Forbidden Rapture

BY : Marionne25
Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione
Dragon prints: 41259
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not making money from this story.

Chapter Five 

Patience

 

“Professor Snape?” asked a small voice.

He didn’t answer. Another knock sounded, but he continued to ignore it.

Snape looked at the ancient clock at the end of his office, which told him that it was noon. It was lunchtime, and he was supposed to have an hour of peace.

“Professor Snape?”

The knock became more insistent, and it irritated him.

“What do you want, Miss Granger?” He picked up his wand and waved it towards the door, which magically opened to admit her.

Hermione quietly entered his office and closed the door behind her. She walked toward Snape’s desk with a reluctant look on her face. “Professor, I was wondering if you can help me.”

Snape didn’t say anything, but he was listening. The silence suggested she had lost her voice.

“Miss Granger, if you have nothing to say, you’re most welcome to leave. I do not wish to be disturbed during this limited time I have for myself.”

Hermione walked closer to his desk and cleared her throat as if gathering her courage. “Well you see, Professor,” she began in a small voice, “we have this research paper for Professor Slughorn’s class, and he asked us to—“

“I’m no longer your Potions professor, Miss Granger,” Snape told her without looking up. “If you have any inquiry regarding the subject and the requirements for it this term, you are in the wrong room, talking to the wrong person.”

Hermione didn’t say anything. She continued watching Snape’s process of gathering the parchments together on his desk and sorting them out in their right order.

Snape sensed she was not planning to leave until she had picked his brain.

“Are you deaf?” he asked her as he crumpled some parchment and threw it in the bin.

“I’m not deaf.”

He raised his brow and shook his head mockingly.

Hermione stared at him, her patience decreasing at his blatant refusal to help her.

“As I was saying,” Hermione continued, ignoring his reaction to her persistence, “this assignment that we have is due next week, and the research material that he—“

“I said, I am no longer your Potions professor.”

“Yes, I know that, Professor!” Hermione interrupted him with a raised voice.

Snape looked up at her in astonishment.

“Please,” Hermione’s voice was desperate. “Professor, you’re the only one who can help me. You see, I think his details are incorrect, and I need to double check with you so I can prove that my argument is valid.”

Unwelcome and uninvited as she was, Hermione moved to the other side of the table to stand next to the flabbergasted Potions master to show him a chart she had created an hour ago in the library.

“Please just take a look at this reference list and chart I’ve made. I’m quite sure there’s something amiss about his details regarding this potion.”

Hermione handed him the chart. He took one glance at it and then turned and walked away.

“Professor Snape!”

Snape heard the frustration in her voice as he walked toward his storage room, which led to his private laboratory. He could hear her hurried footsteps behind him, but he continued ignoring her.

He reached his storage area and swiftly turned to her. She halted in shock.

“I will repeat,” Snape breathed out at her, “I am no longer your Potions professor, therefore, any inquiries should be directed to Professor Slughorn.”

“I already told you that I’m aware of that!” Hermione argued, raising her voice.

He stared down at her unbelievingly.

Hermione blinked; realizing her mistake, she looked away from him.

Snape saw her consider the idea of running.

He stared down at her with both anger and question in his eyes. What could be so important in that assignment for her to be this desperate for his knowledge?

Hermione glanced right back up at him, and he gave her his most terrifying glare.

“I know you’re not our Potions professor anymore.” She sounded as if she was on the verge of tears. “But I already double checked in the library, and I know he’s wrong. I was only thinking that perhaps you can help. You know this better than anyone else.”

“You are one insolent little—“

“I wouldn’t come to you if I didn’t think that you were the better Potions master.”

“Miss Granger, will you please hold your tongue?“

“You were my Potions professor for five years. I’m not going to let all that I learned from you go flying out of the window just because our professor now doesn’t know what he is doing!”

“Watch your mouth, Miss Granger!” he warned her, terrifying her with his loud voice and cold eyes.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her farther into the laboratory.

“He was my Potions professor, in case you are forgetting, Miss Granger. He taught me everything I know—everything I have ever taught you.” He pushed her away and settled himself across from her behind a long wooden table. “Everything that I have taught you came from him. Have some respect. Just because he’s getting older does not mean he doesn’t know his craft.”

Hermione didn’t say anything as she stood there, transfixed by the fuming form of her professor. She stood quiet and still, determined to get the answer she came for.

There was nothing but silence between them. He continued to glare at her, but it was no use. He finally shook his head and angrily grabbed the chart from across the table.

“Which reference books have you been reading?” he spat as his black eyes moved left to right.

Hermione blinked and came back to her senses the moment she realized that he was actually going to help her.

“Just the ones written there, Professor.” She pointed to the end of the parchment and waited for him to finish reading it. “The library books seemed to be missing some important selections that might be—“

He shoved the chart back at her, cutting off her words.

She watched as he swiftly moved toward two large bookshelves at the end of the room. She gawked at what looked like the most complex and significant collection of Potions books she had ever seen.

Hermione stared in complete excitement, anticipation, and curiosity as he opened the glass door of the shelves and quickly scanned the titles. She waited nervously behind him. Her eyes roamed over the shelves of potions and books around the room.

“Here.” Snape’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. “Bring it back in one piece the moment you finish reading what you need.”

Hermione stared open-mouthed at him. He was offering her what looked like a priceless Potions reference book.

Her hands were trembling as she took the book from him. Her eyes were filled with excitement, and she breathed in the familiar smell of stored books. She could not wait to read it. She knew it was one of his most prized possessions. “I’ll take good care of it, Professor.”

Snape watched as her eyes locked on the book. He was struggling to keep from smiling. He knew that look too well, and he knew what it felt like to hold such a precious and informative book. He could already imagine that she would not be present at dinner as she would surely spend hours in her room indulging herself.

He continued to stare at her in amusement. She was too preoccupied with the book to notice that his black eyes had run from her fingers and arms to her waist and skirt, which was askew from chasing him.

Snape suddenly blinked away when he realized what he was staring at. He made a mental note to take off points from her house for not wearing the proper uniform. Hermione was not wearing her usual school robes. Instead, she was wearing a dark blue Muggle blouse and a skirt that was shorter than her usual uniform. His eyes strayed to her legs, and the idea of taking off points flew out of the window.

“Thank you, Professor!”

Snape looked up at her excited expression. His brow furrowed, and he tried to look sour again.

“Where’s Potter?” he demanded.

“In the library with Ron,” Hermione answered.

“Tell him that the Headmaster is expecting him in his office at exactly eight tonight.”

“Why would the—“

Snape had already turned and walked away.

“If you do not need anything else, Miss Granger, I would appreciate it if you would remove yourself from my office. Now.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hermione said quickly, realizing that she was no longer welcome. She grabbed her bag from the floor and gathered the chart.

Hermione thanked Snape again as they returned to his office, but he was already acting as if she was no longer in the room with him.

Just as she made it to the door, Snape called her back.

“Yes?” she asked politely.

“Miss Granger, I am assuming you will be using this book as your personal reference and not for something sinister like cheating.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that Professor Slughorn had been bragging to the faculty that your idiot best friend is at the top of his Potions class since the term began.”

His black eyes met hers, and she saw a gleam of hatred in his eyes. Snape crossed his arms.

“He’s been telling us that Potter is a natural at the subject. We both know, Miss Granger, that Potter is almost as bad as Longbottom.”

“Professor, Harry has been—“

“Cheating in class. However, I have no evidence, so we’ll just say he’s doing something rather peculiar for professor Slughorn. Miss Granger, you know better. Warn your friend. Cheating at Hogwarts is prohibited and will be severely punished. I suggest you take a look at his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. If you’re as smart as everyone claims, you will not let yourself be outdone by a cheater.”

There was a long pause, and Hermione felt that his black eyes were searching through her soul. “Professor, Harry is just really—“

“Get out, Miss Granger. I don’t need to hear your lies to cover up that boy’s shameful actions.”

 

Hermione’s eyes were filled with tears as she stared at Harry’s old Potions books. She had been cleaning their apartment all morning, and Harry had let her work her way through his small office, where she was free to go through his selections.

“Want to go to a muggle movie?”

She felt a pair of hands wrap around her waist, and his lips melted along the nape of her neck.

“Harry, please,” Hermione whispered, pushing herself free from his grasp.

Harry blinked. He watched her turn away from him and return the Potions books to the shelf.

“It’s quite cold outside, and I’m sure that the rain is terrible.”

“It’s just a drizzle.”

“Harry, go if you want to watch a movie or something. I’m sure Ginny or Bill can accompany you after your Ministry duty. I’m not really up for it.”

“You’re not up to doing anything.”

“Harry, I just want to—“

“When will you ever be up to do anything again?” Harry’s eyes narrowed and grew dark.

“Harry, it’s just that—“

“Forget it.”

Harry turned away, and she quickly followed him out of his small office. She saw the frustration and anger in his eyes.

“Harry, wait.” She caught up to him and grabbed his hand.

“Let go.”

“Harry, it’s raining. I just don’t feel like going out. If you want I’ll cook for us tonight, all right?”

Harry stared at her for a moment before pulling his hand back. He shook his head and gave her a spiteful look. “Eat here and read books again for the whole day, Hermione?”

His voice was growing angrier, and Hermione could tell that another row was about to begin. “Harry, it’s not like that.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing that I could understand, is it?”

Her eyes watered, but she tried her best not to cry. She knew what he was pointing out and understood his frustration—she was also very frustrated with herself.

“Harry, I’m just trying to adjust. Just give me some time. I’m sorry.”

“Have I not given you enough?” he demanded as he moved away from her.

Hermione didn’t answer. She could see the hatred and disappointment all over his face.

“Harry, I’m sorry.”

Tears started leaking from her eyes, and the moment this happened, Harry turned back to her and quickly took her in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, closing his eyes as she cried in his arms. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Harry breathed heavily as he tried to calm her down—as he tried to calm himself down. He was losing it. He didn’t understand their situation any longer. He thought that saving her from that criminal was enough to stabilize her life. But nothing he’d done since she’d returned had put her back to normal.

The deeper his frustration grew, the more he wanted the trial to finish so Severus Snape would finally meet his fate in the hands of the Dementors.

 

Snape threaded the dark corridors of the castle. It was past curfew already, and he was bound to go back to their cottage. This was his daily routine for the past few months. Since he had taken Hermione Granger—hidden her from the Wizarding World—he had crossed from the cottage, Hogwarts, and Malfoy Manor. Back and forth.

Most of the time he was either at their cottage or at the castle, and the rest of the hours were spent at Malfoy Manor when the Dark Lord needed him. Some hours were also spent in his laboratory.

He no longer took teaching duties at the castle—having been named Headmaster—and he had endured enough from Minerva and some of the school governors. But these little annoyances didn’t hold his attention.

The teaching duties were given to the usual professors and to the Carrows. All he had to do was to make sure that no blood was spilled. At times, the Dark Lord would need him to brew a potion or he’d be called in for a meeting. But most of the time he spent in the cottage with Hermione.

He made sure that she was comfortable. He made sure that she was well-fed and that she was healthy. He wanted to make sure he took care of her as well as he possibly could. It was his duty. Of course it wasn’t an easy task. She was constantly having tantrums and asking about the outside world, demanding to know the whereabouts of the people she loved and cared for. It was a struggle, but he needed to keep to his mission. There was no way in hell that he was going to let her out of his sight just because she wouldn’t listen to him. And now he had to go back to the cottage and relay the news that her beloved best friend—Ronald Weasley—was already gone after an attempted attack and rescue with some of the Order members. He could only sigh heavily as he walked out of the castle grounds to return to the cottage; Hermione had no idea what the future years would hold.

 

 

The rain had not slowed at all, and the Wizengamot’s trial was to commence in half an hour. Harry and Hermione arrived at the of the court. Other members and governors of Hogwarts had also come for today’s trial.

Hermione was left standing in the hallway as she waited for Harry, who was talking to some Aurors and members of the Wizengamot.

“Granger?” asked a voice behind her.

Hermione whirled around. She gaped at the sight that greeted her. “Malfoy?” she asked with surprise.

Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her with a familiar daunting smirk on his face.

“How are you?” asked Draco as he halted in front of her. His grey eyes scanned her from head to toe and back again. “Didn’t really expect to see you this close,” Draco said as he folded his arms and stared at her.

Hermione stared back at the boy she had not seen in many, many years. Well, he was no longer the boy that he had been, nor was he the man she had expected. She didn’t know what to say.

Draco looked like Lucius Malfoy more than ever—only a little taller perhaps, and he had kept his hair short and messy, very unlike the long and tended locks his father had. A better physique was obvious, but other than that, he was really a younger version his father.

“What are you doing here?” she asked after finding her voice. She felt it was a stupid question to ask. Of course the whole Wizarding World would want to know about this trial. It was another downfall of another Death Eater—this time one whose crime involved a member of the Golden Trio.

Draco’s smile widened as he walked forward, and Hermione did not know why his presence somewhat scared her. She took a step back and stared at him with a look of fear on her face.

“Am I not allowed to watch the trial of my own godfather?” he asked her slowly.

“I didn’t say that.” Hermione said, trying to keep her ground. “I just didn’t see you in the previous trials. I’m surprised to see you here.”

It had been years since they last saw each other—more than a decade perhaps.

“Well truth is that this is my first time to attend,” Draco said as he took a last step toward her. Halting only when he was a few feet from her, he looked down at her. “I was quite busy, but I can assure you that I will be attending from now on.”

“I understand.” She was still not comfortable with the conversation or anything to do with the Malfoy heir.

“You all right?” he asked her.

“I’m fine. How are things?” she asked, trying to sound interested with his life despite her annoyance.

Draco beamed at her.

“The family business keeps me busy. I’ve traveled around the world. I’ve learned a lot from it.”

He looked her in the eye, and Hermione could swear she saw a flash of interest or curiosity in those grey eyes.

“I know that things have not been well since I last . . .” he paused for a moment as he chose the right words to use.

“Malfoy, I really need to go back to Harry.”

“I want you to know that I am sorry to hear about what happened to Weasley.”

Draco’s voice sounded genuine, and it caught Hermione’s attention.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know that we haven’t really been friends,” Draco admitted. “I know I was an arse in the old days, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have—“

“It’s fine, Malfoy,” Hermione cut him off. “Nobody wanted the things that happened during the war. Look, I really have to go, Harry might be—“

Hermione’s voice was small and soft, and she could tell that behind his smile and smirk, he had changed because of the war. She may not have been physically present in the outside world during the war, but she knew some of the things that had happened and could tell that some part of the destruction had hurt the Malfoys.

Hermione turned to leave him, but he grabbed her wrist and made her turn back to him. Her brow furrowed, and he quickly let go. She was glaring at him with both question and interest in her eyes.

“I really have to go, Malfoy. It was nice to see you.”

“Where’s Potter?” he asked her.

“I told you he’s just somewhere around.” Hermione made a hand gesture down the hallway. “He’s just talking to some Aurors. I have to go. The trial will begin soon.”

“Are your parents all right?”

Hermione stared back at him and realized that he was asking if they survived the war.

“They’re fine, thank you. I hope Mrs. Malfoy is well.”

 “I’m not married, Granger.” Draco quickly said, although upon answering, he realized that she was asking about his mother and not about a spouse. His eyes slightly widened just as hers did.

“What I meant—“

“My mother passed away.” Draco said, and for the first time he could not look her in the eye.

The smile faded from his face, and Hermione’s features turned melancholic too.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was bound to happen. She was very ill. Nothing at St. Mungos could help her. It might have been some sort of incurable curse on our bloodline.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have . . .”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Draco simply said with a small nod.

They both looked away, and Hermione didn’t know if it was right to leave.

“I’m still sorry about it, Malfoy. Nobody deserves such a fate.”

“It’s not something any of us would have wanted, and I know that not even you would wish her ill.”

Hermione nodded at him and forced a smile. “I must go. It was . . . it was nice seeing you.”

“It’s nice to see someone from Hogwarts. Hope to see you around, Granger.”

He held up his hand to her for her to shake. She was reluctant, but she took it anyway.

“Hermione,” she corrected him. “You can call me Hermione.”

“Draco then.” He was once more wearing a smug look. “Call me, Draco.”

Hermione nodded and quickly withdrew her hand. She turned to go. She took two steps, but Draco called to her. There was something solemn and sorrowful in his tone that made her halt and look back.

“Hermione, I don’t know what to say.” Draco was hesitant. “This whole trial. I’m not saying I’m here because of him or because I think that they are lying about what happened to you.”

“Draco, I really don’t feel like talking about it.’

“No, you need to know and understand.”

Draco suddenly walked toward her, making her feel slightly frightened.

“Draco, don’t.”

“Hermione, they’re trying to give you justice.”

“I said, I don’t want to—“

“I tried looking for you. Hermione, it was long ten years—everyone thought that you had died. The war had come and gone, and you weren’t found.”

“Draco, I said that I don’t want to talk about it.’

“Hermione?” another voice called her name.

They both looked up and saw Harry striding toward them.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded upon reaching them. He moved Hermione away from Draco and stood between the two of them.

“Malfoy?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Nice to see you, Potter.” Draco simply said, backing away from the two.

“Yeah,” Harry said, clutching Hermione’s hand without taking his eyes off the blond man.

“Harry, let’s go inside. I want to get to our usual place.” Hermione could sense the tension between the two.

Harry and Draco stared at one another for a few more silent moments. The last time he had seen Draco was a few years back—the court trial of Lucius Malfoy and at the hospital when he heard about the death of Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry was there at the hospital when she was dying; she was being transferred back to the Manor to die in peace, per her wishes. He had been there for two reasons that day. The first one was because of his duties as an Auror, to trace the lives of those who had been connected to the Dark Lord. And the second reason was because it was the day Fleur was feeling ill, and he had to accompany her to St. Mungo’s instead of Bill, who had been assigned on a three day trip to Germany.

Although he had made the decision to make all Death Eaters liable for Hermione’s disappearance, he had to admit that the death of the famous Narcissa Black Malfoy was something he hadn’t anticipated. And at the funeral, which he had attended, it was the very first time that he had felt the briefest pity for Draco Malfoy.

Draco gave them a last nod before he looked away and turned his attention to a wizard, whom Harry supposed was his assistant.

“Hermione?”

“I didn’t expect to see him,” Hermione said defensively.

“I didn’t say you did.” Harry stared at her, slightly annoyed.

“What happened to Mrs. Malfoy?” Hermione asked as they entered the courtroom.

“She died a few years ago. It was agonizing to watch the funeral. I didn’t expect to feel pity for Draco that day.”

“He seems happy now,” Hermione pointed out. “He inherited all the Malfoy wealth and seems to be making more money.”

“Just like his father, as Mr. Weasley pointed out,” Harry said. “I heard he travelled a lot in order to fulfill his duties as the Malfoy business tycoon. But Mrs. Weasley said that it might be his way of forgetting and coping.”

“I didn’t hear that Lucius Malfoy died.”

“Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban,” Harry told her. “His mind gave away just a few weeks after he heard about the passing of Narcissa. Draco has never visited him.”

Hermione wanted to ask Harry what else had transpired, but her attention was already taken by the Aurors and Ministry officials who arrived in the courtroom, dragging Snape along with the usual magical bonds.

Hermione’s heart leapt at the sight of him. It pained her to see him like that. He seemed to be growing thinner every time she saw him. It was obvious that he had lost the will to live. 

 

 

Author's Note: 

  Hello dear readers. I have not abandoned any of you. Time and life happened as usual. 

 

Thank you Oracle Obscured for all the encouragement and criticisms and patience with me. Happy to always work with you. 

 

To my dear readers thank you for staying. Hope you like this chapter. Comments are appreciated. Thank you and would be writing more soon. 

 

xx 



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