Forbidden Lover

Chapter One
How the Bushy Haired Child Got On His Nerves

Severus Snape could well remember how he'd gotten himself into this emotional mess.

It had actually happened at the end of the fifth year that Hermione Granger had been at Hogwarts. He'd given her detention for some of her usual foolishness. It had been the first and the last time that he'd given her detention. He'd made her clean the entire room without the use of magic, scraping muck off underside of the class tables. She had done it without question, and Snape had enjoyed the glares that she'd sent his way.

He'd walked up to her and checked to make sure that she was doing it properly, when she'd turned at the same time to get another rag. They'd ended up face-to-face, body-to-body. Hermione's nearness had sent such a jolt through his body that it had rendered him speechless. She had stared at him in abject fright and scampered away quickly. Since that time, she'd ran from him for the most part. Snape had walked around puzzled and irritated that for the first time, he'd gotten an erection without intending to rape a woman.

Snape had firmly warned himself away from her. After all, Hermione Granger was just a silly, stupid child who was the bane of his existence next to Potter and Weasley. He, Severus Snape, did not molest children. Now if she'd been a grown woman, the Death Eater would have fucked her and left her a long time ago with no conscience involved.

That was part of his secret. Severus Snape was scared to death at the thought of approaching a female for love or sex. The one time he'd tried to love, he had been disappointed, so it was easier to demand what he wanted and be done with it. He hid his nervousness under his blanket of indifference, and when that didn't work, he glared.

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was just as puzzled by Professor Snape as he was by her. The well-read girl had been startled when she'd smacked into his body during detention. She knew all about sex, more than she really should have for a fifteen (really sixteen) year old. She'd only experimented a little by necking once with both Harry and Ron. It hadn't done anything for her except make her wonder if something wasn't wrong with her. Her female roommates were busy having sex and all sorts of adventures on weekends, while she studied and had no desire to join in their explorations.


Professor Snape had sent sparks arcing through her body. Hermione had always hated the man, privately laughing at him behind his back for being so stiff and unbending. It was a different thing to go back to her room puzzled, her nipples hard, and feeling sticky between her legs. After that, she'd made sure that she didn't get close to him again. Snape wasn't as skinny up close as he looked in those robes of his. His body had been large and hard as a wall. His ebony eyes had locked with hers for a split second before she'd removed her self from his path. Surprisingly, he hadn't yelled and screamed at her, only turned on his heel and walked off, slamming the office door behind him, leaving her alone in the classroom.


Since that time, Hermione had watched him carefully, and sometimes caught him staring at her. Snape seemed to always turn up somewhere near her, which made her uneasy since you could never read his mind. Harry and Ron thought it hilarious and teased her that Snape was after her body. They refused to listen to reason as she would attempt to patiently explain to them that firstly, she was a student and an unpopular one at that, and secondly, he was Professor Snape, a teacher, and what possible use could he have for her? Harry and Ron would elbow one another at that, and cackle gleefully.


Harry and Ron were also sexually active. It wasn't much of a secret that sometimes the occasional party of two and three couples made up of male and female would get tangled up on weekends. Hermione would wrinkle her nose, shake her head, and take herself off to the library to study and ignore their indiscretions.

Maybe it was just her imagination working overtime. She was a muggle in a wizarding world, and had no idea what a wizard like Snape would be looking at her for.


Snape spent the entire summer before the trio's sixth year, stressing himself and spying on Hermione via some of his dark means. He'd been inwardly yelling at himself, primarily because he felt that he shouldn't be doing this. He dreamed about her at night, about taking her repeatedly, and would wake up in a mess in the morning where he'd come on himself.


She was living a boring life, he thought. He'd watched her stay with her parents, and spend time with Potter and Weasley, never realizing that his own life wasn't much better. He rarely ever left Hogwarts, not even to visit his ancestral home which was now all his. He left the mansion in the care of the staff, only sending occasional instructions as to its upkeep. He had no use for a big house since he didn't have a wife to run it.

Snape was oddly excited seeing Hermione at the beginning of the sixth year. She didn't seem too thrilled with him in return. He'd actually taken the trouble to be in the hall greeting the arriving students - well, not exactly greeting them. He'd stood behind tiny Professor Flitwick, arms crossed like a black sentry and glared at all of them as they passed. This had drawn him a look from Dumbledore.

When the trio had arrived together, laughing and carrying on, he'd glared at Potter and Weasley.

"Welcome back, Miss Granger," he'd forced himself to say, trembling inwardly and hating himself for the need to stand here and humiliate himself.

Hermione had stared at him and stopped in her tracks, amusement written on her face.
She'd stood there for a minute or two, then said, with laughter in her voice,
"Ummm, thank you, Professor Snape."

Then she'd gone off upstairs behind the other two without so much as a glance backwards at him, the ungrateful chit. He'd stalked off back to his dungeons in a hateful huff and luckily for him, hadn't seen the Headmaster grin at his retreating back.


Hermione had gone to her new singular room as Head Girl wondering what in hell had gotten into Professor Snape. In the previous years, he'd only put in an appearance in the great hall for the sorting ceremony. He'd never been on hand to say hello, goodbye, or good riddance to any of the students that she knew of. It didn't help that Ron had bent over and whispered, 'There's your boyfriend waiting for you,' to her. Even Harry had grinned and wanted to know what she'd done to attract the devil. 'Shut up, Harry,' she'd said back, still feeling those hot black eyes of Snape's on her. The man made her nervous.

She didn't guess he was a bad person. She didn't really know him at all. She went into the bathroom to wash her hands, then came back to her room, and stopped. On the bed pillow lay a single rose. A black rose to boot. She frowned. Where had that come from? It hadn't been there before. Slowly she walked over to it, thinking that Harry or Ron was playing a joke on her. She picked up the flower, which you could smell without putting your face close to it. It was perfect in every way. Wonderingly, she ran her finger over its soft petals. Okay, so she didn't know where it had come from. She conjured a small vase of water and put the flower in it, shaking her head in confusion, refusing to even believe for a moment that someone would be interested enough in her to give her a flower.


Snape was pacing his rooms; agitated at the weakness the bushy haired girl was making him exhibit. She'd laughed at him. He knew that it had been a bad idea to go up there. He hadn't even stayed for the sorting ceremony this time, giving Dumbledore a reason to fuss at him. Damn her. She didn't know how he felt, he supposed, and he didn't want her to.

How the hell did he feel? That was a new one, even on him. He sat numbly down. Why, why in the hell was she making him such a mess? She wasn't even pretty. She was...well...freckled...just a few...bushy hair...maybe just thick curls? White skinned since she didn't stay outdoors much, she was small, not quite short, maybe average. He ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't like the conclusion he was coming to, not one bit. It meant he would be vulnerable. Severus Snape was not vulnerable, he told himself. He was an ex death eater. He didn't dare show any vulnerability.


He found himself patrolling the halls after dinner in a fury, mad at himself for feeling human for once. The few students who were straggling about found themselves with detentions. He was in the Gryffindor hall and had turned, headed back downstairs when he spotted Hermione, coming upstairs, her arms full of books from the library, as usual.


She nearly stopped when she saw him, but forced herself to smile at him.

"Good evening Professor," she said with more calmness than she felt.

"You are out after curfew Miss Granger," he said stiffly, feeling his insides turn to mush.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I wanted to get some books that Madame Pince promised to put away for me. Do I have a detention now?"

"NO," he almost roared. "Just get back to your house before I deduct points."

He startled her with his sudden yell, and she wondered why he was acting so strangely. She looked at him, deciding that he wasn't too bad looking for a man his age. He was standing on a step or two lower than her, which made their faces nearly level. He was still glaring at her, and suddenly, without knowing why, she bent forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks Professor," she said, leaving before he could move.

Snape stood rooted to the spot, just having been kissed for the first time by anybody, even if it was on his cheek.