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Heating up Hogwarts	By : SweetTorments Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 24021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Severus lowered himself to the bed slowly, the sound of his door slamming still reverberating in the background. The warmth her body had thrown welcomed him into its folds. The scent of her was overbearing inside the small room. He threw an arm over his eyes and groaned. There were certain lines a professor should not cross. As of five minutes ago, he had blown them all to hell.

The image of her, writhing exactly where he lay now, forcibly invaded his mind. As if in reminder, his body twitched and throbbed. Discomfort was a mild word for what he felt. How she ever managed to get out of his rooms relatively intact he would never know. There she was, spread wide in invitation and he had not only refrained from touching her, he had ordered her from his sight! With a couple of expert motions he freed himself. A groan slithered past his lips and he allowed himself to replay the events that had just occurred. Strong, precise strokes quickly tipped him over the edge. Her sounds of pleasure echoing in his mind as he took his own.

But damn it, the girl was shameless. He snorted and rose from the bed. It was the potion's doing, he knew that. In truth, that was one of the reasons he had shoved her out the door so fast. He couldn't imagine her coming to herself, sane for the first time in days, to find herself exposed on his bed. It would be a miracle if she wasn't on her way to Dumbledore's office even now. There was no love lost between himself and the trio, even if they were fighting for the same side. That was one reason why he had balked so when he realized she had chosen him. He was perhaps the only faculty member not falling forward on bending knee to serve her. He harassed her whenever possible, making snide remarks and goading her efforts at every turn. Any reasonable person would loathe him, which was as it should be. For some reason, unbeknown to both of them he would guess, she craved his touch. Perhaps she craved his dominance.

Snape smirked and tried desperately to ignore his physical response at the notion. There was no help for it. He would simply get hard every time she walked into the room. The gloating smirk turned to a scowl and he tried to reign himself in. She was an innocent girl. An incredibly stupid innocent, but an innocent.

Innocent?

His mind threw the word back at him. In his experience under Voldemort he had seen and done things that no reasonably pious person would consider. Yet, truth be told, he couldn't remember a time he had ever been quite as turned on as he had been tonight. How in the world had she escaped unscathed? He shook the thought out of his head and forced his mind onward. She was a virgin and she wasn't acting of her own accord.

She was offering herself up on a platter and begging for his touch.

"Damn it," he huffed out. First things first, he stalked toward the chimney and Flooed Dumbledore.

"Yes, Severus?" The old man looked worried but not completely out of sorts. Of course, if he flew apart every time one of them was in danger it would make for an interesting life.

"Miss Granger just presented herself to me. I treated some minor wounds and sent her to her rooms. She was exhausted." He purposefully made the message cavalier. "I believe tomorrow will be soon enough to question and punish the girl."

"Oh, that is good news. And I tend to agree if you're sure she is quite all right.”

"Quite." Severus nodded, suggested they both get some sleep, and ended the Floo session.

She could be so good as to explain what had happened to the both of them tomorrow. His earlier anger came back with a vengeance. Now it wasn't even twinged with worry, albeit the twinge had been very small. With the righteousness of his anger assured, he began pacing. She disappeared for an entire day, getting into god knew what kind of trouble to obtain those wounds, and then wandering down to his private rooms for his help. And he had helped her! Even after she decided to parade herself about naked, he had helped her. He was a Death Eater and a spy, for the love of Merlin! He would not be manipulated by a brash, inexperienced hoyden. Let alone a Gryffindor! A Slytherin might have pulled it off. Of course, most of his girls had been tutored by Draco's firm hand years ago.

His mind flew from one topic to another throughout the long night. Every once in a while he would circle back to the subject of his rage. Damn her!

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"But where were you?" Ron refused to give up on his line of questioning.

"Ron," she huffed at him indignantly, "I have explained to you, countless times, that I merely had things to think about." Hermione privately thanked every god she could think of that her temperament was more pleasant today. With his relentless questioning, Ron wouldn't have held up too long yesterday.

"Yes, but where? Filch searched the entire castle. McGonagall was going out of her mind, you should have seen it."

"I'm sorry to have caused everyone so much worry. I'm fine now." Hermione tried her best to smile brightly.

"Don't forget Snape." There was an unmistakable edge to Harry's voice. "He cornered us after class and demanded to know where you were."

"Truly scary, that bastard." Ron shoved another piece of bacon into his mouth. "Glad to have the greasy git on our side, all things considered."

"What?" Hermione squeaked out. Even Harry rose his eyebrows at the uncharacteristic statement. It took every bit of conviction she had not to look toward her confusing professor.

"Just saying, is all." He shrugged as if the thought no longer concerned him. "Now, where exactly were you? Did you find a new spot? We checked the Room of Requirement, but you weren't there either. Tell us, Hermione."

"I was in the forest," she finally admitted with a sigh.

It felt good to confide in them about something. She could hardly share what happened after she got back. A scorching flush settled over her, more mortification than anything else, and she ducked her head. She would not think about that—not now, not ever.

"Why?" Harry asked softly. Her eyes drew to his even gaze and she let out another huff of air. Sometimes she missed the childish excitement, even the temper of his early teens, that had all but abandoned him. He was so withdrawn now, intelligent but quietly cynical.

"I needed time to think."

She didn't balk at the lie. It was close enough to the truth even if she hadn't done much thinking. Now she needed some time to herself just for the quiet it would award. Her head was already beginning to pound. It conveniently echoed the pulsing of her upper back. Even after the salve, it ached painfully.

The professors began to leave their table. On cue, most of the other students stood to do the same. Finally unable to help herself, Hermione glanced toward her professor. The lack of him was obvious immediately. At once disappointment spread but so too did relief. He was going to eat her alive during Potions. She just knew it. The first class passed slowly, but not unbearably. The second was harder. Professor McGonagall fussed and questioned. In the end, she had pulled Hermione over to the side and offered a nonjudgmental ear if ever she was in need of one. Hermione had been half listening, embarrassed and guilt-ridden. The next bit of news pulled her from her thoughts instantly. The Headmaster had requested her attendance in his office during the lunch period. Of course, Professor Snape would be there, but McGonagall would be happy to come along if it would make her more comfortable. With a shake of her head and a few quickly forgotten words, Hermione dodged past her favorite professor and into the halls.

By the end of her third class, panic had taken over so fully that she hadn't taken a single word down in her notes. Her next class was with Snape. Directly after that they had their meeting with the Headmaster. What would happen if Snape decided to tell the Headmaster everything? Surely, she couldn't stay at Hogwarts if she was constantly coming on to her professor. And after last night....

Hermione paused her internal dialogue to cringe and groan softly.

She would be sent away. Perhaps just until spring, or until an anti-potion could be found. Cooped up with her parents, too turned on to think, she would go out of her mind. This was her home. She couldn't be sent away. She had worked so hard to get where she was; it couldn't all end now. And Professor Snape...even now, almost content and sedated, she knew that she couldn't leave him. He would make her life hell, but at least she would still be alive. Without him, without Hogwarts or her friends, what would happen to her?

"Brace yourself," Harry quipped as he came along side her.

“God, what now?" She groaned.

"Haven't you heard? Half the school has detention with Filch tonight." He made a sweeping motion with his hand and Hermione started looking around. Students had stopped in the halls to whisper quietly. Not a few of them still had tears in their eyes. And with every step closer to the dungeons, the overall silence became more obvious, quiet whispers the only sound.

"Snape?" she guessed.

"House points are down to nothing." He looked around quickly. "Ginny recommends avoiding eye contact, but she said he took away points for answering questions incorrectly, correctly and 'in a tone.' Then he took away points for not answering quickly enough...and for 'sniveling like infants.'"

"Oh my." She had the sneaking suspicion this might be her fault.

"And that was before he lost his temper and started issuing detentions!" his voice squeaked as it rang with excited anger and tried to be hushed at the same time. "What in the world could be up his arse?"

"I really don't know, Harry."

She avoided looking at anyone in the hallway. It wasn't her fault that Snape was a bastard! In fact, his anger was probably just seething pleasantly until it found its true mark. How would she convince him to keep quiet about this whole thing when he couldn't help but take it out on everyone within sight? Damn it to hell, she ought to just skip his class and start packing now. This would very likely be her last day at Hogwarts.

She took her seat quickly. It was almost too easy to remain quiet as everyone else prattled on. Five simple minutes later found her stomach tied into knots. Patience had never been a friend, and now she was nearly quivering with the need to see him. To hear him. Within plain sight of her classmates, Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from gasping. The sound of his voice had plagued her dreams.

He swept in, black cloth billowing behind him. The room went absolutely quiet with his entrance. All eyes diverted from him at once, finding interest on the far wall or their feet. All eyes, that is, except Hermione's. She couldn't have looked away to save her life. And inflaming his anger was just that, the end of her life. Still, she watched him move. Slow understanding began to roll over her. The way he walked, the way he talked, his eyes, his hands...his frock. He wasn't pretty, wasn't pleasant, but he was undeniably sexy. It didn't hinder this understanding that she would forever associate the feel of his breath whispering over her ear with her first taste of pleasure.

"To what do I owe the renewed scent of fear in the air?" He stopped on his heels gracefully and surveyed the room. "No matter. It's a blessed respite from the babbling of idiots that usually accompanies my entrance. Let's keep it this silent, shall we?"

He was leaning against his work table, seemingly relaxed. For once he wasn't standing rigid and hyper aware of everything around him. The simple change was terrifying. Hermione found herself quivering in excited fear and blushed as she realized she liked it. The slow burn that had ceased after the events in the dungeons was making itself known again.

"You will be working on an anti love potion. What you need is on the board." He motioned behind him offhandedly.

"But love potions are illegal," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Indeed." He drew himself upward quickly, like a snake posed to attack. Hermione snuck a quick glare at Ronald, the idiot! "Unfortunately, being forbidden isn't adequate defense. For every rule there is someone willing to break it, and enjoy doing so." His eyes bore into hers, his smirk just for her. "Isn't that right," his voice spiked and Hermione felt herself color in embarrassment, "Potter?"

"I'm sure." He didn't answer one way or another, just diverted his eyes neutrally.

"Look at me when I speak to you," he bit out. "Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Harry merely looked at Snape and nodded in acceptance. Crabbe and Goyle mocked Harry under their breaths, laughing softly. Snape's eyes snapped their way and he sneered.

"And twenty from Slytherin. When I say silent, I mean silent." His eyes scanned the rest of the group quickly. "The potion today is Siren's Bane." His body tensed the smallest bit as he said it. His eyes landed on hers to rile her. "Who can tell me what a Siren is?"

The man was a menace! Her eyes wandered away from his, confused and angry. Looking around the room she realized that no one else was going to volunteer the information. It wasn't that difficult. Could they all be that intimidated by their professor? At the thought, she sniffed quietly. Stupid question. Of course they were.

"Miss Granger, what is a Siren?" His full attention was locked on her. By all logical means she ought to be cowering under his attention. Yet some part of her welcomed it. Let him sneer and provoke. She could take anything he had to give, even humiliation.

"I don't know, Professor." Unlike Harry, she met his gaze fully in confrontation.

"But I was under the impression that you knew everything," he smiled sarcastically, "and on the off chance that you didn't know something, you'd make it up."

"I don't know." She mirrored his smile back to him. "I could, of course, make it up, if you'd like."

"I'd give you detention, but one never knows where you'll be from one moment to the next. So, why doesn't Mr. Potter take this one for you." His eyes landed on Harry for just an instant and then went back to Hermione. "Care to try again?"

"A siren," she growled, "is a woman who uses her voice to lure men to their destruction." All thoughts of embarrassment or hesitation had left. Once again she was caught up in his energy, excited and angry.

"Theoretically it's her song that calls men, but I suppose it could be extended to any needy, mewling sounds. Wouldn't you imagine, Miss Granger?" His jet black brows rose slowly, triumphantly. The scent of him came to her and she realized he was getting off on this.

"I'm sure," she agreed with a grin, "but tell me, Professor, what do they call a man who lures with his voice?"

"I have no idea, but that'll be another detention for holding up the class. Mr. Weasley, I'd hate to deprive you of Mr. Potter for two hours."

"Yes, Sir." Ron nodded and shot an angry look her way.

With that, he dismissed them to their work. No one made a peep. Eyes were cast downward in submission. Even the Slytherins looked unsure of their place. Every once in a while, Hermione couldn't help but sneak a peek at him. She was seething, and every time she met his gloating eyes, she raged a little more. He was just loving this. Fear was palpable in the air. As was the humming energy rolling off his body. She could almost sense his thoughts, his emotions. They were hers as recently as yesterday. He felt powerful, in charge. He held everyone within sight under his thumb in one way or another. It irked her to admit that she too was under his control. He could make her life miserable with one slip of his tongue. The entire school would know her for a whore within minutes.

And had he really created a lesson plan just to humiliate her? Could it be a coincidence that he chose to teach the Siren's Bane today? She couldn't believe it. Nothing he did was that innocent. He was aware of everything. He was control and power and...she was giving him entirely too much credit. He chose the potion because he was angry and petty. Last night she had thrown him out of control. Granted, she had been the one writhing on the bed as he watched. Was it perhaps time for a Forgetfulness Potion? Yet he had participated. God knew he had participated. His instructions and, more accurately, his voice had played a crucial role in last night's happenings. She might have humiliated herself, but he wasn't without blame. Oh, no. He told her to strip, teased her body until it was frantic, and then threw her on his bed. That was as far from innocent as it was possible to get!

Class finally ended and everyone scurried from his sight as fast as possible. He threw her a look of disdain and then ducked inside his store rooms. She followed after him quickly, refusing to give herself time to think about it. Stepping into the room, she swung the door shut behind her, gratified by the slight slam. He didn't react as she had hoped. He gave her an unimpressed look and continued to put away the supplies from the day.

"What was that? How dare you make implications like that in front of the class?" She paused and waited for him to comment. He turned slowly and looked her over from head to toe and back. When finally his eyes met hers, she was impressed again with the size of him. He was tall and solid. Very, very, impressive. "Answer me," she squeaked out.

"Why don't you bring it up with the Headmaster? We're scheduled to meet with him any minute." He continued to stock the ingredients.

"No," the first word came out desperately but she evened her voice out immediately, "please don't tell anyone what happened."

"And why not?" He finally emptied his hands and gave her his full attention, his look quizzical.

"If Dumbledore knows I've chosen you, I might have to leave.”

"That's one possibility." He didn't add that it wasn't the most likely one. Sounding much less interested than he was, Snape said,"He does need some explanation.”

"I'll tell him about the Polyjuice Potion, just not that I've chosen you."

His obvious disinterest only made her more desperate to get his attention. She scooted closer and then gasped, almost drowning in him. Going stock still, she tried to clear her head of the intense lethargy swimming through her body. She wanted to curl into it and stay forever.

"You admit that you chose me?" Though his voice seemed angry, she knew she didn't have to fear him. Or rather, didn't care what kind of pain he instilled. It'd be easy to snarl back and beg for more.

"Yes." It seemed an easy admission after all they had been through. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"You'd trust my word?" he mocked.

"Yes," she bit out and turned dominating eyes on his, "promise me."

"Don't try to bully me, Miss Granger.” His voice echoed harshly but was tinged with amusement.

"Promise me!" she shouted. He cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed, and tilted his head back slightly. "Damn you, you are the most insufferable man."

"Really," he chastised her loss of control.

"Yes, really. You're arrogant, mean tempered, and selfish.... this is not my fault and you're being most uncooperative."

"I thought I was most cooperative last night. Arrogant, maybe, but the furthest thing from selfish." His dark snarl was there but she heard the excitement running through him. It caught up energy, angry and excited, in herself. "I wasn't the one naked on my bed, moaning like a whore."

She slapped him. Hard. Her hand stung. His cheek quickly turned bright red. Neither of them moved for an instant. Neither spoke. They stood, not more than two feet apart. Both chests heaving in anger. She wanted to hurt him again.

He moved quickly. A blur of blackness and an impression of incredible strength. Long, able fingers caught at her shoulders and swung her around. Her shoulder blades slammed against the wall. He was so close now, looming over her, watching the emotions flash over her face. Arousal laced with pain as she recoiled from his anger, sparking energy unfurling within her chest and promising something dark and violent. As his hand fisted in her hair and yanked her head back, he growled into her upturned face. Then crushed their mouths together brutally, the chaste kiss meant to punish and dominate. Their first.

Never more than an instant away from desperate need, his overwhelming presence, the pain, ignited a ravenous hunger and she erupted. Struggling against him, not to get away but to get closer, she wordlessly begged for more of his punishment.

Jerking his mouth away but tightening the hand in her hair, he snarled, “You're suicidal.”

Blinking at him owlishly as she licked the taste of him from her lips, she whimpered with need, and then dared, “Only if you stop.”

She watched him shudder, some of his fury seeming to shake free, but his gaze was suddenly darker, more fiercely lustful than she'd ever imagined. His mouth came down again, this time curving over hers with possessive intent. Dangerously impatient, Hermione nipped at his lip and then bit down hard. Her body pulsed with excitement even as his half-growl/half-groan vibrated against her lips. Her belly clenched and she gasped, an invitation he did not ignore. His tongue swiped over her lip and then surged within the heat of her mouth. Eager for battle, she returned the kiss with force, reeling from his wicked, skillful invasion.

As they fought for supremacy, his hands grasped her hips roughly and jerked her closer. She twined her hands into his hair, determined to keep him where she wanted him. In response, his thumbs bit into her hipbones and only increased their pressure when she arched against him instinctually. Gasping into their kiss, only goaded higher by the pain her body no longer recognized as such, Hermione hooked one leg around the outside of his thigh, the angle scandalously better. Left with barely enough time to congratulate her cleverness, she was hiked into the air and pinned harder against the wall. Instinct guided her legs around his hips, and, damn, wasn't he more clever by far.

Stunned by her need and positioned at his eye level for the first time, they shared a single moment of stillness as their eyes met and exchanged some meaning she couldn't fathom. Then he was kissing her again and her nails were scrapping down his neck. His chest rumbled against hers, his hard contours offering delicious friction against her breasts. When his hips twitched forward, she squirmed.

Her legs tightened, drawing him as close as was possible, making her burn. One of his hands left her hip and slid upward with more sensuous patience than she would have imagined possible at that moment. His palm traced the outside of her breast purposefully, and she was drowning, her shoulders curling so he could get that hand between their bodies where she needed it. Her hips ground into his, making her whimper as his length nudged against her even as his fingertips slid over her nipple. Vaguely familiar, sinfully delicious, feelings began to roll over her, sapping some of her violent desperation as her pleasure mounted. She still kissed him, punishing with her force, but her body softened, melding to his contours in wordless submission. He snorted, derisive and triumphant, and his tongue took up a new rhythm. It caught hers and seduced. The slide and pull of him felt too good to battle and she forgot to fight.

The bell rang.

She came to herself with a jolt, but the shuddering readiness of her body didn't immediately drop away with her new-found thought process. She broke the kiss and tried to push him away. A moment later, his eyes met hers. Always black but suddenly fathomless and velvet, he watched her as his breath escaped unevenly. Suppressing another violent shudder, she loosened her grip on his hips and stood. Her knees buckled and he steadied her before his grasping fingers turned to fists, and he stepped back.

"Dumbledore," she said, her voice rusty and quivering.

"Dumbledore?" he growled, looking angry and mystified.

"We have a meeting with Dumbledore. Right now." She began brushing out her robe quickly, panic swelling.

"I'll be there in a minute." He stalked over to the supplies and began straightening them. When she only balked at his irrational behavior, he turned cold eyes her way. "Don't just stand there staring like a twit, go."

Hermione dashed through the hallway and toward the Headmaster's staircase. She panted out the password and rode it to the top. During this brief period she had a moment to collect herself and cast a series of cleansing and straightening charms on herself. All the peace she had enjoyed since her release the night before had abandoned her. Now the humiliation of having him tease an orgasm from her with nothing but his voice coupled with the agony of her body's unfulfilled lust and yet more embarrassment. Only, this time, Snape had completely lost his control. That knowledge alone allowed her to keep a semblance of her usual level headed behavior alive.

"Headmaster," she greeted him with a smile, trying to convey normality.

"Hermione." He rose from his desk with a twinkling smile. "I was wondering what was keeping you."

"I'm sorry."

Looking around the office studiously, she tried to ignore the question hanging in the air. Luckily, the sound of the stairs filled the office. Professor Snape was on his way. Silence fell heavy on the room until the snarky professor ambled into it. His eyes swept the room quickly, seeming to judge them both before falling on the chair he settled into.

"Headmaster, I've got another class soon, if we can hurry this along." He seemed both relaxed and tensed at once.

"Very well, Severus," he spoke softly, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Hermione, you caused us quite a scare yesterday."

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," she squeaked out. "I needed some time to think. The things is...." she struggled to find the words.

"She's suffering from a botched Polyjuice Potion. You'll remember I made you aware of the ramifications." Snape rolled the words off his tongue, not sounding embarrassed or even interested.

"Ah, yes, of course." He looked distinctly uncomfortable for a moment. "Lemon drop?" He held out the candy jar after a pause and gave a gentle smile.

"No, thank you, Headmaster." She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "Madam Pomfrey directed me to Professor Snape. I've been made aware of the situation. I, um... I'm trying to manage, Sir."

"I'm sure you are, Hermione." He reached forward and patted her hand soothingly.

"The antidote won't be available until spring," Snape commented dryly.

"Mmm," he clucked and shook his head, "You were wounded yesterday? Where were you?"

"I was attacked by an odd cat being in the Forbidden Forest." There, it sounded better all at once, right?

"What were you doing in the Forbidden Forest? Can you possibly be that...." he cut off drastically when Albus cleared his throat. "What happened with the Spirat?"

"The what?" she asked.

"That odd cat you mentioned is called a Spirat. I believe it's a contraction of spirit cat, though you would have to ask Hagrid about that," Albus said and shot Snape a quelling look when the younger man opened his mouth to elaborate.

"I killed it," she said with false pleasantness and tossed Snape a bitter sweet smile, "and I was in the forest because it drew me there. I had to go."

"It drew you? What did you do in the forest?" Snape asked, for once refused to be drawn into a quarrel.

As quickly as possible she tried to explain to them her feelings in the forest. The trance-like state she had fallen into was hard to describe but she struggled through it. When it came time to talk about the blood lust she blushed through the entire thing, but she told them. There was no real way to get across the peace she felt when swallowed up by the forest, the pleasure.

"Ah, Hermione, this is indeed good news." The Headmaster smiled serenely.

"How is this good news? The forest might afford her some peace, but it's hardly helpful if she gets herself killed." Snape shifted slightly in his seat.

"True, my boy, but it'll provide an excellent place to begin her lessons." He popped another piece of candy.

"Occlumency, I take it?" Professor Snape nodded, clearly annoyed.

"Occlumency? That's to keep someone from invading your mind. How is that helpful?" Hermione asked.

"You can't imagine how clearing your mind, controlling your emotions, and centering yourself might come in useful?" Professor Snape simply cocked an eyebrow.

"Okay. So, Professor Snape and I are going to practice Occlumency in the Forbidden Forest, alone?" Hermione could hardly control a quiver from overtaking her at the thought. She was both uneasy and anxious, aroused and afraid. The knowledge that he hadn't agreed to keep their secret wouldn't leave her mind.

"Unless there's a reason Professor Snape can't help you?" The Headmaster's question rang out and was met by silence. Hermione held her breath, aware that her heart was beating out of control. With one word he could send her home, or at the very least make her life very difficult. Her eyes caught his desperately, begging him to help. His black orbs stared back, emotionless. His lips quirked and her belly jumped.

"I don't see that I have much choice in the matter." Professor Snape frowned deeply in distaste and stood. With a snort he turned sharply, black fabric billowing behind him, and took the stairs.

Hermione watched him leave, holding down her excitement. She wouldn't have to leave Hogwarts. Now all she had to do was make it through private lessons with her angry professor and her traitorous body.
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Heating up Hogwarts