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Matters of the Heart	By : strawberryf1re Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 34556 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe (characters, settings, etc.) ŠJ.K. Rowling. No profits are made from this work.

Chapter List
- 5
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Rating: M – inappropriate for readers under the age of 16; contains scenes of explicit sexuality and violence.

Disclaimer: Characters and settings ©J.K. Rowling

Matters of the Heart

K. Marie

Chapter 6

Within the next few days, Hermione made a habit out of spending nearly every afternoon in the potions dungeon. Completely absorbed in the work, she finally managed to get herself back on track and produce the exceptional results she had grown so accustomed to.

Her return to normalcy was not overlooked by Snape. While she worked in his laboratory, he remained at a distance, but kept a watch on her all the same. She fearlessly asked for his help when she needed it, and it was a real comfort to know that she was finally overcoming what had transgressed between them.

That was not to say she wasn’t still cautious around the professor, but she did seem a great deal more like herself. He began to appreciate her company for what it was; she was an intelligent debater, offering legitimate and sensible arguments for her opinion, whether it was the significance of arithmancy in potions-brewing or why Trismegistus was a greater alchemist than Elrick. Even when Severus was faced with a perplexing problem, Hermione offered solutions he might otherwise never have thought of.

She would be a very competent potions mistress, if nothing else came of their time together. Snape silently chastised himself as he watched her move from the lab to the storeroom. He should not desire anything more than the relationship (if one could call it that) they had already developed. And yet, there was something deep inside him that desired so much more.

Often times he lay in bed late into the night pondering how he felt towards Miss Hermione Granger. She was a brilliant young woman; he hadn’t had the enjoyment of such competent company in quite some time. She was compassionate and caring, which had been so honorably demonstrated the instant she told him she was not going to report him for his crime. She was, in essence, the perfect woman, really. And she graced Severus with her presence; if only she weren’t his student!

But after long sessions of contemplation, he always shook off any considerations as complete insanity. She was his student, and as far as he knew, she wasn’t even of legal age yet.

For fear of doing anything he would later regret, he kept his distance from the girl. It was bad enough that he had confessed so much to her in a moment of weakness; the look of defeat on her normally proud features was terrible for him to bear, especially considering that he was the cause of such frustration. Fortunately, she neither brought their conversation up nor used it against him. She simply listened, accepted what he had to say, and moved on.

Tuesday afternoon saw a change in her usual routine however; the clock struck four, and she was nowhere to be seen. Snape, of course, neither expected nor required her attendance, but when she did not show, his thoughts did linger on where else she may be.

For most of the afternoon, the Potions Master found himself grading homework assignments that were less appalling than usual. When the dinner bells sang, Severus accepted the interruption with graciousness and made his way towards the Great Hall.Any students that had been unfortunate enough to cross his path found their house points (for the most part) unharmed. He was forced to separate a few students from publicly displaying their affections, and those were the few who saw their house points dwindle slightly.

From the High Table, Snape was easily able to survey the large hall. He recognized the barely manageable mass of curly hair that was his apprentice with her usual company. For a fleeting moment, the Potions Master felt a pang of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, but the feeling passed.

His appetite suddenly extinguished, Severus stared at his empty plate fiercely.

“Ron, tell Harry I’ll talk to him tomorrow, will you?” Hermione asked. “I should really be getting to bed, I’m exhausted.”

Standing from her place on the floor, Hermione flattened out the wrinkles in her jeans. Ron nodded, “Yeah, sure. G’night, Hermione.”

Waving farewell, the Head Girl climbed through the portrait hole for a leisurely detour to her private rooms. She couldn’t shake the restless feeling in her legs and figured a nice walk would do her good.

The Fat Lady managed a ‘tut’ as Hermione walked away without so much as an acknowledgement in the portrait’s direction. The evening had unfortunately been spent discussing any news regarding Voldemort, which Harry had none. Being the cautious one, Hermione offered a few suggestions as to what could be happening, but both Ron and Harry disregarded her thoughts entirely.

Slightly insulted, Hermione tried to brush it off. They were boys, and they always thought they were right. Despite how many times Hermione had saved their lives in the past, and how many times she could have if they had just listened!

“Professor Snape would have listened,” Hermione grumbled quietly as she moved down the corridor. “Lumos.” She turned down a corridor just as the lamps were being extinguished, and suddenly she was bathed in darkness. “He wouldn’t have thought my ideas were stupid.”

Faintly, Hermione heard the whisper of fabric. Disregarding it as the curtains moving in the cool October wind, she continued down the hall.

“Sometimes those two can be so bothersome,” she whispered to herself. The portraits along the walls stirred from their slumber and glared at her disdainfully.

Turning down a windowless corridor, Hermione caught the sound of moving fabric again. Without any curtains in the hall, she knew she was not alone.

“Who’s there?” Holding out her wand, squinting through the darkness, Hermione strained to see the silhouette of her company. Suddenly they came into view, grasping her wand hand and lowering it. Their own wand illuminated near her face, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“What are you doing wandering the corridors so late, Miss Granger?” came the oily voice.

“Head Girl duties, Professor Snape,” she replied, smiling at the irony of her relief at seeing Professor Snape in the corridors past curfew.

“It is well past curfew, girl,” he growled, staring her down.

“I am well aware,” she retorted bravely. “I am also aware that, as Head Girl, my list of privileges allows me to disregard the curfew.”

His lip curling, Snape released his hold on her hand at last. Her wand was still illuminated but offering little light, Snape’s positioned perfectly so that she could clearly see his features. Even so, she raised hers, and suddenly acknowledged the distance (or lack thereof) between herself and her professor. She drew in a sharp breath, but never moved her eyes from his.

The Potions Master’s wand hand slackened slightly and the movement threw the stream of light flickering awkward shadows across his face. Hermione, her eyes finally adjusted to the weak lighting, lowered her gaze to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and back again.She felt the familiar tug in her lower stomach again and suddenly felt the strongest impulse to close the remaining distance between them. She took a step forward, her eyes never leaving his.

With less than a foot between their bodies, Hermione dropped her wand hand to her side, the light slowly dimming until there was none. She could see her reflection in the darkness of his eyes, lit by his wand.

Raising a trembling hand to his cheek, Hermione pushed the long strands of hair back from his face. He stared at her intensely and leaned down to her; she willed her nerves to stop wracking. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, her stomach turning circles in her nervousness. He stopped, mere inches from her face, and she longed for him to close the remaining distance.

He moved forward, and his mouth was next to her ear. The warm breath was tantalizing. Something in her groin was twisting and tugging as he softly breathed on her ear, tickling her neck.

“I suggest you return to your rooms, Miss Granger, before I deduct house points for inappropriate behavior.” She knew it was not an honest threat, but pulled her hand away from him and nodded.

“Yes, of course, sir,” she whispered, bowing her head and turning on her heel. She left him breathing in her lingering scent.

Snape paced the length of his living room furiously. Having fled the scene in the corridor moments after she had abandoned him there, his mind was a flurry of thoughts and emotions.

Was the girl absolutely mad? He had near ravaged her body barely a month previous, and she was now offering herself to him willingly? He must have done more damage than he initially thought – come to think of it, she had seemed to recover rather quickly, especially in the presence of her attacker. The event must have driven all sanity from her mind!

What the hell is she thinking?The same question came to mind numerous times as he burned a trail in the carpet.

Having yet another bout of insomnia and no desire to subject himself to the mind-numbing chore that was grading essays, nor having the desire to begin the task of writing an exam, Severus had decided to patrol the halls. He had heard the portrait hole of Gryffindor Tower swing open and the Fat Lady make a disapproving noise, and thought he had found a student or two in the process of sneaking back to their own houses.

Or, he reflected, Potter and Weasley once again sticking their noses where they don’t belong.

As he backed around a corner, he saw Hermione Granger turn down the hallway, probably en route to her own rooms. Regardless, Head Girl or not, she was dangerously near her own “special” curfew – not to mention, he was still slightly irritated by her unexpected absence in his classroom that afternoon.

She was talking to herself, which had he not come to know her these past weeks, he would have found slightly odd. He was too far to make sense of the mumbling, and kept the safe distance between them as he quietly followed her, waiting for the opportune moment to make his presence known.

That moment never came as she realized suddenly that she was, in fact, not alone. She brandished her illuminated wand, turning on the spot. “Who’s there?” Her voice came quiet, but firm.

Illuminating his own wand, Severus stepped forward. She stared through the darkness as he grasped her wand hand in his free one and lowered the offending weapon from face-level.

“What are you doing wandering the corridors so late, Miss Granger?” He sneered.

He heard her breathe a sigh of relief, and through the light of his wand saw her mouth twitch into a smile. “Head Girl duties, Professor Snape.”

“It is well past curfew, girl,” he growled.

“I am well aware,” she replied. “I am also aware that, as Head Girl, my list of privileges allows me to disregard the curfew.”

He released her hand, his lips curling at her reply. Her face was softly illuminated by the glow of his wand, hers being too far to light much but the ground. He was watching her face as she raised her wand ever so slightly, and saw the flash of recognition in her eyes as she realized the closeness of their bodies. This would be the moment that would define the future of their working together; if she pushed away, they would both understand their boundaries. If she did not… Severus knew not what that would mean for their relationship.

She drew in a sudden breath, but did not move away. If anything, she moved closer, but he could have imagined it. In either case, her action stirred something below his belt. He longed to close the gap between them.

Absently, Severus lowered his wand just slightly, throwing shadows across Hermione’s face. She was looking over his features, and the tiniest movement told him she had taken a step forward.

He felt the urge to just pull her into his arms and close his mouth upon hers, but he restrained. He simply watched her as the wheels in her mind whirled, the light fading from her face as her wand lowered and then dimmed.

She reached her small hand to his face, and, resisting the urge to lean into the touch, Snape watched her eyes. She pushed a strand of his hair from his face, her hand lingering, and he could feel her trembling. Slowly, Severus leaned down to her, just centimeters from her lips. He felt her tip her head slightly to welcome the gesture, but he moved past her face to her ear. His soft breath raised gooseflesh along her neck, her breathing frantic and uneven.

Releasing a slow breath, Snape whispered, “I suggest you return to your rooms, Miss Granger, before I deduct house points for inappropriate behavior.” His threat was empty, and he suspected she was aware of it. Regardless, she nodded her agreement.

“Yes, of course, sir,” she replied. Turning on her heel, she left him, breathing in her scent.

Collapsing onto the sofa near his lit hearth, Snape rubbed at his temples. She was his apprentice, his student! His teenaged student, for God’s sake! And yet here she was, making him feel ways he had not felt since…

After their chance encounter in the hall, Hermione had quickly retreated to her rooms. The pit of her stomach was aflutter with butterflies it seemed, every nerve in her body aware of the movement of fabric against flesh.

She had never felt such an urge before. The fact that it was Snape whom she was feeling so strongly for, for whom her body was reacting so strongly towards – it disturbed her. Snape had raped her, a fact she tried to remind herself of whenever her body began to betray her as it had tonight. Yet, no matter how many times she reminded herself of it, she still woke from dreams of Snape above her, moving within her…

Running the shower, Hermione delicately stripped off her clothes. What was she thinking, reaching out to Professor Snape like that? The man was sick with guilt from what he did to her, and she was only becoming too comfortable with him. Climbing into the shower, Hermione wracked her brain. Spending nearly every moment of her day with him was one thing; touching him as intimately as she had… that was another thing entirely. That was the sort of thing that would lead to other… things.

The trickle of water flowing over her curves calmed her nerves slightly. Her mind still ran amuck with thoughts, but her body was relaxing.

Turning her back to the shower stream, Hermione massaged her head with her fingers, soaking her hair. Occasionally she wondered had the course of events never taken place, would she still begin feeling such a strange way for her professor? After all, they were working in close proximity most of the time, and he definitely provided her the intelligent company she so desired. It was truly nice to have someone understand her tangents of thought, someone who could heatedly debate with her his own opinion. Ron and Harry, whose knowledge on Quidditch could offer her a challenge had she cared, were simply not intellectually satisfying enough for her.

Hermione worked shampoo into her hair. If their relationship had continued as it had previous to his molestation of her, would it have developed into what it was now? A part of her severely doubted it, for he would not have opened up to her and made himself so vulnerable through his guilt. But perhaps he would have grown comfortable with her company, come to appreciate it as she did – and then maybe he would have offered himself to her as he had been doing.

Vaguely, as she rinsed her hair, Hermione wondered if he had felt the same intense urge to kiss her as she had him. If he had only allowed it, she would have let him take her right there in the hall. If only.

The thought of Professor Snape forcing her against the wall and pushing himself into her brought a twinge of excitement in Hermione’s nether regions. Closing her eyes, her hand led the way from her head to the heat between her legs.

Snape sat cross-legged on his bed, bent over an old shabby photo album. The pictures, like all magical photographs, were animated and the people within them smiled up at him. A tear fell from his hooked nose and stained the pages beneath him.

A redheaded girl, no older than fifteen, stood with her arm hooked through a young Severus’. She was laughing and smiling, leaning into Snape as the photographer snapped the picture. Severus too, was smiling and laughing.

The next picture contained the same redheaded girl, but she was clad in her school robes, the Gryffindor crest portrayed proudly on the left breast. She waved at the camera, smiling and glancing off the edge of the photograph. Snape knew that she was looking at his younger self, who had been approaching as the flashbulb burst.

He turned the page and a folded sheet of paper slid into Severus’ lap. Picking up the paper, he wiped angrily at his eyes, and unfolded the bottom portion of the paper.

sometimes I just can’t understand why he has to be so arrogant, Sev. It isn’t as if he’s better than anybody else.

I can’t wait for Hogsmeade this weekend. You’ll meet me in the Entrance Hall, right?

All my love,

Lily

A new set of tears leaked from Severus’ eyes and he folded the note and slid it back into the album. Slamming it shut, he leaned back into his pillows. He had sworn, after Voldemort murdered Lily, he would never let himself feel for another woman. And here Granger was, innocently tugging at his heartstrings.

Snape moved the photo album to his bedside table and eased his way under the warm comforter of his bed. It was sometime past midnight, and with classes in the morning, he needed to get some rest.

Wednesday afternoon found Hermione hurrying to the dungeons. She had been running late all day, and wanted to offer Professor Snape no reason to punish her. She pushed open the dungeons door, but found an empty classroom.

Scanning the room, she saw his office door was slightly ajar. Pulling the classroom door closed with a quiet click, Hermione moved to his office and slowly pushed the door open. There he was, leaning over a long sheet of parchment.

“Professor?” she said quietly. “I don’t mean to interrupt – I just wanted to let you know I was here.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Granger.” Snape didn’t look up from his desk.

Pausing, Hermione looked at him curiously. His voice had a tone that led her to believe he wasn’t finished, but when he made no gesture to continue, she began to turn towards the door. She heard his chair scrape against the stone floor. When she turned, he had come around his desk and stood a few feet away from her.

“Yes, sir?” Hermione asked, a little nervously.

He came closer to her, but Hermione was rooted to the spot. His hands reached out and grabbed her arms, pulling her easily into him. Pressing his mouth against hers, he pushed her body up against a cabinet and kissed her deeply.

His strong hands slid down her body and into her skirt, and she let out a sharp gasp as he began rubbing at her. Hermione returned his kiss full-force, pushing her tongue into his mouth and rocking her hips against his hand.

“Hermione…” Snape growled, his tone so low it reverberated through Hermione’s body.

Hermione sat up in bed, her breathing heavy. Looking around frantically, she spied the navy sky through her curtains, the orange glow of the sun peeking out over the horizon. Her body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and as she shifted her legs, found her panties were moist.

“Oh, dear gods,” she groaned as she fell back into the pillows. Crookshanks leapt gracefully onto her bed and curled up in the crook of her waist. She let her hand fall to his head as she scratched lovingly, her mind replaying her dream.

“Should I talk to him, Crookshanks?” Hermione asked her cat. His squished face peered at her through golden eyes. “Maybe I should talk to him, and sort all of this nonsense out.”

The orange tabby mewed, and Hermione took it as agreement. Surely, Snape would not be awake at this hour but she wanted to clear the air before classes started, and it would be the only thing on her mind.

A loud noise bellowed through Snape’s ears. He cracked his heavy eyes enough to look at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was barely five o’clock. The heavy noise sounded again, and it took him a moment to realize someone was knocking at the door.

And another moment passed before he realized it was his office door. He considered momentarily who would bother him at this hour; it couldn’t be Filch, because the caretaker knew the whereabouts of the entrance to Severus’ private quarters.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown. Whoever it was waking him so early had better have a damn good reason for doing so. Snape swept through his living room and through the door that delivered him into his office.

The knocking did not cease as Snape made his way through to his office. It only grew more frantic as more time wore on, and when Snape wrenched open the door in irritation, he was not prepared to see a tired-looking Hermione standing there, her hand raised as if she were going to continue to knock.

She, too, seemed surprised to have been greeted in such a way. “Good morning, Professor,” she began awkwardly.

Staring at the sight before him, the Potions Master tried to absorb it. His apprentice was standing outside his office at quarter after five in the morning. It suddenly occurred to him that something must be terribly wrong; for what other reason would she be there?

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her into his office, closing the door behind her. The sudden force threw the Head Girl off balance, and she fell into the uncomfortable chair she had so often inhabited this year. Severus stood before her, and even in his pajamas and dressing gown, Hermione was feeling slightly intimidated, vulnerable.

“Is something amiss?” Snape demanded, staring at her fiercely.

Hermione’s amber eyes widened as she realized he was in a slight panic. “No, no, sir! I just… I thought that it was time we discussed our current… relationship.” The last word was pronounced carefully, as if she was uncertain to call it that.

Realizing the serious tone in her voice, Severus slowly seated himself behind his desk. Hermione had straightened up in the chair he had practically tossed her into, and he could tell she was trying to make this conversation as mature as she could.

“Continue,” he offered.

Suddenly, she reverted back to the uncertain girl he had seen days after he violated her. She curled her legs up next to her in the chair and intently began examining her fingernails.

“Last night, Professor,” she began quietly. “I… I guess I’m not entirely certain how I feel about you. I know how I should feel about you, but in all reality, what I should and what I do are two entirely different things. I should hate you. I should have reported you. I should want to see you as far away from me as magically possible.” She paused, looking up at him seriously. “But I don’t. I don’t feel any of those things.

“These past few weeks, I have grown extremely comfortable with you. I enjoy being in your company because you offer something my friends cannot: an intellectual adversary. We can discuss and debate topics that neither Harry nor Ron would have the faintest clue about. We can challenge each other’s theories, test each other’s solutions – I have truly come to appreciate your company.

“And while I should hate you for raping me, I feel as if it’s the complete opposite. I don’t hate you. What I feel doesn’t even come close to hatred towards you. I think about you, I dream about you, I miss you when I’m not with you. It’s completely absurd, I know! You stole my virginity, and yet, just last night, I have never felt such strong an urge in my life.

“Alone in that corridor with you, I wanted so badly just to kiss you, to feel what it would be like if I wanted it.” At that, she blushed furiously and lowered her gaze. “There is something horribly wrong with me, there must be.”

Severus stared at her, slightly awed. Five minutes had not passed and she had confessed so much to him, and he had no idea how to handle it. He could insult her, belittle her, push her away, like he had done so many others in his past. But he did not want to.

In fact, he wanted to draw her into his arms and hold her. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do that, either. The only thing he could do, it seemed, was stare at her pretty face.

“Tell me,” she said quietly, looking into his eyes. “Tell me you feel the same?”

Snape slowly considered his words. The opportune moment to reject her, and yet he found it was not so simple. He lowered his gaze.

“So then…” she sighed, the defeated tone in her voice he had grown to hate so much. “It is just in my head. All of it.” She stood slowly, her eyes red with tears. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Professor Snape.”

“Wait.” Before she reached the door, Severus had moved around his desk and touched her shoulder. She turned, looking at him, her eyes shiny and her cheeks wet.

He bent to her, kissing her lips softly.
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Matters of the Heart