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A Lesson in Loyalty	By : llorolalluvia Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 5572 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters from it and I am not making any money from this story.

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Who the fuck was The Half Blood Prince?! Pardon my French. Hermione was completely stumped. She had been pouring over old records and yearbooks in the library for hours and had yet to find even the tiniest reference to him. But his damn textbook had taken Harry to the top of the Potions class, surpassing Hermione completely. That would not be tolerated!
Even as she pulled the thousandth book from the shelf, her energy was fierce. She would not give up. She would find some reason to condemn this bloody Prince if it was the last thing she did. They would see. He was a nasty bastard and they should not be toying with his homemade spells.
And Harry would not be using his… suggestions… in Potions class.
It was no use. If there had been a reference in a book to the deviant she would have found it. Clearly he had not been important enough to warrant it. Maybe he had died in a Potions incident. Or as the result of one of his wicked spells. The thought cheered her somewhat.
Or perhaps that had just been a temporary nickname and she'd never know who the real Half Blood Prince was. Sighing she left the library, telling herself that she would have stayed longer if she didn't have a class. Damn Snape.
As they practiced nonverbal spells again, Hermione had to admit that DADA was vastly improved under Snape's tutelage. Of course, he certainly knew a lot more about the Dark Arts than most of their other professors. In fact, in all honesty, Snape probably knew a lot more about the Dark Arts than anyone else she knew. Maybe not Dumbledore. Maybe. But he certainly knew more than Harry Potter. Already she felt more prepared for the upcoming war and they had only been in class for a few weeks.
If only she felt the same about Potions class. Hermione Granger was the only Gryffindor who didn't think Potions had improved. In fact, she believed quite the opposite. Perhaps Slughorn's laid back method of teaching allowed some of the more easily intimidated members of the class to become more comfortable brewing and therefore improve, but she secretly believed she learned more from Professor Snape. In fact, she had never realized just how vital his input in the course had been to her understanding of the material. It was one thing to read the text and practice the potions, but Professor Snape had asked them abstract questions about the reasons why certain ingredients worked certain ways. His essays and lectures had made her think in a different way.
He had challenged her.
And here entered an interesting idea into the mind of Hermione Granger: what if she were to continue to study Potions under Professor Snape?
Hermione was never the type of girl to act on impulse when it wasn't necessary. When the class was dismissed she did not immediately pose her new idea to her dark professor. Instead, she filed out with her friends and continued with the day's regimen, allowing the possibility to sit and marinate in her mind.
It was true that Severus Snape was a difficult man. Harry's experience with Occlumency lessons should have been enough to deter her interest. And yet…
He would tease her. He would patronize her. He would be downright mean to her. That said, she would probably learn more about Potions than she ever could have dreamed. And she would beat Harry and that damn Half Blood Prince for good.
If he agreed to tutor her.
And so, she found herself anxiously standing outside his office door—still in the dungeons—after dinner, having second thoughts about the whole plan. She was up to the challenge, to be sure. But she was afraid of his rejection. And also, she was still afraid he would confront her about Knockturn Alley or the Quidditch tryouts.

Inside his office, Severus cracked his knuckles to relieve the cramping in his hand brought on from slashing scathing remarks all over a stack of third year essays. Grading was a punishment for his sins, to be sure. Oh, but he would not stop assigning essays just because he was no longer teaching Potions. No. He needed to be sure that the little greaseballs were still reading their texts even if their classes were based more on the physical aspects of defense.
He picked up his quill. The last damn paper for the night and he could retire to a nice book and a glass of Ogden's fire whiskey. There was a knock. Ready to be done with grading, Severus refused to set down his quill as he called out for the person to enter. He heard the door creek open awkwardly as he underlined a large paragraph of complete nonsense on the student's essay. Not a Slytherin, then. He sighed and braced himself as his quill came to a stop and he looked up into the desperately-trying-not-to-look-scared brown eyes of Hermione Granger.
Her chin came up in response to his raised eyebrow and he suppressed a sneer. So, the little chit wanted to play that game? Well, whatever it was she wanted from him, she was really going to have to work for.
"Miss Granger," he purred, "what brings you to the dungeons at this hour?" He watched the tiniest of blushes form in her complexion and noticed that she was not breathing. He raised an eyebrow mockingly and she stammered out an attempt at recovery.
"Sorry Professor. I just… I wanted to ask you about something… but I'm not sure how to preface…" she stopped as he rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"What do you want, Granger?" he growled. Her breath hitched.
"Sorry, sir," she began again. "I know you're awfully busy. I only wanted to ask you… that is if it wouldn't be terribly inconvenient for you… you see the thing is I've been having a difficult time… and the truth is I'd rather learn Potions from you than from Professor Slughorn." Well, if there was one thing he hadn't expected her to say, it was that.
"Is that so?" he responded, noncommittally, buying time to establish her angle.
"Yes. Yes, I feel that you really challenged us… and Professor Slughorn is really nice… but I don't think he really cares about our growth as students…"
"And I do?" he bit back sardonically.
"Of course," she replied without hesitation. He watched a blush spread from her cheeks across the bridge of her nose and then down her neck to disappear beneath her muggle t-shirt. It was as if a hammer had smacked him in the chest as he realized that the young girl was dressed in snug jeans and tee and he had not noticed until now how much she had grown. Ripping his face back to hers, he was relieved to find her struggling to cover her blunder. "I mean… it certainly seems that way… or at least your methods certainly seem to…. In any case I think I've learned more from you…. "
"Miss Granger, Horace Slughorn is the Potions professor at this school. That is not going to change and not amount of whining from you is going to make a difference." His response was a bit rougher than he had intended, but he had been trying to recover from his momentary… weakness.
"I know that, sir." Somehow his vitriol had calmed her. Interesting. "I'm not suggesting that you swap posts with him. I was only wondering if you ever did… private tutoring."
Ah.
Well, then. He forced his mind not to go where that question generally led and focused on her proposition. She shuffled uncomfortably where she stood, but seemed not to have anything further to add, so he let her worry her lip another moment… NOT that he was noticing! Damn it all. He let her worry a moment, watched her beginning to lose her reserve, and finally responded with slow, agonizing dispassion. "I will… consider… your proposition." Her face lit up with a smile and he almost wanted to smack it off of her. Merlin forbid he ever make one of the bloody Golden Trio happy. "If that is all, I suggest you return to your tower," he added more forcefully.
"Yes sir!" she practically gasped. "Thank you sir!" She was bubbling with excitement and euphoria as she left his office. He leaned back and groaned deep in his throat.
Bloody Gryffindors.

Hermione was practically skipping as she approached Gryffindor tower. She had survived the encounter! That was really all she could ask for. And he was going to think about her request! She really was giddy with excitement at the prospect. Just think of all the things he could teach me!
Just steps away from the Portrait Hole and arm struck out in front of her, causing her to come to an abrupt stop as McLaggen's palm met the wall and he gave her what she was sure was supposed to be a winning smile. "Hi there Granger, how are you doing this fine evening?" he grinned. Momentarily taken aback, Hermione didn't know how to respond. Why is he talking to me?
"I'm fine, McLaggen, how are you?"
"I'm wonderful. But please, call me Cormac." His teeth seemed to be growing bigger and bigger with every smile.
"Alright. Did you want something, Cormac?" she replied, becoming impatient.
"Only to talk to you. Is it a crime to want to talk to a beautiful woman?" What?! And then: What kind of a line is that?
"Ehm guess not, but I've got some, er, homework to work on, so if you're quite finished…" She tried to step past him, but he cut her off.
"Oh, of course. I wouldn't want to keep the brilliant Hermione Granger from her studies. Please, allow me. Frog Spawn." He announced ceremoniously and the Fat Lady swung open. He made as if to hold to Portrait door for her and Hermione took the opportunity to rush past him and straight up to her own dorm with a muffled "thanks."

She was pressed against a wall. Strong hands ran along her waist and hips. Her cheek against a cold, hard surface. He pressed against her from behind.
Hot breath on her ear.
He pressed harder and she heard herself moan. There were crusty jars on a dark, rickety shelf.
Heat surrounded her. She could feel his strong form against her. His hands coming up to cup her breasts. Her naked breasts, she realized. Her gasp of shock became a moan of pleasure.
Hot lips on her neck. Pressing her to the wall. Teeth. And that scent. Where had she smelled that scent?
"I will… consider… your proposition."
Bolting upright Hermione could feel the sweat pouring down her forehead. Her body trembled, pulsing with need. Merlin! What was that?! Did she just dream about Professor Snape? She groaned and fell back into the pillows.
Then she remembered. The scent. The Amortentia.
Oh gods.
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A Lesson in Loyalty