Hermione woke to a commotion on the floor above her cell. Booming male voices echoed in the halls, the ceiling above her head shook with the pounding of feet.
She listened closely and tried to make out what they were saying…something about a breach?
She got up and readied herself for whatever was coming. This could be the Order, coming to get her. Maybe they figured out where she was. Maybe they traced her magic somehow.
Or maybe Yaxley or one of the others were coming to get her. They may try to apparate me to a second location.
She needed to be ready to fight. Hermione tied her highly tangled hair back and grabbed her small knife, just as she heard footsteps on the cellar stairs. She stiffened, straightening and concealing her knife behind her wrist.
Her hand shook as heavy black boots appeared on the steps. This thing could get ugly.
The figure was almost down the stairs. She held her breath.
Just two steps left. She gripped her knife harder.
One more.
Hermione let out a strangled wail. It was Severus.
His face, when it came into view, was impassive, but he started as Hermione burst into tears.
Hermione dropped her knife and doubled over, heaving, overwhelmed with relief.
Severus looked stunned, "Granger-"
"I thought you were - I'm sorry." She took a deep, ragged breath. "I thought - I'm sorry. I'm…I'm ok."
"Do you need a calming draught?"
She took a few more ragged breaths, not answering him. Severus' deep brown eyes trained on her as she caught her breath.
"What's going on upstairs?' She tried to steady her hands. "I heard yelling."
Snape didn't look worried in the least. "It doesn't concern you."
The air was thick, there wasn't enough oxygen; her skin was burning. When did it get so hot?
Hermione was hyperventilating, clutching at her neck, her shirt. "I can't…I need…" Her eyes pleaded with him for things she couldn't find words for. "Please, help me."
He waved his wand and removed her clothes except for her panties. "Better?" His voice was sultry, playful.
She nodded. Yes, the cool dungeon air was better. Her breasts hardened as her nipples swelled from the cold. "Thank you for being in my head."
"Naturally." His hungry eyes roamed over her chest, her stomach, and her small, very small, panties. She felt a thrill shoot through her.
He stepped through the threshold of the cellar. When had that opened?
Severus' eyes burned into her. He raised his hands to rest on her bare hips, her skin tingling underneath his large, warm hands.
He slowly walked her backward against the cool stone wall, holding her there. He raised his eyebrow in question.
Although she had no idea what, specifically, she was agreeing to, she nodded.
He raised one hand to cover her mouth firmly. Hermione's eyes widened as she was forced to breathe through her nose. At first, she wanted to resist, but she quickly realized that he was forcing her to breathe slower, forcing her body to bring her heart rate down. She let out a long exhale as she surrendered.
The corners of Severus' mouth turned slightly upward as she melted against him, all resistance gone from her body.
He'd barely touched her and she was burning hot again. She reached her arms around his neck as he anchored her to the wall with his strong chest. Severus reached his other hand down to stroke her gently through her panties, massaging the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
She shuddered, cursing softly under his hand. He knows every button to push. How can he know my body so well, too well?
"There's no such thing." He grazed his lips on her throat, his hot breath bringing shivers to her skin. His voice came out low and silky. "Your pleasure is my priority. I could finish just watching you come undone."
She moaned at that, running her fingers into the soft black hair at the nape of his neck. His swift finger moved the delicate fabric to the side. He touched her lips gently, petting her softly and wetting his fingers in her pooling heat. He began to play with her opening, running his finger in a lazy circle, every so often grazing her clitoris with his thumb.
He removed his left hand from her mouth and rested it against her jaw instead, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She stood on her tip-toes as his two fingers stroked the length of her lips, his thumb sliding back and forth over her sensitive bud. She let her head fall back as he rubbed her, sliding his long fingers through her soft folds, massaging her from the inside, twisting his knuckles and fluttering his fingertips for her enjoyment.
Hermione felt the blood run from her face and head south as her orgasm became imminent.
His hands suddenly stopped, and he removed his fingers. She moaned in protest, but he pulled down her panties and tossed them aside. She stilled as he traced slow trails down her thighs with his hands and he lowered himself to his knees.
Severus licked his lips, his bottomless brown eyes pinning her where she was.
"May I?"
.
.
Hermione jolted upright in bed, her head spinning. At first, she didn't recognize her surroundings. She was in her quarters, and she was boiling. She got up and wrenched her windows open.
Her clock read 6:40; she let out a heavy breath and flopped back down.
What the fuck was that?! Hermione had had many dreams about her time at Malfoy Manor, but usually, it was only flashbacks. That had been….well it wasn't what had happened at all!
She recognized the beginning part of the dream; it was the night she had been rescued. She had awoken to some commotion, and Yaxley had come downstairs, just as Dobby whooshed in and blasted him with his elf magic, throwing him to the cellar floor.
She shot him a look of undiluted gratitude, and he told her to run for it. It was the last thing Dobby had ever said to her. She had gotten out that day, and apparated to Shell Cottage with Ron and Harry, thanks to Dobby's sacrifice.
But why had this dream changed? And why had it felt so real? She had felt his warm hands, she had felt his breath on her neck.
And why had she reacted the way she did, even in the dream? It wasn't that she had thrown herself at him, but that she had been so confident. She had been too distracted by her desire for him to feel insecure about her body, her breath, her hair, or a million other things she knew she would normally have fixated on.
The room had cooled slightly, but her skin was sticky. Her alarm wasn't due to go off for another 20 minutes, but she was now wide awake, despite the mere 4 hours of sleep she had gotten. Draco's words had played over and over again in her mind all night. When Severus had held his hand out to her, the very last of the Elixir that was still in her system seemed to whisper to her, "Just do what you feel."
Draco's words echoed as she relished in the warm, firm feeling of Severus' chest as they apparated from Diagon Alley the night before.
When she'd gotten to bed last night, she'd finally had a chance to consider the reality of what Draco had told her. So it had been Snape- no, Severus, who had interrupted Yaxley.
Severus who had snuck into the cellar.
Severus, who had healed her, warmed her, and, she could barely believe it, cushioned her.
She remembered how it had felt, to feel cared for with that small act. When Draco had sent her back to her cell, her face, hands, ribs, and pelvis were bruised beyond measure. She had collapsed without bothering to assess her other injuries; she had just been too exhausted.
But when the stone floors relaxed beneath her, she had nearly burst into tears. All she had wanted in that moment was for her mother to hold her, stroke her hair, and tell her that she was going to be okay. The cushioned stone floor had given her just enough comfort not completely abandon the last flicker of hope in her heart.
It was different than just making sure she didn't die. Somehow, it was more meaningful than when he had dried and fed her the night before. She had given him answers in exchange; it had been transactional. But cushioning the stones had nothing to do gathering information and everything to do with Severus being unable to watch her pain anymore.
She had assumed it had been Draco because he had been the one who stopped Yaxley. But it had been Severus, the same Severus who hadn't pushed her away as she wrapped her arms around him the night before. Severus, who had brought her to the Great Hall safely and bid her a polite "Goodnight, Professor."
When she had wrapped her arms around his side and pressed herself to him, she had half expected him to jump back or scold her for taking such liberties, but he hadn't. He hadn't even hesitated, he'd simply wrapped his arm around her shoulder and whisked them away.
But Severus had removed his arm from around her the minute as was appropriate, because of course he did.
Severus was, and always had been, a good man. She felt a swell of pride that she'd been right. She hadn't ever truly believed that Snape was evil. She had believed that he was a blood purist, deeply flawed as a teacher, and a murderer, but something in the back of her head wouldn't let her see him as a threat.
She felt silly for thinking so far into things. True, he tolerated her, but he surely saw her as a child. As much as her body and senses leaned into his scent, his voice, his presence, she knew it was pointless. And as much as she knew she needed to stop ruminating over him, she couldn't help it; Severus made her heart beat faster.
Hermione shook her head and sat up. This would not do. She got out of bed and turned on the shower as cold as it could go.
After she had shivered all her inappropriate sexual feelings out of her system, she padded to her small kitchen and put on the coffee.
Hermione knew she could have summoned a cup, but making it herself had become her morning ritual at 12 Grimmauld Place after the war, and she carried it on here too. She did, however, take the breakfast pastry from the tray that had been sent by the elves. Cheese croissant, yes please.
She thankfully remembered to stop and check her schedule before finally leaving her quarters, as there was a staff meeting that afternoon that she would have missed. She folded up her schedule and stuck it in her blazer pocket as she stepped out the door.
She made it a few steps before she realized she'd left her coffee sitting on the counter. She rolled her eyes at herself and spun around to retrieve it.
She stopped dead.
Bright red paint stretched from one wall, across her wooden door, and onto the other wall, spelling out one word in giant letters:
MUDBLOOD
At first, Hermione stared at the word, puzzled. Her brain didn't immediately recognize what was happening - and then the clouds cleared.
Mudblood.
On her door.
That meant her.
This was for her.
She looked around frantically; the hallway was deserted. Someone had been here, someone who hated her, twenty feet from where she slept. Horror overtook her as she stared blankly at the graffiti.
Hermione snapped to her senses and whipped her wand out of her pocket to cast a cleaning charm.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, blasting the walls with her second-best cleaning charm. The paint remained.
Hermione didn't know what to do. Part of her knew she should go and report it, another part of her was still wondering which cleaning spell she was forgetting, another part was already in the library, deciding which stack of books would hold the answer, and another part of her was falling…back down into the cellar.
She was out of spells and was nearly in tears when she heard light footsteps sound down the corridor. Hermione wiped her eyes with her sleeve and put her wand back in her pocket.
A thick Welsh accent bounced off of the stone walls. "Professor Granger?"
It was Rowland. She looked up, cursing her eyes, which were surely red. His dark curls were tied back as usual, and the silky ringlets that stuck out reached the nape of his neck.
He stared up at the doorway, frowning at the scene. "Professor…is this your door?"
She nodded, vaguely distracted by the green of his eyes. He certainly was something to look at. She gazed back at the door.
"I hit it with a dozen cleaning spells, but nothing worked." It felt as though her voice was coming from very far away, she felt a little like she had stood up too quickly, unsure if she was balanced or falling over.
Professor Rowland stepped into her view, breaking her stare on the brutally painted word. "Professor Granger, I think you may be in shock. Please, let's get you inside for a moment, I think you should sit."
His voice sounded far away too. She nodded, opening her door to him. Rowland closed it behind them and strode to the small kitchen, pulling out a stool for her to sit on. He went to the counter and rifled through her cupboard. "Ah, good, you have all your tea things out in the open."
She sat on the stool, slightly dazed, while Professor Rowland rummaged through her tea selection. "Please stop me if I am out of line, but I thought I might make us a cup."
"Thank you." She croaked, her eyes out of focus.
He waved his wand and the pot started to boil immediately. Her teapot was summoned into his hands and he added the leaves from a canister on her counter. He turned and leaned over the bar, resting his tanned hands on the tile counter, and leveled with her, "Professor Granger, I am so sorry this happened. When you are ready, I think we should go see the headmistress to report this. Does that sound alright to you?"
Hermione nodded. She wasn't sure what to say. She actively stopped herself from apologizing for being an inconvenience. He was talking to her in a slow voice, one you might use for a patient.
He poured her cup and slid it to her. "Cream or sugar?"
She shook her head. She picked the cup up and held it, watching the steam lazily rise from the surface.
It was too hot to drink. It was also too hot to hold, but it felt nice in her hands anyway. It reminded her of those steaming hot, middle-of-the-night showers she used to take when she first got back to headquarters, after Malfoy Manor.
When the war had first ended, and she'd been staying at Grimmauld place, she let the temperature slowly get hotter until she could barely stand it, and then she had sat down on the tile, letting herself go numb. She hugged her knees and let her head drop forward. She knew her skin would be raw later, but she didn't care. The pain of it, the shock of it, tore her from the storm in her head. The more she focused on the pain, the less it hurt. The less any of it hurt. The pain eased her burden, just a little.
Holding the too-hot cup gave her the same sensation. She let the dull throb warm her, slowly coming black to herself.
Rowland, to his credit, did not rush her, or speak, or hover. He poured himself a cup and sat beside her, facing forwards.
After a few minutes of silence and sipping, she looked at him on her right. "Thank you, Professor Rowland."
He nodded, "You may call me, Lucas."
"Lucas." She took a deep breath. "I needed to process what just happened, I appreciate your kindness."
"Professor Granger-" he started.
"Hermione."
"Hermione," Lucas smiled, her name rolling off of his tongue as he corrected himself, "you do not need to thank me or explain. I am muggleborn myself."
She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding; he understood. She sipped her tea deeply, letting the warmth steady her heartbeat. "You are very good at this."
He took the compliment with a large, genuine smile that warmed her. "Well, I did spend 20 years convincing wild creatures to trust me, if that counts for anything."
"It does." She nodded, sipping.
"Would you like me to walk you to the Minerva's office?"
She nodded again, standing up and clearing the mugs with her wand.
As they exited her quarters and stepped into the hall, Hermione let Lucas out first and then closed the door behind her just as Severus turned the corner. He blinked as he took in the sight of Rowland and Hermione leaving her quarters at barely seven in the morning. Then his eyes darted to the letters above their heads and darkened.
"What is this?" He hissed.
Hermione didn't think an answer was necessary, but Lucas said, "Severus, good morning." He looked behind him, "Nasty business. We were just off to report this to Minerva."
Severus ignored him and addressed Hermione. "Professor, are you alright?"
She nodded, looking into his somber eyes.
Her words came out like a robot. "Yes. Thank you, Severus. I will see you at lunch."
Hermione and Lucas walked down the corridor to Minerva's office, leaving Severus to stare up at the red letters.