In The Restricted Section

BY : Marie-England
Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione
Dragon prints: 25871
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the films or books. I make no money from this story. It's all good fun!

A/N: This story is dedicated to the awesome peeps who've not given up on my other story yet, don't worry I've yet to give up on it either! I hope this wee tale does a little to relieve the literary drought that I have been as a writer recently =)

I wrote this back in November as a present from a long-time FanFic friend, who begged me for a SS/HG PWP for her birthday. She sent me the title and five requirements, so this was kinda my first challenge fic. The rules read thus:

1) There must be a scene in the Library at Hogwarts.
2) ------------------
3) ------------------
4) Each chapter must be less than 10 pages (This was a BIG challenge for me!)
5) Must contain the usual God-Damneries (based on our mutual inclinations to type things such as 'Oh God!')

And as for 2&3 - Well I wouldn't want to give the game away quite yet ;)

Thanks very much for reading my fiction, I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review if you feel inclined, it would be greatly appreciated. Here goes! ~Love Marie.

In The Restricted Section

Chapter One - Insults

“You’ll never guess what Jez did last night.”

Severus Snape lowered his newspaper with one eyebrow quirked in interest. The door between the little office in which he sat and the main library was ajar, and although the girls sitting at the table on the other side were attempting whispers, he could still make out every word clearly.

“He sent me an owl well past midnight – "

The girl currently bragging was Melanie Jennings, a rather scrawny fifth year over whom the entire male student body seemed to fawn, though Severus had really seen little to recommend about her. The continuous drama of her ‘relationship’ with Hufflepuff Keeper Jeremy Pike was one of the only pieces of interesting gossip to filter into the Staff Room for weeks.

“I knew I heard an owl in the dorm last night!”

Her companion was Lisa Sullivan, as usual. He couldn’t currently see them, but he could picture them in his mind as clear as day, bent in huddled whispers over the worn library table.

“It said to go meet him in the common room.”

“Oh Mel! You didn’t sneak out again?”

Severus tilted his head, his ears straining to hear.

“Well…no. We just stayed in the common room.”

He sighed. The Tuesday evenings when he watched the library for Irma while she played cribbage down at the Three Broomsticks were often uneventful, but every now and then he got to overhear a juicy piece of conversation, which would provide both good gossip and – if he was lucky – a detention or two. But it seemed unlikely to be the case now. Since Jennings and Pike were both in the fifth year they could stay in the common room all night if they wanted. He went back to reading his paper.

“… So eventually I was like, ‘I’m going to bed’, and he was like ‘cool’, and I was like ‘cool’, and then he kissed me!”

“He never!”

“He did!” The girls voices were rising in their excitement. “And it was lush!” They both collapsed into giggles.

“I’m very sorry,” came another voice, which was all too familiar and sounded anything but sorry. “But could you please keep it down? Some of us have exams to study for.”

Severus lowered his paper yet again and leant back in his chair so that he could see through the gap in the doorway, out to the table where the two girls sat with Hermione Granger standing over them, hands on hips.

“What exams are you studying for?” Lisa asked.

“Well, NEWTs, of course,” Granger replied with a bit of a scoff.

“But it’s only November,” Melanie said in surprise, and the two girls looked at each other, and then burst into laughter. Severus could see colour rising in Granger’s cheeks.

“Look, I am Head Girl,” she fumed, “and if you can’t keep it down I will have to ask you to leave.” She turned on her heel and headed back towards the Restricted Section, which she alone had access to, out of all of the students in the school.

“Oooooh,” Jennings said then, mocking once her back was turned.

“She’s going into the Restricted Section,” Lisa whispered.

“What a virgin,” Melanie replied, as if the two things had anything to do with each other. “I bet she’s never had a decent snog in her life. No wonder she doesn’t want to hear about ours.” Though as far as Severus could make out only one of them had been kissing the previous night, and it hadn’t sounded particularly thrilling at that.

“She’s probably never even had a boyfriend,” Sullivan contributed to the discussion, a little half-heartedly.

“Of course not,” Melanie said bitterly, with a swish of her straight blonde hair. “Who’d ever want her with hair like that?”

Severus stood up quickly. He really should put a stop to this ridiculous bullying, he was currently in charge of the library after all. Even as his hand reached out to yank the door open, however, he saw Granger reappear by the two girls in a startling burst of light and smoke. Jennings and Sullivan stared at her with gaping mouths, eyes wide in surprise. Severus’ lips twisted into a sneering smile.

“What did I just tell you?” Granger asked angrily. “You think I can’t hear what you’re saying? Do I look stupid?” She fisted her hands and jammed them onto her hips again, tapping her foot impatiently, turning to glare from Melanie to Lisa and back again. She was obviously expecting a reply.

Severus held his breath.

Jennings and Sullivan stared at her for a moment longer, then their heads swivelled round to stare at each other, which was a mistake – they collapsed in unison into another fit of cackling laughter.

Wrong answer, he thought.

Granger’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Right,” she said with quiet menace. “Get out now.”

“What?” Melanie asked with indignation, while Lisa cried out in alarm.

“But we have work to do for tomorrow!”

“That’s not my problem,” Granger replied. “I told you that you would have to leave if you couldn’t be quiet, and you couldn’t. So get out now, or I’ll give you a detention as well. I will be talking to the headmistress about you.”

It was Lisa this time who gasped. “What?”

“You’re having a laugh aren’t you?” Melanie asked with grating teenage arrogance. “You can’t make us leave.”

“Want to bet?” Granger said, raising her wand menacingly. “And that’s a detention each for not leaving when I asked. I’ll get your slips to you tomorrow.”

Severus thought for a minute that the girls might say or do something else to worsen the situation, but after another brief paused they stood slowly, packing their things away at a painful pace.

“A little slower if you can manage it,” Granger said dryly.

They threw their bags over their shoulders and sauntered towards the main doors, Granger following behind briskly, like a teacher. Just as they pushed through the double-doors, however, Melanie turned and spat out a last viscous insult.

“Fucking fat bitch.”

Granger held the door open behind her and called out down the corridor after the running girls.

“That’s another three detentions for you, Jennings!”

She walked back into the now empty library, and the door swung back and forth behind her, the soft sound of it closing was the only noise in the silent space. Her footsteps were quiet as she walked to one of the other tables further away, and she sat down facing towards him, her head resting in her hands. She looked as she usually did, aside from the obvious lack of any sort of reading material on the table in front of her, which he supposed was an indication of her bruised feelings.

He should have made his presence known immediately, but he stayed hidden behind the smaller door, watching the entire thing through the narrow gap. Now he considered her as she sat at the old table, watching her hands thread into her unusual hair, and he wondered – not for the first time – what she was doing here at Hogwarts. It wasn’t the place for her any more, and it should have been obvious to her as much as anyone else, but they were over two months into the new term and she was still resolutely attending every lesson.

It had taken some years for the school to re-open following the war. The damage to the buildings had to be repaired of course, but it had also taken a while for normality to return to the wizarding world in general, for everything to go back to normal. The recovery hadn’t happened over night. Severus knew about that personally – his own path to recuperation had been hard and painful. But it had happened, and Granger’s contemporaries had all moved on with the times, accepting their honorary qualifications and the glittering career opportunities that came with them. All, that is, except Miss Granger herself.

She was a girl after his own heart, the way she had doled out those detentions, but he couldn’t help resenting the fact that she was wasting her time by taking lessons and trying to interact with childish students who had hardly stepped out of the first year the last time she had studied at the place. The lessons themselves had to be accommodating for these students, whose broken education had been sketchy at best, and he knew that the Head Girl was not tested by any of her appointed tasks during classes. Why had she come back? He just didn’t know.

He watched her a while longer, looking so dejected as she sat alone, and he felt an odd mixture of sympathy and understanding. She was lonely, and why shouldn’t she be? There was nobody for her to talk to here, stuck as she was in the awkward place between students who were too young, and teachers who were too old. He knew what that was like, and he knew what being lonely was like, as well. Hermione Granger obviously needed company. This was an opportunity that could possibly be worked to his advantage.

He pushed the door open slowly and walked towards her quietly. She didn’t look up to show that she had noticed him, but she did speak once he was nearer, still looking down at the table-top.

“You heard that, I suppose,” she said. “Would you mind signing my detention slips please, Professor?”

She waved her wand and five pink sheets of written parchment appeared in front of her. He sat down on the opposite side of the table to her and pulled the papers nearer, glancing over them quickly before pulling a quill out of the air, signing each one with a slight satisfaction. He gathered them up and handed them back to her.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said then, her eyes looking up and meeting his as she took hold of the papers. He held them for just a fraction before he let them go.

“My pleasure,” he said quietly, and it was the truth.

She pushed hard against the desk and her chair scraped back with a harsh squeak on the wooden floorboards, and she hurried over towards the piles of books which Jennings and Sullivan had abandoned, gathering them up and returning them to their right positions on the shelves after glancing at each of their spines.

“I wondered if you might have been watching, Sir,” she said as she tidied the books away. “I’d noticed you watch the library on Tuesdays now.”

Had she, indeed?

“It’s little inconvenience to me,” he admitted. “And I find that keeping my relationship with Irma sweet can come in handy, when I’m trying to track down a particularly evasive issue or volume of something or other. She has very useful contacts.” He saw that she was smiling at him, and he felt the merest twinge of a smile on his own lips too.

“I can imagine,” she said with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes at her apparent innuendo, but he knew she was joking, in the same way as he knew she wasn’t stupid enough to ever take him seriously anyway. His stony glare hadn’t worked on her a single time in the years since the war.

“They didn’t upset you, did they?” He asked quietly after a while.

She looked up from the smaller pile of books she was collecting and met his eyes again. She looked a bit wary but she answered clearly anyway.

“Of course not, Sir.”

“Really? You were never really able to cope well with teasing.” He was thinking about the comment he had once made about her teeth for some reason. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, longer, so why did he still feel a twinge of guilt?

Her eyes widened at his statement and she busied herself hurriedly again, taking the books to the desk and opening each one to so that the magical stamp could issue them for her, her back to him. He wondered if she wasn’t going to answer him at all for a moment.

“I really don’t care what empty-headed girls have to say about me, Professor,” she said finally, her back still turned. “They’re just ignorant. Really.”

Certainly ignorant, he agreed as he looked at her, trying but failing to keep from staring at her tight jeans and black jumper and the very feminine curves beneath them. He was being rather perverted probably, but no sane man could resist stealing a glance or two when her hips were tilted that way, and she was very different indeed from the scrawny teenage girls who formed the rest of the female student population. She couldn’t even be called a student fairly anyway, damn it, she had to be at least twenty. She certainly wasn’t learning anything. She was just an awkward – nobody.

But he knew she wasn’t a nobody. She was astoundingly intelligent, fiercely loyal, a lauded member of a very exclusive group of warriors. He remembered when her name had been everywhere, along with Potter’s, on everyone’s lips. She deserved respect from the students here, for giving them a freedom to study in safety, and for all the other freedoms they had all fought for in that long, bloody war. And now – she was spending her lonely evenings being insulted in a draughty library? He was at a complete loss.

She turned to him then and he was careful to look at her face and nowhere else. She didn’t really look at him, and didn’t meet his eyes once. She glanced down at the desk beside her and straightened one or two of the stationary items on top nervously.

“You shouldn’t believe them,” he found himself babbling, wanting to reassure her. “They are ignorant. They obviously don’t have a clue what on Earth they’re talking about.”

She fidgeted again. “Thank you, Sir,” she muttered, but she did meet his eyes then and gave him a look which perfectly conveyed the fact that she thought he shouldn’t be saying things like that. And maybe he shouldn’t, he considered for a moment, but he didn’t really care.

“As inappropriate as it might sound,” he conceded. “You know they’re just jealous.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured, glancing away. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “You don’t mind if I get on with my work, Sir?” She asked, gesturing back towards the looming shelves of the Restricted Section.

It was probably best to just let it lie. He shook his head.

His eyes still traitorously stared at her swaying hips as she walked away between the shelves, however. She was certainly not fat. He swallowed, then cursed under his breath, realising with some embarrassment that he was more than a little aroused. He really should let it lie. But on the other hand why should he? She needed company – that much was obvious. What was the worst that could happen? And he wasn’t that much older than her really, when you thought about it, he was only forty, after all. He would never do anything so unsavoury as to seduce a girl more than, say, oh, twenty-one years his junior. But Granger must be at least twenty. Possibly nineteen, but probably, most certainly twenty.

He stood up and quickly followed her into the Restricted Section, spotting her browsing at the end of one aisle, so he moved quietly along the corridor on the other side. He could see glimpses of her body through the narrow gaps between the shelves.

“You’re in the Restricted Section,” he sneered as he swooped around the corner next to her. “What a virgin!”

She started a bit at his sudden appearance, but she laughed heartily at his impression, without a twinge of embarrassment or coyness.

That one’s not true then, he thought with smug satisfaction.

“What do you want, Professor?” She asked him, putting a bit of a sarcastic irony into his title, but with an enticing smirk at the corner of her mouth.

“How old are you, Granger?” He asked outright, one eyebrow raised in curious amusement.

“I was twenty-one on September the nineteenth,” she said quietly, and she looked back towards the books on the shelf in front of her.

Twenty-one, he thought. Even better.

She glanced back at him. “How old are you?” She asked bluntly. “Sir,” she added.

“I will be forty-one on January the ninth,” he said, and it came out quickly, as if he were embarrassed by the fact. Perhaps he was, he reasoned. Forty-one seemed suddenly very old.

“Nine is my favourite number,” he said the first thing that came to mind, to ease his tension.

“Mine too,” she said quietly, looking him right in the eye. There was a heartbeat of silence. “What do you really want, Professor?” She asked.

Severus heard the blood pounding in his ears. He had the smallest, teetering moment of indecision while his common sense screamed at him, but he had always been the type to throw caution to the wind when the rare opportunity arose. And he did know just what he wanted.

“I want to touch you,” he whispered as he leant nearer, with an intense desire of which he was not even aware until he heard it, deep and heavy, in his own voice.

She stared at him for a second or maybe longer, her eyes were wide as she swayed almost imperceptibly, first a little towards him and then a little away. His heart thudded at her obvious indecision, although she hadn’t readily accepted him she had at least not angrily denied him outright with loud indignation, as he had imagined she might do. In the end she did neither. She brought her hand up to finger the spine of one of the books while she spoke quietly.

“I’m not sure what my boyfriend would have to say about that,” she said, her finger moving awkwardly over the gold lettering of the book’s title.

“Boyfriend?” He repeated with surprise, pulling back. He hadn’t expected that.

“Ron Weasley,” she reminded him, glancing up at him now and then for the smallest fractions of time.

He managed to not roll his eyes, but it was hard. What a poor excuse for an emotional partner Weasley must be. He was nowhere near a match for her intellectually. And the man had an ego the size of the ministry.

“And why isn’t he here to comfort his beautiful lady when she is accosted by teenage girls in the library?” He asked aloud with mock playfulness, but to his surprise she answered him anyway.

“He’s very busy at the moment. The Cannons have a chance at the Cup you see, and he’s had a lot of international matches too. And there’s the interviews and photo shoots and everything. He’d be here if he could,” she protested. “And I don’t mind. He’s working very hard and I’m proud of him.” She was rattling off excuses like it was something she did with significant regularity.

“And you are left here alone,” he added, saying what she did not. She nodded quickly, but didn’t speak again. The very tip of her long finger continued to trace the gold titles on the books in front of her, and her eyes watched the small movements, not looking at him.

He thought about the articles he had read recently concerning Mr Ron Weasley and his illustrious quidditch career. Reports on any of his actual matches were few and far between amidst the media frenzy based around his drinking, extravagant partying and suggested infidelity. Ordinarily Severus wouldn’t blame a man for that sort of thing, nubile young girls probably threw themselves at him every waking minute with a job like that, but when Weasley’s girlfriend was standing dejectedly in front of him he couldn’t help but feel anger towards the man, if only for her sake. Granger was one of the special ones – and she deserved more than a cheating weasel of a boyfriend. What was she doing with her life? If she insisted on sticking with the arrogant idiot of a man – which seemed like an ridiculous idea in any case – she should at least be on the party wagon with him.

“Why did you come back to Hogwarts, Hermione?” His voice was deep as he whispered the question he hadn’t meant to ask, but couldn’t seem to resist.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted when she finally did speak. “I didn’t think I would be the only one…” She trailed off.

He stared at her and she fidgeted under his gaze, meeting it for only a second or so at a time, before looking back to the shelf again. She floundered for a moment or two longer, then found something of a life-raft, and clung to it.

“I want to take my NEWTs,” she said firmly. “I don’t want honorary ones. I want the real thing.”

“You could take them now.” He spoke with simple certainty, surprised still by the evident desire in each of his words as he leant into her, so that he was whispering into her ear like a lover. “You could take them now and pass without even thinking. I know you could.”

She turned her head towards him, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze, her face only inches away from his. He realised just how close they were, she was leaning in towards him with her whole body but not quite touching him, his heart raced at the thought of how easy it would be to pull her against him and make her his. But she hadn’t really answered his question yet, and he could feel the presence of the youngest Mr. Weasley, hanging over their conversation like a ghost.

“Why did you come back?” He asked again in a harsh whisper, nearly against her lips. “Tell me.”

She pulled back and turned slightly, facing away from him with a frustrated sigh.

“I did tell you,” she said. “I don’t know why I came back. When they offered I thought maybe –” she stalled again, fidgeting and glancing around at anywhere and anything but him. He didn’t rush her. He could tell from her wrinkled brow and expression of concentration that the answers were coming. She crossed her arms and looked up at him, almost sheepishly. “I thought it would be like old times. I thought it would make me happy, being back. I didn’t even consider that none of the others would come back as well. Not a single one.” She looked down at her shoes as she whispered, and Severus was afraid that she was going to cry. “I know it sounds stupid.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound stupid,” he told her.

In fact he understood more than she could know. Why had he come back to the wretched place himself, if not for similar reasons? Even though it was very much a love-hate relationship which he shared with the school and the staff he worked with, it had still seemed a better choice when it came to the moment of decision, returning to the familiar rather than stepping out into the great unknown. But he did have friends here, at least, and she hadn’t anybody.

“It is stupid,”’ she whispered harshly, as if she were berating herself rather than addressing him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she repeated, looking up at him. “But – “ she hesitated again, then leant back against the shelf and sighed. “But I don’t know what I’d do if I left.”

He felt himself frowning in concern as he looked down at her shaking head, wishing he had some sort of suggestion, but he couldn’t very well pull job opportunities out of thin air for her.

“Look,” he said, and she did, turning and meeting his eyes. “I’m withdrawing you from the Seventh Year NEWT lessons.”

She drew in a breath to protest, but he put a hand up to her mouth and touched his fingertips to her lips, silencing her. They were warm, he noted with a quick afterthought.

“I’m withdrawing you from the Seventh Year lessons,” he repeated firmly, before bringing his hand down again. “And I will give you separate tutorials more suited to your ability. I will, of course, provide you with adequate NEWT revision,” the troubled look seemed to melt away from her face as he spoke. “As well as helping you study more advanced potions. You could maybe go in for a wizarding degree, it would only take you a matter of weeks as long as the other professors are willing to do the same for you, and I can see no reason why they shouldn’t be.”

He stepped towards her so that there was only a few inches between them, her back was pressed against the bookcase, and he could hear her breathing as well as his own.

“Then, afterwards, I suggest you leave. As quickly as possible.” He was looking right into her amber eyes, and she was staring back at him. “I don’t just mean the school,” he said, and she nodded to show that she understood. “There’s a world out there that’d bow at your feet if you asked them to,” he said quietly. “You’ll be alright.”

He could see her chest rising and falling with each of her breaths, he could feel the soft breeze of it on his face, burning his cheeks and lips. This was becoming dangerous now. He should pull back, pull away – but he found that he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. The sweet scent of vanilla and ginger came from her skin – or was it her hair? – and the smell was like sorcery, reeling him in. He swallowed, his mouth was dry. She imitated him, her throat working, still pressed up against the heavy wooden shelves. She licked her lips, her pink tongue dragging across her soft skin, and he almost forgot about Weasley. Almost.

“Would you bow at my feet,” she was whispering and her voice was husky and hot, making him ache inside, “if I asked you to, Professor?”

Her question made his pulse race. The thin line of empty space between them cracked with a buzzing energy, his body was attracted to hers like a magnet, and he had to resist the urge to press up against her from lips to legs. His hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t know what was going on, but couldn’t take much more of it.

“I couldn’t rule out the notion entirely,” he admitted grudgingly, and she smiled.

It was the kind of smile that lit up her face, her eyes shining at his admission, but it was the ever-so-slight hint of heady power in the smirking corners of her mouth that made it one he just wanted to lick. He brought his right hand up and grabbed the shelf above her, bending his elbow so that his whole weight was supported by his tensed arm, letting him close the distance between them almost completely without actually touching her. He could feel the heat from her body, millimetres away, his large nose almost brushed against hers as he spoke.

“I still want to touch you,” he told her.

She blinked twice, staring into his eyes.

“Touch me, then,” she replied.

He felt his breath catch in his throat as he finally pressed his body up against hers, his left hand grabbing at her face and threading in her hair as he tilted his head to kiss her. At the very last moment he hesitated.

“What about that idiot Weasley?” He just managed to gasp out the question.

“Ron will never know,” she said, grabbing his head with both hands and pulling his lips down to hers.

His heart almost stopped.

Her mouth was warm and wet, her lips moved over his enticingly before he opened his own and deepened the kiss, the fire singing through his body making him gasp against her. It had been so long since he had felt anything like this, the desire that continued to grow in him with every little lick of her tongue, he felt himself getting harder every time she moaned. God damn.

He wrapped his arms around her, he ran his hands over her body through the muggle clothes she wore, fisting one in her hair before dragging the other down across her back and tapering waist. He moved round and cupped one of her breasts, vaguely aware of the very enticing size and weight of it in the back of his mind as he continued to kiss her hungrily, and he felt her stiff nipple through the cotton of her jumper. He circled the pad of his thumb around the hard peak, finally breaking the kiss to watch the way she tilted her head back and whimpered at his touch, and he kissed her exposed throat and neck before finding her lips again. He slid his hands down to her hips, nudging her feet apart with his own, pulling her hard against his obvious arousal. His legs almost gave way when she moaned into his mouth and writhed against him.

“Professor,” she breathed.

“Call me Severus,” he said roughly, teasing her breasts, loving the feel of them in his hands. Her head was thrown back again and he reached up stroke the side of her face, making her open her eyes to look up at him.

“Call me Severus,” he repeated, more gently.

She stared at him for a second or so, and threaded her hands into his hair, pulling him down towards her once again. She kissed him more gently and sweetly than last time, then pulled back, her thumb brushing against his cheek as she smiled.

“Severus,” she said.

–––––––––––––––––––––


You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story