Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Madrigal	By : Rotisserie_Cassowary Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 7982 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
I awoke in the late evening to find that Hermione had left me. A tray on my bedside table held a bowl of chicken soup with a heat charm placed on it, three crusty sourdough rolls, and, adorably, a packet of chocolate biscuits. I carried my tray into the library to find her hunched over the table. Every square inch was covered with books, sketches, notes, graphs, and wadded up trash: crisp packets, cauldron cake wrappers, scraps of paper, a surprisingly large volume of tissues. She looked up at me, smiling timidly, and I raised an eyebrow with a pointed look at the mess. She laughed and rolled her eyes, grabbing a couple books and notepads and dropping them on the ground.
I placed my tray in the little spot she’d cleared for me and began to eat. I bolted this food down as quickly as my last meal, wondering where I’d suddenly gotten such an appetite from. Going days without eating was business as usual for me. That’s why my body had dwindled down to its current emaciated state, nothing left but bones and wiry muscle. Thank Merlin I’m freakishly tall, or else I wouldn’t even be able to intimidate a first-year.
Hermione didn’t make me talk, just grinned at me and went back to her research. I simply watched her in her most natural element, ink all over her hands, hair flying everywhere, forehead creased in concentration. She knew I was staring, but seemed unbothered by it. She would occasionally glance up at me and give me a tiny smile, then go back to her book. I finished the meal with my biscuits, dipping them in the little glass of milk she’d thoughtfully provided. She studiously avoided looking at the fearsome potions master eating cookies and milk, endearingly attempting to preserve my dignity.
I spelled the tray to float away to the kitchen, then stood and stretched. I took a book off of my pile (much larger than hers now) and settled onto the far side of the couch. I cleared my throat and looked up at her. She blushed, grabbing one of her tomes and nearly scampering over to me. She laid down on her side, resting her head gently on my lap. Her hair was everywhere, covering my legs and stomach with its incredible mass. I buried my hand in it, unthinkingly, and she beamed while staring carefully at her book. Her hair somehow felt both fluffy and coarse at the same time. It was incredibly dense, like night-and-day compared to my own thin, fine hair. She obviously conditioned it religiously, because it was astoundingly soft. I gently massaged her scalp, and her eyes closed in pleasure.
We both tried to read, but there was a distinct lag in our usual fast-and-furious pace of page flipping. I had moved to gently squeezing her neck right at the base of her skull. She would occasionally make distracting little noises of enjoyment, sighs and quiet groans. I moved down to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, thumbing the thick pad of muscle. She let out a distinct moan, and her eyes closed.
I continued to massage her for a few seconds, but then she suddenly rolled over onto her back. She looked up at me searchingly, with concern and something else darker in her eyes. I stared back at her, keeping my face impassive.
After a minute, she sat up and turned her entire body to face me, folding her legs underneath her. The added height made her see nearly eye-to-eye with me. “What happened to you?” she asked, eliciting an aggrieved sigh from me. I glared at her, furious that she would ruin our perfect silence. “You don’t want to know, little girl.”
“I do want to know! I need to know! I need to know what you go through!” she asserted passionately.
“You can’t handle it, girl. It would break you,” I snarled.
She looked terrified, and after a long pause asked shakily, “What do you do, Sir? What do you not want me to know?” Her lip quivered, and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
I flew into a rage, screaming at her at the top of my lungs, “I don’t do anything more than I have to! Yes, I do monstrous fucking shit all the goddamn time! Is that what you want to hear, Miss Granger? That I’m a demon? That I’m going around fucking other teenage girls all against their will? That I’m a rapist??”
She shook her head frantically, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.
“I’ve never raped ANYONE, got it, little girl? There are ways around these things. Potions, memory charms, public humiliation. So you can get that out of your pretty little head,” I hissed with sudden dangerous calm, “But I am not a good man. Don’t fucking fool yourself. I’ve done worse things than you could ever dream up in your foulest nightmares. I’ve been responsible for the suffering of hundreds of people. Do you realize I make poisons for BOTH sides of the war? I’m loathsome in the truest sense of the word.”
She reached out for my hand, gripping it tightly it between her much smaller ones. Tears were still flowing freely from her eyes, but she refused to sob aloud. “I want to understand. I know you’re not a ‘good man’, but who is, really? Even Dumbledore has put all our lives in danger a hundred times! I just think that you’re terribly brave, and I know the things you’re forced to do hurt you! You don’t enjoy causing pain…”
I laughed then, loudly and maniacally, “That’s exactly my point, you insipid little brat! I do enjoy causing pain! I’m fucked in the head! You can’t handle any of this!” I gestured around wildly. My rapid heartbeat thrummed in my ringing ears. My hands were shaking from all the adrenaline racing through my system.
Suddenly, her wand was in hand and she whispered, “Legilimens…” I was completely caught off guard, so she immediately barreled through my mind. She was flipping through me like a book, yanking dozens of memories from the darkest corners. Flashes of movement flew past her, bodies in the throes of agony and ecstasy. When she’d bring up particularly disturbing images of torture, I’d hurriedly fog them over. Occasionally, I’d let her watch longer passages: dosing a young girl with a nightmarish hallucinogenic potion so that she’d scream and cry, making the Death Eaters believe I was violating her; casting Avada Kedavra to put Death Eaters’ muggle playthings out of their misery; “accidently” sending curses wide during battles, killing and maiming my compatriots.
Then, horribly, she arrived at the memories of the previous two days. They were fuzzy and indistinct, blurred by all the alcohol. But she saw more than enough. Though I covered them frantically, she watched Rowle blackmailing the woman, Carrow’s revolting assault, the Lestranges’ demented sex games. She saw the roiling hordes of bodies, fighting and fucking like rats in a cage.
I felt her retreat slightly, obviously overwhelmed with everything she’d seen. I started to shove her out of my mind, but she reacted immediately. She leapt slightly farther back in time, diving into the minutes before my Dark Mark burned. I struggled frantically, trying to build a fog over my emotions, but there it was: burning bright like a torch in the night. She felt my elation, my fierce joy. My all-consuming desire to have her, to possess her. My insatiable lust. My powerful self-loathing. My fear of hurting her, of scaring her, of making her do something she didn’t want to do.
I let out a mighty bellow, shoving her violently out of my head. She stared at me, eyes wild and unreadable, and began to reach for me. Her hands cupped my cheeks, she leaned forward…
I shoved her hands away from my face. I flew off the couch, spewing forth an incoherent string of expletives.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?! You don’t just invade someone’s mind, Miss Granger!” I slammed my hand down on the mantle, knocking picture frames and knick-knacks to the ground.
She got a furious, self-righteous look on her face and screamed, “Yeah, you’re one to talk! You love nothing more than rifling through MY most embarrassing moments for your own amusement!”
I let out another incoherent noise of rage, grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey off the bar cart, stormed into my room, and slammed the door behind me. I spent the next few hours drinking and smoking, utterly ensconced in a cloud of self-recrimination. You’re a fucking monster. How could you ever think she’d be attracted to you? She was obviously terrified of you the whole time, but you were so caught up in your fantasies that you refused to see the truth. You’ve traumatized and practically sexually assaulted your student. A child that you’re supposed to be responsible for. That you’re supposed to protect. THAT YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO FUCK, YOU BLOODY STUPID IDIOT!! It doesn’t matter that she’s old enough to legally consent! You’re in a position of power over her! She’s just too scared to push you away!
Around 3 AM I couldn’t stand it anymore and left my room. I’d finished nearly the entire bottle and had to piss like a racehorse. I used the bathroom and headed back through the library to my room to continue getting fucked up. But then I noticed, through the gloom, the little shape on the couch. She was sitting in the far corner, curled up in a tiny ball, wrapped in the cloak I’d given her. I edged closer and could see that her face and eyes were terribly swollen from hours of crying. As if she could feel my gaze weighing on her, she stirred and opened her eyes slowly. She startled when she noticed my silhouette in the darkened room, but then relaxed when she realized it was me.
She looked at me beseechingly, and my heart melted in an instant. I went to her, sweeping her up in my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck, settling her head against my shoulder. I carried her into the other room and lowered her gently onto my bed. She gratefully burrowed under the covers.
I stood at the foot of the bed for a long time, watching her, sick with fear and dread. Eventually she sat up, reached for my hand, and whispered, “Severus…” Pushing aside all reason and doubt, I climbed in with her.
She turned her back to me and pressed against me, molding every curve of her body to my own. I cautiously wrapped one arm around her waist, and she promptly took my hand in her own. She brought it to her chest, clutching my arm tightly around her. Then, miraculously, she placed a tiny, quick kiss on my palm. My stomach ached like it had been hollowed out with an icepick. I inhaled the scent of her hair, relishing the sensation of her body against my own. She felt so slight and willowy beside me that it stirred some primitive protective instinct within myself. I laid awake a long time after she drifted off, desperately trying to sear the moment into my memory. We’d be back at Hogwarts the next night, back to real life, back to being student and professor.
- 23
- 24
- 25
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Madrigal