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Matters of the Heart	By : strawberryf1re Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 34556 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe (characters, settings, etc.) ŠJ.K. Rowling. No profits are made from this work.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Rating: M – inappropriate for readers under the age of 16; contains scenes of explicit sexuality and violence.

Disclaimer: Characters and settings ©J.K. Rowling.

Matters of the Heart

K. Marie

Chapter 10

The soft bells announcing the end of breakfast sounded distant as Hermione lay in the safety of her four-poster bed. Her eyes were sore and red; she had spent a good portion of the morning crying, for reasons half unbeknownst to her. She simply could not comprehend why a nightmare such as the night’s previous would have impacted her so. Her relationship with Severus was blossoming and it was beautiful, and she had recovered from his attack – or so she thought.

Staring at the second hand ticking its way round the clock, Hermione released a soft sigh. Her entire body was sore, reminiscent of that awful night. It was as if the nightmare weren’t a nightmare, and it had been reality. Her muscles were sore, her core burning as if she had been torn in two.

Crookshanks had leapt to her comfort moments after she awoke, and he remained curled up next to her face. Occasionally she nuzzled her face into his warm, soft fur, feeling his body as he purred, his bottlebrush tail swiping her face gently.

Staring up at the canopy of her bed, Hermione felt a tear squeeze its way free onto the softness of her cheek. Why had she dreamt so? That night seemed so long ago in the past. Why, she hadn’t even felt any such despair for what seemed like months! None of it made much sense to her, at all.

The ticking clock slowly came to her attention, and she became aware that she was, once again, willingly skipping class. And for the same reasons! She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, frustrated.

“It was just a dream, right?” Hermione asked the sleeping creature beside her. “And dreams – they’ve no true significance. Right? This is foolish!” She threw the covers off her, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and disrupting the cat beside her. He glared up at her through golden eyes, repositioning himself on her bed and falling back asleep. “Dreams only have significance to the fools who believe Divination is a true discipline.”

It may be inappropriate to disrupt her potions class late, but she would make sure to attend the rest of her classes for the day. There was no valid reason to miss a whole day of classes – maybe just her morning classes, but surely not those in the afternoon.

She made for her bathroom, intending on basking in a hot shower. But even as much as she tried to persuade herself otherwise, she still felt filthy when thinking of Snape.

His seventh year advanced potions class ended, and without any sign from Hermione. As Severus sat back in his chair, he grew agitated. The nerve of that girl, skipping his class! She had better have a damn good reason.

“Or what?” Severus mused. “Assign her detention?” the thought eased a small, uncharacteristic chuckle from him.

He sat forward in his chair, resting his head in his hands. The girl was doing crazy things to him, very similar to how he had felt during his childhood. The fact that a seventh year student could make him feel as if he was a teenager again was pathetic and laughable.

Fleetingly, he wondered if she realized the power she now had over him. Dropping his hands to his desk, Severus stared at the hard calluses and deep lines of his palms. She fit so perfectly there in his arms, filling him with a sense of completeness that he had never experienced before. Even when Lily had still spoken with him, and even when her voice, her conversation, was all he needed to make it through a day – even then, he did not feel so content, so complete.

Why had she been absent from his class? He was furious that she would be so bold as to do such a thing, but he was also quite anxious because he had no idea why she would. Had he done something wrong?

The rest of his classes were uneventful, as though the students were practicing good behavior to avoid his waspish tongue. There was no destruction of any of the school’s property, and none of the supplies were wasted – except for a few sorry excuses for potions that a few incompetent first years brewed.

Hermione collapsed onto her four-poster bed. Crookshanks had vacated her room at some point during the day, and the room was unbearably silent. As Hermione watched the second hand tick around the clock, she breathed a heavy sigh.

She knew it was wrong to have skipped her morning classes. She had not gone to lunch, and though her classes passed by agonizingly slow in the afternoon, she wished they had never ended. She dreaded having to report to the dungeons that evening, having to see Severus. As much as she reminded herself that a dream was just a dream, it didn’t matter – her body still ached, her nausea rising whenever she thought of it.

Reclining on her bed, she hugged her pillow to her chest. The quiet ticking of the clock rang in her ears, and as her eyes flickered to the face – five minutes until four o’clock. Her eyes slowly closed, and she breathed in deep.

Severus would be furious if she skipped their appointment. When they agreed to continue the apprenticeship, he had strictly stated that her attendance was required. She knew she had to appear, but as she thought of having to be in the same room with him… her stomach turned.

But why? Severus was a wonderful man; he made her feel things she had never known were even possible. To be with him – it was as though there was a piece of her missing, and he was that final piece. When he was inside of her, he completed her. He was gentle, he was kind, he was loving… she knew there was no reason to be so apprehensive.

Her gaze moved to the clock once more. Four o’clock. She tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. Maybe if she could avoid talking to him, it wouldn’t be so awful. Maybe if he would just leave her be, she would be able to focus on her work. She just needed time to process it all, time away from the man who caused such tumultuous emotions. Slowly, Hermione rose, swinging her legs over the side of her bed.

Her stomach began churning violently as she packed her bag.

Four o’clock ticked by and Severus saw no sign of Hermione. Frustrated, he threw his head back. It was unlike Hermione to be late. Drumming his spidery fingers against the surface of his desk, Severus’ eyes flickered between the door and the clock. Five after four. Ten after four. Where was she? Should he be concerned for her well-being? Surely, if she had gone missing, Potter and Weasley would have as well, and a meeting would have been called to address the issue.

Surely, if there was something wrong, he would have already been informed.

Why, then, was she not arriving? He pulled his hands back through his hair. Had he done something to offend her? He mulled over their past few encounters in his mind, searching for anything that could have been deemed inappropriate. Hermione was not a petty woman, and she would not let a small nuisance pester her for too long.

He simply did not understand. Should he search for her? He did not know. It shouldn’t raise too much suspicion he would think; it was one of their scheduled days and she was absent. Professor Snape would be annoyed with such audacity, yes?

It was not lost on him that he hadn’t the slightest inkling of how to behave appropriately in such a situation. What on Earth was that woman doing to him?

Suddenly his fist slammed down onto the desk with a loud bang. His anger was getting the best of him. How dare she miss their appointment! She had no right, even if she was upset with him. He was still her professor, and she should respect him as such!

Slowly the door creaked open and Severus’ eyes shot to it. Hermione’s face peered around it, timidly, before she entered quietly.

“Sorry I’m late,” she offered.

“I assume you have an excuse?” he growled.

She seemingly ignored him as she moved soundlessly across the dungeons into his private lab. Her behavior ignited his temper, now knowing her absence was not due to personal injury. He almost exploded into a tantrum as he stood from his desk, knocking his chair over.

Hermione noticed the commotion and turned quickly, her eyes wide. Severus looked very angry as he approached her, his long form sweeping across the stone floor. Timidly, Hermione backed away, pressing herself against the wall.

Severus stopped mere inches from her form, towering over her, his face twisted menacingly. His long nostrils were flared, his fathomless eyes unreadable.

“What the hell is your problem?” he hissed, his face barely inches from Hermione’s.

Hermione’s expression, once panicked and frightened, transformed into a look of equal anger. “Excuse me?”

“You were absent from class this morning and you come late to work, without injury or excuse. So I ask again, what the hell is your problem?” He was seconds away from grabbing her by the wrists and shaking her, he was so angry.

Her face was twisted into a scowl, but her mind was whirling in her panic. Why was he bearing down on her like this? Why was he so angry? She didn’t understand, and without rational forethought, she immediately spat the words that came to mind. “What the hell is my problem? What the hell is your problem? I think I have a very good reason to have a problem with you!” her eyes were wet, but she shed no tears. “You raped me!” She took a tremulous step forward, her brow furrowed beneath her bangs.

Taken aback, Severus took a step away from her for a moment. He had no idea where this was coming from, but his reaction to it surprised him more than her behavior: he had very little patience to tolerate it, and that patience was rapidly waning. “May I remind you, I will never keep you from reporting me if you so please! Hermione, if that is the trump card you are going to use in every hand, then please, allow me to escort you to Dumbledore’s office. I will not deny that what I have done to you was a despicable, terrible thing, and I will never discredit you for what you have done for me.” There was a cold fury in his voice, a tone which he could not help. As he was speaking, he nearly immediately regretted the words. What right did she have to bring that up now, after so much had transpired between them? “But when you requested to continue your apprenticeship, I told you I would still require your attendance as scheduled, and on time. You have no right to disrespect me in such a way as your professor!”

As he spoke, she knew he was right. She knew he had every reason to be irritated with her; he was still her professor, and to behave with such insolence was inappropriate. Professor Snape would have been furious, too – and she had known that from the moment she had decided not to attend his class.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she whispered, suddenly ashamed. Tears began streaming down her face as she fell painfully to her knees. She held her face in her hands, her shoulders wracking with sobs.

As Severus stared at her, he would not have been able to intelligibly explain the swarm of emotions he was feeling in that instant. How was she able to inspire such conflicting, passionate emotions in him? Severus had dealt more with teary-eyed students this year than any of his previous, and he still hadn’t the slightest clue as to handle the situation appropriately.

Lowering himself slowly, he delicately enveloped the small girl in his arms. She leaned her body into him, craving his warmth and support, burying her face into his robes. Her small hands grasped at his robes, tugging him closer to her. As he rocked her back and forth in his arms, the silence was only disturbed by her soft sobs.

As her hands clawed at his robes, Severus felt an intense wave of relief wash over him. He hadn’t realized it, in his fury, but when she had confessed to him why she had been absent, he feared he might have lost her. He knew she would always have the scar of his attack, and to ignore that would be an absolute insult to her strength, her character – but he had hoped it was something she could heal from. Had he truly done so much damage, that even weeks – or months, or years – of intimate, passionate, gentle, affectionate love-making would not heal her?

While he was lost in his thoughts, he had not noticed the sudden silence that overcame the room. He felt a nausea rising in him as he embraced her, the mere thought of having destroyed the woman too heart wrenching to bear. She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying, but the warmth remained. Staring into her loving gaze, Severus nearly forgot his anxieties.

“Severus, I don’t know what to do,” she sniffled. “I thought I was okay, I thought we were okay, but… I had a dream last night, and it was… it was of… that night.”

Stroking her mass of brown hair, Severus hugged her to him once again. At a loss for what to say, he remained quiet, and listened to her soft sniffles. He had hoped that he would never have to see her like this again, especially when he was to blame for her tears – but here she was, reduced to a small child scared out of her wits, and he had no idea what to say to calm her.

He ached to whisper three small words in her ear, to confess to her how he truly felt for her, but he doubted it would make anything better in that moment.

Hermione turned away from him; her eyes clenched shut to cease the tears. Severus, entirely bewildered and at a loss of what to do, let her go, and she moved silently into the laboratory and closed the door behind her.

Standing slowly, the Potions Master stared at the heavy wooden door that separated him from his lover. He didn’t understand; she was fine yesterday! Was this entirely because of a nightmare? Combing his fingers through his hair, Severus swept to the laboratory door. Quietly he eased it open and Hermione came into view, hunched over a cauldron.

“Hermione,” he said softly.

She jumped, startled. Turning around, her face was red, her eyes glossy. “You scared me, Severus.”

Moving towards her, Severus touched her face with his fingertips. She leaned into the touch, her eyes flickering shut. His relief that she did not shy away from his touch was overwhelming, almost suffocating. Stroking her soft cheek with his thumb, Severus sat down in a chair adjacent to Hermione’s workspace.

“Contrary to public opinion, I am not the callous git that I am rumored to be,” he began, slowly, an edge to his voice that he hoped she’d identify as humor. “I am very capable of listening, if one so wishes to speak.”

Hermione’s eyes, glittering and wet, focused on his face. He stared at her, urging her to feel his sincerity. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Opened, closed. It seemed to Severus that perhaps she couldn’t find the words to say to him, but he would wait patiently until she did.

Finally, they came. “Severus,” she began softly. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were still wet. “I had thought that I had moved on. I had convinced myself that I had done the right thing – that we’re doing the right thing. I thought I was okay. I didn’t see you as that man anymore. That man was cruel, vindictive, sarcastic, mean. But I’ve come to see you as a different person now, Severus. The person I see you as now, that person is a kind, caring, loving, compassionate man. And I know hearing yourself described with those adjectives must be astonishing! Had anyone else heard me use those words to describe you – why, I’d be sent straight to St. Mungo’s!”

A small smile crept across both of their faces. Severus was relieved that Hermione still had a little humor remaining. She had let out a small laugh, too; a laugh that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. She sat down across from him.

“I thought I was all right, Severus. I thought I was okay. But last night, last night I had a terrible, terrible dream. It brought back all the emotions of that night, all of the pain. It was awful, Severus. It terrified me. I didn’t understand. I still don’t understand,” she pulled her hands through her hair. “I just don’t understand. I couldn’t bear to face you, not yet. I skipped your class because I was afraid to see you, and it took a lot of effort to force myself to be here now. I don’t understand – it was only a dream, and yet it felt so real…”

Severus’ lips curled into a slight smile. “Hermione,” he said softly, touching her knee. “Hermione, you expect far too much from yourself. You expect yourself to recover so easily from such a traumatic event. I am eternally in your debt for not reporting it, but I stand by my word when I say I will not stop you from doing so.

“You… you made a very brave decision. You forgave me. Even more, you allowed me into your world. Hermione, you expect too much of yourself and such a thing would drive anybody mad, but you – I owe you my life. You have been made victim of a most terrible crime, and not only are you able to overcome it, you… you allowed that same man to show you what it – making love – is supposed to be.”

He lowered his eyes, his dark gaze falling to his hands. He wished so badly to tell her exactly how he felt, that he had, in fact, fallen in love with her – but he feared it would push her away. He did not want to lose her. More than anything, Severus feared having to endure that ache again. She was doing crazy things to him indeed.

Hermione smiled, wiping her eyes of tears. She threw her arms around Severus’ neck, hugging him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, burrowing his face into her mass of wild hair, drinking in her scent. She fit so perfectly into his embrace; how wonderful it felt to have her in his arms. He never wanted to let her go.

She pulled back, her eyes meeting his. Softly, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him gently. He returned the gesture, craving her so badly – but resisting. He did not want to force himself upon her, not again.

But no matter, she pushed her tongue into his mouth and hungrily began exploring it. She was overcome with her lust for him, her body responding to the most innocent of brushes. He pushed her down onto a desk near them; her small hands fumbled with the clasps on his robes as he leaned over her, his groin rubbing against her. She wanted him to complete her in the way only he could. She moaned as she felt his hardness through his clothing, an incentive to get the fabric out of the way. She finally managed to rip open his robes, and they fell to the floor around him.

His teeth grazed the flesh of her neck as he eased her out of her own clothes. Within minutes they were pressed against each other, the heat of their bodies warming the other, flesh to flesh. She was flushed with passion; he was bruising her tender skin. Her hand found his erection and she began stroking it, a rhythmic movement.

With a wave of his hand the laboratory door slammed shut and locked.

Severus held Hermione’s warm, naked form close to him. He had cast a warming charm on the stone floor upon which they lay, and she dozed off with her face nuzzled into his chest. Her breathing was even and quiet; the only other sound in the room his own soft breath.

Sometimes he felt the language he spoke was far too limiting, for he had not the words to describe to himself, let alone anyone else, how wonderful, how beautiful it was to have her in his arms.

They lay silently for what seemed like hours. Hermione finally stirred from her restful state, her eyes flickering open and her lashes tickling Severus’ chin. The corner of his mouth tugged as his lips parted in a small smile, his lover’s amber eyes meeting his.

“Good evening,” Severus crooned, combing his long fingers through her long hair. “Did you sleep well?”

Nodding slowly, Hermione smiled. “Yes, I did, actually. How long?”

“I’m not certain,” he replied, kissing her nose.

“We should work a little, I should think,” Hermione said softly, pulling her clothes close and starting to rise.

“I’m not sure I agree with you, Hermione,” his voice was dark, mischievous. He brought an arm around the front of her and pulled her to the floor again, kissing her neck. He couldn’t explain it; he felt as though he had nearly lost her, and he wanted to bask in the beauty that was her love.

“Severus!” Hermione gasped, a laugh escaping her. “Severus, you fiend! You’re terrible!”

Severus’ warm hand rested at the dip in Hermione’s waist, his forehead pressed to hers. He kissed her lips softly, pulling away only for air. “Shall I show you just how terrible I truly am, Miss Granger?”

Hermione pushed him away playfully, but Severus swept to her neck, kissing it hungrily. He moved to her breast, suckling her nipple, Hermione’s fingers tangling in his hair. She released a quiet sigh, his hands covering every inch of her, his lips close to follow. When he paused at her navel, she looked to him.

“Severus, what is it?” she asked.

“I know of another, much more comfortable place for us to retire,” he suggested, his voice low and his chin rough against her belly. He placed a kiss where his chin had scratched against.

“Please!” Hermione gasped, and Severus stood quickly, wrapping his body in his robe. He pulled Hermione to her feet and she retrieved her robe.

As they passed through his classroom, Severus locked the door with a wave of his wand. They fled to his sleeping quarters, where they collapsed onto his bed and devoured each other with passion.

Hermione’s classes the following day passed dreadfully slow. It seemed, as of late, her days were always very long until she was in the company of her lover, and then there weren’t enough hours in the day. When her final class of the day, ended, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She headed immediately to her own dormitory to feed and cuddle Crookshanks for a few moments before heading down to the dungeons.

She was very glad she spoke with Severus the day prior. She knew that her fear of him was unfounded, as he had proven to her he was capable of fierce, intense love – and to forget all of that due to a nightmare – she knew it was nonsensical. Even if he had done something terrible to her, she knew that he was so much more than that. She couldn’t believe the way he made her feel; just the thought of it caused a stirring below her belt and a fluttering in her chest.

She knew there were so many stones left unturned, and though Severus had many mysteries shrouded in his past, she did not worry herself of it. He had done some terrible things in his life, she suspected – and yet when he had raped her, he had revealed to her a side of him she never knew existed. He had shown her true compassion, real love. Without speaking the words, she only had to look into his eyes to recognize the warmth there.

Hermione mumbled the password and the Fat Lady granted her access. The common room was already filled with relaxing students, but the Gryffindor Quidditch team was already at the field for practice. Hermione crossed the common room and headed up the stairs towards her private rooms.

Crookshanks greeted her with a loud mew as she pushed open the door. Scratching his head, Hermione pulled him into her arms for a hug. He growled harmlessly until she released him, and then she collected the books she would need for her homework that night.

Throwing her bag over her shoulder, Hermione gave Crookshanks one last stroke before she left her quarters through the door that bypassed the common room, and headed in the direction of the dungeons.

When she reached Severus’ classroom door, it was closed. She peered inside; there were still a few students who must have belonged to his last class of the day. They were on their hands and knees, frantically scrubbing the stone floor. The Potions Master stood at his desk, glowering at them; his teeth were clenched, his lips as pale as the rest of him.

She recognized that expression from the many times she and her friends came under fire from the professor. He was chastising the students, his deep, oily voice lashing waspish words of ridicule at them. From what she could see, it looked as though whatever the students were brewing had erupted within the cauldron, sending shrapnel in every direction, and there was a sickly yellow substance on the floor. The stone itself was stained.

Hermione knocked quietly on the door. She wasn’t sure if it was entirely appropriate to enter the classroom under such circumstances, but she wanted to work on her project (considering she and Severus had completely neglected to do so the evening previous!). A few seconds ticked away and the door was wrenched open, Severus’ face contorted into a rather frightful scowl.

“Good afternoon, Professor Snape,” Hermione said quietly. She couldn’t help but falter a little under the fury of the man before her. His anger did not appear to abate at her presence, but his ebony eyes glittered in a way they only did for her.

“You may enter, but I must warn you: there are severely incompetent students within this classroom, and I will not guarantee you will leave here tonight unscathed,” he hissed, moving out of the way to allow her entrance.

Hermione slowly entered the room. The students had paused in their frantic cleaning to watch the encounter between their terrifying professor and the fantastically brave seventh year. Hermione flinched as the heavy door slammed behind her, and when Snape caught the students staring, he snarled.

“Get back to work, you fools,” he stalked behind his desk, his robes billowing around him.

Hermione shot the first years an incredibly sympathetic look. She thought to help them clean their mess, but decided against it. Because magic would have rectified the situation, Severus was obviously punishing them – if she were to help them, he would most likely disapprove. Quickly, she hurried past them and into the laboratory.

About an hour passed as Hermione worked. She had left the door open, and could hear the students scraping at the stone floor. The pieces of cauldron that had scattered throughout the room clunk-ed against the floor as they were swept to the center, the subtle scratching of a brush scraping at the floor as a student scrubbed the stone. Finally, she heard Severus’ chair screech against the floor as he stood.

“You imbeciles have lost fifty points each to your houses. You will serve detention with Mr. Filch for the next week. If anything happens like this again, you will wish I had you expelled,” he hissed. “Get out of my classroom.”

The students rushed out of the classroom. She certainly did not approve of the severity of the punishment, but then, she didn’t necessarily know precisely what had led to the mess, did she? She knew she had no place to comment on Severus’ teaching methods; he was a very effective teacher, and while his methods were tyrannical at times, she knew not to interfere.

She was measuring crushed clover leaves as she heard Severus’ footsteps approach the laboratory.

“There are times when I absolutely loathe teaching,” Severus growled. Hermione did not turn, but instead remained diligently working on her potion.

She felt the Potions Master snake his arms around her waist, his lips pressing a kiss to her head. She smiled slightly, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against her backside. She could feel his musculature through his robes, and she resisted the urge to lean into him.

“I’m just about done with this for now, Severus,” Hermione whispered. “I have quite a bit of homework I need to finish from today’s classes.”

“Ah, of course,” Severus replied. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, and swept away to his desk.

As he departed, she turned to start capping the bottles of ingredients she had pulled out to use. Gathering them into her arms, she moved across the laboratory to the storage closet, replacing the bottles in their proper locations. She felt his careful eye surveying her as she moved throughout his classroom, and she smiled.

With her workstation cleared, Hermione pulled out her Transfiguration text and set to work.
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Matters of the Heart