deluded insufferable know-it-all [but at least he changed it up a bit], acting like she'd insulted his skills and intelligence…

Then Pomona had broken it up and shooed him out for upsetting her patient. And his snarl, however scary, was no match for that stern guardians' face. A fact that made Hermione giggle. So it was both a frustrating and amusing experience. Harry had even snuck in sometime around dawn, surprised she was still awake but also uncharacteristically nervous as he put the 'light reading' he brought her on the table and retreated. The subject of the kiss wasn't brought up but in his measuring gaze she figured he still didn't know what to make of it. Then, neither did she, though she understood why he stayed a few paces away as they talked. Awkward silences aside, it was nice having her friend back.

The young woman sighed, lying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling until a fitful sleep claimed her. And two nightmares and some exploded flowers later, morning finally arrived. The potions required to test her blood for cellular strength, defects, and other such nonsense Snape needed wouldn't be ready for several days and Pomphrey was hesitant to let her go until then. Even though she seemed in perfect health or better now. Now that was frustrating. She didn't know how Ron stood it, spending most of his days in his private room in the medical ward while they kept tabs on his slowly recovering magic and mental state. She knew Pomphrey was very protective of her charges, especially since the three of them had been in there more than most, but this was ridiculous. Not that the redhead complained, but in

Hermione's mind that just said more about his infirmity, and not in a good way. Having been pacing the room like a caged beast, she let out an aggravated growl and threw herself into the chair by the corner desk. Maybe, with nothing else to do, she could tackle some [unnecessary] coursework. No reason to let her education suffer just because the school year was pretty much canceled out. Arithmancy, while boring, could always calm her nerves- breaking everything down into numbers and solving each problem with speed and precision. If only everything was that easy. Only the longer she sat in front of the books, the more agitated she got and the fuzzier the words got, blurring all over the page, angrily buzzing around her head…

Slamming her notebook shut again in frustration, she leapt up, and just at that moment heard Pomphrey bustling in. Hopefully her luck was about to change. Crossing the large area in a blink, Hermione popped out from behind the divide and apparently scared the daylights out of her, from the way she jumped and shrieked. "Hermione! Dear, you've got to give an old gal like me some warning! My heart might not make it. How you breezed through without sight or sound is beyond me." The younger woman just bounced back on her heels, "Too many years of sneaking around with Harry and Ron I guess. I'm going crazy all day with nothing to do though. There has to be something." Pomphrey gave her a chiding look. "You were so close to death just yesterday; I'm not convinced you're ready to go running all over creation."

"Hardly all over creation! Just the castle," the brunette wheedled. "And I'm feeling better than ever, look at me." She performed a few tricks, making her mentor laugh. The mediwitch sighed, running some diagnostics, "Well, alright. It seems you've had a miraculous recovery, though I don't know how. I suppose you could leave the ward for air- but I want you back by nightfall." At her words, the eighteen-year-old flashed a victorious grin then hid it behind an angelic mask, "Cross my heart." "One minute!" the guardian called as she prepared to go, "While you're out, drop this supply list off at the Potions lab for Mr. Snape. We desperately need to re-stock and I can't do it all myself." Fighting the urge to jump around excitedly, Hermione nodded, took the scroll and ran… missing Pomphrey's secretive smile.

Eyes bright and practically sparking with energy, her long strides took her to the dungeon in a matter of minutes. Though when she arrived at her destination, there seemed to be nobody there. Sighing in annoyance [knowing this would keep her from her fun], she barged right in and headed straight for Snape's back office. It seemed clear to her that he'd been zoning out over his books when he visibly startled as the door hit the wall. Surprise then irritation flickered in his eyes before the cold emptiness returned. "Miss Granger, may I ask exactly what emergency has fallen upon Hogwarts that prompted you to trample through like a stunned Hippogriff?" The professor sneered, closing his book abruptly and throwing it down.

Narrowing her eyes at his tone, she tossed Pomphrey's scroll his way and he deftly caught it. "Medical supply list compiled by Dumbledore. Pomphrey had her hands full and needed help." Then she turned to exit the room. And found herself stuck. She felt a pulling sensation in her gut, wrapping around her body and refusing to let her leave. Hearing her curse, Snape smirked. "Surely your beloved mentor told you the scroll was spelled? No? Pity. After a few got misplaced, destroyed, etc., a little extra insurance was warranted. The messenger doesn't leave until I add my seal, showing I received it, and a sticking/shielding charm keeps it intact on my board." Gritting her teeth and fighting the urge to childishly stomp her foot, Hermione just glared.

"O….kay. So could you seal it? I have other things I'd like to do before nightfall." She should've known better than to pushy the persnickety man, should've controlled the rising anger better- Hermione realized it as soon as she saw his changing expression. The Potions' Master set down the scroll. "Actually, after that… performance of yours, I was reminded of my own busy schedule and the fact that I could use a lab assistant." The breath slowly hissed out from between her teeth. 'Bastard. What the hell could you have to do besides grade papers and read your moldy old books? You just want to torture me.' She bit her tongue to keep herself from spitting the words out. "What happened to just deducting House points?" she asked sulkily instead. "Very well," he said a little too smoothly.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor then. Now, I suggest you get a start on setting up cauldrons and ingredients to minimize time sent brewing. Unless you do want to be here all night." Her hands curled into fists so tight at her sides her nails bit into her palms, drawing blood. But, shooting daggers with her eyes, she nevertheless obeyed. And she cursed under her breath some more, promptly vowing revenge. She wasn't sure exactly how she'd go about such a thing, or even what she'd do, just that it'd come. Come like the storm slowly percolating outside, thunderclouds rumbling, accompanied by flashes of light that were reflected in her hazel eyes. And beneath that storm paced a dangerous animal that didn't take too kindly to the bonds once again forced upon it. The grin that crept over her face would've been positively frightening if anyone had happened to see it.

Everyone knew what a caged beast was like- as well as the fates of those that provoked it. Keeping an eye on him at all times, she got out the materials for the advanced medicinal draughts. Hermione was sorely tempted to do it all with a wave of her hand, because she knew she could, but managed to control the urge, knowing he'd make her do it all over again if he caught her. Potions could be a very delicate art, as he reminded them numerous times over the years, and sometimes even the residual magic used to clean them the quick way could affect the results. Or so he said, the students all agreed it was just to make them sweat. But the need for these potions was too great to risk it so she could leave quicker, so she leashed her emotions more for their sake.

Tossing powered larkspur into one cauldron and chopping acromantula legs into another, her predatory glare never wavered until Snape's coal black orbs connected with it. Then it was kind of like tumbling from a rocky perch down through an icy mist and into a long, dark tunnel where part of her wanted to keep following until she found the light at the other end- and another part wanted only to sink deeper into that shadowy warmth. There was something hypnotic and fittingly serpentine in that gaze; just as there was in that voice like velvet, or melted chocolate, or poison… Cold but disseminating into you until you felt positively feverish, coating your veins and stopping your heart and lungs with such subtle charm it was all over before you realized it. Giving off the same effect as a fine liquor, really. The contrasts were fascinating. And suddenly so was the silky onyx hair sweeping across his moonlight skin, the stony line of his jaw, the long nimble fingers curled around the flask off freshly brewed antivenin…

The heat inside her grew and she shifted uncomfortably on her stool. A whiff of sandalwood and spice teased her nostrils and she inhaled deeply, feeling oddly light-headed. An unexpected hunger gnawed in her gut, and as if in direct correlation, she started gnawing on her lower lip, wondering if maybe Pomphrey was right when she'd said she wasn't ready to leave the ward. The waves of power radiating off him beat at her like the wings of a giant moth… 'Or bat,' she thought before the half-hearted attempt at amusement faded under the weight of something much stronger. It was both stifling and oddly reassuring. Familiar. The young witch, far too in-tune with the universal energies just then, felt it like a physical thing… a none-too-gentle caress all over her body.

Her own power, greater than she'd ever felt it before, leapt inside her in response, shining under her skin like she'd swallowed the moon. It was like a well-choreographed dance. A tango; magic snapping and mingling and swirling in the air. She could almost see the colors of them. Almost identical actually. Did he see it? Could he feel it? Entranced, she was barely aware of the fact that several potions finished and were set aside- or that she'd already begun to cross the room. The one called Hermione lifted her face as if scenting the air again and breathed deep, a taste like electricity sparkling on her tongue like pop rocks and soda.

Strength. Confidence and knowledge. Explosive levels of magic and a firm hand over it all. Domination. It was addicting. And the thought of getting beneath that carefully controlled exterior and watching it crack like ice under pressure was both surprising and utterly arousing. He'd saved her life at that lake, and again in that dream-world. Maybe she should return the older wizard froze as she crossed the room with a look of warning, dissection, and perhaps unease. Her last name was a drawled out admonition on his lips. "Professor…" the husky purr vibrated between them. The closer she got, the more the pull quickened like two charged magnets. Inexplicably but irrevocably drawn. Until a sharp noise sounded in her ear and something whooshed through the air in front of her face. A paper.

The cover sheet to the supply list sent with her to be exact. A wave of his hand and the seal glowed brightly at the bottom. "I think our work here is done now, Miss Granger, Here's your scroll. The mediwitch should receive the vials by nightfall when filled. That is all." His tone, while sounding slightly disturbed, brooked no argument and the icy punch to her gut as the magic snapped back broke her spell. "Yes sir," she saluted mockingly, though promise shone in her eyes. Then she disappeared out the door, trying to ignore how her blood still boiled and desire pooled at her core.

Next Chapter: She wanted… she craved… she needed. Suddenly need was all that existed, spiraling around them, curling through every molecule. "Draaaaco," she called softly in a melodic, sing-song voice. The scent and feel of that lean, hard body caused everything in her to tighten. And it didn't matter that she spent about eight years hating him, or that he wasn't who she wanted right then.