Chapter Text
Author’s Note
Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!
Severus’s POV as promised. Turns out this will be in three parts since the first one starts out with him in a really dark place mentally, and I thought it might be fun to show the progression like what happened with the memories. Part 1 is from ch 4, part 2 is from ch 7, and part 3 is from ch 15. Enjoy!
I’m not J.K. Rowling, so I don’t own anything.
~
Part 1: Hell is Empty, and All the Devils are Here
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The quiet thuds roused Severus from one of the deepest sleeps he’d had in months, possibly years. His mind resisted waking fully, the dark embrace of slumber wrapping around him and urging him to sink back into blissful oblivion. Unfamiliar warmth combined with languid muscles nearly had him surrendering, probably would have, if not for the persistent tickling sensation brushing his cheek.
With surprising effort, Severus blinked his eyes, turning his head to discover the nuisance preventing him from continuing what little true rest he was capable of enjoying these days.
A long, winding curl, the precise shade of brandy backlit by fire, was the source. The last vestiges of sleep dropped from him in an instant as he took in the sight of the sleeping witch the bothersome curl belonged to – as well as the halo of curls spread out on the pillow beside him.
The Granger chit.
She was nested against his side, one leg draped possessively across his own, her head on his shoulder. How had he not immediately noticed the way she clung to him like a suffocating vine in her sleep?
The urge to bolt reared up within him, and every previously relaxed muscle tensed in preparation to put space between himself and the student in his bed. His tensing only served to make Granger burrow deeper against his side, her petite fingers spaying low along his abdomen in a caress that was entirely too intimate and provocative.
Oh dear Merlin. Such a minute action should not be so arousing – particularly not when done by Granger.
Then the events leading to her current position came rushing back and with it the crushing weight of helpless fury and self-loathing.
The spell. He’d slept with a student. He was bound to a student. They would be forced to be intimate regularly. There was no choice for either of them.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Severus, I need to speak with you,” Dumbledore murmured quietly from just outside the bedroom door.
The sound of the falsely-kind grandfatherly voice had Severus redirecting all of the impotent anger he felt towards the ultimate source of his latest predicament. Damn Dumbledore and his scheming!
Severus shifted, trying to extract himself from the witch’s grip without waking her – the last thing he needed when confronting the old man was an audience that would force him to censor his words – but she tenaciously held on like a cutting of Devil’s snare ever tightening. Worse, each attempt had her hand sliding lower to graze up against his rapidly hardening cock. Merlin’s bloody balls! This situation was a fresh hell that existed purly to torment him further. Surely.
Finally, he was free and mentally willing his body’s traitorous response away. It was as though his cock had a mind of its own and couldn’t help but react when directly stimulated – regardless of how he actually felt. Only a devil of a man would desire a student, even if that student was of age. It rankled even more that he couldn’t simply blame the spell. No, his dick just enjoyed the light teasing when freshly woken thanks to months of celibacy.
Severus glared at Granger, resenting the witch’s power over his body even in her sleep. He watched as she shifted into his recently vacated spot, tucking her legs up to her chest until she resembled a kitten napping in a patch of sunlight. He hated cats. Dogs too for that matter.
There were already enough individuals demanding his attention and care. The last thing he desired was a pet needing things he simply wasn’t able to provide. His capacity to nurture had withered and died long ago – if he’d ever possessed such a trait in the first place.
The rumble of a throat being deliberately cleared came from the adjoining room, alerting Severus to Dumbledore’s growing impatience. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself for the coming conversation, Severus stalked to the door.
He had the fleeting thought that perhaps he should don a dressing gown, but it was quickly disregarded. Better to force his master to confront the evidence of his latest machinations. The fading red marks bisecting his chest should serve nicely.
The gratification he felt when Dumbledore’s eyes did seem to go directly to the scratch lines didn’t last when Severus saw the old man’s frown deepen. Instead, he felt unaccountably self-conscious, and that merely served to fuel his growing anger at the headmaster as he firmly shut the bedroom door behind him.
Severus crossed his arms, shielding the marks before demanding, “Well?”
“Is she still here?” Dumbledore asked, looking mildly curious as he glanced at the bedroom door. Probably, he’d expected Severus to callously toss the girl out the night before after he’d used her.
The thought had certainly occurred to him. Currently, he was regretting not doing so. But the timid vulnerability in her after the spell had forced their coupling had struck a nerve. He did not want her to feel used the way his mother always had after his father got through with her. Severus would never forget how diminished and fragile she’d look when his father would insist on collecting what he was due before going out drinking for the remainder of the night. Or how he’d hit her if she dared resist.
The idea that he was becoming his father, taking a witch against her will infuriated him. He lashed out, sneering at the one that had denied him an out when one was still possible.
His whole body was shaking with barely suppressed rage as he accused, “You know perfectly well that she is. No doubt you’ve had your house-elves watching for her departure and waiting to report back all the sorted details of how I defiled your perfect Gryffindor princess.”
If he’d expected Dumbledore to react, he was sorely disappointed. Aside from the slightly chastising expression Dumbledore leveled him with, that was. Sometimes Severus hated how well the man knew him. It was readily apparent that Severus was spoiling for a fight, and Albus was deliberately denying him the satisfaction of engaging.
“Here is her wand,” Dumbledore said after a few moments, holding out the smooth stick that could have prevented this whole mess if only Granger had managed to hang onto it the night before. It was further proof of her status as inexperienced. They were in the middle of a bloody war, and she’d allowed herself to become defenceless. And now they were both paying for it. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to return it when she wakes? I’m certain she would welcome any comfort it might provide after the trying ordeal she endured.”
The words were like a wrecking ball bowling him over. Endure? It was the headmaster’s fault that she’d endured anything! Severus had volunteered to die in order to spare the foolish chit. And what about what he’d endured? The spell had compelled him against his will right along with her.
Fuming, he hissed, “If you are referring to sleeping with me –”
“I meant the loss of her parents, Severus,” Dumbledore said coolly, clearly annoyed with the misinterpretation.
How had he forgotten?
It was one thing to berate her internally for losing her wand, and another to recall the reason why. She’d watched her mother die, then been practically assaulted by Crabbe. He’d been extremely lucky to get to her when he had, though she likely didn’t feel much relief considering the ultimate outcome of the evening and everything he’d done to her after reaching her.
No wonder she had not wanted to spend the night alone after all that had transpired, though he was rather surprised she wasn’t completely repulsed by him by the time she’d asked to stay. Reluctantly, he felt a twinge of admiration that she’d maintained as much composure as she had.
Dumbledore nodded, probably sensing the direction his thoughts had turned. “Her whole life was turned upside down last night. She may need to lean on you in the coming weeks,” the headmaster suggested.
As though Granger were the only one affected. As though Severus was a toy – a marble pawn on a chess board. But that was the crux of it, really. Dumbledore seemed to forget Severus was a real person with real emotions, not a tool carved from cold, unyielding stone. Well, if the headmaster wanted to forget, so would he.
“I am hardly the type to offer comfort. If she wants coddling, she’ll need to seek it elsewhere,” he said stiffly. No doubt Potter would be up for the role. Just another way Severus was inadequate where the precious Potter wizards weren’t.
“You are the one she is bound to,” Albus reminded him pointedly.
“Thanks to your manipulations,” Severus sneered resentfully.
“Severus,” Dumbledore scolded, pursing his lips.
“Don’t pretend you haven’t played puppet master yet again. Pull a string and watch me dance to your tune,” he taunted, glaring balefully at the one commanding him.
Albus sighed wearily, as though used to putting up with Severus’s petulant mood swings. His handling of Severus now only enraged him further – if possible.
“You could view this as an opportunity.”
“Opportunity? Opportunity to take advantage of a student?” Severus demanded harshly, hating all over again that the latest turn in the war was forcing him to compromise what remaining morales he possessed.
Never had he taken advantage of his position. While he’d been at Hogwarts, he’d had no power. He’d joined the Death Eaters falsely believing he’d finally be powerful. But it hadn’t been until he’d become a professor that he’d actually gained a modicum of respect – both from his students and colleagues. That had meant everything. He’d never wanted to risk damaging it, though he’d come close a number of times because of Potter. Having that boy in his class put him in such a foul temper that he often took it out on the first convenient excuse – much to Longbottom’s chagrin, no doubt.
And now, if anyone discovered he was sleeping with Granger…well, Minerva would never forgive him and the others would take their cues from her. It wouldn’t matter that Dumbledore had bound them in order to lessen the ugliness of the circumstances. He was the devil here, and no one would have a problem accusing him, himself included.
The end of the war couldn’t come swift enough for his liking. He was through with feeling so powerless. There were times it was even worse than when he’d been a student. No decision was his own anymore. He couldn’t wait to be finished with all of this charade.
“I know how much is being asked of you. More than anyone should be forced to bear alone,” Dumbledore said tentatively, understanding the thin ice he was treading on. Yet he ignored Severus’s scoff as he continued, almost beseeching him as Albus said, “You could let her help you. She could be your partner – your confident.”
Severus stared at the man incredulously. His gaze flicked to the withered arm laying limply at his side. Had the infection progressed to his brain? Was his mind addled? Surely it must be if he thought Granger was capable of such. “She’s a child. What could she possibly offer?”
“She is not, in fact, a child. But more than that, her loyalty – even you cannot deny that she stands by those who’ve earned it – it could be yours. Not to mention her intelligence –”
Severus broke in, annoyed as always by the way everyone seemed to extol Granger’s mind for her apparent cleverness. Never, in all his time of improving potions and creating spells at school, did anyone say the same of him. Yet she managed to reword her textbooks and no one would shut up about the girl. “The ability to memorise books is not intelligence,” he refuted, unwilling to bend in this evaluation. “And even if it were, this arrangement has put me in such a compromising position.”
How was he to go on teaching her? The power imbalance alone chaffed. To think of someone questioning his integrity regarding the marks he assigned her, or suggesting Granger was exchanging sexual favours for them. He couldn’t. It was too much.
“Ah, I see. Yes, that could be a problem,” Dumbledore murmured, pushing his half-moon spectacles up the bridge of his nose, that annoying twinkle lighting his pale blue eyes as a solution came to him. “Would you be more at ease if I agreed to mark her work for the remainder of the year?”
“Yes,” Severus said in a clipped tone.
“Well there we are then! One obstacle sorted,” Dumbledore said with far more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. “Shouldn’t be too difficult to tackle the rest.”
“None of this is all right,” Severus denied, stalking over to the fireplace and using the poker to stab the logs with far more force than necessary. It did little to relieve his frustration.
A gentle, consoling hand came down on his shoulder, squeezing briefly before Dumbledore spoke again, asking, “Do you feel you are being disloyal to Lily’s memory? I don’t believe she –”
“Do not speak of her to me – especially not what she’d think,” Severus raged, spinning around and invading Dumbledore’s space. He was gratified when he watched the man’s eyes widen in alarm and spittal from his threatening words land in the man’s snowy beard.
He didn’t need Dumbledore to remind him that Lily wouldn’t care what he did. That she’d not wanted his love when she was alive, and now that she was gone it mattered to her even less. That it wouldn’t have hurt her in the least to learn that he’d bound himself to another.
It had taken him years to come to terms with the knowledge that Lily had never loved him. That truth did nothing to lessen his desire to honour her memory or atone for his role in her death. That truth also did nothing to erase or diminish the fact that she’d been the first friend he’d ever had, and the one bright spot in his otherwise bleak childhood.
Losing her had produced such an all consuming pain that he had no desire to ever experience again.
Poisonous bitterness coated him, sticky as molasses and as inescapable as quicksand. He was slowly drowning in it. Had been for most of his life if he were honest. The emotions were so much a part of him that he didn’t know any other way to be, and he wasn’t sure he could function without them.
“My apologies, Severus. I did not mean to upset you,” Dumbledore said quickly, understanding he’d broached an unmentionable topic and needed to retreat immediately. Severus was actually rather surprised that he capitulated so easily. Often, Dumbledore would push and push and push, not caring how unwanted the subject of the discussion was.
“As if you care,” Severus countered, unable to keep the betrayal he felt from leaking out. Tiny cracks riddled his skin, the surface too weak to completely contain the turbulent emotions he was experiencing any longer.
“My boy, you must know I do,” Dumbledore nearly begged, reaching out to grab his hand again, but Severus shook him off and moved several paces away, needing the barrier of distance to fortify himself again.
“You would not have put me in this situation if you did,” he declared, recalling the night before and how his wishes had been discounted in favour of a grander plan.
“I could not have let you harm yourself last night,” Albus insisted firmly, his stance turning rigid and immovable.
“Because you need me. Because you would rather I become a murderer than Draco,” Severus said blackly.
Dumbledore sighed heavily, shaking his head as though Severus were a short-sighted child and he couldn’t be bothered to repeat his motivations again.
“I had hoped to discuss how your binding will alter things here at Hogwarts. Discretion must, of course, be paramount for your meetings,” he mused, horrifying Severus as he comprehended what the man was referring to. “Perhaps a change of rooms will make it easier –”
“I refuse to discuss my sex life with you any further,” Severus broke in, shutting the conversation down with a finality that was incontestable. He would not, under any circumstance, allow the headmaster to dictate when or where he would have sex with a student. It was bad enough Albus knew Granger had spent the night with him and that they had, in fact, already had sex once.
“Very well, Severus,” Albus said wearily, frowning. “You won’t be able to maintain a state of denial forever though.”
“Watch me,” he countered, glaring daggers and imagining flaying the frail old man alive. If he had to kill him right now, he’d have no trouble conjuring up the emotions necessary to use an Unforgivable.
“Then I will leave you with one last thought to ponder as you will,” Dumbledore said ominously, and Severus knew instantly he wasn’t going to like what was said next. “Madam Snape was not in a relationship of any sort prior to last night, and is therefore unlikely to be taking Contraceptive Potions. If you truly wish for things to change as little as possible, perhaps you should begin providing her with one lest you become a father.”
Bloody hell.
Dread and horror washed over him, battering him from all sides at the very idea of accidentally siring a child. In the middle of a war. With Granger. He was so distracted by the damning thoughts, he didn’t even notice when Albus departed.
On autopilot, resentment at the very necessity of having to, he entered his personal lab and began rummaging about for the extra phials he had for when the hospital wing needed restocked. An odious task that still fell to him since the self-important, useless Slughorn couldn’t be bothered.
It was easy enough to locate, but the sight of the bright blue potion he traditionally took after particularly bad meetings with the Dark Lord had him pausing. Granger had been a virgin. He’d tried to be careful with her, but thanks to the spell, she’d been undeniably enthusiastic, and was no doubt sore from the encounter. He winced at the idea that he’d hurt her in any way, though she’d not protested or indicated as much.
Grabbing the second phial as well, he berated himself as he carried them, along with her wand back into his bedroom. Granger was still curled up like a cat, her face buried in his pillow as though seeking any lingering heat or scent of him. He let her be, taking advantage of the repreve to put off the incessant questions she’d no doubt ask upon waking.
As if he had the answers – the way a professor should.
Except he didn’t have any.
Damn Lucius for him scheming! Severus knew he’d do just about anything to repair his position in the ranks after escaping Azkaban. Why had he decided to take this avenue? It wouldn’t help him any. If anything, it just seemed like payback for what Lucius interpreted as Severus’s own “good fortune” with the Dark Lord. If only Severus had had a bit more warning before the revel. He might have been able to inform the Order and avoided all of this.
If only.
There had to be a way out of this mess. Surely something was mentioned in one of his books – he just had to find the answer.
“My wand… How?” Granger asked unexpectedly. He’d not heard her wake, too consumed searching his vast array of texts for even a hint at a counter-spell.
Annoyed by the interruption and the reminder of the earlier visit, he replied, “Albus brought it an hour ago. He wanted to check on you.” He felt his lips twist as he thought about all that had been discussed, and his part in why it had been necessary.
“He was --”
His head snapped up when she broke off mid sentence with little more than a strangled whimper. It was immediately apparent from the rapid rising and falling of her chest and the way her thighs were clenched together that the spell had captured her in its tangled net once more.
Severus froze.
It had been one thing to promise her that he’d do what was necessary, but it was another thing entirely to be faced with the reality.
He felt nothing from the spell. His mind was regrettably clear. And now he was going to have to have sex with Granger. He wasn’t sure he could, despite what he’d said.
Ultimately, it was the clear distress on her face that prompted him. It was not her fault, and he couldn’t blame her or let her suffer.
“Come here, Granger,” he drawled, setting the book on the coffee table and holding out a hand for her.
Yet as she cautiously approached, confusion and uncertainty pinching her brow, he couldn’t help but compare her to a sacrificial lamb, and he wondered if he’d actually be physically capable of doing what was necessary. He felt like a depraved monster. Hades luring Persephone.
Another needy whimper escaped her throat, and now that she was closer, he could see that her entire body was trembling. Not from fear, no, or she wouldn’t even then be reaching for him – but as a result of the spell.
It was enough to have him moving, his hands ghosting up her silky thighs. Her skin was unbelievably soft. Like velvet. They slipped beneath the hem of the borrowed shirt she wore to hook in the sides of her panties. Gently, he eased them down, letting them fall to the ground. Green satin and lace. She really was wrapped up like a bloody Slytherin gift. Shaking the stray thought away, he offered a hand to help her step out of them and move to straddle him, her legs coming to rest on either side of his hips.
Granger moved into the position with ease, so much so that he’d have assumed she’d done this countless times before. Her whole body moved against him, rubbing and seeking. Soft exhalations filled his ears, wordless requests for more. Her willingness and eager participation chased most of the lingering concerns from his mind.
Why couldn’t this have happened earlier when his cock wasn’t as awake to overthink things? It was having a bit more trouble responding now after Severus had spent several hours berating himself.
He tried to relax and shove all of the pestering thoughts away, and as Granger’s hands quested over him, her mouth joining in to trail seductive kisses up his neck, it finally started to work. His cock surged to life when Granger’s teeth snagged the lobe of his ear, tugging slightly. Blood rushed to his groin, and his hips jerked in reaction.
His ears had always been particularly sensitive, but they were not something his lovers typically bothered with. He’d been with a string of witches over the years, typically seeking one out that he had an ongoing understanding with when the stress of teaching drove him to need some blessed relief. Most of the witches he visited were former classmates who’d escaped Azkaban after the war ended. Being with them served the dual purpose of easy sex and helped him maintain ties that kept his cover in place. Usually they took advantage of his willingness to please so he’d be welcomed back in the future. And he was very good at pleasing. He’d had to learn to be, though that hadn’t exactly been a chore.
Granger ground down against him again, and he could feel the wet heat of her core through the thin satin of his sleep trousers. His cock twitched in response, silently begging to be inside the witch already.
He’d yet to touch her, simply letting her take what she needed from him instead since the spell appeared to melt any hesitancy that may have otherwise existed for her. But that came to an abrupt end when she breathily requested, “Touch me, please, Snape. I need you.”
I need you.
Had any witch ever said those words to him? If so, he couldn’t recall.
Her mouth continued tracing a path along his neck, no doubt feeling the way his pulse had quickened, and he had to swallow when she huskily added, “Please.”
Dear Merlin she was all but begging for him. It was a temptation no wizard could resist. He might damn himself for it later, but he was no exception. Nothing stirred him as quickly as hearing those words, and knowing someone desired him – no one else – just him.
Nimbly, his fingers unfasted the top three buttons of her borrowed shirt, and he shifted it, exposing the globe of her ivory breast, the fabric caught beneath the freed mound. He could barely see it through her long curls, but the sight still arrested him.
Her chest was significantly larger than he’d expected considering the loose jumpers and how she was always hunched over from carrying a load of heavy books. Not that he’d ever been tempted to think of what lay under her robes – the idea of thinking about a student in those terms still turned his stomach unpleasantly – but her well endowed curves were still rather a shock to his system. He’d always been a breast man, and he felt begrudgingly grateful to the spell that he’d have an opportunity to spend a significant amount of time appreciating Granger’s.
The edge of puckered skin, slightly pink and textured briefly distracted him. The scar Dolohov had given her in the Department of Mysteries. Most of the length was still hidden beneath the shirt, but he was still reminded about how close she’d come to death before the events of the night before. If he’d not already had the necessary potions on hand when she’d arrived at Hogwarts, she would have died while he’d wasted time brewing them. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. They’d certainly not be here right now, but his mind shied away from considering that idea too closely.
The scar was proof that Granger was a survivor if nothing else, and that was a trait he could admire.
Not wasting any more time, he banished the dark thoughts and focused again on giving the witch what she needed – what the spell demanded of him. He lowered his mouth to capture the shell pink tip of the pert globe and circled his tongue around the peak. Her reaction spoke volumes, and he used the undulations of her hips to direct him in precisely how much pressure he could apply to titillate and excite her, reluctantly relishing her responsive nature.
His length grew impossibly, painfully hard as she abandoned herself to desire, releasing moans and cries that he rewarded with licks and nips, alternating between her exposed nipple and the one still covered by satin. The contrast in sensations seemed to be driving her wild, and he felt more than a little pride at inspiring such a passionate response.
At least until he caught her hips in his hands, knowing the spell would not release its hold on her until they were fully united.
“No, wait, more,” she whined, treading her hands in his hair and tugging, trying to bring his mouth back to worship her further.
He ignored her attempts, reaching between them to free his straining erection before he came in his pants like a pathetic schoolboy. The cool air stung, but cleared his mind enough to allow him to grip her hips and ease her down fully onto him. Her wet channel squeezed him so tightly stars burst in front of his eyes.
The blotty, red afterimages hadn’t yet faded when her muscles quivered, contracting around him and renewing the bright, burning spots. It took Granger shifting a bit awkwardly before he realised he was inadvertently holding his breath, and that that had probably been the cause of his lightheadedness.
“Ride me,” he ordered, forcing himself to take steady breaths and not erupt the very next time she moved.
How had this witch reduced him to such a state?
His eyes caught sight of her breast again, and he stared at it fixedly, wondering if she’d start arguing with him for ordering her about. Probably. The chit never had listened very well.
Except she didn’t argue. Instead, she did precisely what he’d told her to do, and it was exquisite. Her body encasing him was borderline painful, but in the best way imaginable.
“Yes, just like that,” he growled approvingly as she found a rhythm, squeezing her bum and burying his face against her cleavage.
She was a natural, and he relished the way she didn’t try to mask or mute the way she felt. He lost himself in feeling her body writhe against his, worrying her nipples to the point he knew they’d be red and tender for hours afterwards. Every time the fabric of her clothes brushed against them, she’d think of this.
Tiny pricks of pain appeared on the back of his neck, momentarily centering his mind. Her nails. She’d dug them in as she braced herself and started to rock even harder and faster on his cock. Her hips slammed down on him, her clit making just the briefest contact with his abdomen. Over and over again.
Yes.
She was close.
He could feel her wetness increasing. Her body was a vice around him. Every nerve was on fire. Surely he would burn if he remained inside her. And yet, he didn’t care. Let him burn. The flames were entrancing. Their entire joining was.
“Again. You’re doing beautifully,” he murmured, feeling her nails dig deeper and her breath catch. “Don’t stop. Let me hear you. Yes, just so.”
Her head fell back, and Severus reached between them, the pad of his thumb pressing her clit, barely circling it.
“Oh!” she screamed mindlessly, seeming completely unaware of herself. It was a glorious sight.
Her body collapsed against his chest, and he caught her even as her channel tightened impossibly more around him, wringing his own orgasm unexpectedly. His hips bucked erratically, filling her with the sweet release that seemed to pull every negative and stressful feeling from his body as he emptied into her.
As his death grip on her loosened, she shifted, exposing her tantalising breast to him yet again. It was every bit as red as he’d anticipated it would be. His thumb came up to brush the bud, and Granger gasped.
Severus jerked his hand away at once, suddenly recalling their respective positions. They were not lovers. Not in truth. The only reason for their joining was to satisfy the demands of the spell that had been affecting Granger. Which they had. So now he had no right to touch the witch so intimately.
An emotion he dreaded, and had worked very hard not to feel ever again after graduating Hogwarts welled up inside him. Mortification.
“My apologies,” he said softly, refusing to look up at her.
“I thought you said a week between --”
Her words stung. As unintentional as the slight likely was, it was a reminder that their coupling was not out of choice. Disgust with himself for what he’d done quickly replaced the previous mortification.
“You insisted on sharing my bed last night. That was hours of continuous contact,” he explained, attempting to keep his voice level and not accusatory as he recalled how he’d woken to her draped over him. The effort was tremendous.
Granger seemed uncomfortable, and began fidgeting. Severus had to grit his teeth when his cock abruptly left the warm haven it had so recently been residing in. He watched the witch retreat to the other end of the sofa, and had to bite back the cutting remarks that bubbled up when he noticed her staring fixedly at his semi-erect dick. Did she think he was going to force himself on her again? Or was she about to start reciting all she knew of male anatomy? Honestly, given their circumstances, she’d need to get used to the sight sooner or later.
Severus willed a patience that he didn’t feel, and adjusted his pants, producing his wand to vanish the glistening spot on the front that her earlier actions had produced. He was so focused on not lashing out at her that he almost missed the way she winced as she settled in.
She was in pain.
Because of him.
This encounter hadn’t been at all gentle as it should have been for a novice. But somehow in the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten just how inexperienced the witch was.
“Did you take the potions I set out for you?” he inquired sharply, all his bitter self-loathing returning with a vengeance.
“No. I didn’t recognize them,” she admitted, surprising him. Apparently he had managed to teach her something, after all.
Maybe there was hope for her surviving the war.
Unlike him.
For once the thought didn’t bring with it the relief that it usually did.
“A good practice,” he murmured quietly, going to retrieve them from the other room.
He needed a moment to mask his inner torment. How was he expected to maintain his exposure if he were regularly bedding the witch? Somehow, with very little effort on her part, he felt flayed open, his emotions a knotted jumble on display for her to poke and prod at.
And why was Granger not being her typical irritating self?
“For the discomfort,” he said briefly, handing her the vial of pale blue liquid first. He waited until she swallowed before he handed over the other swirling pink concoction. “Albus was kind enough to remind me that you would likely not already be taking a Contraceptive Potion. I will prepare it for you each month so that you do not need to go to Madam Pomfrey for it.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, looking anywhere except at him as she took the potion. He was unspeakably relieved that she didn’t question him further or argue about taking it.
Ah. There it was. Like a brilliant light suddenly illuminating a room and blinding the occupants, the inevitable moment he’d been dreading – the point where she annoyed him to death.
Severus clenched his jaw and braced himself. He was not used to answering to any apart from the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, and now a silly chit was going to think she had the same right to demand answers. It was the very last thing he wanted or needed – and Dumbledore thought she could be his partner? Ha!
“I can see the wheels turning in that incessant little head of yours. Just ask what it is you wish to know,” he snapped, returning to his previous seat. Best to get comfortable seeing as this would probably take a while.
Swallowing visibly, Granger asked, “How can we possibly make this work?”
As if he had an answer to that. As if it were so simple. He’d had no more time to adjust than she.
“I don’t see that much will change,” he drawled lazily.
Perhaps Dumbledore had been correct in accusing him of denial, but at the moment, it was the only favourable option. With any luck, he’d find the answer in one of his books, and none of this would ever need to be repeated.
But when was luck ever on his side?
“Don’t you?” she asked crisply. “Where am I to stay? We --”
The binding.
This was all Dumbledore’s bloody fault. She was too young to understand the difference between necessary strategy and foolish romance.
Better to cut off any love-sick notions the witch had immediately and dissuade her from thinking they were really together. And having her bring up their living arrangements after he’d stopped Albus from doing the same…well, it was too much. Severus valued his privacy and was already chafing at knowledge that he’d lose some thanks to the bloody spell.
“You will continue to reside in the Gryffindor dormitory, of course,” he said coolly, lips curling up distastefully. “This is not a real binding.”
He could see her positively bristling as she snapped, “What will we do when the spell affects either or both of us?”
“You cannot reside here. I will not live with a student. You’ll be underfoot enough as it is,” he said flatly. The very idea of what the Slytherin’s would say if they knew or worse, Minerva.
Except, some of the Slytherins did know. He’d need to do something about that at once.
“I didn’t ask to live with you. I was referring to getting word to each other and where we would meet to take care of the spell’s requirements,” Granger clarified, looking for all the world like she was seconds away from hitting him.
If he wasn’t so caught off guard that she was already considering things he’d not yet thought of, he’d probably laugh at her outrage. As it was, he was finding it difficult not to resent this show of evidence that she might be more intelligent and level-headed than he’d previously given her credit for.
“When it happens, come here after dinner has ended,” he instructed, struggling to maintain even breaths. If not for years of practice concealing every thought in his head, he’d be visibly shaken. Because it had only just occurred to him that he was going to need her much as she had him this morning – and that would be when she felt nothing.
He was quite aware of how much she and her friends disliked him. And now, thanks to Lucius bloody Malfoy, he was going to have to beg a student who despised him for relief on a regular basis. The thought was so appalling his vision actually tilted chaotically.
“What will you do when you need me?” she asked, voicing the very issue he most longed to avoid.
Why couldn’t she just drop it already? She just kept picking, pick, pick, picking his life apart. He hated change, and she was turning his world upside down.
Severus clenched his jaw, ideally hoping the pain might clear his head a little. It didn’t work. Of course not. Why would it when everything else in his life was going so perfectly?
“Should that happen, I will inevitably get word to you,” he muttered.
“How?” she persisted, showing her typical obnoxious tenacity.
“I don’t know!” he yelled.
Why couldn’t she just drop it? His carefully woven web of denial was becoming shredded beyond repair with each question she asked. He wasn’t ready to face the inevitable yet.
Truthfully, he had one thing, and only one, going for him – he’d always behaved honourably with those under his care. Potter and Longbottom might not agree, given how prickly they made him thanks to his history with their parents, but that was a different story. Now, he’d lost even that.
“Then I suppose it is a good thing we have nearly two weeks to figure it out. You might remember that I am not without intelligence, and --”
“Regurgitating books hardly constitutes being intelligent,” he said disdainfully.
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them given his frayed temper and ragged composure, but it was probably worse for her considering they were both aware that he meant them.
Severus tensed, expecting the long-awaited tears to finally make an appearance. Granger, however, surprised him by merely huffing indignantly then saying, “And, two minds would be better for coming up with a reasonable plan. Particularly since it involves both of us.”
“I could kill Albus for doing this to me,” he growled, turning his face away from her.
“I thought that was already the plan,” she said darkly.
All of the intermittent fury he’d been experiencing for the last twelve hours was suddenly redirected her way for the glib reference. It was as though she truly believed he was so heartless and unaffected by the task set before him. What else should he have expected? She probably saw him as the rest of the Gryffindors did – a vile monster.
A devil.
Worse, a Death Eater.
“Do not speak of what you do not understand,” he replied icily.
“You brought it up,” she countered, meeting his measured glare and refusing to back down.
She just had an answer for everything, didn’t she?
“Enough, Granger,” he sighed, leaning back wearily in his seat. Trading cutting barbs with her seemed to have deflated him, releasing all of the air until he resembled a popped balloon.
“Why would he ask you to…?” she began, still trying to pick him apart. Except he had nothing left to expose. Already his guts were in a macabre pile on the floor, hers for the seeing if she only knew how to interpret them.
“I will not repeat myself again. Do not insert yourself where you and your input are neither wanted nor needed,” he said grimly, clenching his jaw until a muscle ticked along the taunt edge. “Are we clear?” he demanded, staring fixedly at the dying embers glowing in the fireplace.
“Understood, Snape,” she finally agreed.
He felt no small measure of shock that she had actually capitulated and backed down. He’d not expected her to after her unwillingness thus far. Reluctantly, a flicker of admiration for her ability to hold her own and not cower as her peers were wont to do when he was angry formed inside him, and he realised it wasn’t the first time he’d felt as much for her during their interaction.
Perhaps he was the one that needed a reminder that the spell wasn’t reality – a fact he’d do well to remember.
“Did you have any other concerns about our arrangement?” he asked stiffly, dreading what else she would dare venture to ask. His apprehension grew when her honey gaze turned positively assessing, but after a moment it relaxed.
“You said Professor Dumbledore came by…,” she started, then abruptly stopped before quickly finishing, “the woman Lucius hurt – is she all right?”
Was any woman after being brutalised?
The very thought conjured mental images of his mother, bruises littering her arms as she cried and flinched away from him when he’d try to hug her. Severus had tried to stop his father, but without the use of magic outside of Hogwarts, he’d been unable. He’d been so scrawny back then. A malnourished, tiny little boy who’d not had his real growth spurt until after graduating. Until after his father was dead.
He could still remember the summer he’d been laid up in bed, unable to move and barely breathing thanks to his broken ribs. Wooden Bats could do serious damage in the wrong hands. All the while he’d heard his mother sobbing and begging while his father violated her in the room next door.
That had been the summer after fifth year. Before that, he’d at least had Lily to check on him and distract him, to make sure he wasn’t locked in a dark room or not being fed. But not that summer. Not after he’d ruined their friendship. He’d come home so angry. He’d been so determined to take on his father, to use him as an excuse to unleash his self-pity, but his father had been ready for him. The worst was that his mother tried to explain it all away, swearing it only happened because his father had been drinking and that it’d never happen again.
Except his father was always drinking. And it always happened again.
“She’ll survive. As for the state of her mind…,” he replied, shaking his head ever so slightly, so that his hair shielded his face from Granger’s all too perceptive gaze.
“You haven’t ever,” she blurted, confidence infused in each word.
His eyes snapped to hers. Of course she’d still seen through him. Some spy he was turning out to be this morning. Why could he not keep his usual barriers in place with her? Surely the sex hadn’t been that incredible!
But her statement. It had been so blunt. So assured. But was she worried he’d force her? The very idea sickened him. Though part of him still felt that was precisely what had happened between them.
“No,” he admitted frankly, offering whatever promise in that regard he was able. “Unless you count last night or this morning.”
“I initiated it, and was perfectly willing -- both times,” Hermione insisted, letting her gaze drift down his body in a way that thoroughly shocked him. He could practically feel the trail of heat it left in its wake. The vein in her neck began beating faster, and her pupils dilated, indicating a genuine desire on her part.
She may only barely respect him as an authority figure, but she was being honest about how she regarded the intimacies they’d shared, and would share again.
Undiluted relief washed over him, relaxing his rigid stance, but it still didn’t prevent him from snarking, “As willing as I was, I’m sure.”
Granger frowned, her look turning acutely, unnervingly assessing as she asked, “Why?” His confusion must have shown, because she clarified, “Weren’t you ever expected to? Did they not notice you didn’t participate?”
“It did not occur as often before. Now, anytime emotions are heightened… Anytime they feel the need to exert their power and superiority….
“Azkaban warped a great many of the Dark Lord’s supporters, twisted their already rotten souls, and removed all inhibitions restraining their darkest impulses,” he said, describing the sort of monsters the Death Eaters had become. Monsters only a shade different from himself. “Before, they knew I would not, given my history.”
Immediately, he kicked himself. The vague explanation left him open for her to pry further. Yet somehow, she refrained, instead asking, “If Lucius is so...unhinged...is Malfoy safe with him? Last night….”
He should have guessed Granger would be worried for Draco. She was well known for taking strays under her wing – house-elves, Lupin, Longbottom, even the bloody cat he’d seen her with. Better Draco than he wound up as her next project.
“Worried about the boy? I’d have thought you’d find this a fitting punishment given your own history with Draco,” Snape remarked idly, raising a brow in question at her.
“I will never take pleasure in another’s suffering,” Hermione said stiffly.
Was it truly possible for anyone to be so…good? He doubted it.
“Hmm,” he hummed, refraining from prolonging the debate.
“How often do nights like last night occur?”
“It varies,” he answered, shrugging. It wasn’t as though they had a calendar listing social events. “They aren’t often planned in advance.”
“Last night was different then,” she mused.
“Potter is a threat so long as he is surrounded by allies. You, in particular, have made yourself known as being the source of his cunning and ability to get out of sticky situations,” Snape informed her gravely, deciding in this case it was better for her to be fully informed. Perhaps she’d display a bit more caution in the future. Though given her history, he’d not bet on it.
“Me?” Hermione said shrilly, clearly startled.
“Were you not, just mere minutes ago, bragging about your intelligence?” he mocked dryly.
“Yes,” she agreed wryly, smiling faintly.
“They want you broken or dead. Either works as well as the other,” he warned, serious as he impressed upon her the severity of the situation.
“And now that we…”
Severus suddenly appreciated the reality of their situation, as well as the bind it put him in. He’d have to ask Dumbledore how he was expected to prioritise things. His cover or Granger…which would the headmaster deem most important? Honestly, he knew the answer already. Potter and whatever it took to protect the boy would always come first – even at the expense of all others, including an innocent witch.
“They do not know of our binding. You must be especially careful moving forward. They will likely think that I’ll tire of you before long and welcome them disposing of you for me,” he stated, not mincing words. He paused, deciding it best to be frank. “I won’t be able to save you again.”
Part of him expected the hysterics to finally begin with that pronouncement, but instead she simply looked considering. At least until her stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the thick tension permeating the air.
“Hungry?” Severus asked, genuinely amused by the interruption and unable to completely conceal the resulting smile it produced.
“Famished, actually,” she admitted, wincing ruefully as she blinked owlishly at him.
Severus hesitated. Here was a convenient excuse to avoid the inevitable questions that were sure to keep coming if he let her remain. Honestly, he was a bit shocked by the fact he hadn’t already insisted she leave. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have other pressing concerns he needed to address, like locating information on the spell before either one of them was affected again. But somehow Granger had been far less irritating than she ordinarily was, and he’d found it rather refreshing to have her stand up to him those few times.
“You may leave whenever you wish,” he said carefully, not entirely sure how to navigate the unfamiliar territory they were in.
Granger glanced at the wall of books, not moving to do any such thing. Dumbledore’s words came back to him rather persistently. Her whole life was turned upside down last night. She may need to lean on you in the coming weeks. Would it truly be the worst hardship he’d ever endured to allow her to linger a bit longer?
“Or I can have something brought here, and you can assist me in searching for any references to the spell used on us,” Severus suggested, assessing her closely.
“Truly?” she breathed, perking up noticeably at the unexpected offer.
It wasn’t like he couldn’t kick her out the first time she irritated him.
“When you woke I was already searching for information. The task would go faster with two sets of eyes, and I am aware of your ability to read,” he stated by way of answer before ringing for a house-elf to bring two plates.
They worked in companionable silence for almost four hours. It was…shockingly easy. Granger had nestled down on the sofa with a book, and for the most part, left him entirely alone. He doubted he’d ever spent such a peaceful, extended period of time with anyone in his life.
The revelation unsettled him.
“I must make an appearance in the Great Hall for lunch,” he announced, standing abruptly and staring at the blinking witch expectantly.
“Thank you,” she murmured, glancing about as she collected herself.
When she went to set the book that had been consuming her for sometime now on the table, he softly said, “Take it. This one too. It may answer some of those questions you managed to refrain from asking.”
She nodded, accepting the second book he held out to her. The one he’d just finished perusing that offered no hope at all, but many answers. Ideally, it’d prevent her from quizzing him in the future.
She was still wearing only his shirt, but when she reached for her Muggle jacket, he took it from her, covering her up and zipping it to conceal her state of undress should any see her wandering the castle.
This was going to be a long year. And the inevitable end couldn’t come soon enough.