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Heating up Hogwarts	By : SweetTorments Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 24021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I hope everyone enjoys the story. Not to be a review whore, but it will make me write faster. This is for your benefit, not mine. No, seriously. The rating and the warning are for future chapters. Oh, by the way.... I own nothing at all. No seriously, don't even bother with a lawsuit. All you'll get is debt. *Newly Edited 7/10/12

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Something was terribly wrong.

Hermione rolled over in bed yet again. At this point, she wasn't trying to get back to sleep, only stay silent and sane. For the hundredth time, she truly appreciated the solitude of the Head Girl's room. If anyone slept within ear-shot, they would have woken hours ago. As she flipped and turned, her body kept up a constant humming ache that had turned unbearable within minutes of starting. Two days of this torture was almost enough to make her go to Madam Pomfrey, embarrassment be damned. If only it wasn't quite so embarrassing.

A whimper reached the back of her throat. She had the oddest desire to rage and scream, to wail for everyone to hear. Something was terribly wrong. She needed … something, and badly.

"This is ridiculous." She groaned as she slithered out of bed. "I'll just go for a little walk."

The feel of the sheets against her naked body both added to the torture and relieved it. As she dressed, she allowed her hands to hover over her own skin, caressing lightly as they went. One hand slipped over her breast and she shuddered in reaction. A coiled nipple brushed along her palm, almost too sensitive to bear. Her body ached with an intensity that was completely unfamiliar, but she did understand the basic sensations. Even a bookworm, especially a teenage bookworm, had woken up achy and panting from a particularly intense dream. Yet flushed with excitement was rather a lot different than aching from head to toe for some form of relief. With halting breath, she lightly pinched her straining nipple and shuddered again. Another whimper came to rest in her throat and Hermione couldn't decide what course of action to follow. A wave of restlessness rolled over her and she needed to move, to cause destruction or pain. At the same time she had to battle back the urge to curl up on the floor and weep. Something had to give, and soon.

"A walk, I'm taking a walk." Her voice was frantic as she opened the door and fled into the dark halls of the castle.

One foot moved after the next and miles fell behind her as the hours passed.

*****************************

"Ah, Hermione, is everything okay?" Ron peered at her over his orange juice critically. "You look sorta, tired."

"Be quiet, Ron." She closed her eyes and struggled for patience. "I'm fine."

"Now, don't get angry." He nudged Harry beside him. "Doesn't she look tired, Harry?"

"Ron." Harry just shook his head minutely and went back to eating his eggs. "Leave Hermione alone."

"Fine." He sighed and delved into his breakfast with gusto.

Hermione pushed her hair behind her ear with a heartfelt sigh of her own. Her nerves were spread as thin as they could possibly go, and everyone around her spurred thoughts of violence. The first day these weird feelings had started, something had drawn her to the boys, made her want to get closer to them. However, as time had passed, something akin to queasiness had replaced that urge. The thought of them, the look of them, even the smell of them made her slightly sick to her stomach. For their friendships' sake, she tolerated them to the best of her ability, but that ability was draining quickly. It would, of course, go a lot better if Ron would keep his big mouth shut. She hadn't ever noticed how utterly bothersome the boy was. Boys … boys everywhere.

"Did you just whimper?" Ginny asked and grinned. "See, Ron, you're causing her actual pain now."

"I'm fine." Hermione managed to lower the spoon slowly and then moved to her feet quickly. "I forgot something for Charms."

"You haven't eaten anything." Harry glanced upward and spoke quietly. His eyes were intense and searching, almost intelligent. Almost … a twinge set off in her body. Something in her chest felt odd.

"I'm not," she had to stop and clear her throat, "I'm not hungry."

"Do you want me to walk with you?" He looked unsure but curious, trusting.

"Yes. Please.”

He walked slowly, as if waiting for her to speak. Yet most of her attention had traveled far from conversation by the time they reached the upper hall. With every step, his body seemed to ripple. Standing slightly behind him, she watched his shoulder blades flex and the muscles in his back stretch. His lean, Quidditch honed body was shockingly compelling. Her eyes strayed lower and her mind ran rampant. A low sound escaped her throat, more a growl than a whimper. Shallow breaths made her chest rise quicker, her blood beginning to boil.

"You just growled." Harry turned around with an odd look on his face. Even now, he seemed more confused and interested than alarmed.

"Sorry." She smiled softly and extended a hand toward him. Without thought, her fingers ran from his temple to his jaw and back again. His skin against her own ignited every cell within her fingertips. Suddenly, they seemed as numerous as the stars in the night sky. She had the oddest desire to curl against him, to purr.

"Hermione?" His voice broke on the word.

As she moved closer his eyes widened, the whites showing. She caught the scent of him as her body pressed closer and stopped dead in her tracks. Between the panicked look on his face and the smell of him, queasiness flooded her once again. She wanted to wail, to ignore the distaste in her mouth and take him anyway. Crescent nail marks bit into her skin, trying desperately to ground her.

"I'm not really sure...." His voice broke again and revulsion ran through her.

"You're just wrong!" Her hand flashed out and shoved him away, finding slight gratification as his shoulder blades slammed into the wall. "Honestly, Harry! Grow up!"

"What?" he stuttered slightly, but took a step to follow her. "What's wrong with you?"

"I have no idea!" She turned around mid-stalk and glared him down. "But you had better stay away from me. If I get desperate enough, you'll do."

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Hermione fidgeted in her seat, never more uncomfortable in her life. The hospital wing was empty, and that included its Madam. So, she sat and waited. At this point, she had missed most of Charms. After leaving Harry, she had struggled to make it to her room before the tears had started. What was wrong with her? What had she been thinking? If the mere sight of him hadn't made her want to vomit, what exactly had the plan been there?

"Miss Granger?" Madam Pomfrey entered the room as briskly as ever but slowed at the sight of a crying girl waiting for her.

"Something's wrong with me." She couldn't look away from the floor as she spoke. "I think someone did something to me. I feel odd … hot, and nervous. Sort of achy."

"Oh, dear." She frowned as she spoke and came closer slowly. "Miss Granger, forgive me for asking, but are you excited? That is, sexually?"

"Um, maybe." She turned a shade of red usually only seen on a Weasley. "Do you know what's wrong with me?"

"Perhaps. Do you remember in the second year when you came to see me because of an incident with botched Polyjuice Potion?" she asked gently.

"Of course I remember!" Hermione snapped and then had to hold her breath, afraid to let her emotions flow.

"At the time, I was warned that there may be sexual side effects to your mistake." She moved about the room busily while she spoke, but something about her seemed hesitant. It was the first time Hermione could ever remember the woman being anything but efficient.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" she asked as patiently as possible.

"I wasn't aware it was a problem at the time. Professor Snape routinely examines my patient notes for just this reason. He stressed that it was unlikely but wanted me to be aware of the side effect just in case."

"Is there a salve or potion or something?" The mere mention of Snape's name was enough to lower her anger a fraction. Fear and intimidation, it seemed, trumped anger just the slightest bit.

"Professor Snape advised me to send you to him. I believe the potion has to be brewed for the individual." She finished up her busy surveillance of the room and returned.

"Yes, well, thank you." She stood and moved toward the door. "I'll do that."

There was no way she was going to do that! Hermione snorted as she took the stairs. The woman was absolutely out of her mind. There were some instructions that just didn't deserve to be followed. The mere thought of trying to talk to Snape about the situation was enough to alternately send her into giggles or make her want to die of embarrassment. He would just stand there, looking smug and disgusted. It didn't pay to consider his comments upon hearing the story. Seriously, how precisely did Madam Pomfrey imagine that conversation would go?

"A couple of years ago, I stole ingredients from your private supply, attempted an off limits potion, and turned into a cat-creature briefly. Now, I really need a good shag. I hear you can help with that."

That would certainly go well! There was no help for it. She would have to cure herself. Half-way through a stride, Hermione paused and turned on her heels, now moving toward the library. The first thing she needed was more information. Now that she knew it was associated with the Polyjuice Potion, she had something to go on. It was simply a matter of research, and if there was one thing Hermione Granger was good at, it was research.

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The rest of the day went by slowly, grudgingly. It took most of the afternoon before she even found something worth reading. That class period after class period slipped by left a nervous feeling in her stomach. She had never skipped a class before, but tried to convince herself that this was something of a new situation in itself. The library was silent for the most part and every squeak that made its way past her lips sounded unbearably loud. The gasp she issued when she finally found what she was looking for sounded like a small shriek.

Dear lord, she was in heat! No, no, no, no! This simply wasn't possible. Her eyes narrowed on the words harshly and she reread the passage once, twice, a third time and then slammed her head against the fateful words before her. She was in heat!

As the affected witch or wizard came into adulthood, they would occasionally take on the practices of the animal they had turned from wrongful use of the Polyjuice Potion. There was an elevated chance of suicide, rape, and abuse by those afflicted and the people around them. Hermione flipped the page and scanned the passages on the various common animals used until her eyes fell upon the cat. With bated breath, she read. The result was a mix of the unfortunate human's habits and the animal habits. Feline hosts tended to choose a mate, and then like their animal counterpart, emit pheromones that drew their mate to them. It was not unheard of for a mate to rape the afflicted person, or for either of the parties to become exceedingly violent at any time. The person in heat would often become loud, desperate, and overly affectionate or bitingly angry in turns. Her body was trying to get her pregnant!

Hermione left the book where it was and practically flew from the library. Angry tears glistened in her eyes and she fled for her life, not knowing where she was going or how to cope. This was simply unthinkable. She broke into a run, moving toward the main door, needing to feel fresh air. Maybe she would start toward the woods and just keep going; surely it wouldn't take long until she ran into something willing to end this embarrassment. It couldn't hurt that much to die.

"Bugger it!" Without warning, she was disposed unceremoniously on her backside. The impact stung, bringing more frustrated tears to the forefront. Anger snapped around the hopelessness and she struggled to her feet, seeing red.

"Excuse me, Miss Granger?" Cold black eyes looked down into her own, completely unmoved.

"Professor Snape."

She inclined her head only the smallest bit, still fighting back the urge to draw blood. Her eyes went back to his challengingly. Swell after swell of anger raced through her, making her breathing shallow and harsh. His easy show of dominance continued as he arched one brow slowly, his familiar smirk leaping to the surface.

"Decided to forgo classes today, have we?" His shoulders were thrown back, strong and confident.

"I had more pressing matters … Professor." A small smile curved her lips, not out of humor but of excitement. Energy welled in her chest and every molecule longed for a confrontation. Even the smell of her own fear spurred her.

"Do try to make time for detention tonight, won't you, Miss Granger?" he drawled.

"Detention?" She frowned, feeling disappointment sharply. A deep sigh and she brushed past him, still going for the door. She was stopped abruptly by the sharp grip on her forearm. The walls seemed to convulse around her as he hauled her backward by the arm, his grip fierce but not overly painful.

"Where do you think you're going?" He growled the words into her face, but his eyes were slightly puzzled. "What's wrong with you?"

"Don't." Her body seemed to pulse, originating from his palm on her flesh. Without thought, quick as a cat, her hand slashed out to disengage him. Her strength, as well as the blood dripping from his arm, alarmed her. Eyes wide, she took a step back. The scent of his blood reached her nose and a shiver traveled over her. Unable to stop the noise, a groan filled the space between them. She trembled. "I'm sorry, Professor." Even now she couldn't find her voice in the sound that came from her throat. She sounded angry, needful, unhinged.

With a quick motion, both her hands were caught up in one of his and pinned above her head. A noise, very much resembling a growl, flew from her throat. She struggled against him fiercely as his other hand caught a handful of hair and tipped her head back. Her body practically vibrated with need as her back met the hard stone behind her. He seemed to hover, the sheer presence of him overwhelming. She whimpered and tossed her head, only climbing higher when his hand tightened painfully. His eyes bore into hers and she met them levelly, hating him even as she challenged him.

"Your eyes are so dilated they're black," he whispered menacingly. "You have no idea what you're doing, you stupid girl." With that, he released her, taking a step back when she remained where she was.

"Neither do you." The threat came unbidden but was backed by so much anger she turned and fled, honestly frightened of herself.

*****************************************

"Oh god, I'm in so much trouble!" Hermione moved through the castle step after agonizing step. "He's going to kill me, he's just going to kill me."

It was time for her detention. There was no way to tell if he still expected her to show up, but she had to go. For hours she had cowered in her room, just waiting for Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster to knock on the door. When the final bell for classes rang and still no one had come, Hermione had climbed to her feet and started through her door without much thought. Something had to be done, and she knew somehow that he was the key. He would be able to brew the potion, to help her. If he didn't kill her first.

She was just in so much trouble!

Hermione closed her eyes tightly as she walked, barely holding back a whimper. The mental image of her nail marks on his forearm, causing blood to drip onto the pristine stone, made her shudder. His eyes had snapped with anger and excitement as they had leveled her own. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Miss Granger, come in." Her eyes snapped open and took in the doorway to Snape's classrooms. She glanced upward quickly and sure enough he was standing there, waiting for her … drawing her like bait.

She settled behind the table in her usual place and waited for him to speak. The door clicked shut as he came swooping in, finally calming near his own desk. She held her breath, waiting for him to give his punishment or start the excruciating process of talking about her situation.

"Begin the potion you missed." He nodded to the board imperiously. "And do read the instructions, your classmates have already melted three caldrons today."

With that, he strode from the room purposefully. For a moment she simply stood there, watching the door he left with annoyance. First he had failed to inform anyone of her strange behavior and now he ignored it all together. Was this the watchful care the Slytherins were under? No wonder Draco was such a menace! With a grunt, she began to gather her ingredients and set about the potion. Several seconds later, Snape reentered and began to gather his own ingredients. His cloak billowed after him, making different patterns if he moved smoothly or in the jerky fashion he took from time to time. Ignoring the man completely, she began to brew her potion, thinking as she worked.

The person whom she chose to be her mate might eventually try to rape her. If she didn't rape him first! A tiny giggle fluttered past her at that. No, no, that wasn't funny! There was a solution to this, there had to be. Perhaps the Professor had already began it, if he had truly recognized her plight for what it was. Maybe he just thought she was doing drugs? She giggled again and then scurried back to work when the man cleared his throat. None the less, plan for the worst possible outcome—that was her own personal philosophy. Why was it that the worst possible outcome so often ended up being the most probable outcome? A mate … who in the world did she want as a mate?

Neville! I choose Neville!

A great big grin overcame her features and she giggled again. The boy was completely pliable, harmless, and quite frankly helpless. He couldn't rape her if he wanted to, and would be quite easy to rape himself. No! He would be easy enough to seduce; there was no need to do anything that drastic. Neville, I choose Neville! She repeated the words in her mind like an anthem.

The sounds of chopping interrupted her thoughts and she grudgingly looked upward. Professor Snape was chopping daisy roots. Her own chopping stopped suddenly as she watched him. The knife was wielded expertly, his hand curving around its wooden handle. With each rocking motion, the tendons flexed. Her eyes strayed to his arm, already healed of her earlier attack. Those muscles strained with his movement as well, and as her eyes traveled to his biceps and broad shoulders, heat suffused her. He was solid. His mastery of the art so obvious it delighted her. She moaned, wanted to do so again and drew one lip into her mouth to keep herself silent. Damn this all to hell! As if everything else wasn't bad enough, she had the express desire to wail in need … to call her mate.

Neville! I choose Neville!

She quickly began chopping again, resolutely not looking at the man. At which point she immediately sliced deeply into her finger. Another groan of pleasure escaped her, causing her eyes to go round at the implications. Lowering her head completely, hoping that he would assume she was working studiously, she raised her finger to her lips. The scent made her shudder, drew her in some elemental way. She licked her lips as a surge of pure desire arched through her body, then slid her finger over them, tasting the blood experimentally. Her breathing was ragged instantly and she took the entire tip into her mouth, suckling in need. The simple feeling of her wet tongue drawing her flesh inward made her body clench yet again and Hermione moaned aloud. Too loud.

"Enjoying yourself?" his gravely voice asked from directly behind her. She spun around quickly, reeling backward as she nearly collided with his chest. His hands steadied her, kept her from knocking over the potion, clasped tightly around her shoulders.

"Professor." The word was as much a plea as a warning. His nearness was much too much. It overwhelmed her. The strength in his hands made her ache and pulse. She caught the scent of him and inhaled deeply even as he released her and backed away. "You smell so good.”

"What?" He stopped dead in his tracks, all sneering boredom falling from him instantly.

"I'm sorry." A bright blush spread over her body, starting with her cheeks. This was insane! "I didn't mean...." His hands came down on her shoulders again, shaking her bodily.

"What did you say?" he growled out, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Let me go." His grip tightened, making her gasp. It occurred to her to remain silent, to make him hurt her, but fear overcame the desire buzzing through her. "I said, you smell so good." Her breath came out in a stutter but there was no help for it.

"You little fool." He released her and took hurried steps backward. When he finally stopped, he took a noticeably deep breath and braced himself, squaring his shoulders. "You chose me?" The words were singularly unsure for her Potion's Professor. The accusation was loud and clear though.

"No!" She shook her head vehemently and blurted, "No, I didn't, Sir. I chose Neville!"

"Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you?" His eyes narrowed even further as he snarled the words. As she struggled for any reply, he turned and swept out of the room. Poised in the doorway, he leveled her with a look. "Don't move."
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Heating up Hogwarts