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Debaucery Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 26266 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
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A/N: OO – ‘I just like giving the bad ones a good long lick for taste-testing purposes’ – Hahah, always a scientific approach, that’s what I love about you. ‘I'm definitely more of the Katie Bell variety in this instance’ – ring-a-ding-ding! ‘He better go out in the hall.’ – LOL – or perhaps a field would be better? I passed on your message to Marriage – she’s having a lot of fun too, as am I.
MzPearlz – He certainly has his work cut out for him! Can you think of anything that would work?
Ali – This cracked me up so much – ‘but seeing as you are so bad....you're only going to get a week...sorry!’ hahahah, I’ll be better, I promise! ‘Must be all this talk of opiates’ – don’t worry I’m feeling the effects too. x

Chapter 4 - Raunchivious
It didn’t add up. Hermione trailed a finger down the ledger of the field report. The numbers suggested that winged creatures were on the decline and yet, apart from the Augureys, there were no current known threats to their populations. Predator numbers hadn’t increased—at least, nothing had come through from any of the other Magical Creature divisions. And human intervention was being monitored more closely now than ever before—she’d made sure of it.
Chewing her lip, she pivoted back and forth, her office chair whining with the effort. She wasn’t comfortable with the anomaly. It couldn’t be explained by seasonal fluctuations alone—something else must be going on. Tossing her quill aside, she pushed back from her desk—it was about time she accosted Benedict Parsons and forced him to finally listen to her. While he often stopped by to brace his corpulent backside against Snape’s door frame, communicating in annoyingly loud chortles, she apparently needed to make an appointment if she wanted to discuss anything with him.
Boy's club. It wasn’t as though Snape didn’t receive enough attention already. He garnered more foot traffic than the Crown Jewels—usually women slowing down to ogle him on their way to attending to 'urgent business.' It was properly annoying for her, but she suspected that his colossal ego loved it.
She personally didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. She’d had seven years of the git and his constant rancorous belittlement of her friends. He’d also personally insulted her on more than one occasion. While he hadn’t said anything overtly nasty to her in the workplace, she remained extremely wary.
She didn’t trust him anymore. It was a telling admission as it suggested she’d trusted him in the past. Even as a double agent, a spy, she found that she’d come to trust him. But now? Now his whole life seemed to run on some self-serving agenda under the guise of casual indifference. She didn’t buy it. And, frankly, she had no interest in pulling back the layers to see what was flopping about underneath. She suspected all she’d find was more conceited self-indulgence. Anyone could orchestrate their existence around servicing their own needs. It took a special person to sacrifice themselves for others.
And that’s what he had done. For years. Merlin! Just when she managed to talk herself into a state of comfortable conviction about him, her contrary mind decided to turn up some exception. In reality, it was better for her not to consider him at all. But even as she thought it, her eyes automatically slid to the office window beyond her door. Ignoring him was turning out to be far more easily said than done as enigmatic slices of him continued to flicker through the cracks in his blinds.
He was more restless than she’d expected. At Hogwarts he had made an art of stillness. And of moving like the Hogwarts Express—vacillating between the two with disconcerting regularity. Now he was rarely still. For someone who walked with his crotch as a distinct anchor point, a practiced nonchalance to his visage, he sure was fidgety. Maybe it was the cigarettes. Since when had he smoked? She’d observed him leaning over one of the miserly Ministry balconies, smoke being sucked from his lips by the wind. Perhaps he’d been a smoker all his life and now, like everything else, he just didn’t feel the need to hide the fact.
With a sigh, she stood. There were more pressing matters to deal with than wondering why her former professor had taken up the ‘cancer sticks,’ as her father used to call them. She needed to see Parsons—sooner rather than later.
“Ding-dong,” Hermione whispered.
She had been standing unnoticed in Katie Bell’s office for long enough to wonder if her friend had fallen under the influence of a Stasis charm.
Katie jerked from her vacant reverie, her face melting into an embarrassed smile.
“Sorry . . . “ She ran her hand distractedly through her hair as she scanned the pile of parchment in front of her. “I don’t know where I was.”
Hermione frowned. She’d noticed that Katie didn’t seem to be quite herself lately. Perhaps she wasn’t sleeping again. In the past, they’d confided in one another about the lingering effects of the war and Katie’s nightmares about the cursed necklace. It had been some time since they’d discussed such things. Maybe it was time for another debrief.
“I was hoping you could find a time for me to meet with Parsons?” Hermione said, flipping open her diary.
“Sure.” Katie selected one of the books neatly arranged on a shelf nearby.
“Miss Bell—“
Katie dropped the book and swung around at the same time as Hermione did to see Snape standing in the doorway.
“Apologies . . . “ He inclined his head before clasping his hands in front of him. “This can wait.”
Katie continued to stare at him.
“Parsons?” Hermione prompted her.
“Oh yes, I was . . . “ Katie retrieved the book from the ground and placed it on her desk, her eyes flickering to the doorway again before she opened and scanned the pages.
Hermione turned to look at Snape, who raised an eyebrow in response. They’d only exchanged the odd word since he’d started. Even though she saw him regularly in her local café and at work, there didn’t seem to be a lot to say. Which was why she was surprised when he spoke to her.
“Perhaps you and I should catch up at some point, Miss Granger?”
“Mr Parsons is free on Tuesday at 10am,” Katie interrupted.
Hermione turned to her. “Oh, um . . . let me just check . . . yes that looks fine.”
“How long do you need?” Katie’s tone was unusually sharp and Hermione noticed her glance at Snape before lowering her eyes back to the book.
“Just half an hour should be sufficient.”
“Fine.” Katie forced a smile but Hermione could see that she was flushed and breathing unusually heavily.
Nonplussed, Hermione delivered her stilted, ‘Thanks’ before turning to leave.
“I believe there is some overlap between our current investigations,” Snape said, not moving from the doorway.
“I doubt it,” Hermione replied. “From what I know of the Dark Beast investigation, it constitutes little more than a few questionable rumours and some missing sheep.”
She hadn’t meant to sound so haughty. He just seemed to naturally bring it out in her.
Snape appeared unfazed but his black eyes were sharp. “You’ll have noticed a decline in flying creature numbers. I believe there may be an explanation.”
Hermione stared at him. Why had she forgotten this about him? She’d always known him to be meticulous and exceedingly intelligent. And clearly he’d lost none of that. She realised then that she’d be much better served regarding him an ally, than an enemy.
“Maybe we do have something to discuss,” she agreed.
Suddenly Katie leapt up from her desk and moved between them. “Excuse me. I just have to go and . . . “
She pushed past Snape in the doorway, rubbing her front gratuitously against his.
And then the penny dropped. How had she been so dense? Of course Snape hadn’t wasted any time in getting to know his work colleagues.
“I’m a bit busy at the moment,” Hermione snapped, swiveling away from him and curling her body around the doorframe to avoid touching his groin before striding away, huffing in irritation.
How dare he! Thank Merlin she was having lunch with Ginny. This place was driving her insane.
***
“A break?” Hermione stared at the auburn-haired girl incredulously, a salad leaf hanging from the corner of her mouth. “I thought you two were getting along better than ever?”
Ginny sighed, taking a sip of wine. “I just need some time to work out what I want. So does Harry.”
“What you want?” Hermione’s voice hadn’t dropped any lower.
“Stop repeating everything I say,” Ginny murmured, her eyes darting around the tiny restaurant.
“But Gin.” Hermione tried to lower her voice but ended up hissing instead. “Most people would give anything to have what you have.”
“Who would?” Ginny looked at her pointedly.
Hermione chewed uncomfortably before snatching up her own wine glass and downing the rest.
“I just don’t understand what could be so bad that you’d need to take a ‘break’.”
Ginny shook her fringe out of her eyes. “It’s just that we’re not that . . . compatible . . . in some things.”
“Like?”
“Sex.”
Hermione made a face. “It’s over-rated.”
“How would you know?” Ginny instantly regretted her words. “I’m sorry ‘Mione . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
“Another one of these, please.” Hermione waggled her glass to the waitress as she passed.
“Make that two,” Ginny nodded.
“I’m really sorry.” Ginny grasped her best friend’s hand. “I just need to be able to tell you these things without you freaking out or dismissing them.”
“What ‘things’.” Hermione’s brow was still drawn into a disapproving frown.
“Sex,” Ginny repeated in exasperation. “It’s important to me. And I want to be able to try new things—to experiment. I want someone who is willing to go there with me.”
“And you’d be willing to risk losing someone who is committed to you, who wants to marry you, over some dirty fling?”
Hermione sat back as the waitress approached with their drinks.
“I didn’t think you’d understand,” Ginny sighed. “Anyway, tell me about your work.”
Hermione felt bad. She wanted to be more supportive but it seemed like the world had gone sex crazy. It was like there was one giant sex party and she wasn’t invited. It was selfish but she didn’t want to know what was happening in other people’s sex lives. Not when hers was a desolate wasteland—rolling tumbleweeds and all.
“I can’t ever remember you asking about my job before, Gin. You must be really annoyed at me.” Hermione ventured a small smile.
Ginny’s lips finally curved into a grin.
“Well, actually, I’d heard that a certain former potions master is employed there now. How are you two getting along?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Not as well as he is with the rest of the female population. I have a feeling he’s fucked the vast majority of the women there already.”
“Well what are you waiting for?” Ginny squeezed her hand encouragingly. “Wouldn’t you love to find out if all the gossip about him is true? That he has a huge . . . amount of stamina.”
Hermione laughed despite herself. “I’m not interested in his stamina. He’s hardly discriminating in his choices. I’d just be another notch on his belt.”
“I’d be happy with that,” murmured Ginny. “As long as he whipped me with it afterwards.”
“Ginny!” Hermione cried, spilling her drink down her front.
***
Hermione was feeling decidedly tipsy when she returned to work. She never normally drank that much over lunch but she’d needed it—a blurry buffer against the tension she felt pulsing like an electric current through the work environment. Collapsing into her chair, she realised that the data analysis she’d planned for the afternoon was going to have to wait. She’d have to do something that required a little less brain power—like sorting through the claims of abuse and inappropriate dealings from magical animal activists.
She’d just extracted the pile of parchments from a file when the first scream rang through the building. It was so unexpected that she mistook it for laughter. Then the second sounded—absolutely blood-curdling and when the shout, “Troll!” followed, all hell broke loose.
A shrieking stampede of bodies jostled past from the direction of the central atrium of the Ministry. Hermione leapt up, craning her head out the door to find the corridor filled with a sea of terrified faces. Then she noticed a singular form moving in the opposite direction—dark hair, white shirt—Snape, wand in hand, forging toward the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass. Only a minute or two later, the corridor was completely empty, everyone having escaped through the exits or seeking refuge in their offices.
The only person visible was Snape, standing on the mezzanine floor overlooking the atrium. His legs were braced apart, his wand arm extended—perfectly balanced. Hermione’s fuzzy mind instantly transported her back to the time that he’d destroyed Lockhart at Hogwarts. But this time he wasn’t facing a lightweight. Far from it. When the troll’s ugly bald head appeared over the mezzanine, Hermoine gasped. It was huge—far bigger than the one she’d faced with Harry and Ron in her first year. In fact, it was so enormous that it easily looked down upon Snape, despite standing on the floor below. And when Snape started to fire off a series of combat spells, they simply ricocheted off its tough skin like fireworks before it brought its club down in a bone-shattering explosion of masonry that took out the balustrade.
Snape only just stepped back in time to avoid the blow but he advanced just as quickly, casting increasingly more complex spells, his arms circling and lunging. The blows landed with greater effect, the troll recoiling further with each direct hit to its lumpy head before it gained a second wind fueled by fury. This time it didn’t come at Snape with its club, instead it lashed out with surprising speed, its mottled green fist closing around him. Hermione stumbled down the corridor, unsure of what she could possibly contribute but unable to stand by and watch Snape being crushed to death. Suddenly the troll shouted, a low, doleful bellow before it pulled its hand away. Snape’s arm was hanging limply at his side and his shirt and been torn but he continued to cast spell after spell, forcing the troll back with increasingly severe attacks.
“Don’t kill it. Don’t kill it,” Hermione muttered into her cupped hands. She hated to see any creature die, no matter how terrifying it was.
Suddenly Snape curled his wand in an intricate pattern above his head and a network of sinuous cords emerged out of thin air, entangling the giant creature’s arms and drawing them into its body. A second series twisted around its legs, pulling them together until, with a roar, it toppled to the marble floor with an earth-shattering crash that shook the entire building. As a cloud of dust rose, hanging like fog on the air, the entire place fell into an eerie silence.
Hermione ran. She arrived at Snape’s side to find his shirt torn and bloody, shoulder obviously dislocated and wand toppling from his fingers.
Kneeling down to retrieve it, she looked up at his bloody but surprisingly muscular torso. “How can I help you?” she asked, her voice choked with anguish.
He peered down at her, face glazed with sweat, slightly dazed. “Well, Miss Granger, while you’re down there . . . “
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Debaucery *Complete*

Debaucery Complete