A/N: Sorry for the delay - lots of strange happenings in these parts. But thank you for the continued reviews and nudges!
On an unrelated note/interesting side fact - as part of my plotting for this story, I set up a class schedule for Hermione and a teaching schedule for Severus because I'm slightly OCD about details and I didn't want to contradict myself somewhere. I had been filling the latter in as I went along, but today I was determined to figure out how it all fit together. In this story, I have him teaching 28 classes at approximately 36 hours a week of in class time. Curious as to how this compared to JKR's universe, I started working that out and realized that at the bare minimum she has him in the actual classroom with students 46 hours (34 classes) a week! That doesn't even begin to cover the amount of time he puts in grading homework and preparing for class. Even without all of the spying and brewing and Head of Slytherin duties, I would understand his bad temper. Either he's been getting by with a Time Turner, or he just doesn't sleep.
Now, I'm not going to lie... this chapter got a little...erm... we'll go with awkward.
Bound to Him
Chapter 53
"Alright, Miss Granger," Poppy muttered as she appeared from the storeroom. "There aren't any exams today, so I think we'll be safe from the deluge of tummy aches and dizzy spells at least long enough for us to have a conversation. Come have a seat in my office, and I'll send for tea."
Nodding, the girl followed the matron nurse into the large room beside the infirmary and then perched on the proffered armchair. She waited quietly while the woman summoned a house-elf and put in an order for tea.
"Well, then," the Healer smiled, leaning back in her chair. "I hear that Professor Snape has finally agreed to this arrangement."
With a small laugh, Hermione nodded.
"Be prepared, though," the nurse cautioned as a silver tea service appeared on her desk top. "I will not put it past him to swoop up here and critique your Potions work. He generally assists me in keeping my stores well-stocked, and he does expect a certain standard of performance. Based upon your record thus far, though, I have no doubts on your ability to complete simple brews."
"Oh, well, thank you," she smiled, leaning forward to accept a steaming teacup.
"Shall we discuss scheduling, then?" Pomfrey asked before taking a small sip. "I understand you've withdrawn from Defense to give you more time here."
The Gryffindor nodded, pulling out her assignment book from her bag. "I now have Tuesday and Thursday morning open until ten, and Fridays until the lunch hour."
"When else?" the woman queried as she wrote down the information. "Afternoons? Evenings?"
Hermione blew out a deep breath and scratched her eyebrow as she peered at her already crowded weekly schedule. "Erm, I don't really have a lot of time during the afternoon – maybe a half-hour before supper on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Thursday after three-thirty. Evenings, erm… well how late would I be here?"
"Eight, nine, ten, eleven," Poppy shrugged with a slight smile. "Welcome to the medical profession – it really depends on the night, I'm afraid. If the infirmary is busy, I will be unable to provide new instruction in a structured setting, so you may have to entertain yourself with other homework if you are not yet able to assist me. Other nights, you may be busy yourself with a patient. I promise not to fetch you for any of the middle of the night incidents, but should you find yourself here past curfew, you will, of course, be excused from any point removals or detentions – despite what some may claim."
Ignoring the obvious reference to Professor Snape, the girl's eyes widened in surprise. "You mean I will actually be responsible for treating students?"
"Eventually. With supervision, of course. I'll not set you loose on anyone untrained."
"Oh, well, erm…" She shifted nervously in her seat and peered back at her schedule, keeping in mind her lessons with Severus, session with Harry, and nightly rounds. "I guess I could be available Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday after supper."
"Ah," the mediwitch nodded. "That should work well. I'll expect you here at eight o'clock sharp in the morning. Tuesday mornings, you will do a bit of cleaning to practice your sterilization and purification charms – there will not always be house-elves available in every situation, and it would be best to be at the top of your form. Thursdays, I will have you conduct an inventory of the storeroom to make sure it remains fully stocked every week. I will walk you through it this time, of course, and supervise you next week. I'll be available for questions if you need help with it down the road, but I expect you to keep it up on your own, is that understood?"
"Y-yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now, Friday mornings and the evenings will provide more time for actual lessons and practice. Tonight we will begin with the cleaning charms I mentioned previously so that you will be prepared for that starting next week, and tomorrow we will go through the simplest mending charms. Likely we will continue with that on Friday morning. Saturday evenings, I expect, will be when you focus on brewing the potions needed to replenish the stock for the coming week. I do not expect you to work Sundays, unless you have more brewing to finish. You need at least one night to rest." Poppy cleared her throat and reached behind her to grab a large, worn volume from the bookshelf. "There are a number of books I will have you read throughout the term, but this is considered the 'go-to' guide for general healing. You may borrow this to read when you like, but I ask that it not leave the infirmary. Since you are interested in becoming a Healer, I would suggest investing in your own copy, but it is up to you as it is a bit spendy."
Blinking rapidly as she processed all of the information being thrown at her, Hermione glanced down at the cover to see the barely visible title, The Medi-witch's Helping Handbook. "Oh, I already have a copy."
"You do?" the nurse asked in surprise before shaking her head. "I shouldn't really be so shocked, should I? With your reputation for books, if Healing is what you were interested in, you would have scoured the shelves for relevant material. You've probably had a decent head-start on your reading, haven't you?"
"No, actually," the girl blushed. "I just recently came to the decision, so I haven't actually had a chance to scour the shelves yet."
"Oh? Well, that book is an excellent place to begin."
Well done, Luna. The girl smiled and briefly eyed the clock. She had barely been there for half an hour and already she felt overwhelmed.
"Your first class is at ten, correct? And how far do you have to walk?"
Hermione nodded. "Well, it's History of Magic so it's just down the hall from here."
"Excellent," Madam Pomfrey smiled as she pulled open her bottom drawer and withdrew a sizeable folder. "Then we'll have enough time to get through some of the policy."
"Some?"
The mediwitch chuckled softly as she flipped open to the first page. "Oh, don't worry, Granger. We'll get through the rest this evening."
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
"Hermione, are you asleep?"
"Unnnngggghhh," the brunette groaned, attempting to bury her face deeper into her pillow. "Yes."
Ginny snorted and rolled over in her bed. "I can't sleep."
"Why?"
The younger witch propped herself up on one elbow. "I keep thinking about Dean."
With an agonized moan, Hermione draped an arm over her face. "Gin, I'm tired. I don't want to hear about your latest snogging session."
"Well, I wasn't going to talk about that, but now that you mention it, it was a bit different. Really good – like really, really –"
"Ginny!"
"Sorry," the redhead giggled, before sighing. "But it was different – like he was a bit angry with me or something. I don't know what I did – I mean if it's because George went with me to the party, that wasn't my fault. Dad wouldn't let me go without an escort, and I wasn't about to take Ron or Percy. Bill had a date with Fleur, Charlie had already left, and it was Fred's night to work the shop."
The older girl dropped her hand against the mattress and rolled her eyes. "I don't think he's upset about George."
"Well, I mean he did snog one of Dean's neighbors during the fireworks –"
"What?" Hermione gasped. "You didn't tell me that."
Her friend laughed softly and nodded. "I had to hit him with a snowball before Dean's mum turned around. It was so embarrassing, but he agreed not to tell Dad about my sitting on Dean's lap if I didn't tell Mum about his kissing a complete stranger. You don't think he could be mad about that, do you?"
"Dean? I don't think so. If it had been his sister or cousin or something, maybe."
"Then what is it? I didn't do anything else."
The bushy-haired witch gave a sad laugh and rubbed her temple. "Think about it, Gin – what was the first thing you did when you walked into the castle two nights ago?"
"I hugged you and Harry," she replied casually.
"And you used to blatantly fancy whom again?"
"Oh," Ginny whispered. "You think he's jealous of Harry?"
"For Merlin's sake, Weasley – are you that dense?" Mathina growled from her bed across the room.
"But –"
Hermione exhaled loudly. "Harry spent the majority of the holiday at the Burrow, and you said out loud – in front of Dean – that you had missed him."
"I said we missed him!" the girl protested, sitting up in bed. "We – as in the entire family missed him! Not me personally! And I don't like Harry like that anymore!"
"You don't?"
"No!" she cried before taking in a large sigh. "I mean, I thought maybe I did for a while, but then when I thought Dean and I were through, Harry was hugging me and I kept thinking that it felt wrong and that I just wanted him to be Dean instead."
"But you were practically obsessed with Harry – for years! Everyone knew it."
Ginny shrugged and threw up her arms. "People change, Hermione – I changed. Just because he was my first crush doesn't mean I'm going to be head over heels for him for the rest of my life! Harry didn't give me the time of day, but Dean was there. I got to know him, and I like being with him. I don't know what it is exactly I feel for Harry anymore, but it isn't what I feel for Dean! I love hi – holy shite!"
Wide-eyed, Hermione watched as her friend covered her cheeks with her hands and sank back against her pillow. "Gin, you're not even sixteen yet."
"So? Dad said he knew Mum was the one when she told him off in the middle of third year, and they had an understanding by the end of sixth."
"What happened to not being ready to get married?" the older witch asked grumpily.
"Well, I'm not," the redhead responded. "Loving someone and getting married are completely different. I mean, I'm not Mum. Oh, gods – I can't tell him, can I? We've only been dating seven months – I dated Michael longer than that and he turned out to be such a tosspot – what if Dean doesn't actually like me that much?"
"Would you please shut up?" Mattie grumbled, pulling her pillow over her head.
The brunette smirked in agreement, but turned to whisper, "Well, you should at least tell him you're not in love with Harry anymore. Even if he isn't sure of what he feels for you, think of how Dean must feel if he thinks that you may never care for him the way you did Harry."
"You're right," Ginny sighed. "That would be awful, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it – I imagine it would be," Hermione muttered, staring at the underside of her canopy.
Her friend gave a small giggle as she rolled over. "Though, I did rather enjoy the angry snogging so maybe –"
"WEASLEY!"
"Sorry, Mattie," she whispered, pulling her blankets up to her chin. "I'm done talking. Good night."
"Good night," Hermione murmured, relieved to finally be able to sleep. After her day, which had both started and ended with an unbelievable amount of paperwork, she was exhausted. As there was another long day ahead of her – with an early morning Potions practical and an evening in the Hospital Wing. She was starting to understand why Madam Pomfrey always seemed to worry about everything and never wasted any energy trying to get to the truth of some of the ridiculous stories the students told her.
As the sounds of slowed breathing filled the room, the witch narrowed her eyes. She was the one who was tired, and yet both of her roommates were already asleep before her.
What happened to 'I can't sleep because I'm too busy thinking about snogging my boyfriend?' Angrily snogging, I guess. What the hell constitutes angry snogging anyway? She frowned as she considered the question. Whatever it is, I bet Severus would be wicked brilliant at it.
A sly grin crossed her face and she felt her cheeks grow warm as she remembered how she had spent New Year's Day. She was rather willing to bet that her time on Snape's lap had been much more enjoyable than Ginny's on Dean's. Closing her eyes, she wondered briefly how the Potions Master would have responded were she to have slipped into his quarters that night.
Oh, gods – what am I doing? Hermione whimpered quietly as she pulled her pillow over her head. She needed to sleep, not to fantasize.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
As Snape slowly made his way about the classroom, monitoring the progress of his students' brewing, he periodically found his attention drawn toward the Gryffindor witch. As opposed to normal, she had spent the entire hour thus far perching on the edge of her stool as she worked and whenever there was a moment of down time in her preparations, she spent it resting her chin on one hand.
When he noticed her eyelids beginning to droop, he cast a quick look into her cauldron and realized that she was in danger of missing a critical color change. Rolling his shoulders, he sneered disdainfully at Potter's work, noting that the boy was about ready to add in the rhubarb seeds too early.
"Potter, are you under the impression that any shade of yellow will do? By all means, I invite you to experiment. I look forward to documenting the inefficacy of your variation."
As the boy scowled and dropped his hand back to the table, Hermione peeked out of one eye and quickly compared their brews. Realizing hers was nearly ready, she gasped quietly and snatched at her jar of seeds.
"How am I to know what the difference is between gold and saffron? They're both gold!"
Severus rolled his eyes at the boy's whisper and non-verbally flipped the pages of his book until it opened to one of the appendices.
Harry stared in shock at the color wheel in his textbook. "This has been here the entire year?"
"There's been something similar in every Potions text we've had," Hermione whispered.
As the Boy Wonder expressed his disbelief, the professor turned his attention to the next row of tables and smirked in amusement as he noted Ernie Macmillan, Anthony Goldstein, and Megan Jones frantically searching for that page. By the time he had completed another round of the classroom, he witnessed Hermione yawning widely and then closing her eyes again.
She had only had one day of mediwitch training, so for her to be so tired was worrisome. Perhaps he had overestimated the toll it would take on her after all. Frowning, he crossed his arms, knowing full well he had to do something to pull her attention back to her work or she was going to miss the necessary stirring and wind up with slop. "Granger, did Madam Pomfrey keep you up too late scrubbing bedpans?"
The girl's eyes widened suddenly and she nearly startled off of her stool. "N-no, sir!"
Snickers erupted about the room, and Snape was somewhat surprised to see that the only other two students who did not seem to find the question amusing were Potter and Draco. As he continued his rounds for the remaining hour, he decided to keep an eye on the Malfoy heir. It did not take very long for him to witness the blonde casting several hesitant glances in the direction of the Gryffindor pair.
As they neared the end of the session, he felt his curiosity beginning to get the better of him. Exhaling deeply, he sat at his desk and glanced back at Hermione, who now appeared to be staring blankly at her cauldron. As a few of the students approached with their completed potions, Severus mentally un-silenced the connection with her. Though he intended to question her about the Slytherin boy, his interrogation was immediately squandered by the sudden onslaught of explicit thoughts within his head.
The images his mind produced in response to her mental monologue were enough to make a grown man blush. He could see himself hungrily attacking the witch's mouth as he backed her onto his bed and climbed atop her. Without pausing in his oral assault, he ripped apart the sides of her blouse to expose her heated chest, and then quickly began nipping down the length of her throat. As he reached her collarbone, she arched against him with an audible whimper. Growling, he moved his hand to yank down the cup of her bra –
The clattering of a glass vial as it slipped through his fingers immediately pulled him back to the present, and Severus glanced up to see Terry Boot's nervous expression.
"I'm sorry, sir," the boy stammered, grabbing up the flask and recapping it before all of its contents could escape. "I th-thought you had hold of it, sir. It's my fault – I'll clean it up."
The professor cleared his throat and scowled in frustration as he looked past the panicked Ravenclaw to where Hermione was biting down on her bottom lip as she picked up her own flask in preparation for decanting her brew. In her head, though, she was picturing his teeth scraping over her rosy-hued areola as his tongue lashed against her nipple –
"Is that enough, sir –"
Snape's gaze slowly shifted from the fantasizing Gryffindor to the student directly in front of his desk.
"—for evaluation?" Boot asked, holding up his half-empty vial. "Or should I try to refill it with…what I have left… in… my… I'll just go refill it, sir. I'm sorry. That was an unintelligent question."
It was only after the tall boy scampered back to his work desk to scrape the dredges of his cauldron that the Potions Master realized that his look of confusion had been taken as one of condemnation. Before he could risk embarrassing himself further in front of the class, he immediately silenced the stream of thoughts coming from the girl and pinched the bridge of his nose. As his trousers suddenly felt uncomfortably tight, he cast an angry glare in Hermione's direction just in time to witness her about to transfer her potion without paying nearly enough attention to it.
"Granger!" he snapped while accepting Malfoy's and Greengrass's flasks. "Do you think that wise?"
Hermione jumped visibly, squawking as she realized how close she had been to spilling the contents of her cauldron across the workbench. "No, sir!"
"Perhaps you should stop daydreaming about your significant other and focus on what it is you're actually supposed to be doing!"
Her face flushed a vibrant red as a number of her classmates tittered softly, and her widened gaze immediately locked onto his. In response to her silent question, he raised his eyebrows in affirmation and then sneered as he leaned forward. "Five points from Gryffindor."
Potter glared at him when she dropped her head in shame and then leaned toward her. "It's alright, Hermione – it's only five points. You'll make it up by the end of the day. You always do."
"I know," she mumbled beneath her breath as she began bottling her potion. When she had finished, she slowly made her way toward his desk, staring at the floor in shame. Without meeting his eyes, she set her potion on the desk in front of him and immediately made to turn away.
"One moment, Miss Granger," Snape intoned, picking up her flask and then rolling it in his fingers. While she waited nervously, he held it up to the light to examine it. The viscosity was spot on, but the hue was half a shade too dark and the clarity was not what it should have been. "An average attempt at best. I have come to expect excellence from you, and given the nature of our present agreement, one would assume you would not behave in a manner that will affect it negatively. Whatever it is you were doing just now cannot happen again. Is that understood?"
Hermione closed her eyes and ducked her head. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."
"I think you will find, Miss Granger," he replied casually, stowing her potion in the basket along with Potter's and Macmillan's, "that if this occurs again, you will indeed be the sorry party. Are we clear?"
The witch flicked her eyes briefly to his and gave an understanding nod. She then took in a deep breath and walked as quickly as she could back to her station.
Severus surreptitiously watched as she quickly cleaned out her cauldron and shoved all of her things into her book bag. He could tell by the way she was holding herself that she was fighting off tears, and when she quickly fled the room, leaving Potter to re-shelve their ingredients, he felt an incredible sense of guilt. At the same time, however, he wanted it to sink in that they were not in a position in which they could test the limits of the bond. He was doing everything he could to keep things on an even keel, and it was in her best interest not to rock the boat.
Rolling his eyes at the glare sent his way by the exiting Boy-Who-Lived, he accepted the last of the student potions and then rubbed his temples. He knew that he should apologize to the girl, but at the moment, he had a much more pressing matter to deal with before the fourth years arrived. In order to prevent any further blood escaping to a particular part of his anatomy, he first had to bury the images she had elicited.
For the moment, Draco Malfoy was forgotten.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
After slamming the stall door shut, Hermione sank onto the edge of the toilet and set her bag on her lap. Wrapping her arms around it, she sucked in a large gulp of air and closed her eyes.
Gods, how did that happen? With all of the inappropriate images that had plagued her thoughts the night before, she had not managed much sleep at all, and when Snape called attention to her fatigue, they all came rushing back. She tried not to think about it and tried to focus on her brewing like she was supposed to, but the next thing she knew, he was simultaneously pressing her into the mattress in her head and shouting at her to pay attention in class.
It was one level of embarrassment to know that she had been caught about to pour a hot potion all over her hand, but it was yet another to know that he had seen exactly why she was so distracted.
Oh gods, how much did he see? The witch whimpered and buried her face against her book bag. Why was he looking?
Groaning softly, Hermione realized he must have been concerned about her inattention in class and then stumbled onto something he was unprepared to find. A few hot tears trickled down her cheeks as she remembered the angered expression on his face as he yelled at her and the clipped tone of voice he had used during his coded message to her. She knew exactly why he was upset – she remembered his explanation that their sexual desires could affect the strength of the bond. It had been ten days since she had last talked him into having sex, and he clearly did not want to risk having to repeat the occurrence any sooner than normal.
After her discussion with Professor McGonagall, the last thing the girl wanted to do was force him into sex. It seemed, however, that her subconscious had other plans. Leaning back into an upright position, she covered her face with both hands and whispered, "What is wrong with me?"
As she ran her hands through her hair, she heard the bathroom door creak open. "Hermione, are you in here?"
A sigh escaped her lips at the sound of Harry's voice. She then cleared her throat and called out to him. "Yes. I'll be out in just a moment."
"Okay," he replied. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and glared at the hinge of the stall door. "Harry."
"Yes?" he asked.
"This is the girl's bathroom," she responded. "Might I have some privacy?"
"Oh, erm, yeah," the boy stammered. "Sorry. I'll just wait for you in the hall."
The witch snorted softly under her breath as the door closed. Rubbing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and then forced herself to her feet. In case the wizard was close enough to the door to hear, she flushed the unused toilet bowl and stumbled out of the cubicle toward the row of sinks. After splashing her face with a handful of cold water, she toweled it dry and then stared at herself in the mirror.
"Behave yourself, Granger," she instructed sternly, before shouldering her bag and joining Harry on a walk to the Charms classroom.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
As she made her way up to Gryffindor Tower after her session in the infirmary, Hermione wrapped her arms about her waist and chewed on her bottom lip. She had made it most of the day without thinking anything inappropriate, but after Snape had broken through her thoughts during dinner to apologize for his short temper during class, her resolve seemed to slip. It had been alright when she was preoccupied with following Poppy's instructions, but whenever she had time to herself, her mind began to wander in unsuitable directions. Because of this, she realized she needed to find something on which to keep herself actively focused until she could collapse into a potion-induced slumber.
"Fuggity Fugwumps," she stated upon approaching the Fat Lady's Portrait, and as she stepped through the hole into the common room, she immediately glanced about the space for options. Ginny and Dean were cuddled up together on one of the sofas, which was something she really would not mind doing with Severus in his quarters…
Damn it, Granger! She shook her head and averted her eyes toward the tables where a number of students were working on their homework. Suddenly, she wished that she had a mind-numbingly difficult six-inch Potions essay to write. Though with her current predicament, it would probably end up being closer to ten or twelve inches, which would likely serve only to aggravate Snape further. She could see him hauling her up to the front of the room for another stern lecture, or perhaps into his office for some…
"Fuck!" she groaned, wiping her hand over her face. Stop thinking like this!
"Hermione?" Ginny asked, glancing over her boyfriend's arm. "Are you alright?"
The brunette dropped her hand and looked to her friend, clearing her throat. "Erm, yes. I was just… I just need to blow off some steam, so I was wondering if Harry wanted to get in some Defense practice."
"Oh," the redhead murmured, looking around the room. "I'm not sure where he is. Dean, have you seen him?"
The dark-haired boy shook his head as he turned the page of his Transfiguration textbook. "I haven't seen him since supper. He could be up in the room, though."
"I'll go check, then," Hermione sighed, walking toward the boys' staircase. "Thanks."
A mumbled acknowledgement drifted toward her as she climbed the stairs towards the sixth years' room. Rubbing her forehead, she mentally ran through all of the spells Madam Pomfrey had made her practice repeatedly. By the time she finished reciting the necessary wand motions for the Anapneo spell, she had reached the correct room.
"Harry?" she asked, knocking softly. A muffled grunt sounded in response, and the witch pushed open the door. "Harry, I was wondering if you – oh my god!"
Before the occupants of the room could scramble to their feet in panic, a wide-eyed Hermione slammed the door shut behind her and fled down the staircase. By the time she reached the common room again, her cheeks were flaming and the same phrase kept repeating itself in her head. Oh my gods! Oh my GODS! OH MY GODS!
"Ya alright there, Granger?" Seamus asked, noticing the expression on her face as he looked up from his work.
When the girl whimpered and shook her head, Ginny pushed up from Dean's shoulder and looked at her with concern. "What's wrong? Harry didn't want to practice?"
The Irish boy eyed her curiously as she sank into a chair and then set down his quill. "Jeezus, Granger, you didn't walk in on Harry fingerin' his flute, did ya?"
"What?" she gasped, looking over at him in surprise as all of the boys within earshot blushed.
"Ya know," Seamus smirked unashamedly, "Beatin' the bishop, visitin' the five-fingered widow, bangin' one out, havin' a –"
He paused in his list to duck out of the way of the throw pillow that had been launched in his direction by one of the seventh-years sitting in front of the fireplace.
"There are firsties listening, you idiot!" Dean snapped, tossing a second pillow.
"Well, then they shouldn't be listening!"
Ignoring the current exchange between the two friends, Hermione wrinkled her nose at the mental picture accompanying the line of questioning and pushed the heels of her hands against her forehead. It was bad enough that she now had the image of Ronald Weasley with his pants around his ankles and Lavender's mouth around a different extremity burned onto her retina; she did not need one of her other male best friend in a compromising activity.
At that moment, the portrait swung open to reveal Neville excitedly discussing something with Harry.
"Oi!" Finnigan called. "Where ya been, Potter?"
Feeling a number of eyes upon him, the newcomer raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Neville and I were working on our Herbology project in the library."
"Yeah," the slightly taller boy nodded. "Professor Sprout made us partners now that Hermione's project is in the Hospital Wing."
"So if you weren't the one havin' a wank in our room –"
"What?" Harry hissed while Longbottom flushed scarlet.
"—then who was, eh?" Seamus raised his eyebrows suggestively as his eyes roved about the room. "You and I and Neville are accounted for, and Dean's hands are currently occupied elsewhere –"
"Hey!" Ginny snapped, shifting away from her boyfriend and folding her arms to her chest.
" – which can only mean – Weasley, you dog!"
Everyone except Hermione followed the wizard's gaze toward the boys' dormitory staircase in time see a nervous grin appear on Ron's face. The curly-haired witch that had stepped into the room just ahead of him glared back at him and slapped his forearm.
"You were supposed to lock the door!" she spit under her breath.
"I told you I did!" Ron protested. "I don't know why it didn't hold, but I did lock it!"
"You can't lock a dormitory door if there's a member of the opposite sex in the room," Hermione stated softly, in spite of the fact she wanted to curl up and die. "It's a Hogwarts policy."
"Is that so?" Seamus asked, visibly enjoying the ensuing chaos.
"Yes," Ginny agreed, glaring in her brother's direction. "As a former prefect, he should have known that."
A frustrated cry drew attention back to the bickering couple at the base of the stairs. After smacking the redhead once more, Lavender took note of all of the looks pointed in her direction and then glared bitterly at the back of head of the only one not staring at her. Folding her arms to her chest, the blonde huffed loudly and leaned forward. "You're a total bitch, Hermione."
"Lavender!" her boyfriend shouted as she sprinted up the girls' staircase and disappeared. He then sighed and ran his hands through his hair before turning to look at the audience of intrigued Gryffindors.
Hermione, having winced at the accusation, felt some of the attention shift back to her. A few of the seventh years, including Cormac McLaggen, bore haughty smirks of agreement, while the younger students looked to her in sympathy or outrage, as in the case of her roommate.
"That cow is totally out of line!" Ginny spat bitterly. "You didn't do anything wrong, Hermione."
"Well, she could have knocked, couldn't she?" Ron mumbled.
The brunette let out an angry puff of air as she stood from her chair and turned to face him. "I did knock! I thought it was Harry grunting for me to open the door like he usually does because the two of you don't always bother to use words!"
His eyes widened slightly before narrowing into a cold glare. "Fine, but you didn't need to come down here and tell everyone that you walked in on her sucking me off!"
As a collective gasp sounded across the room, Hermione balled her hands into fists and returned his angry stare. "I didn't tell them anything."
"Then how did they know?" he pressed as she quickly moved toward her dormitory stairs.
"'Cause you just told us, mate," Seamus stated brightly.
Hermione vaguely heard the beginning of a shout from Ginny as she rounded the first turn of the staircase and then nearly collided with her other roommate.
"Sorry," Mattie muttered, stepping to one side. "One of the second years came to tell me what's going on, and I'm going to put it to rest before McGonagall gets summoned and we all never hear the end of it."
The younger witch nodded as the other prefect disappeared from view and hurriedly mounted the steps to their room. After slamming the door shut behind her, she flopped onto her bed and covered her eyes with her arms.
The day had just gone from bad to worse, and as it was only half past nine, there was the potential for it to become an absolute nightmare. With a shuddering sigh, Hermione propped herself up on one elbow and pulled open the drawer of her bedside table. Her hand paused over one of the vials of Dreamless Sleep that still remained – it was tempting, but she did not wish to risk oversleeping her scheduled time in the infirmary. Instead, she grabbed the flask of milder sleeping draught, noting with trepidation that it was her last dose.
I'll just have to ask him for more during tomorrow's session, because if I do it tonight, I'm liable to jump him where he stands. The girl gave a small whimper at the thought and tried to shake the accompanying images out of her head. After tossing back the potion, she dropped the empty vial in the drawer and slammed it shut. She kicked off her shoes and, without bothering to change into her pajamas, crawled under the blankets and closed her eyes.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
"Alright, everyone, make sure you've copied down the assignment for Tuesday's class and then off with you!"
Hermione's head snapped up at Professor Babbling's instruction and glanced around in surprise at all of the students vacating their seats. In a panic, she yanked her assignment book from her bag and attempted to write down the due date only to find the ink on her quill had gone dry. As she hurriedly dipped it into the inkwell, she looked up just in time to see the professor preparing to erase the board.
"Wait!" she cried, scribbling down the information as quickly as she could.
"Oh, of course, Miss Granger," the witch smiled. "I should have considered you were too busy taking notes to jot down the assignment before now."
"Erm, sorry."
"Oh, don't apologize!" she laughed. "That was not a complaint by any means."
The girl gave a hesitant smile as she shoved everything back into her book bag and then gave a mumbled word of gratitude. As she exited the otherwise empty classroom, she felt a twist of guilt in her gut as she realized there was not a single line of notes written for that day's lecture. She only hoped that everything she needed for the assignment was in the textbook, or else she was going to have to ask Dean for a copy of his notes. That would involve coming up with a suitable explanation that did not include thinking about having a naked Potions Master exploring every contour of her body.
This is fucking ridiculous! Hermione ran a hand through her hair as she arrived in front of the statue of Boris the Bewildered. The Prefects' Bathroom was empty as everyone else was in the Great Hall for lunch, but she was not hungry and had no intention of joining them. People would likely notice her absence, but as the fiasco of last night had begun to make the rounds of the school gossips, it would not be terribly hard to convince anyone that she had gone down to the kitchens for food instead. If only for that reason, she hoped the murmurs had reached the ears of the staff table so as to prevent Snape from mentally chastising her for not eating. She did not think she could stand it to hear his voice at the present moment, and he would likely be quite irate to discover the current content of her thoughts.
And I thought yesterday was difficult. The witch tossed her bag at the foot of one of the benches in the girl's shower room and sank onto the white cushion. She had managed a decent amount of sleep, at least until the potion wore off a few hours before she needed to be awake. The same images that had tortured her the night before had then returned, leaving her overly heated and desperate for some form of relief. An early morning session of destroying dueling dummies in the Room of Requirement had solved the problem for a while until she had slipped back upstairs for a shower before breakfast.
The sudden desire to be shoved up against the slippery tile by a wet Severus, however, had her quickly retreating to safer territory in the Great Hall. As it had been half an hour earlier than her usual breakfast, the room had been sparsely populated. With no one to bother her, she had again mentally recited the simple healing spells repeatedly until she was through with her breakfast. Her urges had calmed as a result – at least until she happened to pass the object of her fantasies in the Entrance Hall. The sound of his murmured greeting had sent a shiver through her body that ultimately settled into her core.
She had managed to make it through Madam Pomfrey's inventorying instructions, but her history class had gone much the same way as had Ancient Runes. Her ability to maintain focus had steadily decreased as the throbbing between her legs had intensified.
It was obvious that the binding curse was to blame. The magic had not yet weakened enough to cause pain, but was punishing her all the same for having discovered that she was attracted to the surly wizard. The girl knew she needed to confess everything to Severus soon, but she had Transfiguration after lunch and he was teaching classes up until supper. She would not pull him away from lunch. It was too soon after Lupin's accusations for both of them to be missing from a meal without irrefutable evidence of an alternative explanation. So she was just going to have to suffer until their scheduled session that evening.
And then he can do whatever he wants with me. A smirk settled onto her face as she closed her eyes, envisioning the wizard leading her by the hand up the stairs from his office to his bedroom, guiding her to her knees at the foot of his bed. She clenched her thighs together tightly as he slowly parted his robes and he then placed one of her hands on his belt buckle. She looked up to meet his dark eyes as she slid his trousers and pants from his hips and then ran her tongue over her lips as he gently maneuvered her head toward –
"No!" Hermione threw open her eyes and grabbed hold of her head with both hands. "Stop it!"
Launching to her feet, she began pacing the length of the room and tried again to run through the spells. When that no longer worked, she latched onto the first potion she could think of and began listing off the ingredients, and when that eventually failed, she kicked the end of a bench in frustration. She just wanted it to stop – the throbbing, the images, the urges just needed to go away.
Balling and unballing her hands, she blew out a long, slow breath and looked to the ceiling. It was not getting any better, and she needed to do something. Dueling crossed her mind, but she really did not have the energy for another round. Despite her recently overwhelming sex drive, she was physically exhausted.
I suppose there is one thing I could try. She wrinkled her nose at the thought and shook her head. No, I can't do - well, other girls do it, don't they? It's a normal process, right? Documented health benefits and all that? But it's so wrong!
But what if it works? Hermione gave an audible groan as she glanced at the clock and assured that the bathroom was still vacant. Muttering under her breath, she slipped into one of the shower stalls and bolted it shut. After casting a quick Muffliato, she slipped off her school robes and hung them on one of the hooks.
"Okay," she whispered nervously, sliding onto the tiled shower bench. Rubbing her hands on the fabric of her skirt, she shook her head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
Do I even know what I'm doing? The witch exhaled slowly and let her eyes flutter shut as she mentally revisited the night she had returned from the cottage. Deciding she could simply try copying his ministrations, she slipped one hand underneath the waistband of her skirt. She stroked her fingers over her knickers and immediately whimpered with the need for more contact. Biting her lower lip, she dipped her hand beneath the cotton fabric. She was surprised and somewhat disgusted by the feeling, but it was all but forgotten at the first sensation of pleasure spiked through her.
As had happened with Severus, involuntary sounds escaped her and she wantonly began pressing back against her own hand. But unlike that night, her continued stroking provided no relief. She was squeezing her eyelids shut so hard that white specks had appeared and her free hand was digging into the bench with such force that she would not be surprised to see divots in the grout, but nothing happened except for the ever-increasing burn in her center.
"Goddamn it!" she panted, withdrawing her hand and pressing the back of her head against the wall. Tears of frustration spilled down her cheeks at the realization that she had only made it worse. Why did I think that would help? How am I going to make it through class like this? Fuck, fuck, fuck!
A few minutes of self-loathing passed before Hermione managed to pull together enough courage to move from the bench. Grabbing her things with what she deemed her untainted hand, she quickly moved back to the main room toward the line of sinks. She purposely kept her head down, avoiding making any eye contact with the stained glass mermaid, and furiously scrubbed her hands under the water for longer than necessary.
After splashing her face with cold water, she hurriedly fastened her school robes and then stole from the bathroom as fast as she could. As she made for the nearest staircase, she grimaced at the sensations shooting through her with what seemed to be every step. By the time she reached the ground floor, she had to lean against the wall to catch her breath and will herself not to moan or make any other embarrassing noises.
Swallowing anxiously, the witch rushed down the corridor to the Transfiguration classroom. As she entered the room, she was suddenly immensely grateful to Neville and Harry for having selected the very back table, even if they had only done so to be as far away as possible from Won-Won and Lavvy-Poo—who appeared to have forgiven each other over the lunch hour. Holding her breath, she sank cautiously into her usual seat and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them and looked toward the front, she noticed Professor McGonagall eyeing her strangely.
Hermione immediately ducked her head, wincing when Harry accidently bumped her as he pulled out his supplies. She glanced quickly about the room, barely noticing Draco suddenly averting his gaze from her, and then again eyed the front of the room where the Gryffindor Head was jotting something down on a piece of parchment.
A moment later, the elder witch stood upright and cleared her throat. "If you would pair up, you will be practicing the Mutatanares on your partners today."
Due to the odd number in the class, the two Gryffindors at her table began awkwardly glancing between each other and at her. Hermione sighed and rubbed her temple, knowing she really should not be performing simple magic on others at the present moment, let alone attempting to transfigure a nose. She was likely to permanently fix them with a beak or something worse. Like a replica of a certain Slytherin's penis, perhaps.
As the thought produced a round of disturbing images, she shook her head. "You two can practice first. I can wait for now."
And perhaps feign sickness to get out of it when they're done?
"Uh-uh, Weasley, Miss Brown – I think not," Minerva tutted, dismissing their partnering with a wave of her hand. "Miss Patil, if you would be so kind as to sit over here and partner with Miss Brown, I would appreciate it. Weasley, over there with Mister Boot."
"You think she knows about last night?" Neville whispered.
Harry snorted under his breath, noticing the rebuking glare on the woman's face as she watched Ron begrudgingly shuffle past Padma and slump into the seat next to Terry. "Oh, she knows."
"Misters Potter and Longbottom, if you would, desist from gossiping and focus on the task at hand," McGonagall instructed. "Thank you."
While her friends began negotiating between them as to who would make the first attempt, Hermione's attention was drawn toward her rapidly-approaching Head of House.
"Miss Granger," she smiled, leaning down and handing her the folded sheet of parchment. "I was wondering if you might assist me with something this afternoon."
The girl forced a smile onto her face. "Erm, of course, Professor."
"I'm not certain as to how long you'll be needed, so I would suggest taking your things with you, but if you could deliver this, I would be much relieved."
With a nod, Hermione re-shouldered her bag and stiffly stepped out of her chair. After giving Harry and Neville a brief farewell, she exited the classroom and allowed the door to shut behind her before attempting to figure out what it was that McGonagall had given her and where it needed to be taken. Unfolding the paper, she gave a small gasp of surprise.
I do not know what it is, but I can see that something is wrong. He has a half-hour break before his next class and is likely in his office. Go. I will think of an excuse in the meantime.
When the note disappeared into a puff of smoke, the girl all but sprinted toward the dungeon staircase.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
Rubbing his temples, Severus snorted under his breath as the next essay in the stack was Potter's, and he penned a quick 'D' at the bottom. Upon glancing through it, however, he decided it really was not as dreadful as it could have been. He had attempted his own research into the subject – granted, he had used only one source and cited it incorrectly, at that. With a shrug, he moved his quill to lengthen the stem of the letter grade, making it a 'P' instead. He was just about to pull forth the next essay when a low breath escaped him.
Given the circumstances, can it really be considered a poor attempt? With the Headmaster dragging him about the countryside on the Dark Lord Holiday Tour and nearly getting the both of them killed? Scowling, he penned another stem on the other side of the loop and smoothed the apex until it somewhat resembled an 'A'.
"Merry Christmas, Potter," he muttered under his breath before pulling forward Hermione's much neater and well-researched essay. Technically he had no need to grade it – even though she had completed it before the run-in with Lupin had necessitated her stint in mediwitch training, it would not count toward her grade. It was no skin off his back to do so, however, and as it would undoubtedly annoy her to some degree – which was only fair since she was likely to blame for his sudden leniency on her friend's grade – he smirked at the prospect of giving her a giant 'O'.
At the sudden pounding on his door, the professor looked up in surprise. He was currently the only instructor not teaching, and students rarely sought an audience with him at this time as it was not an advertised office hour.
"Enter!"
His eyebrows rose suddenly as the bushy-haired witch pushed into his office. Her expression was one of distress as she quickly shut the door behind her, and he briefly flashed back to the nightmare he had had months before. As she rushed toward his desk, he cast a silencing spell on the room and prayed to whatever deity might exist that she was not skiving off class to inform him that he had sprogged her up.
"Severus, I'm sorry!" Hermione gasped, grabbing hold of the desk edge. "I didn't mean to! I tried not to think about it, I swear, but it just wouldn't stop! I tried to deal with it on my own, but it only made it worse, and I can't… I can't…"
The man shook his head in confusion. "Didn't mean to what?"
Without warning, she let out a deep moan that seemed to shoot straight to his groin. "Please!"
"Please what?" he cried, staring at her in shock when she whimpered and closed her eyes. "Hermione, what is wrong?"
"Oh god," she groaned huskily, rolling her hips against the corner of his desk.
The tears escaping her eyes worried him, but when her eyelids flashed open, the heated gaze she fixed him with made his cock twitch.
"Please, Severus," she panted desperately. "I need you… to make it stop. Please make it stop."
"Make it stop how?" he queried, feeling useless as he leaned forward.
The girl gritted her teeth and bent her knees as she clung to his desk. "I need you… in… inside of me… now!"
With wide eyes, he stammered, "N-now?"
"Yes!" she nodded emphatically. "I tried to wait, but I can't… I can't… just please!"
Feeling himself hardening at quite a rapid pace, he flicked his gaze to the clock and then moved to stand from his chair. "We can go upstairs –"
"No!" she shouted, rounding the end of his desk. "No more stairs. Please no more stairs. They make it so much worse. I need… now."
Tilting his head in surprise, Snape slowly sank back into his chair. Inhaling deeply, he cleared his throat and then began unfastening his teaching robes. Seeing that she had dropped her bag to the floor and was shrugging out of her bulky robes, he quickly undid his belt and shoved his pants down a few inches. When he gestured to her, she placed one knee onto the seat beside him and then moved to straddle him.
He swallowed at the tension radiating from her entire body and could feel her physically twitch as he placed his hands on her waist to steady her. Her nipples were practically poking through her shirt and when he pulled her knickers out of the way, they were positively drenched.
"Granger –"
"Stop talking and just do it already!" Hermione hissed in his ear.
Taking in an uncertain breath, the wizard positioned himself at her entrance and then startled when the briefest contact caused her to cry out loudly and bury her face into his neck. "Are you –"
His question of concern was cut off when she forcefully rubbed herself against his shaft and groaned loudly. "Please, Severus!"
Without another word he sheathed himself within her, and gave his own astonished cry when it seemed every muscle in her body spasmed wildly. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as she threw her head back; her eyes nearly rolling all the way back into her head as her mouth fashioned into a silent scream of ecstasy. As he slowly moved, relishing in the sensations of her channel pulsating around him, her climax broke, leaving her to collapse bonelessly against his chest.
Her breath was hot and rapid against his neck, and he could feel her heart racing as she clung to him. Her violent release had not been quite enough to bring him to his own peak, but he knew he was close. Inhaling deeply, he whispered, "Hermione, I need to keep going."
When he felt her slowly nod against him, he gripped her waist gently and drove into her until he found his own blinding freedom. For several minutes afterwards, he clutched onto her – one arm wrapped around her waist; the other hand cradling the back of her head – until he had gained control of his breathing and felt the blood supply returning to his brain.
Severus raised her hips enough to remove himself, mentally cast a quick cleansing charm, and magically refastened his trousers. Recognizing that the witch needed rest, so he carefully stood from the chair and carried her toward the stairs as one would carry a sleeping child to her bed.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he paused near the top of the staircase. "What?"
"I'm so sorry."
When it was obvious that no further explanation was forthcoming, he continued on into his bedroom. Tossing aside the blankets, he carefully deposited her onto the mattress, removed her shoes, and then pulled the covers over her. He had just turned away when he froze in his tracks.
You idiot! He mentally chided himself as he pulled open the drawer of his bedside table. Concerned about her being pregnant and then you nearly forget to give her the contraceptive.
"Hermione," he stated softly, shaking her shoulder until she groaned and blinked open her eyes. "I need you to take this before you fall asleep."
The witch grimaced, but nodded and did as he requested. She then handed the empty flask to him and collapsed back against the pillow.
After Snape returned to his office, he sent her bag and robes up to his bedroom and then let out a slow breath. With a grimace toward his chair, he realized that a prominent line had just been crossed. It was one thing to sleep with her in his private rooms, but he thought it a different matter altogether to have sex at his desk in the middle of school day while he was in the midst of marking her classmates' essays.
He knew it was not really his fault – nor did he think it hers – but it still felt wrong. Everything the bond forced them to do was wrong, and it became increasingly more dangerous with every week that passed. How long could they possibly go on like this, when every encounter brought them that much closer to discovery? At this rate, Bellatrix would not have to do much more than sit back and cackle as the Dark Lord's plan crumbled around their feet. The Order would demand his head unless they were absolutely convinced of the truth, at which point the Death Eaters would take up the headhunting charge.
With that thought in mind, Severus groaned and glanced at the clock. He had no more than ten minutes before the start of the first years' practical session, and he needed to figure out some way to get rid of the evidence if Lupin were to come sniffing around before supper. Tapping his fingertips on his arms, he scanned his shelves for nearly a minute before an idea came to mind.
Poppy could always use more Murtlap Essence in her stores, and he had been putting off replenishing the supply since the pickling process was accompanied by one of the foulest odors imaginable.