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Matters of the Heart	By : strawberryf1re Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 34556 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe (characters, settings, etc.) ŠJ.K. Rowling. No profits are made from this work.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Rating: M – inappropriate for readers under the age of 16; contains scenes of explicit sexuality and violence.

Disclaimer: Characters and settings ©J.K. Rowling

Author’s Note: This chapter contains an explicit rape scene. If you believe you will feel offended by the content contained in this chapter, skip to the break about halfway through.

Matters of the Heart

K. Marie

Chapter 3

A month had passed since Hermione’s first afternoon as Professor Snape’s apprentice, and she had settled into a rather comfortable routine. The Potions Master would quiz her daily on potions they had never covered, and the Head Girl continued to impress him with her already expansive knowledge on alchemy.

Finally, after about a fortnight of working together, Snape allowed Hermione access to his personal stores and laboratory. There, she was able to browse freely his (what seemed to be) endless supplies; the large room was bordered with tall wooden cases, a stepladder present so the higher shelves could be accessed easily. The surfaces were blanketed with jars and vials of varying colors and sizes; most of what they contained Hermione could identify nearly immediately. But there were quite a number of specimens she could not. Snape had also given Hermione permission to access his private lab, though she still had to speak with him whenever she wanted to gain entrance, for he and only he knew the passwords to lower the wards.

There, he had designated an area where she could set up her work and leave it until the following day. Hermione had taken to using his laboratory and his services every day, instead of the intended Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. She often worked straight through dinner, so enthralled in what she was doing that time was entirely lost on her.

Tonight was a Saturday night, and she had asked permission from the Potions Master to use his laboratory yet again; she had began working on a potion that needed her immediate attention, and he obliged, albeit slightly grudgingly. He unlocked the storeroom and his laboratory for her, though he left her to her work and sat out in his classroom, yet again grading essays.

For the particular potion Hermione was brewing, she needed black beetle eyes. Crossing the classroom towards the storeroom, she pushed open the door and began to search the shelves.

After five minutes of searching and finding nothing, she left the storeroom and approached Snape. “Sir, I can’t find the black beetle eyes.”

Snape looked up at her suddenly, as if startled. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, standing from his desk and heading in the direction of the stores. Hermione followed suit, standing at the doorway while he quickly ascended the stepladder, plucked a vial off the shelf and then climbed down.

“You didn’t look very hard,” he growled, handing her the jar, his fingers brushing hers for an instant before he pushed past her and back to his desk.

Hermione bristled, slightly annoyed by his actions. Stifling her irritation, she shot a glare at his greasy black head, and headed back to the lab.

Scooping out the desired amount of eyes, Hermione read the instructions carefully. Checking and rechecking her measurement, she decided it was correct and held it over the simmering cauldron.

“You have not waited long enough, Granger.”

Hermione jumped nearly her height, the spoon and the eyes splashing into the orange concoction below. She let out a yelp, and then cursed as the potion she had been working so hard on began to bubble and smoke, changing from orange to a murky brown color.

“Damn it!” she snapped, turning on Snape quickly. “You startled me, and now it’s ruined!”

The tall man towered over her, but in her anger she was not intimidated. She almost forgot who he was, what authority he held over her. “Thank you, Professor! Thank you! Because you insist on creeping around like some sort of… I don’t know, thing! It’s ruined!” her anger forced coherent thought from her mind.

Huge bubbles began to lift off the surface of the ruined potion, murky and brown floating to the ceiling. When they popped, they sent a slosh of scalding liquid plummeting below them. Both Hermione and Snape were splattered several times.

“Damn it!” Hermione cursed again. She turned around, whipping out her wand and distinguishing the flames below the cauldron. “That was nearly a week’s worth of work!”

Since the moment he had startled her, Snape had not spoken. He was taken aback by her reaction; in all the time that he had taught her, she had never quite burst out like she had just then. He knew she had reason to be angry; she had been locked up in the lab for the past four days, brewing the draught. Needless to say, Snape felt slightly… bad.

She stood there, sputtering and cursing about the potion and the work and Snape and everything in general. Her eyes held such a fierce anger, an anger he had not seen in anyone but himself. He knew exactly what she felt; there were many a time when an ignoramus would come by and ruin that which he had invested so much time and effort.

Her back was turned to him, and she was shooting sparks out of her wand at the bubbles of potion that lofted above their heads. They popped without splattering anymore burning liquid on them; she had several red marks on her arms from the droplets.

Suddenly, he was wrenched with the urge to reach out and touch her hair. The wild mass had been tied back at the nape of her neck with a red and gold ribbon – so very Gryffindor. Tied back in that manner, she had managed to bewitch it with a taming spell of some sort, so that it hung down her back in smooth, shiny waves.

She turned on him, and seemingly without control, he reached out and brought her into his arms. He forced his lips upon hers, and she struggled against him. Sounds were coming from deep in her throat but no audible words were emitted; she forcibly began pushing against his chest with her arms. He was too strong for her, and he leaned her back on the counter behind her.

There was a burst of pain from his groin as Hermione’s knee made impact. Doubling back, Snape grabbed at his wounded member, and Hermione stared at him appalled. She turned to run, but he grabbed her, forcing all pain from his mind as he had done so often in the past, and she fell to the floor.

With a quickly uttered word, the door to the classroom slammed and locked. The sound was distant and reverberated through the rooms; the jars on the desk Hermione had been working at shuddered and clinked against each other. There was another faraway sound – a girl crying. And yet it wasn’t far away, because the girl was below him.

“No, no, please!” Hermione begged. Snape was on top of her, kissing her again. She tried to push him off, but he was too heavy. Struggling beneath him, tears began pouring down her cheeks. “Please, please, don’t!”

Her mind whirled. Unable to understand anything at all, she kept fighting him, even though she knew he was far too strong. He began tearing at her clothing, the buttons on her blouse popping off as he ripped it open. She flushed violently as he exposed her white lace bra. The look in his eyes revolted her: pure lust.

She cried out as he ripped her bra open and exposed her breasts; instantly, her nipples hardened in the cold of the room, and he grabbed at them violently. He bent down and kissed her neck, biting and pulling and bruising, and all she could do was cry.

She gasped; he had taken one hard pink nub in his mouth and was sucking at it. The other was being tweaked with his fingers, and instantly she felt a stirring in her lower stomach. Her tears ceased as she let out a soft moan; Snape moved his mouth to her other breast.

As soon as he was there, he was gone. Kissing a trail down her stomach, he ripped open her skirt, revealing a pair of white lacy panties to match the bra he ruined. They were wrenched off as well, reminding Hermione of what was happening. All sense of the previous pleasure fled her mind and she screamed, tears flowing yet again down her rosy flushed cheeks.

His eyes landed on the triangle of soft curls between her legs. Slowly, his hands slid their way up her thighs, and he entered a single finger into her hot core. Hermione, between her sobs, let out soft moans; he wanted to pleasure her, he didn’t want to hurt her. Not in the slightest.

Suddenly, Hermione felt warmth between her legs and realized Snape had his mouth on her most private regions. Another moan escaped her as he sucked and licked at her. Digging her fingers into the grout of the stone tiled floor, she let her legs fall open for him.

And again, the realization came. This was Professor Snape. This was Professor Snape raping her. His guard was down; she sent a kick aimed for his head, but she hit his shoulder instead. Good enough; it sent him tumbling backwards, shocked.

Struggling to her feet, Hermione grabbed at her clothing and tried to cover herself as she ran for the door. Snape caught her and pinned her to a desk, binding her arms and legs into a spread-eagled position. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as he shrugged off his robes. He climbed above her and kissed her violently, deeply, all the while pulling off the rest of his clothing.

He stopped momentarily, and stared at his victim. They were in such a close proximity that he could feel her frantic, terrified breath on his face. Her eyes were wide with fear, tears pouring out of them and down her flushed face.

The logic in his mind fought desperately to resurface, to gain control, but his most primal instincts had hold on his brain and he forced down any reasoning. He lowered himself to her, planting a trail of kisses and bruises down her already harshly bruised stomach. She was swollen and sensitive, and he took her into his mouth. Her cries ceased, and she let out another moan.

It stirred something so deep inside of him that he dipped his tongue deep into her, and she screamed, but this time, it was different. She screamed in intense pleasure, her thighs quivering as she tried to clench them closed, but the spell held her in place. He crawled up the length of her; his swollen, hard member positioned at her entrance.

He stared her deep in the eyes and there was just a hint of lust in their amber depths. But the majority was fear. He had seen those eyes so many times before, on so many nights when the Dark Lord would send his minions on their way, terrorizing towns and killing the men and raping the women; he had returned to the most evil parts of him, the parts he had tried to keep hidden since the night that Lily was murdered.

And here he was, once again, raping a young woman. With a sudden thrust, he broke through Hermione’s girlhood and she screamed out in pain. He paused momentarily until the shriek ceased, and stared in her eyes as he began to thrust.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and yet she groaned, her face burning red with passion and pain. He finished after what seemed like eternity, releasing his seed inside of her, and pulled out. The binding spell was released as he did so.

It took Hermione a moment to realize that she was free. When she did, she curled up, pulling her clothes around her. She stared at Snape, who, though he pulled on his underwear, seemed to come to his senses as he stared in horror at the young woman in front of him. She was bruised, bleeding, swollen and red all over. Her clothes were torn and her face was streaked with tears.

And suddenly, she ripped her robe off the back of a chair. Wrapping herself in it, she wrenched open the door and bolted away.

Standing alone in the dungeons, Snape stared at the open door. Around him, desks were overturned, chairs had fallen, vials shattered on the stone floor; all had been ignored during his molestation of a student. Blood stained the desk in front of him from when he claimed Hermione’s innocence.

He pulled a hand through his tangled hair, and then cradled his head in his palms. “Dear God… what have I done?”

When Hermione reached the safe confines of her room, she finally allowed her tears to fall full-fledged. Her entire body wracked with pain, and even as she sat on the floor, a crumpled pile of defeat, she could recognize the beginning shadows of bruises on her fair flesh.

The sight of the purple marks brought the events from the evening full-force back into her thoughts. Snape kissing her; Snape touching her; Snape raping her. He had stolen her innocence from her; he had… raped her. She was possessed by an intense sob, her shoulders shaking as her head hung in shame.

Crookshanks leapt gracefully from her bed and came to her side, purring loudly and stroking his head against her elbow. She lifted her shaking hand and scratched his ears, smiling ever so slightly as he climbed into her tender lap.

Tears still slid down her flushed cheeks as her breathing came to even itself out. Her body began to calm and the shaking ceased. Even if he had raped her – which he had, and she could not begin to deny it – he had also made her feel good. In ways she had never felt before, not with Viktor, nor with Ron, nor with any boy she had ever been with.

But he raped her. There was no way around the inevitable truth – she had been molested by Professor Snape and as Head Girl, she had a responsibility to report the event. She had a responsibility to protect the other students from a potential threat, even if this was the first and last time Snape would ever let his control slip away.

She began to cry again as the pain in her body registered itself in her mind. She could barely move her legs, the pain in her lower belly being almost too much to bear. The fleeting thought of possible conception passed through her mind, as well, and she made a mental note to report to the hospital wing first thing tomorrow morning. That is, if she could walk.

She eased herself into her bathroom and ran a bath. Slowly, as she peeled her torn clothes away from her body, she caught sight of the damage he had caused. Her neck was covered with purplish bruises; her lips were red and swollen from his kisses. Her entire stomach was covered with similar dark marks. Her nipples were darkened with bruising. Thighs that were stained with blood, and all over, red irritation from where his nails had caught her during his ravaging.

The sight caused her to cry. Any second thoughts she was having about forgiving Snape had been forced away. The unbearable sight of her broken body was enough to convince anyone that he had hurt her, and he needed to be punished.

She lowered herself into the bath, scrubbing her skin raw of the soil that was Severus Snape.

Staring around the classroom, Snape tried to grasp what he had just done. It all seemed too unreal; for a moment he had returned to his primal ways, the ways of the Death Eaters. He had raped a student, and surely Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall would be bursting through the door, wands out, demanding answers.

And yet, as he waited, no one arrived. It had been nearly an hour since Granger had fled the scene. He had not moved from the spot. He had, however, lowered himself to the ground, trying desperately to make sense of what had occurred.

If there was one thing that he had always prided himself for, it was his control. In any given situation, Severus Snape was a man of discipline. He had never let his emotions run rampant or let his mind jump to illogical conclusions.

And yet, in a matter of five minutes, everything he had ever known had been taken violently from him, as he had violently taken Hermione Granger’s virginity.

He stared, disgusted, at the bloody desk. That was the single piece of evidence he needed that proved he had stolen Hermione’s innocence; she bled as he forced his way into her. He had been the attacker of many women before (something he was very ashamed of, and something he desperately tried to forget), and none of them had bled from his violence, no matter how vicious. Hermione bled.

His conscience nagged at him; he needed to report the event to Dumbledore. He could not wait for Hermione to do so; that was pure cowardice, and near denial that what he had done was wrong. No, he realized he had wronged Hermione in the severest of ways possible, and he must be punished.

But he could not seem to drag himself from his defeated position on the floor. His ebony eyes scanned the room; shreds of her clothing were scattered everywhere. His own articles were a few inches from him, he having discarded them shortly before his complete violation of the student on the desk in front of him. Shattered glass lay scattered around the path he had made from the laboratory to the very spot he sat. Desks and chairs were overturned.

In the corner, Hermione Granger’s belongings – her bag, her books – remained. In her rush, she had left them in his classroom.

The room he had dwelled in for so many years looked nothing like the classroom he remembered. And he couldn’t bear to remain in it any longer. Pulling on his robes, he strode to his office and through a door, into a hallway that lead to his private quarters. He had to make sense of what had just occurred; he couldn’t believe those actions were his, and yet, he knew that he had committed the crime.

Several days passed and Hermione did her best to keep her friends oblivious to what had happened. She had visited Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing, requesting a contraception potion. Of course, the mediwitch was required to interrogate Hermione thoroughly before presenting her with the liquid, but Hermione had been able to avoid the question of whom she was copulating with.

With the looming thought of pregnancy now comfortably off her shoulders, Hermione was able to consider other things. Should she report Snape? Her arguments for both options were fierce: she very well should, because he poses as a threat to the entire female student body; or she very well shouldn’t, because Dumbledore would be required to fire Snape, and then the Order would lose a very valuable member. She reasoned that without the protection of Hogwarts and Dumbledore, Snape would be vulnerable to any Death Eater attacks and Voldemort himself, and while he could still spy for the Order, losing the safety of Hogwarts was a very low blow that endangered his life. However, he violated a student and was a danger to the entire student body. But he could die if he was fired from Hogwarts. But he was a danger to the female student body. But…

And the argument raged on. The more she considered it, the more Hermione was leaning towards keeping it a secret from everyone. This included her two best friends, Harry and Ron. Snape was far too valuable to both Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, because without him, they would no longer be informed of the going-ons of the Dark Lord. Doing so, she could potentially be harming Harry; if they weren’t one step ahead of Voldemort, he wouldn't have the advantage over his nemesis and therefore Harry would be vulnerable.

Regardless, she was incredibly thankful that the castle had been cold the past few days. She had been able to wear turtlenecks and jeans under her school robes to conceal the bruises he had left, and so no one suspected a thing. When the time for potions class arrived, she feigned illness and retreated to her room. Snape did not punish her, but her classmates did not know this. From the story that Harry and Ron had relayed to her later during dinner, he had interrogated them, threatened a detention for her, and subtracted house points.

“The greasy git, he took fifty points away from us, for our ‘cheek,’” Ron was fuming later.

Hermione knew that she could not continue forever avoiding the Potions Master. Soon enough, her attendance would be required in his classroom if she wanted to avoid the other students growing suspicious of her actions (though under what pretenses they would suspect her, she was not sure – no chances were to be taken, however, to spare the professor).

Hermione had been curled up in a cozy armchair next to the hearth in her rooms with a book in her lap. She had been on the same page for the past hour, her mind mulling over several other things. Suddenly, she decided that it was time for action. She needed to confront Snape; they could not go on avoiding each other. He must be on pins and needles waiting for the day he lost his job, and while Hermione did not pity him for his apprehension, she did feel the need to relieve him of it. It was simply the right thing to do.

Standing from her chair, Hermione stretched, her blouse lifting with the motion and revealing her healing stomach. The bruises that nearly covered her body were almost completely faded now; a few greenish marks remained, but they went unnoticed for the most part.

Pulling on her school robes, Hermione headed for the dungeons. The closer they came, the faster her heart beat in her chest. I’m bloody mad, she thought. He should be the one doing… this. Not me. I’m the victim.

His classroom door was shut, but she didn’t bother knocking. Afternoon classes had ended an hour ago and unless he was overseeing an early detention, it was unlikely there would be any students within. Pushing open the door, she peeked her head into the room. The room was empty, and there were no signs that anything horrible had ever happened there.

Closing the door softly behind her, Hermione took notice that his office door was slightly ajar. She approached it nervously. She put her hand against the cold surface, and the door slowly swung open.

Snape had been sitting at his desk, bent over some parchment. An envelope lay torn open next to his hand, and he appeared to be reading whatever its contents were. He did not notice her come in.

Quickly, Hermione scanned the room. The things she had left behind had been moved to a corner, next to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair. Other than that, it remained as she remembered; several jars filled with bizarre specimen lining the shelves that bordered the room, and through the window she could see the Quidditch pitch, slowly fading in the setting sun.

With lack of any other way to obtain his attention, Hermione quietly cleared her throat, while she pushed the door closed with the heel of her foot. She was very nervous, locking herself in the room with the very man who had violated her days previous, but she could not risk them being overheard.

Snape’s head shot up immediately, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. When he realized whom the intruder was, his entire face softened uncharacteristically, and he stood.
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Matters of the Heart