I, Snape

Chapter 14 – The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions


I awoke to a deeply satisfying sense of comfort. I breathed in and felt her beside me. I closed my eyes and was ready to fall back asleep. For the first time in so long, all was right with the world. Why didn’t I have the good judgment to sleep on?

My mind, fastidious as always, noted that something had gone wrong with the plan. What, something wrong? Another sleepy part replied. I am lying in bed next to a warm body. There you have it, replied the nuisance. Warm. You are warm and she is warm. The dead are not warm. Ergo, my boy, you are not dead.

Oh bloody hell and this is who then? A Miss Granger! A student! Oh, they will be sending me back to Azkaban for sure. I could see the headline of the Daily Prophet. ‘Greasy Git rapes female in his care.’ With a delightful little by-line by Potter stating, “I knew all along they should have given him the dementor’s kiss.” I felt myself beginning to sweat and I peered down on the bushy head of hair lying at my side. She was smiling in her sleep.

Azkaban was a certainty, especially after I killed her!

“Miss Granger, your showing up in my bed is getting to be a bad habit!” She turned onto her back and yawned and stretched. The sheet covering us, oh dear, we’re an us now, did not stretch up far enough to cover her and I was given the most amazing view of her nubile, yes, no other word will do, nubile breasts. The same breasts that she had teased me with during my kidnapping and imprisonment. The very same breasts that I now longed to suckle and caress and….

Snape! Pull yourself together. If you are alive then—

“Miss Granger, I insist you wake up this instant! You have a lot to answer for, missy.” She stretched again and turned and held onto my torso, her ripe warm mouth only inches away from…. No, this would not do. I must not allow my ire to be replaced by lust. No matter how I might be longing to touch and, and…. She finally opened her eyes and looked up to me.

“By Merlin’s beard, that was the greatest shagging I ever had. You are amazing.” She said with barely concealed awe.

Well, I know that. I am rather remarkable in bed and-- No, I see what she is trying to do and it will not work.

“Miss Granger!” I thundered in my Death Eater voice, “Kindly explain yourself.”

“Well, you should know.”

”I don’t. What are you doing in my bed?”

She smirked. “You’re confused. This is my bed and my room.”

I realize that she’s right. Damn her. I get up to leave wrapping the sheet around my privates. She grabs at the sheet and suddenly we are engaged in a tug of war with the bedding. “Kindly let go, Miss Granger, before I, I…” She lets go of the sheet and I am visited by the sight of her most tantalizingly beautiful body. Nubile, did I say nubile? Such a cold word, no, let us say saucy and hot. I wish to taste those breasts, already familiar to me from my feline days.

I stare at her, forgetting again to be angered or disgusted. I step towards her and she lifts her hands ready to embrace me. I shake my head. It must be some residue of the poison that I should feel that we have already done this—and then it comes to me. It all comes back. I sit down next to her.

“Miss Granger. Did you take advantage…? I mean while I was under the influence.”

She at least has the decency to blush. Well, that’s something. And she nods. And then she leans over and kisses my nose!”

“You tried to kill yourself. Do you remember?” she questions me in a soft voice.

I do remember: The Lavender Haze and my dream, my lovely, most lovely dream of being reunited with my first love.

“How could you be so cruel, Miss Granger, as tke ake away a drowning man’s final hope?” And then I rest my head in my hands. Lily. My Lily. I thought I had you. There isstrestrength for anger left, only despair. I am a broken man. Ah, my last hope.

“Don’t cry, Professor.” She whispers in dulcet tones meant to seduce me. I remember once as a child, weeping over a small, dead thing, a songbird. My mother tried to appease me. Here’s a toy, love. It’s all right. No. Somethings are never all right, and can never be made right again.

“Leave me alone, Mudb.” I.” I want to hex her. “That was a year’s salary worth of ingredients. That potion was a labor of love! It was perfect. I spent two days brewing it and you ruined it all!” I scream.

Her arms wrap around me. “I’m sorry professor. I couldn’t let you do it. Too many people love you.”

The incongruity of it all is astounding and I laugh. I am alone and I am not loveable, have never been lovable. I look up at her and announce, “I need neither your pity nor your lies. And these are my rooms, you are no longer welcome—Get out!”

She goes pale, but does not move. Instead her arms tighten around me.

“What are you looking for, stupid girl? You won’t find it here!” And she comes round and looks at me, and there are tears in her eyes. And then she takes my face in her hands and she kisses me again, this time on the lips.

And I admit, I am a man lost: A rogue without honor or principle. I kiss her back with all the hungry emptiness in me. I kiss her with all the longing for my Lily. I don’t care who she is or what she is, only that she is there and offering herself to my need. I kiss her back, unconcerned if I bruised her lips. If I hadn’t raped her before, then why should I worry about it now? And if she wished me to nail her to the mattress—why I would do so.

Grasping her as a drowning man would latch onto a plank of driftwood, I mount her quickly and with ease, finding her quite wet and ready. And t wit with her, just as I had with Mrs. Norris. Unthinking, uncaring, in a simple wish to escape whatever I am feeling and whoever I am: I have never used a prostitute, but in this moment I use Miss Granger as if she were no better than any slattern of Knockturn Alley.

I kiss and bite her lips and neck, in animalistic lust. Tears still falling from my closed eyes as I attempt to not think or care about what I am doing. I hear her moan and I stop myself just in time, I hope, from doing the girl an injury. I slow down, allowing her some pleasure from the act, but I don’t know why; what consideration had she ever shown me? I look at her face and see it contorted whether in desire or pain, I am not sure. “I’m sorry.” As angry as I am, I don’t truly wish to hurt her that way.

Then she kisses me. “It’s good, Professor. Don’t stop. Please.” In wonder, I stare upon this woman who just seconds ago I thought I’d been brutalizing. And I continue. I placed a finger down between us and stimulate her. I watch as she begins her ascent, I diddle her hard and keep up a steady pace. I watch her come closer and closer to her climax. And then she screams, and I discover that I cannot stop. Unable to pause or consider her needs, I launch myself full force into this vexation of a woman-child. I continue to thrust into her, until I climax and every last drop is spent.

We lay here together, entangled, hot and quite rank from sex. I feel more like I’ve finished a duel than made love. Looking down I see bruises on her neck and body. With deep shame I realize what I’d allowed my despair to transform itself into.

I stand up to leave, but she takes my hand and pulls me down. “Please don’t go, yet.” I stare at her in marvel, who the hell is she? I taught her for 7 years and still I have not a clue.

“Dear, dear idiot child. What do you want from me?” I sneer.

“I’m hungry, let’s go out to eat.” She brazenly smiles.

“Oh, and would ickems like a dozen red roses as well?” She hits me! Hard with the pillow! And she pulls me back down on the bed, kissing me.

“You’re the idiot. Why is it you’re so wonderful in bed and such a total bastard outside of it?”

Well, this is news to me. “You liked that?”

“I said-- you were wonderful. I wouldn’t lie.” Her huge brown eyes, relentlessly stare into my own. She is so self-assured.

“No, but you’d take advantage of a man, a dying man no less, and use him for your own purposes.”

“And why shouldn’t I? You used mind control on me!”

“Legilimency? No, I certainly did not. I have no desire to peep into whatever goes on in that fetid, hormone-addled brain of yours. If I were to have planted a little suggestion, it was only because you were wide open for it.”

“So you admit it!” She gaped at me.

“It wouldn’t have worked if you hadn’t already wanted to go home to family and friends.”

“But, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Perhaps because the Headmaster planted a little seed of his own in that oh so fertile loam that serves as your mind?”

She throws me an odd look. “You don’t think that all of this, might be due to his suggestion.” Finally, I am getting through to her. About time!

I smile. “Well, it all depends on what the Headmaster suggested. Most likely your lust was no more than a consequence of some proposal to ‘take care of me.”

“No. I was to ‘babysit’ you. And I was interested in you before our detention together.”

I am rather taken aback. “You mean, when I was in your rooms? All that was deliberate?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“After the Leaving Feast, you know-- who were you thinking on?” I watch her grin and blush.

I feel torn between simply killing the little minx there and then or shagging her into oblivion. This is worse, far worse than the longstanding homicidal urges I have had for Trelawney-- I’ve never felt much desire for her. But this child, woman, child, damn, impossible being, has me so confused between lust and hate that I can’t even begin to sort things out. I watch as she begins a contraception charm.

“Unnecessary, Miss Granger. I took a sterilization potion. It sd bed be good for another five months.”

“You see. That’s what I’m talking about.”

I merely glare at her.

“You’re such a bastard outside the bed, and yet, well, that’s being much more thoughtful than any man or boy I’ve met.

“Quite,” I am on the verge of being illm alm all the sugary goodness sprouting from her lips. “Call me Sir Galahad.” I get up to leave the room.

“Do you want to shower together? You could soap my breasts.” I sit down again, flummoxed. Miss Hermione Know-it-all is smirking again. Like she has some little secret that she isn’t going to share.

“Perhaps another time.” I carefully hide my burgeoning erection from her. That image of my soapy hands on her breasts is driving me mad. I take a moment to think about Quidditch statistics and Madam Sprout naked. Finally soft again, I get up. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need a shower. By myself.”

“And then we’ll sup together at the Three Broomsticks.” I get up, this time leaving her the bedclothes. She wants to ogle me, well, she’s paid the price of admission.

“No, it will have to be at the Hog’s Head. Rosmerta would kill me if she saw me with a student—

Miss Granger coughs gently.

“VERY WELL, Ex-student! She’d still want to protect you from my lecherous advances. Shame really, who’s going to protect me from you?”

I enter the bathroom accompanied by peals of her laughter. Yes, I do amuse you, don’t I? I step into the shower and began to scrub the residue of our relations away. I’m sticky in parts that I forgot I’d even possessed.

The water is hot and most bracing, perhaps a little too, for almost immediately thoughts of Miss Granger re-appear in my head. Unfortunately, these thoughts are not of her breasts, but rather of her mouth. Her ripe, luscious mouth and what it would feel like if she were to, to take me there. I fight with my self-loathing. To think of putting my penis there, into her never-stop-talking orifice, is vile, disgusting, repulsive, and reprehensible. And the subject at hand has grown rather large and is distracting me as I wonder exactly what would Miss Know-it-all do if given the opportunity to use her mouth for something other than sassing me.

I am already quite soaped up and slippery, and here I am sliding, in and out of my own encircled fingers. And still I find I cannot force away the image of her mouth sluicing itself over me. Instead the thought becomes stronger as I almost feel the rough edge of her bottom teeth gently tugging at my underside ridge. I cannot help but thrust myself into my hand, at the same time adding a caress and a tweak to my sac. My breath is quickening and then I feel my balls harden and draw upward. I lean against the wall, but my knees go weak and I collapse onto the shower floor, still thrusting until the orgasm hits and large white drops are mingled with the water running down the drain.

I hear Miss Granger knocking frantically on the bathroom door.

“Are you all right? I heard something. Answer me or I’ll come in straight away.”

What? Is she scared that that sound was caused by me slitting my own throat with a razor? Oh please, I am the Potions Master. Death by exsanguination holds no appeal whatsoever. I wrap a towel around my hips and go to the door.

“Yes, Miss Busybody, I am quite alive and well. No need to invade my privacy yet again.”

I hear her sigh through the door. “Quite right, then.”

I take myself into my room, any positive effects from the shower negated. Damn. It was worse than being a student again.

I get dressed and realize that my stomach is all twisted into knots. It’s only dinner out with the little mu… muggle-born. There’s nothing to be afraid of. She’s just a girl…

Or perhaps she is actually a female manifestation of the Dark Lord? He only used Cruciatus to torture me while Miss Granger has set me on fire, unraveled a riddle which took me days to create, stolen my stores, used “Expelliarmus” on me, turned me into a cat, held me prisoner, ruined a very costly potion, and taken sexual advantage of me.

Nothing to be afraid of at all.


A/N: A big hugs and special thanks to all my reviewers: Rilla, Giova, Talene, Lily, GeekGoddess, AlphaRyoko, Tegan, Nesscafe, Amethyst, Madddle,dle, Kiri, Justme, Andrian, Janet, Elizabeth and K.H.