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Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 129854 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 29
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
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- 14
A/N: A shorter chapter with a brief...interlude? I wanted to get it up before the holiday, and Happy Thanksgiving to anyone celebrating it tomorrow! Thank you for the reviews, you continue to astound me :D

The last thing Hermione felt like doing was tending to her Prefect duties on the Hogwarts Express. Ron wasn't much help either; soon as the group had waved goodbye to his parents, and the train pulled out of King's Cross Station, he began looking around for the food trolley.

Hermione reminded him that they had to patrol the corridors, to which Ron pulled a face, but grudgingly trailed behind her anyway. Once the kerfuffle of students milling about died down, Ron and Hermione went back to the compartment that they were sharing with Harry, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood. Hermione had just sat down to catch her breath when a younger student tapped on the window of their compartment, handing over something to Harry and Neville, which turned out to be invitations to sit in another compartment with Hogwarts' new professor, Horace Slughorn.

Right at the beginning of summer, Harry had been introduced to Slughorn by Dumbledore. He hadn't made secret of the fact that he didn't really care for the man, and no further mention of him was made all summer. Now, Harry looked as if he didn't want to be bothered, but said that he might as well go and get what he called a 'friendly interrogation' over with. Ron sulked at being left behind, only placated when Harry gave him the remainder of his licorice wands.

Hermione could see why Harry wasn't fond of Professor Slughorn. Despite the fact that the portly man bore a wide grin beneath his walrus mustache, his laughter was clearly brimming over with artifice. As she passed him earlier in the train corridors, it seemed that even some of the Slytherin students who had been in his compartment, Blaise Zabini among his peers, also found the man odd, judging by the looks on their faces, yet each kept their thoughts to themselves.

Either way, she was glad that she hadn't been invited. Of course, now she had to put up with Ron noisily smacking on his small mountain of snacks, but at least Luna was quietly reading what looked like an issue of her father's magazine, The Quibbler. Luna had been providing a soft-spoken one-sided commentary each time she flipped the pages of her magazine, murmuring things in that lilting voice of hers, which made Ron frown in her direction. The young blonde witch paid neither of them any mind, and went right on talking to herself.

Well, at least she isn't answering herself, unlike someone else I know.

I refuse to dignify that with a response.

Hmph. Like I said...

Bristling at her inner musings, Hermione bent down to check on Crookshanks, who'd been placed in his basket and was on the floor next to her feet. Unsurprisingly, she found that the cat was doing his favourite thing-taking a nap.

Glad one of us is able to rest.

She hadn't slept well all that week, and the night before proved to be even harder, because she kept deliberating what would happen when she finally set eyes on the black-robed Potions master once they arrived at Hogwarts. Hermione hadn't a clue how she was supposed to behave, and worked herself up into such a dither that it was nearly dawn when she finally fell asleep. It seemed that she had just closed her eyes when Ginny came knocking at her bedroom door, saying that she could come down for breakfast.

That entire morning, feeling as if she were walking through fog, Hermione perfunctorily directed students about once they were on the train. Giving directions was something that came easy, and it provided some small distraction until she was able to let Prefects from other houses take over.

The train ride felt too long, as the same time, seemingly too short. As the Hogwarts Express chugged along, Hermione felt her stomach clench with anxiety, until finally she abruptly stood up from her seat in the corner, stepped over a drowsy-looking Ron, who appeared as if he was about to tip sideways onto his seat and use the door as a headrest.

Sliding the door shut behind her, Hermione stepped out into the corridor, where a few students were lingering about. The air was punctuated with students laughing and the train whistle blowing in sporadic increments. Pausing to stare out of the window, Hermione watched the greenery of the countryside passing by in a blur, her eyes gradually becoming unfocused.

Not seeing Severus for a week had done nothing to keep at bay the flashbacks of their naked bodies pressed together, cloaked in nothing but sweat and pale candlelight. No matter what she had been in the middle of doing, she kept finding herself thinking about his lips awkwardly moving against hers, his fingers pressed deep inside her body while his mouth covered one of her breasts. The memory that stuck out most clearly in her mind was when they finally moved beyond kissing and touching.

Hermione didn't think she would ever forget that first time; if she ever needed to know what being splinched probably felt like, that had been her opportunity. It felt as if Severus had been trying to split her in two when he moved faster than she would have liked past her virginity. It hurt a lot more than she anticipated, and even through her agony, she had noticed something trickling down the crease of her behind. Hermione had wondered if she was bleeding, but at the time was too nervous to ask, and too caught up with the feel of Severus freely moving inside her to focus on anything else. She'd felt like an idiot when they were done, positive that she looked graceless and inept, sprawled out on his rumpled bedding. Thankfully, Severus never made a remark or drew attention to her obvious inexperience. Hermione had pretended to not notice when he passed his wand over her damp skin; his magic had felt warm, soothing almost, even if it hadn't taken away the residual ache between her legs.

Outside of her first time, the pleasure she found in the Potion master's wiry arms was enthralling and kept her coming back for more. It wasn't as if his reticent nature had changed all that much, but at least he no longer attempted to turn her away.

The thought of no longer being able to experience what she did with Snape made Hermione feel on edge. Deep down she knew the thought was utter madness, but some latent part of her didn't care. She didn't want to have to worry about what would happen had they been caught. She didn't want to think about the unavoidable fact that they weren't supposed to be sleeping together.

The truth was, when Hermione was with Severus, whether they were joined at the hip or merely lying next to one another, she had the opportunity to shut her brain off, even if it was short lived. It only just occurred to her that she never worried about the ramifications of their illicit relationship; all she knew was that in the moment, it felt right.

Apart from spending time with the professor with her clothes off, Hermione also felt that same sense of peace when they were merely sitting in his room, reading quietly. It had been a bit of reprieve without Ron shouting in her ear or whinging on about something. Harry was a little better than the redhead, but sometimes Hermione needed a break from both her best friends. It was nothing personal; there had been times when she needed a break from her own thoughts running rampant through head.

Her two best friends were sweet, usually supportive of her. But the fact remained that they were still two teenage boys who at times hadn't known what to make of the female member of their trio. Snape wasn't much better, but perhaps being Head of House and dealing with female students between the ages of eleven and seventeen had taught him something.

In any event, the professor never tried to question Hermione or get to know the workings of her mind; perhaps because he had enough of his own troubles to contend with, or it might have been that he already had her figured out. He would lay into her if needed, but then again, the wizard soundly lit into anyone that trod on his nerves. Whatever the case was, Hermione brooked no issue with it. The only time she remembered Snape pressing her was when she'd kept showing up at his room, before he finally consented to letting her stay.

Pursing her lips, Hermione wondered what would happen if she showed up at Snape's private rooms in his dungeon at Hogwarts. Of course, she didn't exactly know where it was, considering the layout of the Potions classroom. The only other part of the classroom to which she had personal experience with was his storeroom for ingredients. Hermione didn't remember seeing a separate door that might have led to another area, but knowing Snape, that was most likely by design. Although a part of her wondered if the touchy wizard ever had anyone in his rooms.

Why are you even worrying about that, Hermione? You know damn well that you need to stay away from him.

Of course, I know that.

Yeah, sure. Your head knows it, but what about the rest of you? Namely the part of you that's covered by your knickers?

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

Hermione scoffed impatiently, and realized that she probably looked like a person that was a bit touched in the head, as a young Hufflepuff that had been passing by, paused to curiously look at her. Waving them away, Hermione recomposed herself and went back to her compartment.

By the time Hermione and the other Prefects helped usher the students off the train once they reached the station at Hogsmeade, she was too caught up with everything to think about the fact that she was undoubtedly going to see Severus once they got to Hogwarts.

Deputy Headmistress and Gryffindor's Head of House, Professor McGonagall, met everyone at the entrance hall, announcing for all first year students to wait outside while sending everyone else in. Harry wasn't at the Gryffindor table when Ron and Hermione took their seats, and Ron suggested that he had probably gotten caught up with the others that went to sit with Professor Slughorn.

All around her, Hermione listened to students chattering excitedly, greeting the ghosts that floated past above their heads, one of them making a group of Ravenclaw girls squeal when they hovered too low.

Honestly? Hermione thought, rolling her eyes. She was glad, however, that Peeves the Poltergeist was elsewhere, although that other place was most likely in front of the Great Hall, bothering the first years as he liked to do, if McGonagall hadn't yet chased him off.

Across from her, Ron was engaged in conversation with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, all three boys oblivious to everything around them. Ginny was further down the table, talking with her own group of friends. Directing her attention to the staff dais, Hermione saw that most of the other professors were already sitting down, all except for a certain black-haired wizard that she was pretending to not think about.

McGonagall finally led the first years into the Great Hall, where it took what seemed like ages for everyone to become sorted into each House. Harry still hadn't shown up, nor had Hermione caught sight of Snape, both of which caused her to worry.

Dishes of pudding had just materialized on the dining tables when Harry finally came into the Great Hall, holding up a bloodied cloth to his nose. He was in no mood to talk as he sat down next to Ron, and thickly muttered behind the cloth that he would fill them in later.

Still frowning, Hermione turned her head when the voice of Dumbledore rang out over the vast open space. Snape was now sitting at the staff dais. He wore a look of utmost contempt on his face, and yet Hermione felt her stomach doing somersaults at first sight of the professor.

Even though they were far apart, Hermione couldn't help but to continue looking in Snape's direction. She used the pretense of listening to Dumbledore's beginning of term speech, although her eyes kept drifting to the vicinity of light blue-robed headmaster's right side. Severus was seated between Professors McGonagall and Slughorn. His face usually ranged between a look of impassiveness or disdain, but it was clear, if only to Hermione, that something else, something new, lurked behind the deep lines marring his forehead.

She was surprised to hear that the Potions master was taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and that Slughorn would be taking over Potions. Harry gave Hermione a shrug when she looked at him for confirmation, saying that he didn't know anything about the post change.

The only indication that Snape gave to acknowledge Dumbledore's announcement was a small wave, which had been directed to the Slytherin table. McGonagall seemed to straighten up in her seat at the gesture, yet looked straight ahead at Gryffindor table, glaring at her students through square-shaped spectacles, her eyes warning them to keep quiet.

Hermione didn't mind Snape teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts; who else was better suited than one who had personal experience with Dark magic? Of course, she was sure that everyone, perhaps with the exception of Dumbledore, was ignorant when it came to the more tenebrous aspects of Snape's life. Still, in an unbiased manner, Hermione was sure that Snape would prove to be proficient at teaching Defence.

Pushing her thoughts of how Snape would fare in his new position, Hermione couldn't help but notice that the professor never once looked at her, much less in her direction. It seemed as if he was engrossed with something behind her, although she didn't want to turn around to find out what that something was.

Dumbledore finally stopped talking, and Harry used that opportunity to fill Hermione and Ron on why he had taken so long to come to the school. Once he was done, Hermione was quiet, not sure what to say after hearing the way Snape had talked to Harry, especially considering the way Draco had kicked her friend in the face.

Well, did you expect anything different? Hermione bitterly asked herself.

She didn't expect for Draco Malfoy, Golden Boy of Slytherin, to be punished for his outright horrid behavior. Venturing a look over at Slytherin table, she saw that the blond, who was usually sociable and brimming over with cockiness, was sitting off to the side, uncharacteristically quiet and staring down at a barely touched plate of dessert. The other members of Cirque du Snakes were off in their own world; Pansy Parkinson was casting eyes at Draco, sulking when she was ignored. Crabbe and Goyle never once stopped stuffing their faces, and Blaise was sitting stiffly, looking as if he was bored with everything and everyone around him.

I know the feeling, Zabini, Hermione chuckled, surprised to find that she was siding with another Slytherin.

She briefly wondered why Draco looked so forlorn, then remembered that his father had been sent to Azkaban directly after the battle at the Ministry. Even though she had a strong dislike for the Malfoy family, a sliver of magnanimity reared its head, and Hermione felt bad for her classmate. After all, he was young, just like her, and caught up in something that started before they were all born and were unable to control.

At that thought, the voice of her former Potions professor suddenly filled her head;

...I expect that you would be the sort to pet a rattlesnake and try to justify its reaction when it bites you.

Scowling as she turned around in her seat, Hermione told herself that if she hadn't helped a certain snake that had a penchant for wearing all black, he would have suffered more than was necessary while at Grimmauld Place. Of course, chances were Snape never really needed her help; Hermione was sure that he had been doing reasonably well for himself way before she came along, whether it was him feeding himself or tending to his bleeding wounds.

Hermione had been surprised when Snape allowed her to assist him in the first place. She would never let him know it, but for a fleeting moment, when she first saw him lying there on the floor of Grimmauld Place, she half expected Snape to hex her on the spot, purely for annoying him with her presence. Hermione wasn't daft enough to think that it would have made a difference whether she came to help or hurt him; either way would have garnered the same reaction. Although had it been the latter reason, said hex would most likely have been fired before she had the chance to blink.

When dinner was finally over with and the students sent off to their dormitories, Hermione rushed ahead of the throngs of students, in aims of directing their group up to the Gryffindor dormitory. Ron lagged behind to chat with Harry, and Hermione didn't bother with asking him to help her.

Draco was standing a few feet away from her, and Hermione peered at the Prefect pin on his robes. Shaking her head, she wondered just how he managed to ended up being Prefect. If grades were given for goofing off and skiving off homework, Draco would have perfect marks. Poor grades did nothing to deflate his ego, and being given the position as Prefect only served to inflate it.

Unfortunately, it was obvious that he took more joy in abusing his position than anything. At the moment, he was shuffling along in front of a cackling group of Slytherins, ignoring two students who were passing around something that clearly wasn't supposed to be on Hogwarts property. It eluded her as to how the two got the contraband past Argus Filch, Hogwarts' crotchety caretaker, who had been extra thorough in checking each student before allowing them entrance to the school. Hermione wanted to say something but resisted, opting to mind her own business.

Each group of students were about to separate in the corridor when a blur of black swept past Hermione's eyes. Forcing herself to keep a straight face when she realized that it was Snape who had just brushed past her, Hermione had to grind her molars together to keep her jaw from flopping down when still, the professor never once looked her way. Trying to ignore the swooping sensation in her stomach, Hermione turned away from the sight of his black billowing-cloaked form that was dwindling as he moved further away, his students following in behind.

Well, you wanted to know how the professor would act towards you? I guess you've got your answer, Hermione thought dejectedly as she continued to lead her own group on their way.

If only I were a snail, then I could curl up and hide inside my shell, Hermione thought to herself, irritated by the noisy tittering in the girls' dormitory. Her feathers were ruffled worse than a chicken that had a tank of water dumped on its head, and the last thing she wanted at the moment was to be around a bunch of her giggling classmates.

For a brief moment in time, she thought that she would have been able to handle the sight of Snape, soon finding out that she was wrong. While she managed to keep a straight face, merely for the sake of everyone else around her, on the inside she felt...well, she wasn't surely exactly what she was feeling, but Hermione knew that it stung when she saw Snape look right through her. Even the ghosts floating around the school were able to garner more attention, and they were see-through.

The ruckus finally died down, the sounds of hushed yawns, curtains being drawn, and rustling bedding taking its place. Sleep didn't come easy for Hermione that night. Over and over, as she lie in her four-poster bed with the curtains drawn, she replayed the image of Severus walking away from her in her head, until she was sure that the way the back of his cloak perfectly caught the air and floated up was permanently etched into her brain.

Hermione hadn't expected for a public acknowledgement or the like. But the professor hadn't even looked at her, much less in her direction. It was as if she hadn't been standing there. The reasonable part of Hermione knew that Severus was limited in the manner in which the two could speak, only a teacher-student relationship being suitable for the public eye. Still, she wondered if the professor had seen her, and if so, if he wished that he had been able to talk to her.

Severus had, in fact, noticed Hermione, although he didn't let her know. It was rather difficult to not notice the person that he'd intimately spent the past two months with, even if no one else was privy to their entanglement. But the truth of the matter was that he was distracted- more distracted than he cared to be given his already teeming well of drama that never seemed to diminish.

Ever since the morning at Grimmauld Place when he had to abruptly leave, things had gone downhill. First, he had to rush to Hogwarts, where he found an unconscious Dumbledore with a hand that looked as if it had been badly burned. It had taken Snape hours to brew a potion that would help the headmaster, who had knowingly and foolishly put on a cursed ring, nearly killing himself in the process.

The next day, he had to return to his childhood home in Spinner's End, a place that he was always loathe to visit. Snape would never feel settled in that house; it held too many bad memories. He hadn't been able to dwell on things for long, as Narcissa Malfoy and her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, showed up at his doorstep. Snape knew why Narcissa was coming to see him, but wished that she had left her sister behind, whom he never liked, even when they were younger.

Watching Bellatrix snarl and stalk about his sitting room with her ratty hair flying in her wake had been amusing for the first five minutes of their visit, but soon Snape had wanted to jinx her feet into place. The ill-bred witch should have taken a feather from her sister's cap and took a seat when offered. Instead, she had taken to pacing around, picking up items at random and moving them to a different place on his mantle.

His annoyance had quickly turned to quiet irritation when Narcissa began wailing into her glass of wine. Bellatrix only made things worse by yelling at her sister. Snape had been two seconds from telling the aggressive witch to shut her mouth. It wouldn't have made a difference, though, as Bellatrix had hexed her own niece, Nymphadora Tonks, and then cheerfully disposed of her cousin, Sirius Black, during the battle at the Ministry. She made it known that she would have gladly offered her own sons to the Dark Lord for service, so it was no surprise to hear that she had no sympathy for her nephew, Draco, who was dealing with the plight of being given the task of killing Dumbledore.

The Dark Lord's assignment had sent Narcissa to depths of desperation, which in turn made her come to Snape for help. The last thing he felt like doing was giving up yet another part of himself to help another, but Narcissa had been desperate to help her only child, and Lucius was the closest thing he had to a friend, a term Snape used loosely.

It had taken every bit of him to appear as if he wasn't averse to making the Unbreakable Vow, because he knew if Bellatrix picked up on the slightest bit of reluctance, that she would use it against him. Snape didn't trust Bellatrix one bit, and knew that she returned the sentiment, although personally, it made no difference to him. He was actually amused by the way Bellatrix would snarl whenever she as in his presence. She reminded him of a mean puppy that snapped and snarled at everyone that came by, forgetting it's diminutive size. He would have loved to give Bellatrix a good kick, but she was insane. And if it was one thing that Snape knew, it was to keep all limbs away from insane, blood-thirsty witches.

Once the two finally left his house-Bellaxtrix pausing to throw Snape one last sneer-he swiftly shut the door behind them and retreated to his book-infested sitting room. He should have felt relief at being alone once again, but Snape knew that relief was as rare as a Unicorn.

The mere thought of returning to Hogwarts and dealing with the inevitable, gave him a migraine.

Between dealing with the vow he made to Dumbledore and shortly afterwards, to Narcissa, the last thing Snape felt like doing was corralling around a hormonal bunch of hellions at school. He hadn't meant to outright ignore Hermione, just like he hadn't intended to disappear without a word when they last shared her bed at Grimmauld Place. Truthfully, he hadn't known what he would say to Hermione once he saw her at school, but then he became so tied up with everyone else pulling him in different directions for one thing or another that thoughts of the young witch had momentarily pushed from his brain.

Snape could feel those soft brown eyes burning into the back of his head as he walked past her in the hallway, and immediately he thought of the way Hermione had unflinchingly stared into his face when she was draped across his lap, her shoulders and breasts barely concealed by her cascading mop of unruly curls.

No one had noticed the way the professor hesitated at the sight of Hermione, not even the young Gryffindor herself. Snape had immediately caught himself and kept his face impassive, soon turning it to his usual indifferent sneer as he herded his Slytherins in the opposite direction. At the same time, he'd made sure to keep an eye on Draco, who was refusing to so much as look at or speak to anyone.

Snape knew that the young man held a grudge against him, believing that he had his out for his father, which couldn't have been further from the truth. Right as everyone began walking out of the Great Hall, Draco paused once to turn up his face at his Head of House as he swept past, and the professor itched to do away with the blond's insolent little smirk.

It was going to be a very, very long school year.
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Unintentional Inveiglement