Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In The Restricted Section	By : MissLibrarian Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 29928 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the films or books. I make no money from this story. It's all good fun!

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
=Though I have tried to reformat this chapter it still remains resolutely gappy : I'm very sorry about that, I hope it doesn't detract from the chapter too much, and that you still can enjoy reading it =

A/N: Sorry sorry sorry that I have been ages in uploading! There is no excuse – I just suck! :) Thanks so much to everyone for reading my story and an extra-special thank you to everyone who rates or reviews. I’ll try and not be so slack for the next uploading!

Review Replies

Flaming Moth of Doom: So glad you’re enjoying it, thanks for reviewing :)

HarryGinny4eva: Thank you so much for your great review, I am so pleased that you enjoyed the last chapter – I hope you like this one, and that it doesn’t disappoint you too much ;)

Akasha: Thanks for the review, sorry for making you wait so long! :)

MegNutz: Ahaha! How happy am I to find I have converted you! Haha! Yeah it did suck the way she ran off – what was she *thinking*? :D Hope you enjoy the next chapter, thanks for your review.

Jinxie13: Really glad that you’ve been enjoying it, thanks so much for the review. I think there was a bit of underlying nastiness in Ron in this fic – as I mentioned before, I was kinda writing out the daemons of an old relationship. Great observation! Enjoy the rest :)

Wolfsoul: I like to think that it’s an interesting chapter when people get a bit riled up about it :D I agree with you she was silly – she needs to work it out! And Ron definitely is a git. I love that you enjoyed the little details too, it so great knowing they were appreciated – I was a bit worried bout the corridor, but yay! You got it! :) Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks so much for your great reviews.

koolgirl18: Hoho! Now why would you think that Snape would just complicate things? Surely he’s not *that* transparent… *snicker* I am really glad you’re liking this wee tale and it’s always good to hear the smut was appreciated – all I can say in regards to writing it is practice, practice, practice! Thank so much for your lovely review and for the offer of help, although it’s actually limiting myself to ten pages that’s the problem with this fic :) Good luck with your writing and I hope you enjoy what’s to come!

Aurette: Sorry for taking so long! Thanks so much for reviewing :D Enjoy!

Thanks so much again for reading, guys and girlies! See you again soon – promise. ~Love Marie

Chapter Five – Doubts

Severus lay awake in the watery, early light with a pounding headache and an aching erection, neither of which he seemed able to shift. He stretched out on his front, his face pressed into the pillow, his hips pressed into the mattress. In his mind he could see nothing but Hermione Granger’s hair, Hermione Granger’s skin, Hermione Granger’s body shuddering underneath him. He had it bad, he knew he had it bad. He hadn’t had it this bad in a very long time. He hadn’t been able to sleep because of haunting dreams of her. Now he lay awake, not even attempting to doze, trying not to picture her asleep in bed next to another man. A weasel of a man.

He was a fool. He had known very well that she belonged to someone else. She had told him openly. But when it came down to it he had simply been so overwhelmed by the idea that she could possibly want him at all that he hadn’t thought about the consequences. A poor show. And very foolish.

He flipped over onto his back, sighing deeply, staring up at the ceiling above.

This really wasn’t like him. It was easy enough to take what he wanted from the women he usually entered into intimate relations with – often desperate old witches at the Leaky Cauldron – and when he was finished he moved on very quickly. He infinitely preferred it that way. He could count the women who had actually meant anything to him on one hand. It was very surprising, indeed, how quickly Miss Granger had made her way onto that list.

He had always known she was intelligent, good God, she had smugly forced her knowledge onto others in his vicinity often enough for him to be sure of that. She could challenge him. She could match him on many levels. There was no denying it, though he might have been inclined to try.

But he could have viewed Hermione Granger with the same appreciative – and plutonic – eyes through which he saw his other brilliant students, if only he hadn’t found her so experienced in the library, and so God-damn hot for him. He couldn’t very well have left her alone, once she had kissed him the way she did. He was only a man for God’s sake.

Now what the hell was he supposed to do? It wasn’t as if there was anyone he could go to for advice. Minerva might have become a confidant of sorts since he had returned to the school at her request, but talking about this situation with her was impossible – Granger was still technically a student, and he had very much broken the rules on that score. If Minerva were to find out the truth he would lose his job for certain, which he didn’t really care about, but he would also lose her respect. And, whether he liked it or not, he did care about that. If there was some sort of solid basis to his actions – if it had been more than a heated affair – he might have been able to explain himself, but as it stood it was really unjustifiable. He’d wanted to fuck her, so he did.

But he hadn’t counted on wanting to do it again so badly.

He rolled onto his front once more, groaning quietly into his pillow, trying to ignore the clamouring memories of her kisses and breathy moans. He had never known a woman like her. She had been so responsive, so delicious. She had really wanted him.

The lurching feeling deep inside him was not helped by the sudden arrival of an arrogant, freckled and decidedly unwanted distraction to his train of thought. She wanted someone else more. She belonged to someone else. He flipped onto his back and crushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to blot out the mental images he didn’t want, the thought of her in bed with Weasley. Riding him with her expert hips, breathing his name.

Making love to him.

He sighed loudly and threw back the covers, jumping out of bed to pace back and forth, the rough stone floor of his room cold against his bare feet. The human mind never ceased to fascinate him. Why did people do it to themselves? Why did he do it to himself? He was driving himself mad with thoughts and feelings which he should leave well enough alone. He was acting very out of character. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d doubted himself in such a way. He was a cold person, he didn’t try to deny it, and he was always able to rise above the pantomime that was human nature to do what he had to do.

He stopped pacing, crossing his arms across his chest, and stared with narrowed eyes at the pale light drifting down from the room’s one small window. Had he known the mental turmoil that would follow the steamy encounter in the library he would have left well enough alone, but now that it had happened, he had to simply set his shoulders and get on with it. Any lingering, unpleasant feelings would fade quickly enough, and he just had to ride them out. It shouldn’t be too hard.

So long as he could avoid her.

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It wasn’t easy. He had the kitchen elves bring him breakfast in his study, so he was able to eat without the fear of seeing her across a crowded room, and he had darted quickly enough to his first lesson to avoid bumping into her. The third lesson of the day was Seventh Year Potions, however, and the idea that she might play hooky and not show up was too much to hope for.

His first lesson was with the First Year Slytherins, and despite his fowl temper and pounding headache, he found that the time passed quickly enough. The new students were eager and intelligent enough on the whole, and had a passion for knowledge that was infectious, as anyone who had taught a good class knew. There was very little trouble, and some of them earned good points for the house. They worked hard during the lesson, so he was lenient with their assignments.

The second lesson was with Fourth Year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and unlike the first, it was an absolute nightmare. He thought they were getting on well enough to try and brew a simple cure for the common cold, and he quickly learnt that his trust had been misplaced – they were barely halfway through the lesson and they had melted four cauldrons between them already. He stalked through the classroom, weaving in and out of the benches, his hawk-like gaze anticipating other disasters quickly enough to avert them. Two of the Hufflepuff boys were fighting with what looked like rubber chickens at the back of the classroom, and he stilled them with a glare, enjoying the way they squirmed and turned red.

“No, Hawley!” He dived forwards and grabbed the handful of beetle wings before the ditzy girl could throw them into her cauldron. “Not until you’ve added the spleen! If the four previous explosions were not enough to remind you, it is written clearly there on the board entirely for your benefit, if you care to glance that way at all. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

He continued to watch the chaos around him, managing to contain it somewhat, somehow. The students leant into the heavy steam, sirring wildly, trying to attain the raspberry red colour that would get them the pass. Time ticked slowly away. He slipped his watch from his pocket and glanced down at just the wrong moment. The fifth cauldron to explode was older than the others, and shattered even more impressively, hot shards of copper and splattering potion flying across the room. He was fast to react, shielding the students quickly enough to avoid injuries.

“That’s quite enough of that,” he said wearily as he cleared away the mess. “Anyone with any potion left for me to mark, bottle it now and put it on my desk.” He gave them all two crippling assignments.

Afterwards he took the opportunity of the gap between lessons to nip to his rooms, in the bathroom he stood at the sink, and splashed his face with cold water. Seventh Year next. The memory of her stirred in his mind again and he felt a kick of – what was it? Desire? Apprehension? – something, deep in his gut.

The corridors were clear as he made his way to the NEWT classroom, he was probably a little late, but he didn’t care. Despite the wash of scents and cheap body-sprays that the teens drenched themselves in, he could smell the gentle sweetness of her perfume the moment he stepped through the door, and it took quite a bit of effort not to glance towards the desk where she was sitting quietly at the back of the class.

“Alright, shut it,” he muttered darkly, and the students quickly fell silent and turned in their chairs to face the front. He could feel her gaze all over him. He didn’t look her way once. “By now you should be more than capable of brewing your own serums, but the utter debacle that was Friday’s lesson proved that most of you don’t have the slightest idea what a serum even is. Consequently you will be getting to know the chapter titled ‘Serums’ in your textbooks intimately during the next two hours. Open to page 244.”

There was a collective groan as the pupils put away their wands and dragged their books from their bags, and the sound of rustling paper filled the room as they flipped to the start of the chapter.

“Start reading,” he said.

Once a sort of settled silence had replaced the sighs and shuffling of the students, he slowly walked behind his desk and sat down, and it was only then that he let himself look at her for the first time. She was wearing muggle clothes as she always did, exempt from wearing the school uniform as she was, and she rested her head in one hand while the other held her book open on the desk. Her eyes moved quickly as she read, but her face held a serene look of mild boredom, she probably knew more about Serums than the man who wrote the textbook. He was suddenly breathless. She took his breath away. The curve of her jaw, the twists in her hair, he was entirely enthralled by her. He realised he was staring and snapped his head away, glaring at the other students, though they all seemed to be reading quite avidly still. He cleared his throat and made a decision.

“Granger, come here.”

She looked up quickly at the sound of her name and he couldn’t help but look right back at her, and her eyes stared deep into his, and he was glad that he was sitting down already. He doubted that he could’ve kept his distance had he been standing anywhere near her. She stood quickly and walked towards him, and he looked away from her then, embarrassed. He couldn’t look her in the eye at all. His desk remained a life-saving barrier between them.

“I believe we discussed my withdrawing you from this class,” he said smoothly. He placed his hands flat on the desk to stop them shaking. Behind her he saw several other students glance up in interest.

“Yes, Sir,” she said quietly. The honorific cut at him like a knife.

“Then get your things and leave.” There were gasps and mutters from the other students. He silenced them with a glare. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at her face. “Now, please, Miss Granger,” he added.

“Sir – Couldn’t I just observe?” Her voice drifted down to him like music. He was careful to keep his face set impassively. “I won’t participate,” she bargained. He shook his head.

“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable. Now please leave.”

She stood silently for a second or two, then turned away and went quickly to her desk, he glanced up to watch as she stuffed her book into her bag viciously. She looked angry. He studied the papers on his desk intensively as she turned to him again.

“Can’t we – “ she started.

“See me after the lesson,” he interrupted her, eyes still on the papers.

“But – “

“After the lesson, Miss Granger!” He growled, and he did look up her then, glaring at her with narrowed eyes as she frowned back down at him. She was definitely angry. She didn’t say anything more, however, but turned and left with a quiet huff.

“Showing favouritism, sir?” One of the teens called out cheekily as the door closed behind her. “You had to ask her to leave over four times and she didn’t get a detention?”

The accusation ran down his spine like cold rain, he set his jaw so that his face remained fixed in a slight scowl, though he felt the stab of guilt keenly he was more than skilled enough to conceal it. He turned to the boy who had spoken, a rather wimpy but funny Ravenclaw called Haywood, and glared at him so fiercely that even the students at the desks around him shrank back in horror.

“Miss Granger was responsible for an intervention during my trial at the Ministry War Hearings which spared me from dying in Azkaban,” he said, clearly and menacingly. “When you have provided me with such a service you may expect leniency when it comes to serving detentions. As it is, however, insolence will get you nowhere.”

Several of the students chuckled as he sent a pink detention slip to Haywood’s desk with a flick of his wand. Haywood shook his head, but he had a bit of a smirk about his face too, conceding. He’d only make the boy stay 15 minutes, he decided.

“Get back to reading,” he muttered, and the students stopped their whispered chattering and settled back down to silent study rather quickly. Severus leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers, his brows drawn together in a slight frown.

Memories drifted back to him of the day he stood before newly-appointed Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt and the rest of the ministry, chained in heavy iron despite his serious injuries, the predominant figure in the most avidly observed trials in the history of the wizarding word. He remembered wishing, countless times, that he had died in the dirt on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. It would have been so easy, far easier than it had been baring himself to the scrutiny of a grieving community, and expecting nothing in return but years of empty hell in a cell that already had his name on it. He remembered the way she had stormed into the room, waving the letter from Minerva high above her head, demanding fair treatment of the accused while the trial was postponed in light of new evidence towards his character – evidence written by the hand of the late Albus Dumbledore. It was like she had brought glowing rays of hope and light into the room with her.

That it had been her that had brought the message was entirely coincidental – he learned later that she had simply been the closest member of the Order to hand – but when the bearer is bringing a life sentence rather than death sentence, it’s hard not to very much appreciate such a messenger. Considering it, now that he had sparked his own memory to events he had tried to put behind him somewhat, it was probably from that moment that his real appreciation of Miss Granger began. Like blinkers falling from his eyes, it had been that one moment nearly three years ago that had made him see the adult instead of the child, had started the thinking that made him consider her a woman rather than a girl. He hadn’t had much contact with her in the interim, of course, but he followed her progress with some interest through various articles in The Prophet. He had always been glad of the service she had provided.

And it did lend itself to being a fantastic excuse for favouritism towards her.

To his surprise there was barely a whispered word from the rest of the class, absorbed as they were in their reading, though one or two of them might have been asleep. The seconds ticked slowly by and he got on with some marking, squinting as he quickly read through the scrawled essays, correcting them when necessary. He was able to concentrate now that he had removed the distraction that was Granger.

“Professor?” The girl at the front spoke hesitantly and flinched when he snapped his head up to glare at her. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she muttered, “but it’s lunchtime.”

He leant back in his chair and glanced down at his watch, sighing out a breath in surprise at the time. “Thank you, Miss Zora,” he said. “You can go. No assignments.”

There was a muted cheer of relief and the general hubbub of chairs scraping and people walking filled the room. His gaze followed the mass of bodies disinterestedly as it moved towards the door, but his eye was caught quickly enough by the hostile amber gaze glaring at him through one of the thin windows of the door before she moved aside, and he felt the kick of apprehension in his gut again. God, this was going to be a tough one. He scowled deeply.

“Expect a NEWT level test on Serums next lesson, though,” he called out bitterly. There was a combined moan from the class as they filtered out, which made him feel just a little better. But only a little. Once the last few dawdling students had dashed their way out, he looked at her for a few long seconds, considering her as she stood in the open doorway without stepping through. “You’d better come in, Miss Granger,” he said.

“You’ve forgotten my name already?” She sneered as she stalked towards him.

“Hardly the correct way to conduct yourself, Granger,” he muttered back through gritted teeth.

She seemed to deflate in front of him, her shoulders drooping in resignation, and she scraped a chair noisily and carelessly across to the opposite side of his desk. She folded herself into it, her hands in her lap and her head drooped, her wild curls hanging past her face beautifully.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but it wasn’t hard to hear her.

“I should be the one to apologise,” he replied, feeling the dagger of guilt twist in him at the sight of her so dejected. “My conduct has been more than questionable.”

She looked up at him and tilted her head to one side in an obvious gesture of irritability. He swallowed and thought a little more about what he was saying. He had the weary suspicion that he was treading on very thin ice.

“Let’s not pretend that neither of us knew what we were doing,” she said evenly, her eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

“Even so,” he felt his hostility growing because of hers, his eyes narrowing too. “When considering the rules of this establishment, you can’t deny that I have not acted as I should have towards you. I have taken advantage of you, Miss Granger.”

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, and when she spoke one eyebrow slowly rose towards her hairline. He had an eerie feeling as if he were looking in a mirror.

“Hardly,” she said.

He sighed and rested his head in his hands, pressing at his temples to try and relieve the thumping ache. “What did you come here for, if it wasn’t an apology?” He asked.

“I wanted to apologise to you,” she said. “I shouldn’t have run off, yesterday, like I did.”

He didn’t quite know what to say to that. He couldn’t claim to have been unaffected by the sight of her lithe body running away from him, along the crowded corridor and into the arms of another man, but he couldn’t blame her for her actions either. Weasley was her boyfriend. Weasley was the one that she – he swallowed again – loved. Probably.

“It’s alright,” was all he could think to say, and the words were hard to squeeze out through his tight throat. “Your relationship with Mr. Weasley continues?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Things with Ron are…complicated,” she admitted, and like an apparition called into being by her words, he was outside the door and rapping on the window with white knuckles. She jumped at the sound and her head flew round to look, standing up and gesturing at him wildly, holding her index-finger up to show she wouldn’t be long. She turned back to him.

“Will you meet me?” She asked him quickly. “Tonight? I’ll be doing my rounds on the fourth floor. Will you come and see me? I think we should talk.”

He felt his head swaying from side to side. He had serious doubts that he could hold a conversation with her on this subject without losing his way in it completely, and regardless of what he felt when he saw her in front of him, he couldn’t let himself get distracted from the reality of the situation. He didn’t want to be the unwilling partner in a prolonged affair – he wasn’t the sort man who shared – and the fact that she was a student was inescapable.

Weasley rapped on the door again.

“I honestly think it would be a bad idea to pursue anything more between us,” he said quietly, and he felt like an absolute shit even as he did so. “We should try and conduct ourselves as professionally as possible from now on.”

She stood with her mouth slightly ajar, even the tips of her fingers were still as she considered what he had said. He was afraid that she was going to tell him exactly what she thought. Probably loudly.

She sighed and closed her mouth, and shuffled her weight from one hip to the other, looking like she might speak now and then but stopping before anything came out. All of a sudden she didn’t look angry any more.

The door burst open and Weasley came in.

“‘Mione,” he called out like an order. “Come on, I’m starving.”

“Miss Granger and I have business to attend to,” Severus couldn’t help but glare at the interruption. “I’d have thought you’d have learnt some manners by now, Weasley.” He looked up at Granger and her amber eyes stared back at him.

“I’ll see you this evening?” She asked.

His mind ticked frantically as he looked down at the papers in front of him again. He was aware of the seconds passing, but he didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to know what she had been about to say, but he didn’t want to commit himself to a meeting later, and give her false hope in regards to their… relationship.

“Severus?” She said loudly, and the word echoed around the room like a writhing snake, slipping down his spine like ice. He knew instantly that she hadn’t meant to say it, he could feel the void of the word left hanging in the air, and he hoped that the colour wasn’t rising to his cheeks.

“We’ll see, Miss Granger,” he said, and he kept his eyes fixed on the papers as he waved her away vaguely with one hand, hoping that he appeared nonchalant enough to sway suspicion. He heard her retreating footsteps and the sound of the door closing, but he still had an uneasy feeling of being watched, and he realised that Weasley was still in the room with him. He took the time to count slowly to ten before raising his head and acknowledging the man.

“Can I help you?” He asked eventually, with withering exasperation.

“She called you Severus,” Weasley said bluntly.

Severus felt the tips of his ears burning. He went back to marking his papers, or at least pretending to, so that the matter seemed entirely unimportant to him.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I’m sure she was more embarrassed by the mistake than I was,” he drawled.

“Why does she want to meet you this evening?” Weasley’s second question.

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes slightly with impatience, then stared up evenly at the man he was fast learning to loathe.

“I have arranged to tutor Miss Granger while she studies for a Wizarding Degree.” He kept his voice an even tone of bored annoyance. “She is eager – as always – to start as soon as possible, but as you can see, I am rather busy.” He gestured quickly to the hundred or so essays slightly scattered across his desk. He picked up his quill and wrote something quickly. “If you’re so interested I suggest you ask her about it yourself,” he added. “I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to tell you every detail.”

He heard Weasley chuckle and glanced up in time to see the offensive aggression melt away from the young man’s posture, and he knew that he’d blagged it. He had blagged himself out of a steamy session with the man’s girlfriend, he thought with smug derision as he considered the arrogant red-head. The fool.

“It’s good of you to help her out,” Weasley said then, with an awkwardness about the compliment.

Severus continued to mark through the large pile of papers before him, not really paying attention to any of the comments he was writing, but he could go back and alter them later. Though he waited for what must have been minutes, Weasley still did not leave, but remained fidgeting by his desk.

He sighed and looked up again, his arm thumping down to the desk, exasperatedly.

“This is going to seem like a weird question,” Weasley said as he held his palms up defensively. “But – you haven’t noticed Hermione carrying on at all, have you?”

“Carrying on?” Severus asked quite loudly, but the sound was strangled somewhat, thankfully.

“You know – “ Weasley’s hands moved in a very obvious gesture. “Having it off. Do you know if she’s at it with one of the other students?”

Skin and sweat and heated kisses flashed through his mind in a rush of sordid memories, he could hear her moans echoing in her ears, he felt his mouth drop open in surprise.

“I have absolutely no idea,” he muttered at last, returning to his marking. Marking was his anchor. “I’m sure I would have heard rumours of such a thing, however,” he added. “If it had been the case.”

“I know it’s weird me asking you,” the young man repeated, “but I figured you might hear things, and let me know, man-to-man. If she’d been hanky-pankying.” He was forging ahead to conversational areas where Severus really didn’t want to go. “I wouldn’t think her capable of it to be honest, but she’s been acting well strange since I got back.” Snape scrawled another nonsense comment. “And you know how compliments can turn her head.” Guilt trickled down his spine. “Some wordy cunt could’ve – “

“I find it hard to see how Granger could have any interest in the uncouth, uneducated masses that prowl these corridors,” Severus interrupted angrily, disgusted by the man’s manner. He threw down his quill and any pretence of disinterest.

“I guess you’re right…” Weasley muttered, rubbing his chin as his brain tried hard to function. He seemed to have no idea whatsoever of the danger he was putting himself in by saying these sort of things in this particular classroom. “She’s not got that much going for her,” he continued to muse, “apart from the obvious,” he added quickly, in some sort of act of twisted chivalry. “But let’s face it, she’s not beautiful.”

Severus had no idea why this idiot of a man was saying any of this stuff to him, but his mind couldn’t help but flash back at his words to the sights he had seen only yesterday, sights which very much suggested the contrary. Her hair, beautiful. Her body, beautiful. Her face as she came, beautiful.

“Nobody else is likely to want her, and she wouldn’t want them.” Weasley was going on and on. “She’s never been that interested in sex – ”

‘Oh God, please,’ The memory of her breathy voice came back to him. ‘There!’

“ – She gives shit blowjobs – “

God, this was hell. This was actually hell. He could feel the shadows of her soft hair in his hands and the erotic bob of her head. He crossed his legs beneath the desk and shifted his hips slightly.

“ – And she’s not what you’d call a responsive lover – “

‘Severus,’ she’d begged him, her voice desperate. ‘Harder, Severus.’

“ – But the birds have been thin on the ground lately, if you know what I mean,” Weasley’s voice jabbered on. “And, well, ‘Mione’s supposed to be a cert,” he said with a shrug. “But she was having none of it.”

Severus glared at him, and he was sure that the disgust was showing clearly on his face, but he didn’t give a damn about trying to conceal it. Relief at the knowledge that Granger had refused this repulsive little man ran through him, but his hatred for the youth was still complete and absolute. He glared, unblinking, right into his eyes.

“Right. So… Err –” The defensive palms came up again as Weasley fidgeted. “You’ve not heard anything like that?”

Severus continued to simply stare.

“I’ll be going then,” Weasley said, and retreated with a strange sort of backwards shuffle before closing the door behind him.

When he was sure that he’d really gone, Severus slumped his head down onto the desk and sighed deeply. His headache was getting worse. But at least his doubts were decreasing.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! If you leave me a review I will be a very very happy person :)
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