Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Turn On The Darkness	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 21044 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
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A/N: Thank you for your reviews. @Nightqueen- yes it is hard to see her like this. And often we must find more darkness before it gets light. The Wizard of Oz taught me that when I was very young. "It's going to get darker before it gets lighter." So remember if they look dark and bleak now...

The sponge was coarse against her skin; the water only slightly warm. Her arms ached from being strung over her head; tied together at the wrists with a silk scarf and looped against the ceiling. She’d given up on the notion of kicking his face; as he’d left her legs unbound, for she realized without magic she would have no way down from the ceiling and be struck strung up like a prisoner should she succeed in knocking him unconscious; and the likelihood that she would manage to escape her bonds before he came to was limited. Hermione tilted her head toward the ceiling; gazing at her arms, she didn’t want to watch him on his knees manually washing her body.

            She had woken to him moving her body and she found it difficult to struggle against him but recalled pleading with him as he strung her arms up over her head. The water sloshed in the bucket as he dipped the sponge into the cleansing formula he’d concocted from simple soaps and herbs. There was a second bucket for rinsing her skin as he lathered her legs and the space under her arms. He was gentle as he slid the sponge across her chest, his firm hand guiding the sponge with ease. It felt wrong but she did her best not to cry.

            The same fingers that had gripped her hips in the bed at the Malfoy manor; those same hands that had helped to restrain her while he traumatized her were now sliding over her skin in an attempt to cleanse her. She could not help it as the tears streaked silently down her face. His voice crept into her thoughts from somewhere distant.

            “Spread your legs,” he said and pushed against her knee lightly.

            Hermione was numb and her body trembled as she felt his palm press against her kneecap and then slowly lift her leg. He was kneeling between her legs, bent as he dipped the sponge into the bucket once more. Severus dragged it slowly up the inside of her calf, scrubbing light circles from her ankle to the back of her knee and around her leg, careful not to go near the back of her leg where he had stripped her skin. She whimpered and tried to pull back as she felt his hand creep high up her inner thigh. Clenching her eyes shut she bit her tongue to keep from sobbing as he dragged the sponge slowly between her legs, making several passes between her sex, letting the soapy water dribble down her skin.

            Severus glanced up and watched her face; the closed eyes, tears streaking down her cheeks, quivering lips, before he turned his attentions back to her skin, running a smooth wet cloth against her sex to rinse her body. The wounds on her mound had begun to heal, the flesh scabbing and it was no longer swollen from his abrasions with the knife. Again he dipped the rag into the bucket with cooler clean water and placed it against her sex; this time cupping his hand there, letting the soft wet feeling of the fabric soak against her skin.

            Hermione whimpered and rocked her hips back trying to pull away from his touch. “No— don’t touch—” she hiccoughed and then drew her legs together, squeezing against his wrist. “Move your hand.” She whimpered. “Move your hand.” Her voice was angry but broken, loud but wavering.

            He slowly moved his hand from between her legs and dropped the cloth into the bucket. Severus stood and took hold of her hip, his body brushing against hers as she did. She shook and tried to step back as he turned her body toward him, resting her side against his stomach. “Please…don’t touch me…” she whimpered as he leaned over her shoulder and began to undo the bandage on the back of her left thigh.

            The wound was healing with a purplish brown scab as he’d planned. Severus moved behind her and knelt once more, grabbing a jar of salve to spread over it. He coated his palm and made wide strokes with his hand, slathering the pink goop against her still-healing skin. It stung a little but not as much as before and her sobs were quieter because of it. Severus opened a cabinet on the wall that she hadn’t noticed before; though if truth be told she’d hardly noticed they were no longer in the room with the bed. He wrapped a length of bandages around her left thigh and covered the wound once more.

            Then he undressed and redressed the wound on the back of her right thigh before standing in front of her again. She recoiled at his touch as he cupped her face in one hand. “Why are you doing this?”

            “You needed to be cleaned,” he said plainly as she jerked her head away. “I shall change the dressings on your arms this evening, they are still fresh.”

            Hermione’s eyes were red and they stung from the tears. She held very still as he reached above her head and slowly began to undo the silk scarf that bound her wrists to the ceiling. As they came loose her arms collapsed and she found herself light on her feet, falling forward against his chest before she could stop herself.

            Severus wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest as she trembled. He placed a hand against the back of her head and then sighed. “Your hair had become matted and filthy.”

            Hermione hardly heard him. She wanted to die. The continuing notion of his touch made her skin crawl and she could not stand the sight of him; her body tensed every time he drew near. He was talking about something, the bandages and not getting them wet but she was hardly paying attention to his words; her head buried against his black robes. He was the one she was meant to have trusted. And he had torn that trust away from her. The image of his thick cock was burned into her brain and a fresh round of sobs burst forth from her lips; muffled into her chest as she cried.

            “At shall be easier that way,” he said.

            Hermione slowly pulled her head up from his chest. “Wha— what?” Severus shook his head and then ran his hand over her hair. She trembled as she felt him grab hold of her thick bushy curls and cup his fist around their mass at the base of her neck. “What are you doing?” she trembled, stumbling back as he stepped toward the sink; one hand gripping her hair the other wrapped around her waist.

            “It will be too time consuming to upkeep in its current state with you being unable to have little more than this makeshift birdbath, Miss Granger. And I do not have the time or patience to waste on trying without magic.” He said. Time was all they had but as the girl blanched at his every move and shuddered at his touch he vowed to spend as much time not touching her as possible; and washing the girl’s hair every day to keep it cleanly was not going to help that vow in the least.

            She winced as her back was pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink. He reached behind her and grabbed something that had been resting on the ledge of the sink but did not release the hand that gripped her hair. As he pulled the mass of her curls taught her eyes widened and a fresh round of tears flowed forth. “No— please, sir, please, don’t!” she cried as she felt him tugging at her hair.

            “Stop struggling,” he ordered and began to tug the blade he held in his hand up through the thick bunch of hair as close to her neck as he could. Strands were severed as he hacked at her hair with the dull knife and she shrieked, twisting her head this way and that; but he pressed his body forward, pinning her hard against the sink, continuing to hack at the thick ponytail he grasped.

            “No! No!’ she cried and began to pound against his chest; her fists doing little else but making her forearms ache.

            “Hold still or you’ll break your stitches again,” he hissed. With several more rough hacks of the knife he cut the bulk of her hair free. Severus dropped it into the sink and pressed his weight against her further. “I will not waste time appeasing your vanities…” he said and grabbed the longer hair at the top of her head. Hank after hank of curls came away from her head as he tugged with the knife; it was not as sharp as he would have liked but not wishing to ruin his only pair of surgical scissors should he need them again, he was left with little choice.

            Hermione sobbed and thrashed against him until she heard the knife clatter against the porcelain of the sink. He pulled back from her figure; removing his weight from her body and she nearly collapsed. Severus gripped her shoulder and spun her around quickly, her body doubling over. But she caught her arms on the edge of the sink; sobbing harder as she saw the pile of her hair collected there.

            “Why?” she shrieked and ran a trembling hand across her head. He’d left little more than fuzzy curls in a rough shorn halo over her head. It was longer against her neck, hardly anything to tug, but at least he hadn’t scalped her. Hermione sank to her knees and curled up slowly on the cold stone floor, sobbing and shaking, letting her eyes fall closed as she did.

            “You cannot lay there commiserating, Miss Granger. It is only hair.” He said plainly. “It was for ease of maintenance,” he reiterated, but his words did little to quell her. Severus reached down and grabbed hold of her shoulders; in one swift movement he pulled her to her feet. She clutched reluctantly at the edge of the sink to steady herself on her feet.

            For a girl that was so shaky on her feet she had rounded on his quicker than he’d expected and he suddenly found himself pressed against the wall of the tiny bathroom; Hermione Granger’s full weight— which wasn’t much— pressed against his body in an attempt to pin him there, and the dull point of the knife pressed against his throat. “Only hair,” she hissed through tears. “Like it was only my womanhood, or only my virginity?”

            Severus held still and did not struggle as her chest rose violently up and down. She was still naked; pressed against his body and armed with a weapon. He closed his eyes for a moment.

            “Look at me,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare close your eyes! Look at what you’ve done to me!” She pressed the tip of the blade a bit harder against his skin. He didn’t flinch or twitch but he did open his eyes, slowly meeting her gaze.

            “Go ahead, Miss Granger. Extract your pound of flesh and more to sate your appetite for vengeance.” His words were calm.

            Hermione’s arm trembled and the blade quaked against his skin. “Do not mock me!” she sobbed.

            Severus closed his eyes for a brief moment and then opened them once more. “Go on, what are you waiting for?”

            Her whole body shook as she pushed her weight against him harder. But she collapsed forward against him in a heap of trembling sobs, the blade falling limp against his shoulder.

            “You are not a killer,” he whispered against her ear as he reached for the blade.

            Hermione forced his head to one side and as best she could grabbed a large handful of his hair. He struggled for only a moment as she hacked at his raven tresses; but when the blade slipped over his skin and drew blood he stilled. The blade clattered to the floor as she watched the blood trickle down beneath his ear.

            Severus placed his hand against the cut and swiped at it with his thumb. “I think I shall live, much to your chagrin,” he muttered and stepped off the wall. A large handful of raven tresses was still clutched in her hand as he grabbed both of her wrists and pinned her against the wall. She was slammed hard against the cold stone and shrieked as he picked up the knife. “If you are going to hold someone hostage with a knife; make sure the blade is sharp enough to do damage…” he muttered, picking up the blade and pressing it against her neck. “It would have caused an annoying flesh wound at best…” he said and then tossed the blade into the sink. It was cushioned by her pile of shorn hair.

            Hermione sobbed and felt herself on the verge of collapse but before she could sink to the ground his arms were wrapped around her and her feet were off the floor. He had lifted her and was carrying her out of the bathroom. She struggled against him at first but as he walked back into the bedroom she found her head resting against his shoulder, nestled into the crook of his neck as she sobbed. He laid her gently on the bed. “If you don’t do anything foolish I shall only have to bind one of your arms…” he said, eyeing her left arm where the bandage was sporting pink spots.

            She nodded numbly and allowed him to tie the silk scarf around her wrist. “It will keep the blood from flowing too quickly from your wound,” he said and then reached into the drawer of the nightstand. He pulled out the roll of silver tape from before.

            Her eyes were wide and she shook her head. “No— please— I can’t breathe with it—” But her words were silenced as he placed a finger against her lips. Severus unwound a length of tape and took her right hand in his. He closed her fingers over her palm and began to wrap the tape around her hand, effectively taping her hand shut so that she could not undo the binding of her other arm. “But—why?” she asked, tears still lingering in her eyes.

            Severus placed the roll of tape back into the drawer. He eyed her for a moment and then drew the blanket over her still naked figure. Then he reached his hand up to the left side of his hair, which in a place was much shorter than the rest of his dark tresses. “That’s why,” he said and tugged at the shortened locks. “Now rest, Miss Granger, I’m going to prepare you something to eat, but you’ll need your strength.” He said and stood from the bed and turned his back to her for a moment before returning with a syringe in his hand.

            “No…no, please, not that again…please…”

            “You need rest,” he repeated and plunged the needle into arm just near her shoulder. “And this is the only way I can assure you will get it without causing either of us injury…”

            Hermione struggled against the scarf for a moment; feeling the now familiar dizzying blackness as it crept through her body. The last thing she felt was him seated on the edge of the bed, running his hand over her shorn head; his nails raking gently against her scalp.

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Turn On The Darkness