Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Scattered	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25013 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I don't make any money from this fiction.

Chapter List
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Dream Fever
Hermione woke with a start, a loud bang reverberating through the house, as she leapt to her feet, and brandished her wand, running from her room to her parent’s. She had to get Snape, and escape, before the Death Eaters broke in.
She was halfway into the room before she realized the bed was empty, the covers thrown back. She froze, and spun on her heel, checking behind her, and finding no surprises. The house had gone silent in her dash to the next room, and she looked around confused. Had they given up attacking? She ran to the front door, and looked out of the peephole. The lawn was empty.
A dull thud and clattering noise from inside the house caught her attention, and she followed it, right into the kitchen. Snape was sitting on the floor, looking only semi-conscious, holding a pan in one hand, and a pot in the other. One cabinet was open, and it looked like he’d fallen, trying to grab the contents to steady himself, and only ended up making more noise.
“Are you alright?” She worried, hurrying to him, and yanking the dishes from his hands, tossing them noisily on the counter.
“Fine.” Snape’s familiar poisonous tone was back, and she watched his eyes narrow in hatred as she tried to help him up. He staggered to his feet, and pulled away from her, glaring daggers, and sneering bitterly at her concerned expression.
“Leave me alone, girl.” He waved a hand at her, and nearly fell, his one arm on the counter not quite enough to support himself. Hermione was under his arm in an instant, trying to pull him back toward the bedroom.
“You need to lie down, Professor. If you’re hungry, I’ll make something.” She tried to encourage him. His chest jerked, and she heard a strange strangled noise come from his throat. He was trying to laugh, she realized.
“I don’t need your help!” He scoffed, and tried to draw away again, leaning back against the counter, his hands gripping behind him for support, as he seemed to nearly shrink away from her in the small kitchen.
“Stop being so obstinate!” Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment as she chastised the older man. In school, she’d never have even thought of being so bossy with him. He looked at her stunned for a moment, clearly surprised by her superior tone.
“Don’t take that tone with me!” He finally managed, straightening his back, to tower over her, like he had in school, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“I’ll take whatever tone I need to! Now either cooperate, or I’ll spell you back into bed!” She threatened, refusing to be intimidated by his imposing height, and deadly black stare. She could hardly believe that this churlish, grouchy man was the same one who’d held her down, and made her hot and bothered earlier. She glared right back at him, trying to force the memory of how it’d felt from her mind. She didn’t need that right now, she needed him to cooperate.
“Are you really so eager to get me in bed, Miss Granger?” His voice had changed slightly, his tone less cantankerous, and more suggestive. She felt her cheeks redden, realizing a moment too late that he was a skilled Legilimens. Had he seen her memories? She took a step back, hitting the opposite counter, suddenly worried by the look on his face. Was he misinterpreting her words now, too?
“I didn’t mean it like that!” She yipped, unable to fully get rid of the warmth that had flooded her with the memory. ‘Ron. Think of Ron.’ She told herself, trying to stare her ex-professor down, without letting too many of her thoughts to the surface. She needed to be steely, impenetrable.
“You can’t lie to me, Granger.” He said, his voice low, quiet. His eyes seemed to be filling more of her mind, bigger, and bigger. She could feel the warmth from him, and pulled her eyes away, to see she was nearly surrounded by blackness. When had he gotten so close? She didn’t know, and realized his hands were holding the counter on either side of her, blocking her in with his arms.
“Let me go, Professor.” She breathed, staring up at his eyes defiantly. This wasn’t happening. Not again. “You need to rest.”
“Rest? I don’t think that’s what I need.” He practically purred. Hermione felt her heart jump into her throat, his tone warmer than his skin. This wasn’t Snape. It couldn’t be! Snape would never act like this! But it had to be! What in the world was going on!?
“I think you need rest, and more pills. You still have a fever.” Hermione tried to sound logical, able to feel the feverish heat radiating from him again. He was much too close. His eyes were clearer, but his expression, tone, and actions insisted he wasn’t coherent. Was his sickness still making him loopy? God, she hoped that’s all it was.
“I hate pills.” Snape condemned, his eyebrows pulling down, making him look even more angry, and primal. She knew a split second before he moved that he was going to do it, but it wasn’t enough time to stop his lips from falling to hers. His hands left the counter, steadying himself with her hips, his long fingers wrapping around for a moment, before moving up to tangle in her hair, keeping her face against his as he worked her mouth open, and bit at her lip again. It was a strange feeling, but matched the intensity coming from him, his whole body seemed to radiate with fevered warmth, and ferocity. Primal was definitely the right word.
Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, and she realized with shame that she was kissing him back, her mouth moving on it’s own, her hands resting on his chest as they had before, not quite determined to push him away.
“No…” She mumbled, pushing at his chest, and trying to pull her head away. ‘Ron.’ She couldn’t betray him.
Snape pulled back slightly, his eyes searching her face, analytical, and appraising. He seemed to find what he was looking for, and smirked, leaning back in, capturing her mouth again, kissing her briefly, before she pushed harder at him.
“Stop!” She demanded against his lips, frowning, and trying to put on her most commanding, ‘I’m in charge’ face. It was wasted on thin air, as he moved to her neck, pushing her hair back to kiss the warm skin under her ear.
“I can’t stop when you look at me so… So needy, and desperate.” He murmured, his voice unfamiliar as it met her ear, quickly followed by his teeth, tugging gently at the lobe. She groaned, and felt herself shiver slightly, wondering if she really had looked ‘needy and desperate’. Surely not. She didn’t need this. And she wasn’t desperate!
His teeth sank roughly into her neck, making her gasp in surprise, and dig her fingers into his robes. The bite hadn’t hurt as much as it had startled her, and his lips were already moving, kissing toward her shoulder, soothing her shock. One hand massaged the back of her scalp, his fingers flexing as his lips performed, the other slipping down, to rest again on her hip, nearly cupping her rear as he pushed against her. His greater height had him pressing his hard length into her stomach, and she gasped, realizing just what she was feeling. She could barely breathe properly, her lungs filling with sharp puffs, her throat constricting around words as he bit her neck again, sending heat through her in a tidal wave.
Her fingers were splayed flat, her arms around his neck, and all she could manage was a soft whine of protest as he tugged lightly at the skin between his teeth. She felt his hand slipping from her hair, leaving her head free to move and pull away as his touch glided down her back, truly grasping her by the bum with both hands, and lifting her with a grunt. She was plopped onto the counter, her legs nearly wrapped around him as he kept her right at the edge, pushing his hips against hers provocatively. His lips were on hers again before she could regain her speech, kissing her eagerly, wickedly, putting all her arguments, and reprimands straight out of her mind.
It felt like her veins were burning with need, and a tight knot of heat was forming in her stomach, keeping her glued to him, unable to think beyond the feeling of his hands, lips, and pelvis all moving in tandem. All she wanted was more. More of this, more of him.
His face fell from hers, and she was anticipating his lips at her neck again, eager for the feel of his kisses, and bites, when he was suddenly no longer against her, a heavy THUD pulling her back to reality. She snapped her eyes open, finding Snape collapsed on the ground, his chest heaving with heavy breaths, his face flushed, and pale at the same time. He was sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead, as his back pressed into the cabinets, the only thing keeping him in any semblance of ‘upright’.
“Oh no!” Hermione gasped, sliding from the counter, and crouching next to him. She suddenly felt guiltier than ever, remembering that he was sick, still recovering from the verge of death. How could she have been so stupid! So selfish!? His face was nearly hot enough to burn her hand, and she pulled her wand out, levitating him, and taking him quickly back to bed. He was awake enough for her to force some water, and another pill on him, and she ran back to the bathroom, grabbing more to bring the fever down.
She’d been asleep nearly all day, and kicked herself for leaving him unattended so long. Of course he was hungry, and inflamed, she hadn’t been awake to keep his temperature down, or feed him! She went back to the kitchen, finding more soup, and heating it quickly, taking it to his room. She ignored the burning of desire, and embarrassment within her as she pushed spoonful after spoonful of broth and noodles into his mouth. She needed to get him better, so she could save Ron. And so he’d stop attacking her like she was the only sustenance for a starving man. She squeezed her thighs together, trying hard not to think about just how far past ‘too far’ she’d gone. Would Ron even like her anymore if he knew? He hated Snape, nearly as much as Harry did. Had. Harry had hated him.
She should hate him, too. But seeing him so weak, so delirious, she couldn’t bring herself to. He was just a man who’d made mistakes. Just like everyone else. He deserved a second chance, she decided, so long as he didn’t try anything funny again. Though he hadn’t gone for her wand, which he’d been more than able to, with how distracted she’d been both times. Perhaps he was already seeing the error of his ways. Or perhaps he was too sick to even think about it.
She cleaned the bowl out, and made him drink more water, sitting next to him on the bed as he dozed back to sleep, his worried, angry, and pained expressions all fading, leaving him looking peaceful, and years younger. Without his scowl, he was almost handsome, the severe angles of his face making him look more elegant than demonic. His nose WAS a bit large, but she didn’t hate it. It didn’t seem to get in the way of his kissing. She blushed, and stood, hurrying from the room at the thought. She quickly countered her internal appraisal of the man with all the negatives she could think of. He was greasy, he was a Death Eater, he was twice her age, he was cruel, and he obviously had deeply-hidden boundary issues.
She busied herself with packing a bag, in case they needed to leave in a hurry. She spelled it to be more durable, and added an undetectable extension charm to it. It wasn’t as big of a charm as she’d put on her purse, but it would hold what they needed, and anything she happened to pick up later. She neatly packed extra clothes, toiletries, and a few books. Then she headed back into her parent’s room, trying to ignore the sleeping Snape, as she opened the closet, and pulled out a few of her father’s left-behind clothes, for her professor. They’d have to do, at least until they could find better. She added the pills, not wanting to forget them in a rush, and threw in one of her father’s notepads, and a few pens. It’d be useful if she needed to copy something, or send a letter. She added her dad’s minimal camping supplies, and his small tent. It’d be enough.
Hermione also added Snape’s wand to the contents, hiding it away, and keeping it safe. If he ever earned it back, he’d hopefully be glad she’d kept it from getting snapped, or lost. When she decided she was finished, she sat back down, and shook him gently awake, helping him drink more water. He barely opened his eyes, and she was grateful for a moment that she wouldn’t have to fend off his feverish advances again. She also felt a bit of disappointment, which she quickly quashed. Her pants were already uncomfortable, and she didn’t need it getting worse. Wait, uncomfortable? She groaned, and left the room again, realizing that the feeling was her underpants, soaking wet, and cooling off, leaving her feeling soiled, and awkward. She grabbed a new pair of knickers, and went to the bathroom to change, and clean up, deciding that the aftermath of snogging her professor was definitely NOT worth whatever she’d found enjoyable about it.
She buttoned her jeans, and pulled trainers on, incredibly glad that she hadn’t given up her home. They’d have to leave soon, though, especially if she ever wanted to see it standing again. If they found her here, they’d burn the place down, just to spite her. But where else could she go? She thought hard on it, ruling out Grimmauld Place. They’d apparated a Death Eater right to the front door, so it was no longer safe. Snape’s house was probably being watched. Hogwarts had been retaken. The Burrow had fallen last summer. Harry’s childhood home was probably being watched, as well. Everyone’s home was likely forfeit after the battle, Death Eaters now knowing just who to target. Hogsmeade was too close to the Death Eater’s new base. She needed somewhere new. Somewhere unsuspecting, that no one would think to hide, or look at. Where would she find a place like that? The Burrow had been great, until it’d been overrun. Maybe somewhere in the country? Maybe a little farmhouse, in the south, but away from London. Maybe Wales? She’d have to find a map, and determine a good location. Somewhere without many people, but preferably trees to hide the house from questioning eyes.
She checked the clock, and went to give Snape more medicine and water. The sun had started setting, casting a dim orange light on the rooms, and making Snape’s face look even more waxy as he opened his eyes to look at her.
“Trying to get extra points by taking care of me, Granger?” He asked inanely, his face scrunching into a frown. She frowned right back, deciding she preferred him asleep. This fever was really making him get on her nerves.
“We’re not in school, Professor. You can’t even give points.” She answered waspishly, pushing the pills right into his mouth, and stopping his next sentence. He gulped them down with a grimace, and she remembered what he’d said about hating them. Her curiosity skyrocketed, and she tried valiantly to hold her question in.
“Why do you hate pills?” She blurted, caving to the need to know. His black eyes locked on hers, and he looked surprised that she knew that. Had he forgotten saying it earlier? Had he forgotten snogging her, too? She felt pinkness creep into her cheeks as he stared.
“Pills always feel intrusive. Like they’ll stick to your throat. I prefer potions.” Snape finally answered, his face holding a strange expression. Suspicion, warring with concern. “Are you real?” He whispered, making her frown with surprise.
“Real? Of course I’m real. What else would I be?” She snapped, feeling her patience with his confusing manner nearly reach its peak. She couldn’t stand Snape on a regular day, but it seemed that the fever made him even less tolerable. He was sitting up, shaking slightly as he did so, but he managed, without her help. His black eyes stared at her the whole while, as he contemplated her words.
“I can never tell. These are always so vivid… So real…” He reached a hand out, and swept it against her hair, pushing it slightly back, before letting his hand fall to the bed again. Hermione felt a prick of worry. Was he losing his mind completely?
“What are always vivid?” She asked in barely a whisper, fearing his answer, her mind racing with new diagnosable worries.
“The dreams.” He answered, looking at her as though she were the addled one. Hermione’s breath froze in her chest.
“Is that what this is? A dream?” She asked, looking him over. Sweating, check. Fever, check. Flushed face, check. Delusions, check. Complete lack of morals and shame, check.
“Of course it is. The real you would never do this. The real me wouldn’t.” He said, his voice getting quieter as he spoke. His eyes flicked to her mouth, and she jumped off the bed, out of his reach. Dream Fever, check. She thought fast, slinging the bag over her shoulders, and pulling her wand out, deciding in an instant what needed to be done. There was only one way.
She pointed her wand at her hair, turning it a dusty blonde, and throwing it into as tight of a bun as she could. Then she ran to the other side of the bed, pulling her father’s spare pair of reading glasses out, and shoving them on her nose. The disguise would have to be enough for now. As for Snape…
She pointed her wand at him, transfiguring his robes to green, and shooting the same stinging hex at his face as she’d used on Harry. He yelped, hands shooting to his face as it swelled beyond recognition.
“That’ll have to do.” She said, giving him a once over. Neither would be instantly recognizable, but neither disguise would hold against closer inspection. She helped him from the bed, and spun on the spot, pulling him with her as she Disapparated.
“Where are we going?” Snape hissed, sounding more like his usual self.
“Shh. Don’t speak.” Hermione ordered, dragging him along a short corridor, to a front desk. A witch in lime green sat behind it, scribbling furiously at a piece of parchment.
“My friend needs help. He’s got a Dream Fever.” Hermione said, forcing herself to speak in a voice slightly higher than normal. Just one more layer to her disguise.
“Oh?” The receptionist looked up, and jumped slightly at the swelling on his face. “What happened!” She gasped, standing to inspect him.
“He made a pass at me, so I hexed him, and brought him here. He’ll be fine, once the fever’s gone.” Hermione said, ducking her head slightly, trying not to look guiltily at the wanted poster of herself on the wall behind the receptionist. The woman waved her wand at a bit of paper, and it soared into the air, flying down the hallway, to fetch a Healer.
Hermione pulled Snape slightly away from the desk, hoping to avoid identification, as they waited. Not long after, a wizard in the same shade of green came trotting down the hall, looking concerned, but lively.
“You’re the Dream Fever?” He asked, looking at her speculatively.
“He is.” Hermione said, and the Healer looked at him, not seeming startled in the least to see his swollen face, or swaying form. He waved his wand, summoning a gurney from a different door, and stepped forward, helping lay Snape on it. Hermione followed, as the bed followed the Healer like a faithful dog, keeping right on his heels.
“I’m sorry, but you really should wait out there.” The healer said, when he paused at a door, and saw her still behind him.
“I can’t leave him alone. He made me promise.” Hermione said, playing the fever to her own advantage. The magical illness made those under it sometimes paranoid, and lacking in self-control. It wasn’t even close to rare for witches and wizards with the affliction to make strange demands, or act oddly.
“Very well. If it’ll keep him calm.” The healer acquiesced, ushering her into the room after the cart.
Hermione hovered near the door as the man cast spells, lighting up Snape’s body with magic, as he diagnosed the severity of the sickness.
“Is this neck wound the cause?” The healer asked, eyeing Hermione again, pointing his wand at the nearly healed bite.
“I believe so.” Hermione said, hoping he wouldn’t recognize it for what it was.
“How’d it happen?” He asked, his nonchalance sounding a little too unconcerned. Hermione kept her breathing even, ready to reach for her wand at any moment.
“We were attacked, and he splinched himself.” Hermione answered, keeping her voice level, and slightly worried, as she looked down at her ‘friend’.
“Ah. This war’s been awful for everyone. I can’t tell you how many I’ve had come in, that got hurt running, or fighting.” He said, his face truly remorseful. “This jinx happen during the fight?” He asked, and Hermione shook her head.
“No. I did that, to keep him off of me. Bloody romantic, that one is.” She gave a laugh, and found it wasn’t at all false. The way he’d looked at her, touched her, really did seem funny now. He’d thought it was all a dream, and had made a fool out of himself. Well, she’d made one of herself as well, but he’d done it first!
“Ah. Quick thinking. Sometimes, in these situations, someone doesn’t realize what they’re dealing with, and the defensive hexes are usually worse than the actual fever.” He mused, opening a cabinet with his wand, and brewing a quick potion. Hermione watched carefully, trying to catalogue, and remember what he did. He tipped the potion down Snape’s throat, finding it difficult with the swelling. He frowned, but kept at it, glancing at Hermione only briefly, as he fed the potion to the man.
“Is it true?” The man said in a low voice, barely a whisper. “Is Harry Potter dead?”
Hermione felt herself frozen in place, eyes locked on the man in terror. He had recognized her. She pulled her wand from her back pocket slowly, hoping he’d finish with Snape before trying to turn them in.
“He’s dead? What happened?” Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
“You haven’t heard? They’ve been blasting it on the radio, and it was in this morning’s Prophet.” He said, glancing at her again, as he continued the slow tipping of the brew. “They say there was a battle at Hogwarts. You-Know-Who won, and Harry Potter’s dead. The Prophet had a list of wizards who’d been captured in the fight, and sent to Azkaban.”
Hermione gasped. Was that where Ron was? She felt her hand trembling.
“I hadn’t heard. We’ve been hiding for a few days.” She lied smoothly, watching as the Healer set the empty glass down, and straightened back up.
“Oh. I’m sorry to be the bearer of that news, then.” He said, and stepped around the bed, heading for the door. “I’ve some paperwork I’ll need you to fill out, if you’ll follow me please.”
“I can’t leave him.” Hermione repeated, feeling her gut twist. If she left him, she knew she’d never see him again. The healer was onto them. Maybe he’d already turned them in.
“Oh, right. Well, I suppose you’d only be lying on the papers, anyway…” He shrugged, and Hermione darted after him.
“Wait!” She called, bringing her wand up, so he saw her at the ready when he turned.
“Yes?” He asked, looking at her wand, and then her face.
“You… Did you call them here?” She asked, watching his face carefully.
“No. But the receptionist probably did.” He said, his face twisting with repentance. Then, in an undertone, he added, “Get out while you can, Miss Granger.” He turned, and headed down the corridor, like nothing had happened, sticking his hands in his pockets, and keeping his head down.
“Obliviate!” Hermione shouted, pointing her wand at the back of his head, he paused for a moment, and kept walking, his head held higher, his steps a little faster. Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember them at all. She darted back into the room, and levitated Snape from the cot, racing him out of the room, and down the hall, toward the Apparition point. Snape’s unconscious body soared after her, and she ran past the doctor who’d helped them, and right into the lobby, just as the receptionist stood, and pointed her wand.
“Expelliarmus!” Hermione cried, not waiting to catch the flying wand as she darted into the hallway for Disapparition. She let Snape down as quickly as she could, and slung his arm over her shoulders, before apparating away. The sickening lurch behind her navel pulled them instantly back to her parent’s livingroom. She’d been spotted, so they’d be on the hunt for her. Hopefully the receptionist hadn’t recognized Snape, or the pursuit would be that much harder.
She set Snape gently on the couch, and ran to the kitchen, throwing cans into her backpack, and adding some silverware. She found a box of crackers, and tossed those in, too, zipping it back up, and heading back to Snape. He was still unconscious, and she hesitated for a brief moment. They’d be here any minute, searching her known addresses first. She couldn’t leave him, even if he was dead weight. She cast a charm to make him lighter, and lifted him easily to his feet, holding him again, with one arm over her shoulders, and turning to disappear from her childhood home, for a very long time.
She was in a side street, off of Diagon Alley. She’d be recognized almost instantly, but she needed a few things, first. Luckily, she was right in front of the apothecary. She set Snape gently to the ground, hiding him behind rubbish bins, and tapping his head to disillusion him. When he was hidden well enough, she pulled her jacket hood over her head, and hurried across the street, with her head down. She made it into the store without being recognized, but as soon as she lifted her head to look around, she knew she was in trouble. The shopkeeper was looking at her with a look of absolute horror.
“Petrificus Totalus!” She froze him, and unzipped her bag, going down the aisles, and throwing things in, having no time to sort, or organize. She could do that later.
“I’m so, so sorry!” She called to the shopkeeper’s petrified form, closing her bag, and reaching in a different pocket of it. “This is all I have right now, but I swear I’ll pay you the rest when I can!” She said, slamming the money on the counter, and dashing out, feeling only mildly guilty for basically robbing the shop. She knew that some of the things she’d stolen had alone been worth more than what she’d left behind. But it was all she could do. She needed these ingredients, and had no other way to get them.
She ran back across Diagon Alley, and grabbed Snape’s still feather-light body, lifting him to his feet, and Apparating away again. She knew being in the Forest of Dean was dangerous, that they’d be looking for her here, too, but hopefully, she’d be able to hide, and set up wards to prevent them from being seen.
She cast charms to make sure they were truly alone, and set Snape, and her bag down, unzipping it, and pulling the tent out. She waved her wand, encouraging it to set itself up. It sprang to creation nearly immediately, as though it was eager to be set up. She slid Snape inside first, and then the backpack, charming it shut before she walked her circle to set the wards. She made three circles of their campsite setting up defensive wards, warning charms, and even transfigured the tent to be a nonreflective mottled green, similar to Muggle camouflage, only much less visible. If someone stumbled upon their campsite in the dark, hopefully, they’d have enough warning to get away.
She sat outside the tent in the dark, unable to sleep, listening for snatchers, or worse. She could hear Snape softly snoring inside the tent, the potion working, and allowing him to finally rest properly. She leaned her head back onto a tree, her appearance back to normal, and Snape’s face unswollen, and everything seeming to hold it’s breath, waiting for the next disaster.
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