Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Hermione retreated to the library as soon as classes were over. The thought of interacting with any of her friends was unbearable. Their friendship could withstand some distance much easier than it could their continual nearness. That decision became apparent when she walked into the tale end of lunch to overhear Ron explaining to Harry and Neville that she must have PMS.

Somewhere deep down, she had to admit she felt betrayed by the pair. When Harry was traumatized or stressed or throwing another tantrum, she was there. She noticed their moods. She did her best to offer comfort and help. Now here she was, completely out of sorts, and they blamed it on PMS. Clearly, she needed more female friends.

Of course, she wouldn't have told Harry or Ron even if they had hounded her day and night. It still would have been nice to feel that they cared, though.

At the moment, she was working on ten inches of parchment on the Siren's Bane uses and common mistakes. Nearly everyone had botched the potion; even an enraged Draco, who not only ruined it, but was publicly ridiculed by Snape. It probably would have been wise to keep the rest of the students away from information on Siren's Bane. Someone was bound to stumble across the fact that it was a very advanced potion, and they had no real business anywhere near it.

Hermione chuckled and then pulled a text in front of her to hide her huge grin. Snape sure was touche! He was forced into one little bonded relationship with a student and he completely lost his sense of humor. Or, maybe he found it!

Looking back, the humiliating questions had probably been quite amusing from his point of view.

Before now, she'd lived her life in fear of the man's displeasure and sharp tongue. There was a strange sort of comfort in her utter loss of pride and self respect. She couldn't sink much lower than masturbating on his bed to the voice of the feared Professor himself.

He may hate her, but he wanted her. And if the previous night had proved anything, it was that he was trustworthy. He sneered and called her a fool for saying that, but it was true. At this point, she had more or less accepted the fact that she had no self control. All inhibitions had left her. Anything resembling a moral code had fled. Clearly, as she lay naked in front of him begging for his touch, there hadn't been a lot of thought as to right and wrong. Yet he had held back. He had lost part of that strictly held control, and she was sure that part of his rage today was at himself, but he hadn't touched her. It was almost noble.

She'd have to break him of it. It was the only option that she had now.

Sometime between the meeting with Dumbledore and now, she had come to terms with what was happening. If it was a week, or even a month, she would have fought it. She would probably have been unsuccessful, but she would have fought tooth and nail against the inevitability. As it was, term had just begun and spring was months away.

Too many months. It was too long to be miserable; too long to survive, she suspected. And now that she was forced to see him outside of classes for these lessons, alone in the woods, it seemed pointless to fight. There was a nagging feeling, a certainty buried deep, that if she didn't accept him something horrible would happen. She would die, she knew it. There was no proof. She couldn't find any more information on what was happening to her, but she just knew that to leave him would mean her death, and probably his.

The only thing left to do was seduce Professor Snape.

She wasn't sure exactly how to do it, but she didn't think it would be too hard. Not with the way they were drawn to one another. And she knew how not to do it. Pansy managed to insinuate herself into the arms of any eligible student. Still, despite the rumors that she was with Malfoy, Hermione knew he hadn't done more than sneer at her since third year. In fact, she didn't seem to stay with any person for more than a couple of weeks. And if Malfoy could see through her sly coyness, then Snape would only sneer in disdain at any attempt to woo him similarly.

Despite her growing trust in him, she didn't want an enraged or disgusted Snape on her hands. There was no reason to bring out that side of him. He was an incredibly dangerous wizard, and she knew she couldn't even imagine some of the things he'd done in the past. She knew, too, that he had obligations and loyalties beyond himself, and becoming a hindrance to those obligations was likely to be the last thing she ever did. She had to make him want her body and tolerate her presence.

The book had talked about rape. Abstractly, she wasn't sure he could rape her, but she wasn't sure how she'd react to an outright forceful attack. Would she respond in kind, searching for blood and pain to mix with her pleasure? Or would she freeze and be taken horribly and violently by a man who knew pain and violence?

Determined not to find out, she planned to continue as she was. She'd be rash and impulsive, but never forget that his complete loss of control might not be something she wanted.

Hermione checked the time and swore under her breath. It was time. Past time really. She quickly shoved everything in her bag and bounded out of the library. She was undecided on this whole thing. It gave her uninterrupted time with Snape, which she longed for, but it also meant a one on one session with the man. Having all his attention focused on her while she was attempting a difficult task wouldn't be pleasant. He wasn't particularly patient, and that was an understatement. It also meant he would be fishing around inside her brain, learning all her secrets and hidden thoughts. That she could not abide. They were already frighteningly close; he didn’t need any more ammunition to throw in her face.

She took the stairs quickly and quietly, hoping not to run into anyone on the way. Professor Snape was already down at the Forest's edge. Beside his distaste for lateness and the obvious power being first to arrive granted him, she could sense his presence there.

The early autumn air rushed over her as she left the castle. Once again, she turned into the caress, ensnared by the feeling. She wasn't as desperate as the last time she'd fled the castle, but her hungry body was anything but sated. She got as close to the forest line as she could and then made her way to the clearing Dumbledore had described. The last thing she needed was for someone to glance out a window and remark upon her wandering.

Animals were rustling around just inside the Forbidden Forest. She could sense their energies pulling at her. It was as if the part of her that wasn't human recognized their power and was drawn to it. Though not like she was drawn to her mate. When Dumbledore had explained about the clearing, she had been afraid she wouldn't be able to find it. With him there, waiting for her, she wouldn't have any trouble. The overwhelming energies of the forest pulled away rational thought until she was completely focused on the pulsing power that was Severus Snape.

She rounded a corner and there he was. God, he seemed to fit in this environment. His back was the only thing she could see. He was standing straight and tall, his shoulders thrown back. The harsh lines of him, the tightly reigned power.... he belonged in the wilderness. Just another wild animal. Panic swelled within her and Hermione took a quick step backward. Had she really thought she could seduce that? Even now, when she was more powerful than ever before, she had no chance of swaying that man, or bending him to her will. Had she truly wanted to make him lose control? What a ridiculous thing to wish for!

She took another step backward. This time the sound caught his attention and he swung to face her. At once, his arms crossed over his chest and his snide smirk fell more firmly into place. Boy, he didn't look happy.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said quickly, getting the preemptive strike in before he could speak.

"Regardless of the circumstances, or the complete disregard you've shown for protocol and decorum, you will treat me with respect. As if you hadn't made yourself a big enough burden, now you can not even show up on time?" His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and it was very plain he was truly annoyed.

"Professor, I said I was sorry. I didn't realize how long it would take me to get here. It won't happen again." She pushed down her own instincts to dominate, and groveled.

"Very well," he growled and pinched his eyes shut for a moment with a small shake of his head.

"Very well? That's it? Aren't you going to take away points or give me detention or something?" she spoke before she could think, the patented curious-Hermione-look on her face.

"Did you want detention?" he asked dryly.

"Um," she said hesitantly, odd thoughts of punishments and extra time together flying through her mind. "No, sir."

"I thought not," he murmured and rubbed at his left arm thoughtlessly. "I have decided, given the circumstances, that I will no longer reward you points nor will I take them away. In addition, nothing that transpires between us outside of class will result in a detention."

"Really?" she squeaked and stared at him, at a complete loss.

"Am I in the habit of saying things I don't mean? Must you test me on everything? If I say 'very well' it means the matter is dropped. If I say you'll receive no punishment, that is precisely what I mean," he snarled.

"So, no matter what I say or do, you won't punish me?" Hermione took a step further into the clearing. His dark eyes narrowed suspiciously as she did so.

"I wouldn't test that theory, were I you," he spoke slowly, as if giving every word time to sink in. A smirk was once again playing across his face, and that look paired with the notion of punishment conjured delightfully wicked images.

"You know, Sir, I never purposefully misbehave. You don't even need an excuse to torment me; you do it for amusement," she spoke without any venom, just a statement.

"Is this your idea of behaving, Miss Granger? Accusing your Professor of sadism?" For the first time it was as if she had his complete attention, not just his anger, but his attention. She could feel the shift between their old relationship and this new one gaining strength.

"Aren't you a sadist?" Hermione suddenly noticed that her voice was lower than usual, that she was leveling him with her glare, not blinking. She wanted to stop, knew she should, but instead she just gave him her own smirk.

"I don't think you know what you're accusing." His voice dropped another level, the words a growl. "You can't learn the meaning of sadism in a dictionary."

"I know what it means."

"You may know what it implies, but you can't fathom the meaning of that word."

"I definitely have an example. Whatever god turned me into a whore for your amusement was clearly sadistic."

"I'm not amused." The sharp bark of his words at once curbed her desire to challenge him and pushed it higher. "And I'm not trying to be sadistic, Miss Granger, when I tell you you'll be forced to choose the lesser of the evils available to you."

"And what's the lesser of the evils?"

"That, my dear," he uttered the endearment like an Unforgivable, "is your choice."

"Are you one of the evils?"

"Haven't I always been one of the evils to your little group of heroes?" he sneered and left her speechless. "I'm sure if they were to find out about this I'd be painted as the big bad wolf, out to destroy poor innocent Hermione."

"I know this isn't easy for you. I'm sorry!"

"Really? Because I think you're so self involved with your body that you haven't stopped to think about what the ramifications are," he snapped, one hand coming up in a jerky motion to rub his temple.

"Stop telling me what I'm doing, or what I know! I know this has really messed up both our lives, and I know it's my fault. I'm sorry, okay? I know this could get us killed, but killing me or locking me in a closet aren't actual options! So stop ... blustering, and work with me!"

"Why do you think I'm here? I have very few free hours a day, and I imagine most will now be forfeit to you and this mess!"

"Well, let's get to it then!"

"Fine."

"Good!"

"Close your eyes."

The venom in his voice was barely evident when he shoved it behind his Professor facade. He still didn't look happy though, and Hermione found herself hesitating, afraid to let him out of her sight. How could he go from enraged to calm so quickly? The last time he had bid her to close her eyes had been last night, on his bed. Those memories snapped to the forefront and she couldn't shake them.

As the seconds passed, the annoyed look on his face shifted into something more mocking. Her heart was beating too fast, her body seeming to hum in fear and excitement. His mouth opened, as if in slow motion, some venom just waiting to spew forth, she was sure. In that instant, before he could issue another word, her eyes snapped closed.

The clearing was gone. So was Professor Snape. The rustling of his robes hit her ultra-sensitive ears and almost forced her eyes open. With an effort, she kept them shut, her breathing becoming more harsh as the seconds dragged by.

"Empty your mind of all emotion. Be calm and controlled," he commanded in a sedated voice.

"Wait! You're not going to do it yet, are you? I'm not ready!"

"If you manage to get yourself under control, I'll give you a warning beforehand," he said impatiently.

"I don't want you in my mind," she admitted quietly. There was a kind of freedom in not having to see his reactions. She'd been trying to battle down these fears since she'd learned of this plan. The thought of him rifling through her innermost thoughts was paralyzing.

"Miss Granger … there is no possibility of going ahead with these lessons without my seeing something within you."

"Oh," she said, nothing more.

"Clearly, we're in a situation where we have to force some trust in each other. So, just keep your eyes closed and empty your mind."

"Okay. I'll try."

"Good," he replied, a bit tersely.

She squinted her eyes closed tighter and tried to push down all the thoughts clamoring inside her. A minute ticked by in silence, but instead of calming, her body made itself known. She could hear the slight movements of his clothes, and the awareness of him was overwhelming her. Resolutely, she turned away from him and focused on her own body. Her breathing was steady and deep, a rhythmic ebb and flow of power. Even her heartbeat had slowed, like it had on her earlier trip to the forest. She was slipping into a sort of trance, but not one where she was calm and controlled. The entirety of her world was focused on the sensations coursing through her body, the awareness of the bond between them. She was being reduced to the most basic elements, and what was left wanted to curl into the man before her. She wanted to merge with him, not merely physically, but in the most basic way. Even now, the energy of the forest flowed through her. She could sense the same energy in him, was drawn to him unbearably, but she knew there was more. She needed closer, to crawl into that body and be that energy.

"Open your eyes," he commanded gently.

She did so immediately, and the instant her gaze met his, her world began to collapse.

She was wandering through the forest, euphoric and elemental. She was springing away from the Spirat, preternaturally fast. Claws slid into her back; she blossomed at the pain. She was sliding into the water, blood coating her body. She was vomiting, violently and painfully. Hands, scorching and healing, slid over her body. A voice swam into her mind, calling for her pleasure. She was arched, panting, needy and ready, poised on the brink....

"God, no!" Hermione shrieked and ended up on her ass, in the grass. "No, no, oh god." She struggled away from him until her back hit a tree.

There she stayed, heart beat and breathing out of control. Her body was aching, pulsing in a way that was more pain than pleasure. She shook, and through it all she could feel his nearness. The forest was having a devastating affect on her impulses. She kept her head lowered, refusing to look at him. His breathing was ragged. It sounded too loud in her ears, driving her higher. Need engulfed her.

Swellings of need and violence shared a home in her chest. She wanted to take him, regardless of his thoughts on the matter. She couldn't even trust him to protect himself. She was something different in this forest. It tapped into a feral side of her, gave her power and strength. Need and bloodlust. She wanted him, knew she could take him, and struggled with the ramification of that.

"You're overreacting. You think I didn't know you want me?" he said coolly, mockingly. "This is good."

"How," she screamed and jumped to her feet, "is this good?"

"I didn't understand exactly how this forest affects you. Now I do. Saved me quite a bit of time, really."

"You're such a bastard!" she snarled and took several steps toward him. The heat simmering in her blood was quickly turning to rage. "Don't you care, even a little, that I've been completely humiliated? Every little bit of self respect I had is gone! I have no control over myself! I know you give a damn about yourself; do you know what I could do to you? I don't think you could stop me!"

"Why do you assume I'd want to stop you?" he asked. For an instant she was silent, unsure of what that statement implied.

"I could hurt you," she said finally. Her rage was simmering away, leaving her desperate and near tears.

"No, you really couldn't." He smirked in a cold representation of humor. "I'm a Death Eater, Miss Granger. Don't forget that. I've lived through more Unforgivables than you have headaches. I've been passed around a Malfoy gathering like a party favor, and taken liberties with the definition of pleasure that would sicken you."

"You don't know what I'm feeling. I don't have control of anything!" She stopped talking and shut her eyes again, still fighting down the sensations of her body. "I don't know what to do."

"To start with, drink this." Without any more warning, he pulled a small bottle out of his robes and handed it to her.

Hermione stared at it, glanced up at his impassive face, and then back to the bottle. He had brewed this for her. Without asking, she knew what it was. If he'd found an antidote, they wouldn't be here. No, this was a contraceptive to keep her from having a child.... their child. The stone cold reality of the situation hit her and sent a flash of frigid water over her body.

"This is...." She couldn't make herself say it; couldn't make herself look away from the bottle in her hands.

"Come now, Miss Granger. I think you know what it is," he spoke formally, his voice cold.

"It's a...." She didn't continue, only lifted her eyes to search his face. Damn him, there was nothing but bored indifference, no clue what this meant. She was scared to death, but underneath it all, her body still pulsed in need. Did he feel that too? Did he think this was what she wanted? She'd had the idea that this would go slower, not much, but did this bottle mean they were to consummate her second year mistake here and now? "It's a...."

"It's a precaution, Miss Granger." He let out a long suffering sigh and motioned her to be seated. She sunk to the ground, Indian Style, and with a flourish of robes, he followed. It was one of the most surreal sights she'd ever witnessed.

"Professor Snape?" she questioned when he didn't immediately speak.

"Do control yourself. Some people prefer to think before they speak," he sneered. She gave him an annoyed look.

Another thirty seconds moved by in silence before he spoke.

"To put it bluntly, you've gotten yourself into a no win situation. As far as I can see, you possess not even a modicum of self control, and as each day passes, mine dissolves. I don't know what information you've found regarding this, but you have, essentially, two choices."

"I can leave," Hermione broke in to speak quietly.

"Yes, you can leave. If you do, you will become extremely depressed and quite probably kill yourself. Or you can stay," he paused speaking to meet her eyes fully, "and you and I will become sexually involved."

"I know," Hermione whispered and diverted her eyes. She struggled back tears, for both their sakes.

"If we wait too long, it may have a very adverse affect on our temperaments. Someone may get hurt, and you and I are the most likely candidates," he was speaking plainly, evenly, for once not trying to bully or control.

"I know this, Professor." Why did he have to draw it all out? Why not just leave it alone for a few days?

"So, Miss Granger, once again you have to choose between the likelihood of death and my touch. Only, be aware, this isn't a challenge or a game, this is both our lives you're playing with."

"I thought it wasn't a game?" She tried to divert him while her mind scrambled over every nuance of his words.

"Don't be coy with me," he drawled, clearly unamused.

"You said I was playing with our lives. Would it affect you if I were to leave?" She watched his face closely, sure she had found what he wasn't saying.

"Yes, much as it would affect you."

"What do you want me to do?" she whispered. Their eyes met for a moment, and even now she could feel the tension dance between them.

"This is your decision," he said instead of answering.

"Yes, but what do you want me to do? Please, tell me." For a long moment he just stared at her, and then, two broad shoulders came up in a shrug.

"Sex means little in comparison to our lives, or to my part in this war. We desire each other, the potion saw to that. So, why not use one another for the duration, and then once the anti-potion can be brewed, we will cease?"

There was another silence as Hermione kept her head bowed, thinking. It all sounded so cold, but what had she expected, a declaration of love?

"I'll need some time," she said,

"Of course. And we will need some ground rules," his voice became harsh again.

"You've promised not to punish me outside of class. I can promise to be respectful when other people are around."

"Do I take that to mean you will not be respectful when we are alone together?" he asked with an arched brow.

"Probably not. I refuse to have a hot, torrid affair with someone I must be polite to," she said in a bit of a huff. His eyebrows rose further, his smirk deepening.

"You expect this to be a hot and torrid affair?" For the first time, his bored, sarcastic tones shifted to something resembling amused. For an instant, she was frozen, embarrassed and unsure of herself. Then her face took on the disapproving, pinched look it so often had when she was lecturing Ron.

"Yes, I do," she told him plainly and tossed her head in aggravation. "Do you think that'll be a problem?"

His smirk changed once again, and this look left her more unsure of herself than his anger. He looked predatory and focused. Like he was going to eat her alive.

"No, I don't imagine that'll be a problem at all, Miss Granger." He lifted a brow, as if in thought, and then added, "As long as you don't speak, of course."

Hermione rolled her eyes again and snorted. Her eyes found his, and despite his jab, there was fire there. They were too close, and all the sensations she had shoved away flared to life again. He blinked slowly, his eyes coming back to her intently.

Quickly, before she could think about it, she leapt to her feet. In one smooth motion, she pulled the cork from the bottle, downed the surprisingly pleasant liquid and turned on her heels. As she hurried away from him, she could have swore she heard a low chuckle.
- 3
- 4
- 5
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

Heating up Hogwarts