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Some things better left unknown...	By : h0lden Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 4751 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

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Some things better left unknown: Part II

It's also helpful to realize that this very body that we have, that's sitting right here right now... with its aches and it pleasures... is exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive. - Pema Chodron
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Gliding down the aphonic hallway, Snape became duly aware of the quickening of her steps. For every step he took, it would appear Miss Granger would take at least three rushed steps herself, trying in vain to keep up with him. His own steps were silent, and in Hermione's racing mind she could almost envision him floating a few inches above the ground, almost as if he deemed walking to be below him.

Snape knew that Hermione was agitated, it was all too apparent in her stance. The head trying to be held high, the pale and drained features that showcased hidden fear. The dark eyes that darted along the hallway, almost as if it was keen interest on where they were headed, but ultimately knowing their destination. He didn't allow her to see the small smirk on his face, for that would shatter her preconceived notions of him undoubtedly.

They rounded quickly on his door to the Potions lab, and Hermione felt the weight on her chest grow heavier. She had been decidedly nervous walking with him along the quiet and empty hallways, seeing the way he purposely glided quicker so she'd have to rush to keep up.

Still, Hermione had pined for Professor Snape, as any schoolgirl would for a Professor they admired. She'd been this lovesick young girl since her sixth year and couldn't really find the root of the emotion. He was crass, he was cruel and he was unmistakable off putting.

She supposed she saw herself in him in a way, his brilliance that others longed to have for themselves -sadly, herself included- and the way he knew he was different from the rest. Not because of his name or his varying positions over the years, it was something deeper. A sense of connection that Hermione silently shared with her surly Professor. The knowledge that they had been almost born from the same pod, that they had an inner clutch on knowledge and maturity whilst others fell behind them. They were unique in mind, was the only reason Hermione could put words to.

Finally he unwarded the door to the lab, and opening its creaking frame slowly, he allowed her to walk into the classroom ahead of himself. She had thought it to be a polite gesture on his part, but soon came to the conclusion that he didn't want his back to anyone with a wand.

She noticed the minimal room she had to move past him into the classroom, and with this brought a mixture of emotions. She felt dizzy and almost rooted to the ground, looking at the small empty space in betwixt them that she would have to maneuver through.

"Come on then." came the snapping tone from him across from her, causing her to start a moment as her wide eyes drew up to his own. He motioned to the classroom with his other elongated hand. "I haven't all evening,� he added for emphasis.

Hermione had licked her dried lips quickly, her eyes darting back down to the ground. With her hands clenched nervously at her sides, she'd move forward to go into the classroom, her tentative footing only adding to Snape's hidden amusement. He watched the worried way she moved towards him, wanting to be quick about the whole ordeal but worried she may brush against him.

Resolutely he felt as she moved to the doorframe, inching her way into the classroom without having to brush against him. She supposed internally he'd reprimand her for even touching him, and this only added to the tension as she felt his gaze on her. Waiting for her next move.

His dark eyes ate her up, imprinting her timid stance in his mind. He knew she was trying to be brave with him here, trying to be tactful in her maneuverings. He idly wondered how many times she'd thought about him, and how she'd thought about him. Would it have been erotic? Romantic? He'd gotten one whiff of her sweet scented hair before he had to act on his impulse.

Before Hermione had even made her way fully into the classroom -without brushing against Professor Snape at all- she felt as his hips roughly came into contact with her back as he swam his way into the classroom, slamming the door behind them. She went rigid then, stopping her movements immediately.

Snape had merely meant to rush her into the classroom, hoping to speed the tedious process along. What he hadn't been expecting was for her to stay firmly planted on the floor, not moving. He was currently wedged between the closed door and her back, feeling his blood beginning to boil as his nose fell victim to the fresh scent of her skin. He towered over her shorter frame, seeing the way she was so still, her body not responding to his gentle nudges.

"Move out of my way, Miss Granger." he finally urged silkily, allowing an almost trembling hand of his own to grasp her small shoulder. He felt as she faltered under his heavy touch, and although he couldn't see her face, he imagined her eyes would be wide with fear. Swallowing silently he guided her out of the way, his fingers digging into her clothed shoulder as she obediently followed his movement.

Finally his hand was removed from her shoulder, his surprisingly warm contact now lost and leaving her slightly chilled in the cold dungeon. She felt the flush of shame crawl up her neck and face, flickering all over her as she grimaced. She had liked the feel of him so close, but it also sent her stomach skipping something awful. She turned and looked to see him regarding her warily, his dark eyes engrossed on her frame.

"Sorry sir." Hermione finally uttered under a reddened wave on her cheeks, she bit her lower lip nervously a moment, leaving only the upper one visible a moment. "I...well-"

"No time for your excuses." he said gruffly, moving past her to the body of the classroom. He had become unsettled then, at the feel of her soft form against his own. It had taken all of his control to settle his arousal, and had been so difficult that he had felt the need to bite the insides of his cheeks a full moment to keep him grounded.

Now at a safe distance, he watched out of the corner of his eyes as she looked around the classroom as if she'd never been in it before. He supposed to students, being in classrooms after dark was a strange and new experience.

The classroom was a dark color -no surprise there- but in the certain light from the sparse candles that littered the room, she found Snape to perfectly blend with the shadows. The several cauldrons that usually littered the tables were gone, and all that remained were the several tables and stools, looking as if they'd been measured to ensure continuous perfection.

Fastidious. If there was one word in the entire world to describe Snape, that would be it, Hermione thought as she looked around the extremely well cleaned classroom. Hermione had come across the word fastidious in a Muggle book she was reading in her fourth year, and being the insatiably curious young woman that she still was today -but to a less severe degree- she had immediately found out its definition and marveled in its exactness to Snape's nature.

fas�tid�i�ous:

1.Possessing or displaying careful, meticulous attention to detail.
2. Difficult to please; exacting.

That was Snape all right. Those two definitions of the word seemed to capture what she knew of him, all too well. His nimble fingers that dropped ingredients into potions as a swift and passing breeze would carry leaves in its invisible grip, so was the gentle and mystifying talent of Snape.

While she had heard that Snape was indeed a 'greasy git' and the rampant rumors of his lack of hair washing were renowned, she had always considered him a rather clean man in general. Why, those very hands that she was entranced with had no calluses, no marks or crude indentations. All that was placed on those finely sculpted canvases were sharp yet delicate looking knuckles leading to long and tapered fingers. Faint brushings of hair existed on the flesh above the knuckle, barely visible.

The face that bore several lines of age was smooth looking, no entrenchments from childhood acne remained, no marks or discoloring could be caught in her gaze. Only a slip of a porcelain appearance was visible to be his flesh, one of a papery delicate nature.

Feeling his unwavering gaze on her now, Hermione rapidly clamored towards where he stood, and was a few inches from him, looking to him with a questioning look on her eyes. She nearly quivered as his gaze followed her clumsy travel, never leaving the eyes that he had barely looked to before, in all the seven years she had been his student.

At this moment, seeing the knowing look in her eyes, Snape knew she was expecting a degrading task to be commissioned. He could see the careful calculating look in her somber eyes, tallying up the possible punishments she would have to endure for the evening. Before he could answer her however, he found that his gaze had become quite attached to the eyes that stared back at him.

Snape himself was interested to note that her dark eyes had a rather intriguing quality. When worried -and he assumed angered- the dark chocolate color grew darker, giving her eyes an almost stormy appearance.

Also interesting to note that in those very brown eyes, there was a small, almost unnoticeable fleck of even deeper brown that resided near the darker rim of the orb. It was if there had been a small break in the perfect-rimmed circle and a small, flinted leak had seeped into the lighter brown of her eyes. It couldn't have been larger than three grains of good-sized sand, but now he had noticed it, and was finding it difficult to look away from.

How did I miss it before? he wondered to himself, his dark eyes becoming clouded as the intensity of her eyes grew to mystify him, he felt almost numbed all over.

"Miss what, sir?"

Snape's eyes darted from Hermione's eyes to her soft mouth, pursed in question as she gazed up at him under her mass of hair. She had a calculating look to her face now, wonder encompassing her features. He noticed he had drawn closer to her in this engrossing process, his lean body mere inches from her own.

It took him a full moment to realize he'd spoken the words aloud, and with that brought cold realization and a sudden determined thump of his chest. He blinked rapidly a moment, a small curling of the lip accompanying the movement on instinct. He hated feeling as if he'd been caught.

"I have several minutes left in patrolling the halls." his low voice rumbled rapidly, his discomfort apparent on his now scowling face. He made no attempt to answer her previous question. Hermione looked rather worried as he spoke this, her mind whirring with the possible explanations.

"I assume you're mature enough to be left alone in here for that long, Miss Granger?"

"Yes sir." came her swift reply, her dark brows furrowed in question. She saw that he was still watching her, and with a timid step from that intoxicating gaze, she made her way to the nearest desk and sat herself upon the stool in front of it.

"Just here?"

"That will do." he bit off tersely, his dark orbs still suffocating her own as they stared at one another. Hermione assumed he was doing so for intimidation purposes, and somewhere within her was hurt that he'd stoop to such tactics with her, for she didn't need to be intimidated to follow the rules.

He let out a small nod in her direction once more before striding to the door that they'd come in, and shutting it behind him as he left. Hermione sighed deeply, looking around the classroom and feeling as her stomach bottomed out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

He had been in a strange mood tonight, that was for certain. Very rarely had Professor Snape said more than three words to her, and that was only to call her a silly little girl and tell her to stop waving her hand up in the air.

But tonight...he'd been staring at her. Quite pointedly. Almost as if he was trying to dissect her with his bottomless eyes. She'd been worried he'd been attempting to read her mind, but feeling no sense of being invaded had put that paranoid theory to rest. And what had he meant by,'How did I miss it before?' That had just been unsettling, and when she'd questioned him, he'd gotten furious. The man was a mystery.

She didn't deny the rush of energy that went coursing through her body when he gazed at her. She also didn't deny that she'd wanted to do more than step away from him when he grabbed her shoulder. She had immediately felt the rush of electricity pooling between her thighs, the nipples that had instantly hardened at the mere feel of that lean hand against her body, even detached as it was.

Being an eighteen-year-old girl, and a curious virgin at that, had given her little insight to the world of men. She had only Harry and Ron to thank for that confusion, for they both felt like brothers to her, and when Ron had tried to rather unceremoniously shove his tongue down her throat this evening, she had been past repulsed.

He was too headstrong and childish for her, and aside from that she could never feel that way for him. He was just Ron. And now, in all his jealous rage he would surely confide in Harry, her romantic inclinations towards her surly Professor. Harry would deem it betrayal for he and Snape were always at opposing ends, and she'd have to face an onslaught of questioning when she returned from detention this evening.

She hadn't meant to tell Ron about her affection for Snape, for he had weaseled it out of her. They had been sitting in the common room in their sixth year; Harry had been taking more Occulemency lessons with Snape, grudgingly. Little did he know, it would be that skill whiched hed his life near the end.

"So Hermione," Ron had asked breezily as he sat flipping through his collection of cards, making faces at his array of Dumbledore cards. A Dumbledore army it would seem. They had been alone in the common room, for it was late and most were tired from the day�s activities. Hermione had felt the compulsion to re-read a certain chapter in her favorite book, and Ron had grudgingly joined her. "Fancy anyone?"

Hermione had raised a dark eyebrow up at him, conveying her suspicion on the matter. Slowly she lowered Hogwarts; a History and gave him her reluctant attention. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh no reason. I just thought I saw you daydreaming in Potions class today."

"Mmmm."

"And during dinner."

"Mmmm."

"And when Snape passed you in the hall."

"Oh just stop it." Hermione had hissed angrily, tossing her book onto the floor. "Enough accusations already."

"Just admit it." he'd insisted devilishly, his affections for Hermione still foggy. He was certain that he cared for her, but his mind wasn't exactly certain he wanted her like that. Teasing her seemed a much safer route. "You like Snape."

"No."

"Yes."

"NO."

"YES!"

"Oh this is childish." Hermione had finally uttered, gathering her books and stomping off in the direction of the stairs with a careless; "I'm going to bed." thrown over her shoulder.

"To dream about your boyfriend!" Ron had replied gaily back, chuckling to himself as he stacked up his collector cards, knowing full well he had discovered one of Hermione's weaknesses.

How Ron had caught on to Hermione's fascination with the surly Professor was something she wasn't quite sure of. She'd been rather secretive about the matter, not like the thinly veiled adolescent crush that she'd had on Lockheart.

Now sitting in Snape's classroom alone, Hermione couldn't help but smile at the memory. Ron was such an immature pest some times, and she loved him dearly. She only wished she could have gotten to explain to him the emotions she felt before Snape had swooped in and caught them tonight.

It wasn't even twenty minutes before Professor Snape was back, still eyeing her in that way that made her stomach flip dramatically. He moved fluidly a few inches to where she was seated, looking down to her warily before speaking.

"Follow me to my office, Miss Granger." he ordered calmly, his arms folded as he walked pompously to the door to his office. Hermione tentatively followed, her plodding footsteps the only sound heard in the hollow classroom, and moments later, the two of them were in the narrow room.

"Sit there."

Snape ordered coolly, motioning with one long finger, the sofa in which he specified. Hermione, finding it odd that she in hin his office numbly nodded, moving to the dark green upholstered sofa. She sat on one side of it daintily, crossing her ankles and looking to her folded hands, lying lightly upon her lap.

Snape felt that whirring of sensations going through him, and he knew exactly what it was. In all his time teaching Hermione Granger, putting up with her bossy attitude and connection with Potter, he'd failed to see her as a woman. Now, this was good for many reasons, mainly because he was her Professor and she in turn, his student.

As he'd paced about up and down the halls on his paroling, his mind had flitted back to her. Alone and vulnerable in his classroom, anxious at his arrival and for some reason that had sent his groin pulsating in the confines of his robe.

He'd made sure not to see any of his female students as young women, for that would only lead to inevitable ruin. But he had noticed this about Miss Granger, against his will. He hadn't meant to hear her hushed confession of attraction towards him, hadn't meant to fall victim to her luminous gaze. It had just happened, and now he was faced with it.

He briefly wondered if she could sense his arousal and attraction towards her at this moment. Probably not. The tension that existed between them now from what he could feel, was one of fear of a student towards a volatile Professor. What did she see in him?

Again those dark eyes were situated upon his face as she looked up to him in question, and again he felt himself becoming lost in them. Before he made a fool of himself he tore his gaze away, letting his eyes rest on a darkened portrait on a far wall of his tomb-like office.

"Professor?" Hermione's soft voice reached out, the overachiever in her worried that she was losing valuable working time. "Did you want me to scrub cauldrons? Or itemize supplies? I could mark some essays for you if you like."

He didn't answer, although he knew he had to speak, lest she believe he was keeping her there for any other reason but detention. He was a bit unnerved at her words, as if he himself hadn't given careful deliberation over her punishment. Which in his mind wasn't really punishment at all.

He'd make sure his seduction came on her slowly, he'd have to be subtle yet swift with her considering the time frame they had. He'd also have to make sure it wasn't cruel, for she obviously cared for him deeper than she'd let on.

"Why were you and Mister Weasley out this evening, past curfew, Miss Granger?" Snape asked softly, knowing that the quieter his voice was, the more he was seen as frightening, he let his hands clasp behind him, giving her full view of those perfectly formed fingers.

Hermione's own hands grew clammy as she rubbed them together in fright, for she hadn't been expecting this at all. In fact, part of her almost wished she'd been sent polishing trophies with Filtch. But the more overruling side yearned to stay at such proximity with Severus. He was proving to be not only enigmatic, but also darkly alluring. She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt more frightened around him, or aroused.

"We were..." Hermione's sharp mind raced as she tried to think of one possible explanation. She didn't want to confess she'd been trying to fight off Ron's advances, for some reason she thought that would upset him. Snape turned slightly from the painting, coming to sit on the chair opposite of Hermione's own, knowing that this would agitate her further, easier into manipulation.

"Talking?" He offered gently, his dark eyes warming a bit as he watched her flustered face nod, her eyes flicking along his face before drawing back to her hands. He too watched the small hands, constantly moving as she shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes sir." Hermione replied shakily, a quick smile coming over her fearful features. "Just talking."

"About?"

"School sir." The tip of her ears had gone a slight shade of pink, only barely seen under her heavy mass of curls. She was obviously lying, and doing a horrible job of it at that. "Quidditch and classes. Idle every day chatter."

"I see."

Hermione didn't like the way his dark eyes were glinting when he spoke to her, or the way he was leaning over slightly, as if fruitlessly trying to close to large gap between them. This wasn't detention.

What Snape knew was that Hermione Granger harbored inner longings for him, and he didn't mind one bit letting her fulfill one of her desires with him. She wasn't bad to look at, she was bright, and most importantly, she fancied him. She'd make an interesting diversion, and in the end perhaps she'd get that prudish streak out of her.

"Miss Granger," He suddenly offered, looking to her thoughtfully, wondering how exactly to phrase his next words. His lip was void of its usual curl, so Hermione took that as a good omen. Rather naive on her part.

"Do you think me ignorant?"

Hermione's eyes widened in the horror of his words. Did he think she thought him ignorant? Did it appear that way to him? Her head shook on its own accord at the words, her lips almost trembling as she spoke softly.

"Of course not sir."

"Then why do you insist on lying to me?"

He was standing then, coming in slow, soundless steps over to the sofa where she sat, her hands still on her lap and her eyes on the floor. She was silently praying for aid, for relief from this torture. As much as she fancied Snape, she'd never been on the recieving end of his misguided seduction. All she could tell was that he wanted to frighten her, and as a wary student she was beyond scared. He had her in mute terror.

In an impetuous move, Snape had stridden forth and seated himself a few inches from where she herself sat on the sofa. He immediately honed in on the dark eyes that darted from where he sat, back to her own shaking hands.

In a subtle move he'd slid over a few minuscule inches, his eyes never leaving the side of her face that was shown to him. A whisper of a blush still remained on her cheeks; her lips were being constantly licked when they weren't under attack of her teeth. When would she tire of biting that lower lip of hers? It was swelling slightly, giving her rosy lips that of a pursed nature. Very appealing in Snape's eyes.

Hermione was very e ofe of the small gap between them now. She'd had to have been blind not to see the surreptitious movement he'd made, only because she was on edge. Every movement, whether it be a turn of the head, or a curl of a lip was detected by her. Now at such a close proximity she was well aware of the smell that came from him, a musky and herb like odor that she readily recalled from her classes. She had to speak then, if not to try and fool him, at least to anger him enough to move away. Being this close to him was something she'd dreamed of, but not under these circumstances.

"I'm not lying sir."

"Oh, but you are." Snape said gently, his long legs tilting over the side of the sofa, his sinewy arm on the back of the said item, mere inches from her shoulder, the same that he had grasped earlier. Her slight shoulder tingled at the memory. His fingertips were curling in an unsettling manner, from what Hermione could see in her peripheral vision. His deep voice was menacing, and Hermione couldn't help but notice the sinister look that had made its way into his features as she took a leaping look to his face. "I don't appreciate being lied to."

She titled her body from him a bit, not wanting to offend, but needing to get away for being this close to him fogged the brain. He had that hypnotizing quality about his movements and voice, almost like a liquid poem that settled around the room. It made her eyelids heavy, and her skin prickle, and send her already thumping heart just a bit faster.

"Sir." Hermione quietly begged with her eyes, wanting to move back further, but knowing it was impossible. From the gleam in his eyes, he was just close enough as he had planned. "I swear to you, what we were talking about -Ron and I- is of no interest to you."

"Indeed?" Snape mocked, looking to the openly worried look on the student's face. She was turning paler, her slight brush of freckles across her nose becoming more prominent. She had such a straight, small nose, and he briefly wondered what it would be like to trace down that straightened slope. Silky was the only word that came to mind. "Try me."

"Sir." Hermione insisted, noticing the subtle way he was calculating her face, immersing her with overwhelming looks. It was cold in his office, but now she felt as if she were on fire. She was beginning to sweat, feeling her face burning from the shame and panic. "Please-"

"Oh stop your useless begging girl." Snape said with a scornful gaze. It wasn't half as much fun tormenting the students when they were so weak willed. She was submissive to authority by nature, that much he knew. But would it kill her to have a little spark? They weren't in his classes now, they were alone.

He shifted back from her on the sofa, noticing the way she let out a small pout she thought was concealed. He couldn't help but smirk a bit at that, confusing the poor girl even further. She couldn't possibly understand why he'd be smirking at her.

"If you don't wish to be a willing participant in all of this, Granger." He drawled silkily, motioning to a small vial on his desk. "I'm sure we can come to another arrangement."

Although his speech was surely intended to have her spill the truth, Hermione couldn't help but notice the skillful way he'd looked her over as he uttered the speech. It positively induced her flesh to crawl under his heavy caressing and predatory gaze. The words heavy with double meaning.

"Veritaserum?" she said heavily, already knowing the answer from the evidence on the table as well as the superior leer on his face. It was odd how a man of such dark charisma could be positively enchanting at one moment, and blood curdling fearsome at another.

"Of course."

Hermione could only stiffly nod, squirming a bit under his watchful eyes. She was far too frightened to be in tuned to her arousal, but her body was reacting all on its own. Already the wetness had begun to pool between her thighs, causing a strange sensation to pass through her as she watched the older man before her stare.

She supposed he was the epitome of the brooding bad boy persona. He had the dark, mysterious quality about him, the permanent scowl, and the older man appeal. He was everything Hermione would have considered in her mind to be the antithesis of what she'd want in a man. But having gotten to know him -not fully understanding him mind you- over her years at the school she'd gotten a glimpse of what he could be, and therein lay her interest.

Snape's kneecap was swinging slightly, ever so noticeable under his robes. Hermione's was scant inches away, and every time the bend made its gentle swaying motion too close to her own kneecap, she'd try to shift it further away. So was the cause of her being pressed against the edge of the sofa, her knees facing in a completely opposite direction of her upper body, for Snape had a hold on that with his scrutiny.

Now in the moment, knowing that Hermione was growing powerless to his advances, he let his sharp and swaying kneecap make its way to her own, brushing against it and feeling her tense, her audible shallow breathing echoing in his mind a few seconds before dimming. Still staring at her downcast eyes he let it fall heavily against her own, not caring that she squirmed. The fine hair all over her body seemed to prickle, her body becoming covered in gooseflesh. She was trying not to shake.

"B-but what if I refuse?"

She finally managed to stammer out, finding it an incredibly stupid thing to say at the time. She knew as well as he did that she couldn't refuse, it simply wasn't in her nature. She abided by all the rules; she did what she was told because she lived for the approval. But now in Snape's strange office, smelling such erotic scents from the close man she couldn't help but feel a bit outside her natural comfort level.

"I have other ways." he purred darkly, his finger drumming the top of the sofa carelessly as he watched her. Hermione was positioned in a way that allowed her eyes to fall on the slowly dropping digits, the half moon crescent seeming to mock her now.

She knew what Snape's other way was. Everyone did. If they hadn't before, they had by the time Harry had finished complaining about his lessons. Snape's Occullemency was infamous, for it had been a hand in what had helped save Harry from Voldemort.

"I won't let you in."

She insisted firmly, her tense irritation beginning to show. She was getting quite sick of being treated like this; she was getting feelings for Snape she knew she should have tried harder to keep inside. But it seemed to be spilling out of her, her lips actually quivering as she felt the urge to press her lips to his own. What a fool hearty desire. Such adolescent weakness.

"Miss Granger," Snape offered with an unconvincing chuckle -a sound she had never been privy to in the past- and something she wasn't exactly sure she liked. "You won't have a choice."

Hermione's eyes finally zigzagged up his lean chest, coming to rest on the eyes so full of malicious glee. She felt as if her pride had been wounded, as if he'd already gotten in and rooted about, harnessing her most innermost embarrassments. But she knew he hadn't, for he wouldn't have bothered doing it without a challenge.

Snape's own pulse had started up a moment as he bore his gaze down on her, seeing the sudden spark of interest. He knew she'd have no choice but to defend her innocent mind, no choice but to stave off her Professor's intruding force. He knew she had no choice but to concear der desire for him, but little did she know...

"Fine." she stiffly said, her eyes ablaze and her mind shutting like a steel trap forcefully. It was strange to be talking to Snape like this, for he really wasn't the type of person -Professor or not- she would ever be comfortable talking back to. But in deciding that she had little over a week until her graduation, and seeing that he was in a rather bemused mood, she allowed the trickle of defiance to lace her words.

She shifted until she was drawn away from his knee, her legs now tucked neatly under her on the sofa as she countered on him, keeping her eyes at level with him. Inky pools enveloped her as she did so, making her falter a moment before gritting her teeth, as if that would help her. Silly girl.

They stared at each other a moment in the quiet room, he noticed her eyes squinting to the position of almost being sealed. He bit back a laugh at her obvious duress, for she wasn't one that could conceal her emotions all that well. She was further from him then, at a more relaxing enclosure than before, but close enough to be wary. He had hope that closed of nature of room would have made her more submissive, so was not the case.

She sat perched on the sofa, her hands at her sides and her mouth in a fir line of concentration. He could see the glimmer of impatient desire swimming in her contorted brow, and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to relax more. Not that that would ever work. She was on tenterhooks.

He had expected the penetration of her mind to be swift, for she was one that seemed brilliant in mind, but not in restrictment. She was an open, free person in his mind, and to be shut out of such a mind was maddening. Hmmm, so she was a bit of a challenge. That was a pleasant occurrence.

Ever so faintly the sinister cheat inside Snape began to plot, a simple little one at that. He let his lean fingers move from the sofa's edge, slowly coming to rest on his lap. He knew she was too focused on his gaze to notice anything else.

To Hermione's sudden surprise she felt as Snape's finger brushed against her knuckles, allowing electric jolts to course through her body at the contact. She held in a startled gasp. Still her eyes didn't leave his own, for they were transfixed. She felt the cold shock pooling all around her frame, and in that sudden detachment from focus, she felt the invisible strings beginning to pull behind her eyes it would seem.

Creeping foreboding slipped into her belly, pooling along with the ice cold fear that resided there. No more intense arousal settled within her, now it was unbridled panic. He was in. He was in. He was in.

That was far too easy.

You tricked me.

Indeed? I seem to recall it was a lapse in focus on your part.

Hermione knew there was no point in arguing, for Snape would manipulate her words until it was a tangle of undecipherable cryptic messaging that she herself wouldn't know the answer to. He was good at manipulation, he worked and finely tuned it as a violinist drawing his bow against the quivering strings of his instrument. Only Snape's gift was low and underhanded, almost the very symbol of the house he was the head of.

Alright. You win Professor. You can come out now.

She could almost hear the deep chuckle in his chest, and her eyes remained unwavering on his for the most part. He was raising an eyebrow then, almost warning her about what he was going to say next, not that it was going to do her any good. She was far too deeply under his spell.

Ah, but you seem to have forgotten the very root of this interlude Miss Granger. I'm here to see what you've been hiding from me this evening.

He felt her panic then, searing, bubbling panic that crackled from her frame to his own through their invisible joining. He saw the pupils that grew so tiny they appeared to be small dots from a skilled painter's pencil, a dark graphite circle, overtaken by dark brown orbs. He saw her twitch then, shutting her eyes and shaking her head frantically. Foolish girl didn't know how to play this game.

It was strange to be thinking like this, to be talking with Snape easier in her mind that in her life. She supposed their roles as student and Professor were momentarily suspended, and now they were just two people fighting for the escape and entrance to memories and thoughts.

No. Please stop. I'll tell you anything you want to know.

You're not really in the position to be compromising now, are you Miss Granger? his tone mocked, his smirk growing larger at her obvious distress. I'll kindly find what I came for, and leave the moment I do.

You won't. You'll unearth something horrible I promise. her withstanding inner voice was almost a growl. You'll regret it.

Is that a threat?

No sir. There was the respectful and courteous student he knew. He almost smiled at her. She was very sweet, even when backed against a wall as it were. It's simply a warning and a plead. Please leave.

All in good time.

Hermione felt her eyes flutter shut as the rocking sensation in her mind overtook her body. She could almost see Snape opening the various compartments in her mind, making small notes to himself and then shutting them back up. Snape was doing almost that, tabulating every sparse bit of information that she kept bottled up from him.

She felt as he recalled some of her memories in her home, parents, pets...he actually chuckled as he viewed her first dentist appointment. Imagine a dentist�s daughter actually screaming in the chair. He felt Hermione still trying to will him out. How very futile of her.

She felt as he came across a certain scenario in her third year, the infamous teeth incident. He viewed his own face glowering at her, lowering until their faces were inches apart before he rasped;I see no difference. He felt her shame within him as if it had been yesterday. Felt the pain he had inflicted upon her with such intensity that he actually felt his emotions starting to leak, and regret slipping through him.

I had no idea, Miss Granger. his inner voice said before he could keep it bottled up. You have my deepest apology.

Fine. came her curt tone, and viewing the angry look she had on her face now -despite her eyes being closed- he knew that this was a sensitive subject he'd invaded. You've seen enough now Professor. Just come out...please.

Snape was about to do just that, for he was now starting to feel the initial pangs of regret. What right had he to invade her mind like this? What right had he to involve her in this detrimental little game? She thought she was there for a detention. What had she ever really done to him? Nothing.

He had come to this rapt conclusion of departure when all of a sudden there a b a bubble in front of him, iridescent and brilliantly colored. An image within it swam about, pink and red and gold flashes encompassing the large circle as recognition dawned on him.

He knew what resided there, for it was in so many minds that it seemed almost laughable. He'd passed by it in Potter's mind, only to be greeted with that Cho Chang girl's face and body in a mixture of poses and expressions. This bubble in front of him was desire. And if his calculations were correct, he knew exactly what face would be appearing inside that dome.

Sticking an invisible head inside the bubble, he was greeted with the warmth that buzzed over the both of them. Still Hermione's eyes remained closed; still that tense stance surrounded her frame. He could feel that he was starting to warm up to her, starting to like this little game they were immersed in. He almost let a finger come to stroke her face, but knew he had other things to be focused upon at the moment.

Inside the small dome there was a scene playing about, murky in the depths of thought, but highly recognizable. A room, her Head Girl room he imagined was darkly lit. He saw her pale form on the bed, his own lank frame coming to rest on the edge of it as he stared down at her.

Professor, why don't you take off your cloak? Get comfortable.

Only this wasn't Hermione thinking or speaking, for she had already buried her face in her hands in front of him, turning her body from him and turning a violent shade of pink. Still inside, the fantasy played on. Her inner desire.

I suppose that would be prudent, Miss Granger. the image of him said, much to his surprise. He'd almost thought Granger would have him all sappy and romantic, when it was quite the opposite. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking off his cloak and revealing only his teaching robes. The image of Hermione merely watched in rapt fascination, and Snape could feel the heat crackling between them.

He saw the image of Hermione slinking up to the image of Snape, her dark hair curled instead of its usual tangles, her body curvier in the lingerie she wore, her face free of blemishes and her dark eyes sparkling. Snape was confused to note that the image of himself however wasn't changed one bit. He was still sulky, slightly aged and miserable looking with that long and annoying nose of his.

He watched as the vixen Granger came to the top of his robes, pulling him by the collar down onto her bed as they kissed heatedly, his own eyes falling shut at the fantasy. He suddenly felt very warm. He viewed as the image Snape forcefully tore her lingerie open at the top, exposing creamy, full breasts that swelled in his pale cupping hand. Snape noticed in this fantasy she was greatly focused upon his hands, for some unknown reason.

"Oh yes Professssor." she hissed in a sultry tone. She was smiling up at him in rapture, rubbing against him causing delightful friction as the image Snape savagely kissed her lips, drawing her tongue into his mouth and allowing moans of pleasure to echo through their minds. He watched on as image Hermione slid a hand up image Snape's cloak, stopping on a quickly rising member that she wrapped her hand around.

The moments passed quickly as they continued hastily. He could almost feel the silken touch of her thighs around him then, the gentle squeeze of her legs around his middle as he slid into her slowly, her moans growing louder as his hands trailed her body. He viewed even the gentle movement of her breast as he began thrusting into her, in and out until she was gripping the sides of her bed, her hair matted with sweat as she clenched her teeth and eyes shut as he pounded into her.

Reality Snape felt the pull go to his groin then, and by the squirming of Hermione on the end of the sofa, the same was happening to her. Suddenly feeling beyond repulsed at his actions, in watching the two feverishly copulating figures in this dream like haze, Snape pulled himself from the dome, only to be assaulted by another memory now. This evening's confession of her desire for her Professor. He saw Ron's face contorted in repulsion as he unearthed her crush. Felt the shame that went through her all over again.

Because you still have that crush on Snape?

Before the figures could say or do anymore, the swirling mass of color and movement and sensation was ripped from him, and his eyes snapped open. He felt as if he'd been robbed.

That is quite enough.

Snape heard Hermione's voice in his head, determined but different. There was a dank pit in his stomach then as he looked to her suddenly open and shining eyes staring back at him with vengeance. She was in. She was in. She was in.

Snape's smile left his face, and instantly the connection was gone between them before she could go further. He watched her face go from neutral to strained as Hermione tried in vain to enter into his mind again, but found it had been soundly sealed shut.

She grimaced at the exertion, finding she was very tired all of a sudden. Still, the worry in Snape's face didn't last long. They both knew what he had uncovered. Something better than he could have imagined. Something she was beyond mortified about.

She suddenly felt like a scarlet woman. Wasn't that what Ron had called them? Scarlet women? Was that even the right word for what she felt like? She had giggled at Ron when he'd first brought it up, but now with Snape oily smirking at her like he'd just unearthed the biggest, more horrible humiliation on Harry ever known to man, she felt completely violated and exposed.

"You have feelings for me, Miss Granger?"

Snape managed to choke out, even though he knew the answer. He needed to hear it from her lips, hear her say the words out loud before he allowed himself to proceed. But she wasn't making a move to answer him.

The tumultuous feelings that had been whirring within her stomach all evening were beginnio goo go even faster, causing her limbs to feel on fire, and her body inside to pulsate. She liked that he knew what she wanted. She was perversely titillated at the knowledge that he'd seen her desire from him. But she was also frightened, and confused at his response. Why wasn't he yelling?

It was just what Ron had been so wrong about; "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode." to which she believe she had testily replied: "Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have." For she herself was feeling it all. panic, lust, desire, fear...Her heartbeat was banging forcefully in her ears, almost a tidlewave of feeling and sensations begging to come through the front door to her senses.

"Why did you have to see all of that?" she finally managed to ask, her cheeks becoming stained red, something horrible. Her dark eyes fell to her hands, again folded primly in her lap. Snape let his eyes search her downcast face, trying to decipher if she was angry or aroused.

He didn't answer her proposed question, for he couldn't find the right words to begin with. What had started as a careless diversion for the evening on his part, was now becoming a whirlwind of sensations and emotions. He wasn't exactly sure that he could go through with his preconceived plans, but felt the inner desire to touch her then.

He let a careless hand rise, coming in the range of her face and watched as her dark eyes became fixated upon it. Her lips subconsciously parted as a slip of air made its way past them. She was raptly focused upon his pale palm, coming so very close to her cheek.

Excruciatingly slowly her eyes slipped up the hand, past the clothed elbow and to the darkening eyes of her Professor. She saw his face was stoic, his eyes suddenly tearing from her own and situating themselves on the side of her face.

Ever so faintly there it was, the small caress of his lean fingers against her face. As if she had been shocked from static electricity, a sharp and searing jolt went through her, from her fingertips to her toes. It was a disconcerting feeling, not only because he was her older Professor, but also because although she'd painstakingly watched the unmarked trail of his hands to her face, she hadn't been ready for its contact.

Her mind suddenly went back to herself in his classes. She'd watch him in the lab at the side of Ron or Harry. She'd watch him surreptitiously, trying to look as if she were listening, but secretly marveling at the way he quietly commanded attention from the class. She'd take notes with a small smile on her lips, wondering what it would be like to assist him, just once. Though, that opportunity had never arisen.

She'd been elated when he walked past her in the halls during the school years, even though he couldn't have cared less about her. She'd view him sauntering down the halls, a dark scowl upon his pale face. There she would be, holding her breath until he'd moved a safe distance past her, and then and then only would she let the small and unsettled sigh pass her lips. It was nothing like now, the intensity was more than she could have ever fantasized about. Actually being with him like this was almost a suffocating overload of the senses, all of them.

She'd fantasized about him, wondering what he was like behind closed doors. She assumed he was an avid reader, perhaps he even wrote himself. No, he never had the time. She'd tried to envision what he'd look like naked -and a fierce blush accompanied such thoughts every time- and been unable to do so.

She'd get as far as his torso and upper body when it went cloudy, for she had no real experience to compare him to. Besides, he was slight and tall, she'd never really be able to envision him completely nude, for no students at this school she'd considered romantically even bore a similar height or resemblance in form to him. Even if she had been in the situation of being intimate with them, she'd still have a difficult time picturing Snape naked.

But now at this precise moment, mere inches from his lips and with his long fingers tenderly stroking her cheek, Hermione wasn't sure that she was ready to be this close to him. His hot breath was falling on her face, ticking her cheeks and making her breathing unsteady. She was frightened.

As if the spell could only be broken this way, Hermione lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling the rushing heat making its way to her face. She could almost envision the perplexed look on her Potions Professor's face. She felt her courage faltering.

"I-I have to go."

In a burst of strength Hermione staggered to a standing position, feeling that her legs were tingling from the positioning on the sofa. She waited for Snape's inevitable yell for her to stop. To sit back down or to command her to a duty to serve her detention, even though detention was the furthest from his mind and she knew it.

She had made it to the doorknob of the door to his office when she felt his lean fingers coming to wrap their way around her wrist, his eyes intently penetrating her. She trembled as his free hand came to move her mass of coarse hair from the back of her neck, allowing the sensitive flesh to be showcased to him in all its creamy splendor. A tapered fingertip drew an invisible ldowndown its long curve, fascinated at the gooseflesh that grew under his touch. His breath was on the back of her pale neck then, his lips inches from kissing its beckoning sweetness.

Hermione didn't dare look back at him, she didn't dare speak as he brushed his fingers along the back of her neck, and most importantly she didn't dare stay to listen to what he had to say. Shenchenched from his loose grasp, much like a struggling fish would in a fisherman's hand. She saw that he didn't put up much of a fight, and felt the relief flood her as she managed to open the door and slip through it soundlessly.

She raced back to her Head Girl room with her heart pounding in her ears, and Snape still leaning against the doorframe of his office, his steely eyes watching her as she ran from him. But Snape wasn't worried, not at all in fact.

He knew she'd be back.
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author's notes: Right. Am well aware that there wasn't exactly watermelon's in this chapter...but I blame that on my imagination. I thought a long, drawn out seduction would be much more satisfying. Here's hoping you all do as well! Thanks for all the fab reviews as I was overly pleasantly surprised! cheers. holden.

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