Moth to a Flame
He was fire to her, dangerous, beautiful, brilliant, and captivating. His brilliance had always been alluring, but he had violently rebuffed, giving her minor burns every time they connected.
In later years she could only admit to herself how captivating he had become to her. His black eyes glittering in the castle's candlelight, stalking majestically through it's halls, an aura of power around him. Alone in the dark nights she would almost wish that she had been put into his house, then maybe he'd have a kind word for her. His mind made him beautiful to her, she began to feel terrible pangs of desire whenever he was around, her dreams filling with so many wanton images.
She tries so very hard to impress with her intellect, but he steadfastly refused to allow her to do so, forcing her to tears on many occasions. When everyone was asleep, she allowed herself to mourn her mistaken affections. Then came that summer, and their affair right under everyone's noses. She wasn't sure how it had begun, a kind word here or there, soon a glancing touch, and the overflowing passion. Sure she had been young, but she believed she could handle it, after all she was so much more mature than all the other girls her age. She swore she'd never forget those heavenly nights at Grimmauld place, wrapped together in his bed, sharing the joys of the flesh. In his arms she'd felt safe and warm, and had dared hoped that he could hold the same affections for her that she had for him.
He had burned her so badly though. That fall he refused to acknowledge any relationship other than teacher and student, treating her just as deplorably as ever. The burns he had given her had just recently begun to heal, so that even as she studied him now from her desk, she could still feel a bit of the old ache. What Hermione didn't know was that the fire was about to turn into an inferno, and Severus Snape would soon burn them all beyond any reckoning.