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

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
A/N: This is your friendly reminded to not get the flu, or get sick, and if you are indeed like I am, I hope you feel better.

The next morning, Hermione bit back every complaint that rattled around inside of her still muddled brain. The last thing she felt like doing was slipping out of the warm comfort of Severus' arms and his bed, but fact remained: she had to get back to Gryffindor Tower.

As promised, Snape had prodded her awake in the wee hours of the morning. It had been strange to get out of bed and still find herself in the dark, but she couldn't be bothered to ask for the time.

Somehow managing to pull herself from his embrace, Hermione got dressed and collected her things. Snape cast the Disillusion Charm, and she was too sleepy to protest and point out that she could do it herself. However, she did convince Severus to see her later on that night, if permissible, and he agreed before walking her to the door.

The whole business of walking back to Gryffindor Tower felt very cloak-and-dagger, even if the corridors were empty. Once Hermione was out of the dungeons, she could see pale early morning light shining in through the windows. The portraits lining the walls had not even bothered waking up yet, though it wouldn't have mattered, as Hermione was invisible to anyone that might have crossed her path.

Getting back through the portrait hole also proved to be easier than Hermione thought. She lifted the charm long enough for the Fat Lady to see who was approaching her portrait. It was early enough that it was permissible for Hermione to be out of the dormitories without it looking suspicious. The Fat Lady had been used to Hermione's odd hours that she kept, which were usually for studying, and she barely cracked an eye as she swung open her frame. Pausing in the darkened and narrow space, Hermione awkwardly placed the charm back upon herself and tiptoed out the other end, quietly making her way up to the dormitory.

As suspected, everyone was still tucked away in bed, hidden behind its thick hangings. Stripped out of her stale party dress and into a nightgown within the span of a minute, Hermione was soon beneath her own flannel sheets, listening to her housemates around her snoring. Even Crookshanks hadn't budged from his spot at the foot of the bed when the mattress dipped down beneath her weight.

As tired as she still felt, Hermione did not want to sleep. While her flannel sheets were thick and heavy, the bed was cold from being unoccupied for so many hours, not to mention that she suddenly felt incredibly alone.

Hermione knew it was pointless to harp on silly sentiments, but even within the ten minutes that she was separated from Severus, she found that she missed him already. Nevertheless, entertaining the thought of spending more time with him was futile; it had been a miracle that she spent the entire night with him and then snuck back to the dormitories without a hitting a snag.

Oh, how it had been worth it, though.

The only thing that gave a bit of levity to the situation was that Hermione knew she was going to see Severus later on that evening. The intricacies of carrying out said meeting had not actually been figured out, but like always, things would sort itself.

First, Hermione vowed to take a long, hot bath at some point before starting her day. A lack of physical intimacy with the professor for several months had made her forget how taxing it was on the body. She was sore all over, and while it was a good ache, it was an ache nonetheless, and she looked forward to having a long soak in the prefects' bath. She would have tried to coerce Severus into taking a shower with her before leaving, as she remembered the one and only shower they had taken together at Grimmauld Place. But there hadn't been time that morning, as she needed to get back to her room.

Yawning and burrowing further beneath the covers, Hermione briefly wondered if Severus was missing her presence, as she was his, before drifting back off to sleep.

"Ron, don't you have anything better to do than hang about in our face?" Ginny calmly asked her brother, who had been about to squeeze himself between her and Harry on the sofa.

The Gryffindor common room was filled with the excited chattering of students whom were waiting to be called down to the entrance hall to leave for the Christmas holiday. Everyone had to dodge around packed trunks, cases, and cages holding pets, and the room felt smaller than usual with the extra things lying about.

Even though Ron, Ginny, and Harry were going to the same place together, Ron, for some reason, did not feel the need to give his best friend and baby sister a modicum of peace that morning. On top of that, Harry had been trying to tell Hermione and Ron something about Draco Malfoy, as he was toying with the idea that the young Slytherin was in cahoots with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters.

That idea sounded a bit silly to Hermione, but she had to admit that Malfoy had seemed a bit off ever since the start of school. While he carried on with haranguing her and her friends, Hermione suspected it was more for show as it usually occurred when Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson were nearby. However, once they had turned away, Malfoy went right back to appearing moody and withdrawn. Instead of looking haughty, he looked stressed, and if he became any paler, then he just might be able to pass for one of the ghosts at Hogwarts.

For some reason, an uncharacteristically and focused Draco Malfoy seemed more disturbing than a usually rude and spiteful one. This was why Hermione still listened to Harry that morning, even if his claim seemed a tad outrageous.

The three hadn't been able to get into a deep conversation, as the common room had been too crowded, thus risking the chance of someone overhearing. Harry vowed that he would try to find out more from the adults in the Order over the holiday, and they left it at that.

"I'm serious, Ron, shift," Ginny continued complaining. "Where is Lav-Lav? Shouldn't you two be off in a corner for a farewell suffocating, I mean, snog?"

"Ha-ha. She's still packing," Ron grumbled, finally giving up and flopping down into an empty chair across from them. "Parvati's helping her; dunno what's taking so long."

"Lavender has more shoes than the four of us put together," Hermione laughed. "She's probably trying to fit everything into her trunk, although Merlin knows why. It's not like she'll be gone for a month."

The last when Hermione had been upstairs in the dormitories, Lavender had still been alone, and was red-faced and angry, deep in the middle of a heated row with her flung open and stuffed-to-the-brim trunk. Brightly wrapped boxes were hastily strewn about on her rumpled bed, and Hermione surmised that they were Christmas gifts the witch was attempting to take home. After issuing a round of insults at her trunk, Hermione had been tempted to ask Lavender if it answered back, then was about to suggest that the witch shrink everything for more convenience. But the look on Lavender's face showed that anyone who risked uttering so much as a single word in her direction, would also feel the same wrath her trunk was facing.

"Ugh, finally!" Lavender's shrill voice cried out, followed by the loud thumping of her trunk being dragged down the steps. "I don't know why I didn't use a shrinking charm in the first place; could have saved myself from all that trouble!"

"Perhaps," Hermione replied, doing her best to keep a straight face.

"Ron, can you please carry my trunk for me?" Lavender suddenly asked in a sugarcoated voice.

Ron looked as if he was relieved that the witch hadn't referred to him as 'Won-Won', and he immediately got up and lugged her heavy trunk to the other side of the room. It was only natural that she then pulled him out of the portrait hole, most likely to thank him, and as Ginny suggested, give him a farewell snog.

"Right," Harry said, shaking his head as he watched the blonde witch forcefully pulling the redhead out of the room. "So, Hermione, are you sure you're going to be alright here on your own? It's not too late for you to come with us, you know."

"No, no, I'll be fine," she answered. "I'm sorry that I won't be around to keep Ron out of you and Ginny's hair, but I have a lot of work I need to catch up on, anyway."

That was a lie; Hermione was all caught up on her schoolwork, although nowadays, she seemed to never have done enough revision. Just then, a sudden thought struck her mind, and Hermione instantly began feigning cool.

"Harry, do you still have your Marauder's Map?"

"Yeah; why?"

Damn, I hope he doesn't get suspicious. "Could I borrow it while you're at the Burrow?"

Just as Harry opened his mouth, hopefully to say yes, Ron, who had suddenly reappeared in the common room sans Lavender, cut across with a laugh.

"What're you gonna do, have a shufti in the Restricted Section?" he chortled. "What are you trying to find out now?"

"Be quiet, Ronald," Hermione snapped before turning back to Harry. "Can I?"

"Yeah, just mind that you take care of it. Hang on, it's buried at the bottom of my trunk but I'll dig it out for you," he replied, thankfully without any further prodding.

Hermione had already stood up and began making her way to the front of the common room. "No, I'll get it," she said, holding a hand out for Harry to stay in his seat.

Harry didn't mind, as he didn't feel like getting up, and he turned his head to continue his conversation with Ginny. It didn't take long for Hermione to pick out Harry's trunk, as it had his initials on the side, plus a few Quidditch stickers. She stooped down to pop the latch. One of the figures in the stick above the latch had been preening about in its golden background, hovering midair on a broom when he caught sight of the curly-haired witch.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione groaned when the player, who had been posed with an outstretched arm as if he was right about to catch the Snitch, turned his head and winked at her. "I've had enough of you Quidditch Players to last a lifetime; the last thing I need is a miniature one trying to chat me up."

Harry's trunk was a mishmash of unfolded clothes, dirty socks, empty sweets wrappers, and there was a fuzz-covered lump of something brown and sticky-looking in a corner that Hermione was unable to identify. Wondering if she should use the handle of her wand to sort through the mess, she quickly discarded that notion, not wanting to break it or cover it with the mysterious sticky blob . Finally she unearthed the map, which had been buried between the folds of two wrinkled jumpers.

"Harry, you ought to be ashamed for your trunk looking like this," Hermione called across the room, still frowning at the sticker Quidditch player who was now making kissy faces at her. "And why are your Quidditch stickers making googly eyes at me?"

"He doesn't make eyes at Harry or anyone else," Seamus replied, laughing. He had been on his way out of the common room and was standing next to her with one hand on the door. "I reckon he likes you."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Seamus continued chuckling. Ignoring him and the flirty sticker, she rose and went up to the dormitory to tuck the map away in her trunk. The last thing she needed was for Harry to take a peek at his map and find her dot in close proximity with the dot that read 'Severus Snape'. There would be no explaining that, especially if she happened to be in the dungeons for all hours during the night.

Gryffindor Tower was soon emptied, as McGonagall came inside in a bustle of thick woolen robes to usher students down to the entrance hall. Hermione walked down with everyone to see them off. Finally, Filch shut the heavy castle doors with an air of relief, and went on his way, muttering something under his breath in a croaky voice and stroking Mrs Norris.

Remembering that she had left her own cat back in the dormitory, who was now sure to be prowling about in search of breakfast, Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Students had been shocked to see their Head of House striding into the Slytherin Common Room that morning. It wasn't often that Snape had to make an appearance, as at the start of each term, he told all students who weren't familiar with him that he refused to stand for any nonsense within his House. Therefore, rare were the occasions where he actually had to show face.

However, Draco hadn't come to his office that morning as requested, and Snape was irritated when he had to go out of his way to find the younger Malfoy.

Snape didn’t have to go far. While a few students were lingering around the common room, they were all off to the other side engrossed in conversation. Draco had been alone and perched in an armchair by the fireplace, making it obvious that he was refusing to look up, even though Snape saw a flicker of recognition in his icy grey eyes. Finally, he looked up and immediately cast the professor a derisive glare.

This boy is treading on thin ice, Snape fumed inwardly.

No other student had been bold enough to ignore his orders, and then blatantly ignore his presence. The urge snatch the blond wizard up by the scruff of his neck nearly smacked Snape in the face, but he resisted.

"I was not aware that you had a problem with telling time," Snape began in a hushed tone.

Draco scoffed in return. His arm extended over the arm of the chair, and the length of his father's walking stick was in his clutches. Round and round he turned the walking stick, defiantly staring up at his Head of House.

"I don't, Professor," Draco replied mockingly.

"Your mother is expecting you, Draco," Snape continued, ignoring the insolence of the younger wizard. He knew why Draco was behaving the way he was, but it still was not an excuse for him to become flippant. Even though he wanted nothing more than to call Draco an ungrateful little cur, and to back him into another literal and figurative corner to force sense in his head, Snape merely gestured for the boy to get out of his chair and carry on.

Snape knew that Narcissa was one of Draco's weak points, and the mention of her was enough for the young wizard to finally uprooted himself and stalk off in the other direction, swinging his father's walking stick back and forth. Snape waited for him outside of the common room, refusing to leave anything to chance. The young man was clearly not pleased to be shadowed as if he was a first year, but Snape was not concerned. He would at least have a week that the boy would be out of his hair, and beneath the watchful eye of his fretful mother.

After he had physically escorted Draco out of Hogwarts and made sure that he boarded the train, Snape headed back to the school with only his heavy thoughts for company.

He hadn't realised how relaxed he felt upon waking up with Hermione curled up next to him. But like always, the comfort was short-lived, as she had to return to Gryffindor Tower. Then, Snape had been waiting for Draco to come to his office, as he asked him to do the night before. He waited around for a half hour before it became plain that the young man wasn't going to show up.

Thoughts of the Unbreakable Vow he made with Narcissa was a main factor in Snape remaining level-headed. If not for that and remembering the tearful look on the witch's face, he would have used different tactics when it came to her willful son.

Now, the only thing he had to do was dodge his colleagues for the week, whom were sure to be cheery and brimming over with Christmas spirit. Had Dumbledore been around, he would wear one of his garishly coloured robes, and McGonagall would have that damned ugly wreath of thistles around her hat. Flitwick was a bit of a nutter when it came to the Christmas tree; in spite of his diminutive size, he threatened anyone that came within five feet of his thee that they would rue the day if one of his ornaments had been touched.

Trelawney was sure to travel to nirvana with her usual multiple bottles of cooking sherry. Chuckling to himself, Snape wondered how Trelawney and Slughorn would get on together over the holiday, seeing as how they both had an affinity for the drink. While Hagrid tended to be clumsy after tossing back a few, he was mostly harmless. Professor Vector, like Snape, chose to keep to herself, and rarely ventured out of her rooms.

Snape would typically make an appearance at Christmas dinner in the Great Hall, after which he would hastily retire to his rooms. When he was young, the holiday held no appeal for him, as his parents weren't the sort to splash out on presents and the like. His mum had tried to make the day special a few times, but eventually she gave up on the whole ordeal, and shortly after, everything else. Eventually, Christmas became just another passing day.

When he was younger, Snape felt somewhat cheated when he compared himself to those who had a 'normal' holiday. Students would go home over the break, returning to school with new clothes and all sorts of shiny trinkets. Snape's parents had barely enough money to purchase the things he needed for school, never mind extravagant gifts. Having to fend for himself, the only thing Snape had focused on was making sure that he was keeping himself fed when he was away from Hogwarts. There had been a few times where he managed to save a few extra Galleons, which he always used to purchase new books. That was the only self-given present he got.

His colleagues did not understand why Snape never made such a fuss over Christmas, or any other joyful occasion for that matter, but they didn't press the issue. Yet he still somehow received gifts.

Snape knew that Dumbledore's mouth was sometimes secure as a rusty gate with a broken latch, merely flapping about in the wind. The headmaster had offered Snape his first taste of elderflower wine when he first came to Hogwarts to teach. Apparently, he remembered that Snape was partial to the mildly sweet drink, as every year after that he received a bottle from the headmaster. Snape strongly suspected that Dumbledore passed along that information to a few of the other professors, as identical bottles of elderflower wine also made its way to his office.

The first time he received a parcel around Christmas, Snape had been highly suspicious. No one ever willingly gave him anything. Even after testing it to make sure that it was not poisoned, it had been a while before he actually drank the wine. Eventually it became habit for the headmaster to have the same bottle delivered every year, and Snape learned to expect it.

At least the wine had been of some use; Hermione definitely enjoyed it, drinking two goblets while lying naked in his bed. The young witch clearly was unable to hold her liquor, as she became quite loose-tongued within a matter of minutes. She would definitely have to be held to a two-glass maximum, lest she leave stumbling out of his room with a hangover. While it had been somewhat amusing watching her two male counterparts falling over each other in Grimmauld Place after downing an entire bottle of firewhisky, there was no way Snape could allow Hermione to roam the castle in the same state.

It had been hard enough to make her move from his bed that morning. Even though Hermione’s hair took on life of its own and he had to pick curls out of his eyes before opening them, Snape found that his sleep had been restful.

He had watched Hermione sleep for a few minutes longer before waking her. When she finally sat up, yawning and rubbing her eyes, her curls stuck out and she almost resembled a marmoset. Hermione hadn’t said much, as she was still half-asleep even in the midst of climbing out of his bed. The only time she spoke was after dressing, and that was to ask if she could see him again that night.

Once Hermione had slipped out of his rooms, Snape found that he was still tired but did not relish the thought of returning to his cold, empty bed. Instead, he went through his usual morning ablutions and corrected essays in his office while waiting for Draco.

Luckily, the second and third years’ essays hadn’t suffered a lot of damage from his and Hermione’s coupling on his desk. Some had become slightly wrinkled, but as a professor for many years, Snape had been handed homework assignments in all sorts of questionable states. Pumpkin juice stains, oily fingerprints from students snacking on crisps, lip gloss, snot, and what he had been sure was the hastily discarded remnants of an earwax-flavoured Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Jelly Bean— all smeared the surfaces of many a parchment.

The students realised very quickly that any materials other than ink marring the surface of any assignments to come across the professor’s desk would result in it being burnt on sight, after which they would have to make it up. Typically, there were no repeat offenders, although Crabbe and Goyle were the only two to break that pattern.

Snape had just finished correcting the last essay when he checked the time. Knowing Draco’s current penchant for not doing what he was told, Snape had a feeling that the boy wasn’t going to show up at his office. His assumptions were correct, thus, the professor had found himself making his way to the Slytherin common room.

By the time he returned to Hogwarts, Snape barely had the chance to settle back down into his armchair when the Dark Mark on his arm began burning. With an air of annoyance, he got back up and threw on his traveling cloak, and banged the door shut behind as he strode out of his chambers.

Hermione distracted herself the best way she knew how as she counted down the hours until she would see Severus. As planned, she took a wonderfully long bath in the prefects’ bath. Hunger finally drove her out of the water, although she knew the Great Hall wasn’t opened. A quick trip down to the kitchens, and Hermione met with a Dobby, who was all too happy to send her off with a generous lunch. She was soon comfortably sat in the common room, nibbling on a meal of sandwiches, crisps, and grapes.

It was strange sitting in the there without everyone around, but the silence was welcome. A handful of Gryffindors also stayed behind instead of going home, but they weren’t in the common room. Plucking another grape from the bunch and popping it into her mouth, Hermione grew pensive as she chewed.

The week before, she and Ginny had managed to get Harry’s illicit Potions text out of his grasp, and on the inside of it read that it was property of the ‘Half-blood Prince’. Harry didn’t know who that was, neither did she or Ginny. Whoever it was, the person must have been a dodgy character, as Hermione had stolen a glimpse of the scrawling in many of the margins, and was apprehensive.

Whoever the ‘Half-blood Prince was’ they definitely didn’t sound normal. There were all sorts of spells in the book that she had never heard of, and one of them seemed downright barbaric that she was afraid to find out more. Like always, Hermione’s curiosity would get the best of her, and she still wanted to know more about the book’s previous owner. She hadn’t been able to find much at the library thus far, but there was always the restricted section. Now that she had Harry’s map, it would make things that much easier.

Putting her plans to the side for the moment, Hermione began thinking of her parents, wondering what they were doing. Her dad usually prepared the Christmas turkey, while her mum prepped everything for the side dishes. By now, her mum was mostly likely fussing that he was doing something wrong, to which Mr. Granger would give her a light slap on the rear, something that always made their daughter cringe.

While Hermione always wished that her father kept the bum-slapping antics to a minimum while she was around, it had always been a good feeling to see her parents happy and in still in love with one another.

The next morning, the Granger family would sit around in their pyjamas while opening gifts. The last Christmas, Hermione’s mum had opened one box to reveal a dressing gown that was obviously for a woman. Mr. Granger had loudly claimed that they must have had gotten their gifts mixed up, because he took the dressing gown right out of his wife’s hand and slipped it on over his flannel pyjamas. He then proceeded to put a blue Christmas bow on top of his slightly balding head and pranced around the living room, speaking in a high falsetto while mimicking his wife.

Hermione and her mum had laughed until tears ran down their faces. Mrs. Granger had then told her husband that he would be barred from having any Christmas drinks that day, as it was clear that he seemed to already have one too many.

Of course…things were more stressful that year, and likely to not be as light-hearted.

A lone tear ran down Hermione’s face, and she hastily lifted a hand to wipe it away. She knew that she had missed her parents, but at that moment, she didn't realise just how much that was.

While they hadn’t fully grasped some concepts of the wizarding world, they still listened to whatever Hermione told them. They still preferred her to do some things the Muggle way, but for the most part, her parents were her backbone. Right before leaving for Grimmauld Place during the summer, Hermione got the idea that her parents were terrified for their daughter’s safety, although they strove to remain calm, which she figured had been more for her sake.

Hermione had been disappointed to receive her mum’s letter, stating that she would prefer it if she remained at school for the holiday. Hermione had sent an owl back, explaining that she would be safe with the Weasley family. Mrs. Granger’s reply did not take long, and her mum’s words had practically jumped out from the paper as she explained that she did not even want Hermione to go to the Burrow.

Whatever her mum’s reasoning was, Hermione knew better than to argue, and wrote back to tell her mother that she would stay at Hogwart’s. Ron and Harry didn’t understand why Hermione couldn’t come with them, and not wanting anyone to feel insulted, Hermione used the ruse of having some extra schoolwork to catch up on. The excuse was plausible, as her course load was heavier than her mates'.

Even though Hermione would have preferred to spend her holiday with friends and family, she vowed to make the best of her situation. At least she would be able to visit Severus.

Not Severus. Professor Snape, she told herself.

It was best to keep the habit of referring to him by his title when they were not in intimate proximity. Now curious as to where the professor was, Hermione pulled Harry’s map out of her pocket and looked around for the dot that read Severus Snape. Round and round she looked, until she saw that his dot was moving steadily, right at the front of the castle. Seconds later, it vanished.

It was still early, and she supposed that it wasn’t strange for the professor to leave the school. Even so, she felt her stomach knot up with tension, because she had an idea of where he was going.

So much for that, she now thought of her dissolving light-hearted mood.

Hermione knew that her eyes would stay glued to the Marauder’s Map until Snape’s dot reappeared. The little focus she had was now gone, and forcing herself to read was pointless. Telling herself that sitting in the common room and worrying herself sick would also serve no purpose, Hermione cleared away the space she had been sitting at before standing up.

She didn’t have anything specific in mind, but Hermione didn’t want to stay in the common room. She thought about popping over to visit Hagrid, but it was a bit too cold outside for her liking. Hmm, but there was someone else she could visit, no matter that she had already seen them earlier. Another thought already formulating in her mind, Hermione purposefully walked off in the direction of the staircase.

It was nightfall when Snape finally returned to the castle. It didn’t matter that it was Christmas Eve; the Dark Lord saw no reason to let that get the way of his plans. Snape had been forced to listen to the Dark Lord belittle Lucius Malfoy for his blunder, while in the same breath asking about his son.

The malevolent wizard had then droned on for the next few hours. Snape knew that the Dark Lord was narcissistic as they came, and was most likely nattering on, purely to hear his own voice. But the last thing Snape felt like doing was listening to that sibilant voice while his serpentine familiar slithered about beneath the table, purposely brushing up against his legs.

When the meeting was adjourned, Snape took his time walking out into the brisk air, moving a few feet before Apparating to the entrance gates at Hogwarts. While he was thankful that they all hadn’t been forced to brutalise one another that evening, the only thing Snape wanted at that point was to sit before the hearth and get the chill out of his bones.

He had nearly made it to his door when he stopped in the middle of the empty corridors. Slowly he walked over to one of the hanging tapestries, and with reflexes quick as a snake’s, reached behind and let his fingers close around a slim arm.

“Quickly now, before you’re soon,” he urged in a hushed tone, prodding them to walk ahead.

“Miss Granger,” he began soon as they were in his room. Impatiently withdrawing his wand to flick it at Hermione’s head, he lifted the Disillusion Charm and took in her appearance.

Hermione stood before him, wearing a thick jumper and jeans, and a look of surprise on her face. Both hands were in front of her, holding onto a small basket.

“How did you know I was standing there?” she asked her mouth partially open. “Oh well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said in reply to the smirk that Snape threw her.

Ignoring her question, he went on to remove his travelling cloak and hung it up. “I should be asking why you were bold enough to come down here without my instruction.”

Hermione was flummoxed and wracked her brain for an answer. Did that mean that Snape didn’t want to see her? Was she overstepping her bounds…

“But I thought you said that I would see you later.”

“So I did, Miss Granger,” Snape replied, now flicking his wand at the hearth. “However, it was still foolish of you to wander down here on your own without knowing if I was in my rooms.”

“I knew you were on your way,” Hermione said, after exhaling in relief. “That’s why I hid. At first, I thought you might be another student, but then I saw your name and—“

“You saw my name? How?”

Hermione shifted the basket to one hand while digging out the Marauder’s Map with another. “This,” she answered, holding it up.

Snape’s nostrils flared as he saw the familiar piece of parchment, right before giving a little scoff. “Potter actually entrusted you with that rubbish? Oh, if he knew the purpose you were using it for.”

Hermione knew that Snape was being sarcastic by that point, but she shoved the map back into her pocket.

“As far as Harry is concerned, I’m using it to sneak to the library at night,” Hermione snapped. “And besides, I don’t have to report to him. He goes off and does what he wants, doesn’t he?”

“All too much,” Snape replied dismissively, while gesturing vaguely for Hermione to sit down.

Hermione took a seat in the armchair closest to the hearth, until Snape emphatically pointed to another place, while telling her to move out of his chair. Underneath the kisses, he’s still Snape, she thought of his defunct manners. Dropping down into the small sofa, she set the basket down by her feet and looked over at the wizard.

Snape had unbuttoned and removed his frock coat and was now unwinding his cravat. After setting the length of material down, he slumped down in his armchair, exhaling as he tilted his head back. The professor looked anxious, and if she could guess, most likely had a headache, as he brought a slim hand up to his temple and began rubbing.

“Umm, are you alright?” Hermione asked. “I’ll go if I’m bothering you—“

“No, I’m fine,” Snape answered in a clipped voice without looking at her.

Liar. Hermione thought it a shame that Snape had to go off to meet He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on Christmas Eve, of all nights. Whatever he had to endure that left him looking so grim made her stomach knot up with tension. Yet, in so many words, Snape said he didn’t want her to go…

Without giving it another thought, Hermione stood up and walked over to Severus. He cracked one eye open when he sensed the movement, yet remained quiet as the witch stood behind his armchair. Reaching down, Hermione placed her hands on Severus’ shoulders and began kneading them gently, unsure if she should use more force. Experimentally pressing down harder, she elicited a soft groan from the wizard, who seemed to melt further into the leather.

The high back of the chair pressed uncomfortably into her chest, but Hermione didn’t want to stop, as Severus now seemed to be more relaxed. She went on to massage his neck and then his temples. From her vantage point, she could see the bridge of Severus’ hooked nose, along with his chest slowly moving with deep, even breaths. The wizard was previously the literal picture of tension, as his hands had been clutching onto the sides of his armchair. Now his fingers were relaxed and slightly curved over the rolled leather edges.

Hermione was in the middle of sliding her fingertips over Severus’ scalp when he lifted one hand and caught her wrist. He didn’t say a word, and she waited to see what he wanted. Gently tugging on her hand, Severus guided Hermione from around the back of his chair and made her stand before him.

Snape still was not talking, yet he continued holding onto Hermione’s wrist. It was apparent that he wanted her closer, as he tugged at her wrist again. She was already standing between his knees, and the only other viable option was to straddle the professor in his armchair.

Doing just that, Hermione braced her hands on his shoulders and lowered herself to his lap. Snape shifted his weight to allow her knees to fit on either side of him, and she was soon comfortably situated atop his thighs.

His face inches away from hers, Hermione was able to hone in on the deep lines of stress embedded in his features. She thought herself silly for worrying about the professor during his absence. She knew that he had been taking care of himself long before she came along. Even so, he remained on her thoughts. When his dot finally reappeared on the Marauder’s Map, she had snatched up her basket and wand and ran out of the common room, hastily charming herself invisible before making her way down to the dungeons.

She had then roughly calculated just where they would meet one another, when Hermione swore that she heard another set of footsteps. The sound had been nothing but Peeves banging around, looking for trouble to get into. When the poltergeist found that the dungeons were deserted, he passed through a wall, off in search of something else to get into.

The corridor had fallen completely silent, and Hermione nearly lost it when her hiding place was discovered. The familiar voice that somehow managed to hiss into her invisible ear had been the only thing to keep her from wetting herself.

Damn sneaky snakes, she grumbled to herself.

Severus had now slipped one hand beneath Hermione’s jumper and unfastened her bra. She was almost tempted to ask how was he able to do so with one hand, as she always needed two to unlatch the thing, but his fingers began roaming over the expanse of her back, and Hermione soon forgot her question.

It was extremely cosy, sitting there before the crackling hearth with Severus caressing her back. Most of his tension seemed to have dissolved, as he didn't feel rigid against her. Although he still had his shirt on, and Hermione figured that if he was touching her without anything in the way, that she ought to do the same.

Slumping back to unbutton Severus' white shirt, Hermione lifted her gaze from her task to find the professor staring at her with his eyes at half-mast.

"Galleon for your thoughts?" she asked, feeling a bit foolish but not knowing what else to say.

"I assure you, you set your price far too high," Snape replied, moving forward so Hermione could push both sleeves down his arms.

"I would say it's too low," Hermione said, now removing her jumper and bra.

She had just opened her mouth to speak again when Severus pulled her against him and lowered his head to her breast, effectively shutting down her thoughts. Moaning quietly as his tongue swiped over her nipple, Hermione held onto Severus' shoulder and pulled him closer.

Soon his erection was pressing through his trousers and against her thigh, and Hermione stood up, hurriedly unfastening her jeans and slipping out of them and her knickers. Snape had also kicked out of his trousers and pants and was now waiting on his armchair for Hermione.

The witch didn't waste any time positioning her body over his. Hermione held onto the back of the chair while Severus placed the blunt tip of his cock at her opening. She wasn't that wet and had to move slowly, but after a few minutes of rocking her hips against his, Hermione was panting and meeting him thrust for thrust.

Heavy breathing was the only thing to give away Severus' arousal, although his hands were firmly gripping onto Hermione's hips, pushing them down each time his swooped up.

Had Hermione ever questioned if all the sneaking around was worth it, then her current answer would be a resounding 'yes', as she was already close to going over the edge. While Severus was letting her take the lead, he easily matched her movements with smooth, gliding ones of his own. His hand then slid from her waist and down to where their bodies were joined, and his thumb easily found her clit. The light, teasing caresses over its hood weren't enough to make her come, yet they did make Hermione buck her hips sharply against his, urging him to touch her harder.

When it still wasn't enough, Hermione threw both arms around Severus' neck, pulling him flush against her while grinding down onto him. Her thighs were beginning to ache, but Hermione finally sensed the stirrings of an orgasm and wasn't about to stop. With a soft cry she went over, shuddering from head to toe as she dug her fingers into Severus' back. Hermione went limp as she began to come down, and felt Severus stroking her back again.

"At least I know of one way to render you speechless," he said in a low voice against her ear.

Hermione shivered as his warm breath ran over her neck and gave an embarrassed sort of laugh.

"That isn't nice," she replied, gently pinching his side.

"You weren't complaining a minute ago."

"I suppose I wasn't," she answered languidly. "Although my legs are complaining; in fact, they're screaming at me now."

"I suppose they would be," Severus chuckled as he wrapped both arms around Hermione's waist and scooted forwards in the armchair. "Hold onto me."

Bracing her arms and legs around his thin frame, Hermione jumped when she felt Severus stand up with her still wrapped around him. He walked over to the sofa that he had previously complained about, and set her down on it.

"Don't even know why I'm using this damn thing when I have a bed," Snape said in a gruff tone, although he tilted Hermione's hips towards his and thrust back into her.

The rigid sofa really wasn't that comfortable, but that was the least of Hermione's worries as she braced herself with one foot against its arm, and wrapped her other leg around Severus' waist. Severus had grabbed onto the sofa arm above Hermione's head, holding onto the slick wood as he drove himself deeper into her body.

Severus had been trying to hold out, but when Hermione's breath hitched and she clamped down on him a second time, she triggered his release, and the two came together in a chorus of moans. They remained on the sofa, clinging to one another until their breathing slowed down. Severus had his face buried between Hermione's breasts, and she was stroking his dark hair away from his face.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"You were right, this sofa is uncomfortable. Can we please move?"

Snape gave a short laugh against her skin, yet pressed a kiss between her breasts, then her lips, and pushed himself up.

" I told you it was; I hate the damned thing."

Hermione sat up and wrapped both arms around her body. "Well then, why don't you get rid of it? Or charm it into something softer?"

"The thought has crossed my mind, of course, only after sitting on it for ten minutes," Snape replied. "Come along, then. It's too cold for you to stay out here like that."

Her naked, sweat-dampened body had started to cool off, and Hermione realised that she was shivering. Rising from the sofa, she followed an equally naked Snape to the bedroom, her eyes glued to the long line of his pale back.

Once they were in his room, Snape handed Hermione what looked like one of his long nightshirts. After pulling it over her head, Hermione found that the hem and sleeves were much too long, but she was warm.

"Must you be so tall?" she griped, looking at the pile of grey material her feet were swimming in.

"Must you be so short?" Severus shot back, now holding up another nightshirt and pulling it over his head. "Quit your whinging and get into bed."

Hermione flipped her hair back in a defiant gesture but did as she was told. Climbing onto the bed and sliding beneath the duvet, she peeled the covers down on the other side and waited for Severus to join her. When he was settled next to her, Hermione rolled over onto her side and began stroking Severus' chest through his nightshirt.

"What's in that basket you were lugging about?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing the duvet off her legs and wriggling out of bed. "I nearly forgot about that."

Snape watched as she held up the hem of the too-long nightshirt and scampered out of his room, soon returning with the basket.

"Surely you could have summoned it here," he said as Hermione worked her way back onto the bed, the basket loop over her arm.

"I didn't want everything to fall," she explained, setting it down between them and opening it. "When I didn't see you on the map for a long time, I figured that you would be late in returning to the castle. And I figured you hadn't eaten so...I tried to tell Dobby to let me make at least one thing, but you know how the house-elves are. They nearly bit my head off, but they did give me everything I asked for."

Hermione stopped pawing through the basket long enough to see that Snape was looking at her, one of his almost-smiles on his face.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know," she replied with a small shrug. "But I wanted to, and besides, it's Christmas Eve and I didn't know what else to—"

Snape leaned over and pressed a finger against Hermione's lips. "Thank you," he said, briefly kissing her once she stopped prattling on.

It turned out that the house-elves had done a good job at following Hermione's direction, because Snape ate everything with relish, even taking seconds. Once they were done eating, Snape brought out a bottle of elderflower wine, which Hermione gratefully accepted. She was sipping on her second glass and leaning against the professor, who was sitting up in bed with an arm around the witch, using the headboard to support his back.

"I wonder if it's Christmas yet?" Hermione mused aloud.

"There's only one way to find out," Snape replied, leaning over to his bedside table and picking up what looked like an antique pocket watch. "Indeed it is, it's after midnight."

"Hmm. If I tell you 'Happy Christmas', will you bite my head off?"

"Given the circumstances, I think that I can remain on my best behaviour," Snape replied with a smirk.

"Well since you put it that way," Hermione giggled, "Happy Christmas, Severus."

"Are you expected me to say it back?"

"It would be nice, but you don't have to."

"If I say it and you tell anyone, I will deny it," Snape deadpanned. "Very well, then. Happy Christmas."

"Don't worry, Professor Scrooge. Your secret is safe with me," Hermione assured, breaking out into another fit of laughter as Snape glared at her.
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Unintentional Inveiglement