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Lions, Snakes, and Traitors, Oh My.	By : half_blood_princess Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 7717 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein. I am making no money from this story.

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“Hermione?” Ginny sat on the older Gryffindor’s bed and laid a hand on her frizzy hair. She noticed a mark on her lip, and made a note to ask her about it. She shook her friend lightly.

Startled out of a deep sleep, Hermione shot up and was confused about where she was until she saw her friend’s face, concern written all over it.

“Ginny? What are you…oh. I overslept my classes again?”

“No, you’re early enough. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Last night, you came in, crying. Did Trelawney say something to you?”

“No, no. I just had a bad night and a rough day.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah. Thank you for checking in on me. I just couldn’t bear to talk to anyone last night.”

“Well if you decide you want to talk, you know I’m always here, ‘Mione.”

“I know.”

Ginny hugged Hermione tightly and stood from the bed.

“That offer for the Butterbeer still stands…”

“I’ll think on it.” Hermione smiled weakly.

Ginny grinned and walked to her bed to pick up her rucksack. As she was exiting the bedroom, she turned, the question burning on her tongue.

“Hey…what happened to your lip?”

She raised her right hand and touched her lips, feeling for an anomaly, when she pushed a sore spot, and winced. That must have been where Snape…Severus…had bitten her last night.

Despite her best attempts, Hermione could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks, and she darted her eyes away from Ginny in embarrassment.

“You don’t have to tell me; I was just curious.”

“I’m not ready to talk about it…”

“Don’t worry. Really, it’s fine. You’ll tell me when you want. I’ll see you later!” Ginny smiled.

Hermione wondered how she got so lucky—having friends like Ginny—and Harry and Ron, even though they were currently on her ‘hex’ list. They never pushed it when she didn’t want to talk about something or just needed to vent.

She knew she couldn’t go to her classes with her lip bruised, so she finally decided to use some of the Bruise Removal Paste that Fred and George had her try, once upon a time. The thick yellow paste was almost unbearable, but she held out for at least an hour. Once she removed the offending junk from her lip and chin, she was pleased to see that there was only a tiny mark where the bruise had been.

Thankfully, she didn’t have Potions that day, though Dumbledore would still have been teaching. Her Charms class was fairly bland, and she aced her exam easily.

When she ran into the Headmaster, near the Great Hall, she was greeted with a warm smile.

“Miss Granger! Are you headed to the Infirmary?”

“Uh…no. I saw Professor Snape last night and he said he no longer...required my help, so I was going to eat a light lunch and then go to the library to study.”

“Ah. I believe he mentioned the library—something about returning a book you left on his nighttable at some point today?”

“Professor Snape asked me to retrieve that book from the library last night. I’m sure he could find someone to return it for him.”

“Indeed, he could.” Dumbledore smiled again. “Good afternoon, Miss Granger! Enjoy your weekend. I believe I will be indulging in a game of Exploding Snap with Professor Sprout.” He walked away, humming to himself, seeming very pleased.

As much as she loved Dumbledore, Ginny was right—he could be downright confusing sometimes. After their conversation, Hermione began to feel guilty for lying to Dumbledore and just leaving Snape alone—after all, no one else knew he was locked up in the Infirmary or even on the campus. Though, she was sure he preferred to be alone anyways. Three times, she started towards the Infirmary and shook her head, turning around. The fourth time, she growled in annoyance and stomped towards what was probably a terrible idea.

Madame Pomfrey must have been at lunch, because the Infirmary was empty. Opening it slightly, she noticed that very few candles were lit anymore and Snape was snoring lightly.

Hermione had the thought that he looked peaceful, but that idea was quickly wiped out of her mind when she remembered what occurred the night before.

Peaceful was not a word anyone could claim applied to Severus Snape.

She looked around the room, trying to find the book, because it wasn’t in the original spot she’d left it. If Snape expected her to return it and she didn’t, well…she tried not to think about how he’d likely berate her in front of the class again. Hermione had enough of that.

As she shuffled closer to the bed, she saw the book in question—it was halfway underneath his pillows.

Quietly and carefully, she placed her hands under the pillow on the bottom and made contact with the sides of the book. As she pulled it out with some effort, she slipped on a part of the blanket that had slid to the floor, and she fell with a loud ‘THUD’!

Almost at once, Snape woke up, his wand pointed down at her. He was half-naked, from the waist up, and his hair was slightly disheveled.

“Lumos! Who in the hell—”

“It’s me, Professor Snape! Hermione!”

“Bloody fucking…what are you doing here, Granger?”

“Professor Dumbledore told me you wanted me to return the book.”

“Yes, that’s true, but I had planned on leaving it with Madame Pomfrey for you to retrieve and return at your own leisure, given your love of forbidden literature. Instead, you decided to take it upon yourself to sneak up on a sleeping wizard who has a penchant for dark spells and sleeps with his wand under his pillow. You really are brilliant.” He scoffed.

“I had to use Weasley’s Bruise Paste to get rid of the mark you left on me last night, you git. I just wanted to help you, and you kiss me and then tell me to get out? Now you’re angry with me for trying to retrieve a book and do what I thought was expected of me! What’s wrong with you?”

“Why, you infuriating, little mousey haired know-it-all! You’re the goddamn thorn in my side!”

“Really? Well, I’d rather be a know-it-all with mousey hair than a smarmy, self-righteous fucking arsehole!”

“Chit! You dare to address a professor that way?”

“What, it’s perfectly fine for you to call me names but I can’t retaliate? That’s just rich. Yes, I dared to address you as a self-righteous, fucking arsehole! Did I stutter?” Hermione exploded, repeating one of the professor’s favourite phrases. She’d had enough! Who the hell did he think he was? Professor or no, there had to be a line.

Snape crossed it when he hefted Hermione off of her position on the floor in a flash of movement and threw her on the bed. Her head was still spinning when he descended upon her and pinned her body beneath his.

“Say that again, little girl.”

His eyes flashed.

“I’m not a little girl! Stop bloody calling me that!”

“You act like one. Could have fooled me!”

“Let me go—let me—”

Her words caught in her throat as he captured her mouth like he had the night before, but hungrier—almost frenzied. Hermione couldn’t help but taste his the cinnamon on his tongue from the tea he’d been drinking and something else, but she couldn’t place it. The constant attack on her lips elicited a small moan from her throat, and she opened her mouth a little wider, giving him more access. His tongue snaked this way and that, and she realized that she didn’t know kissing could be so heated.

The tingling started again, what she’d felt briefly when she’d said his name in the library. It spread lower and lower, until Hermione couldn’t stand it anymore and ground herself against the knee she hadn’t known was pressed in between her thighs. She tried to grab him and yank him closer, but he pulled back, and she cried out at the loss of his lips.

“I want you, Professor…Severus…please!”

“That’s too bad, isn’t it?” Snape grabbed her wrists and secured them above her head with one hand. He then lowered himself to her once more, and she felt a warm bulge on her thigh through the fabric of his pants as her skirt rose higher. She became so slick, every movement of the fabric that covered her clit rubbed against her in a most evil way. It didn’t help that Snape was now purposely pressing his knee against that most tender spot and she couldn’t grind anymore.

“Oh god…”

“Not quite, Granger.” He panted, his breathing erratic. “Not nearly.”

He pulled her hair roughly, remembering how her body had melted the night before, and he kissed her again. Her cries of pleasure melted into his mouth, and she bucked against him, though she couldn’t move much at all.

Hermione had no idea why her body was reacting that way…but she was ashamed to admit she liked it.

All of a sudden, the kisses stopped, and he removed himself from her.

“Why…why did you stop?” she cried out.

“I’ve been here long enough, in this cramped, pathetic excuse for a sick room, and I most certainly won’t be caught fucking a student. Make yourself presentable, Granger.”

“But…”

“I said now.”

Using a quick spell to straighten her hair down to manageable curls and refresh her skin, she used a hair tie on her wrist to pull the curls into a high ponytail.

The wetness between her thighs made her ache all over again, and she blushed as her arms folded across her chest, realizing what had just transpired between the two of them.

“Don’t act so modest.” Snape rolled his eyes as he finished buttoning his trousers and pulled a shirt over his head. He then grabbed what she assumed to be a new shirt exactly like the old one that had been ripped to shreds, and pulled his arms through before buttoning it.

She had seen a glimpse of his penis, hard as a rock and erect. It must have been uncomfortable for him to try and dress with that thing poking around, she thought.

“Are you going to stand there and gawk all afternoon?”

“I’m sorry, Professor—”

“Oh, I think we’re long past formalities.” He said, voice silkily smooth. She nearly dropped to the floor right then. How was it possible he could do this to her?

He snatched the book from the floor and shoved it into Hermione’s hands, before grabbing her by the wrist and pushing her out of the door.

Madame Pomfrey had just walked into the Infirmary when she saw Hermione.

“Miss Granger! I didn’t know you were stopping by so early!”

“Uh…Professor Snape wanted me to return this book…”

Snape interrupted her as he walked smoothly out of the sick room and smirked at the nurse.

“But Madame Pince will need my signature on the records. Before you scold me, I’m fine, Poppy. I’m returning to the dungeons, where I can sleep peacefully in my own bed.”

“Severus, are you certain?”

“Very.”

As he walked by her, he put a hand on Madame Pomfrey’s shoulder and patted it.

Hermione didn’t know what to make of his gesture—was he actually being nice?

“Come along, Miss Granger.” He intoned, as if he were talking to a puppy. Irritated, she followed him. Once they were in the hall, she tugged on his robes to get him to slow down.

“Professor! Wait! You can’t do this—no one knows—”

He whirled around and glared at her.

“As far as everyone knows, save a select few, I’ve been on business, and I’ve just returned. That’s final. You’ll confirm that and nothing else if asked.”

“Can I go back to…should I…”

Snape lowered his voice and she barely heard him growl, “If you think for one second that I’m letting you out of my sight after what just happened, you’re sorely mistaken, little girl. There are a few things we need to discuss.”

She nearly wet herself with fear and excitement. What had she gotten herself into? Surely this was illegal—though she was of the legal age of consent, relationships between adult students and professors still had to be banned or at least frowned upon…

“I haven’t got all day. Pick up the pace.”

She scurried behind him, trying to keep up with his quickening step. He was doing it on purpose, and she knew it.

Legs burning, Hermione followed Snape down dark hallways and deserted corridors until they reached a black lacquered wooden door with a wrought iron lock. He produced his wand, and with a spell in a language she couldn’t understand, he removed what she assumed were wards, and the door opened, without a sound.

“Are we in the dungeons?”

“Yes. Set the book down.”

“We didn’t return it!”

“And we won’t. Not today.”

The door slammed shut behind her, bolting itself.

She glanced around the room, in awe that this was where Snape slept…among other things.

The walls, instead of being a dreary dungeon brick, were covered in expensive looking black brocade wallpaper, which went from floor to ceiling. There was a large, dark green leather armchair with a matching ottoman and a silver floor pillow next to it, in front of a looming fireplace. The Slytherin House Crest hung above the mantle, the only showing brick in the room, along with a few other knick-knacks that Hermione couldn’t quite make out. Along one wall, there was a built-in bookcase that had tomes which looked to be very worn—maybe ancient—and jars of labeled ingredients, most of which were probably not meant to be used by anyone but him.

“You live here?” She asked, walking over to the armchair and running her hand over the smooth leather.

He appeared behind her a moment later, and she shivered as she felt his breath near her right ear.

“Did you think I lived in a dank hole? Surprised that the slimy Potions master lives in a proper suite?”

“I just…I never pictured it would be this elegant. And I don’t think you’re slimy.”

His arms wrapped around her then, one gently caressed her breasts while the other inched down her torso and stopped at her skirt hem. Long, sinewy fingers deftly lifted the skirt and pushed it aside, before lightly touching her cotton panties and running along the part nearest her clitoris. She fell backwards into his embrace, and found herself looking up at his neck and chin. Her eyes closed shortly thereafter as two digits slipped inside her soaked panties and rubbed her outer labia.

He whispered into her ear, “Spread your legs.” She did as he commanded, without hesitation, and he rewarded her with a silky “good girl” before squeezing her right breast roughly, his other hand palming her clit. She tried to grind her hips against his wrist and force his palm to move faster, but he refused.

“I’m not like your boy toys, Krum and the Weasley runt. I am possessive, demanding, and hard to please.”

“I can’t stand Ronald…he’s clueless when it comes to women…” She groaned “and Viktor was a brute.”

“Oh? Is that so? Well, I’m much, much worse than a brute, Hermione. Some would say I’m a monster.”

When he said her name, she bit her lip and tried to remain quiet. But, when he pinched her right nipple, which he’d coaxed out of her bra and didn’t relent until she was certain it was on fire, she cried out.

“Do you know what Sadism is? Dominance and submission?”

She nodded, slowly, which was a testament to her willpower, because all she really wanted to do was collapse in a puddle on the floor.

The Marquis de Sade had been decried as a degenerate, a deviant, in his day. Now, there was a movement of many people who engaged in acts of sadism regularly with willing partners. She remembered overhearing some of the Slytherin girls in sixth year talking about encounters they’d had with the older Slytherin boys. It was a common theme to see within pop culture, in the Muggle world, along with the better-known acronym ‘BDSM’ in addition to D/s, or Dominance and submission, which had been the subject of controversy lately in Muggle literature.

He suddenly ceased the torture on her body but held her fast, biting her earlobe.

She squirmed to no avail. His grip was solid.

“Then you’ll understand what I mean when I tell you that this isn’t about what you want. This is about making your body bend to my will and mine alone. Lesson one.”

He spun her around without hesitation, leaving her yet again unsatisfied, and gestured for her to sit on the arm of the leather chair.

“More importantly, this is certainly a dangerous situation we find ourselves in. I have a bounty on my head, and you’re known to be part of the Order and cavort around with the dunderheaded duo, and are a witch of mixed blood, which automatically puts you at risk. Dumbledore was right to have you remain here, at least for the time being. I have a meeting with the Headmaster in half an hour to discuss the results of the Veritaserum—I don’t expect it will be good news. In addition, I’m sorry to say that I suspect your parents are in danger.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to her, and she tried not to cry.

“Chin up, girl. The Weasleys have already left the Burrow and are safely tucked away, but I don’t know where. Your mother and father will most likely join them, wherever Dumbledore has them stashed. They won’t come to harm, that I promise. There has been enough bloodshed and betrayal. That being said, our little tryst today was against my better judgment. You may physically and legally be an adult, but I am still your professor until your last day as a student. Therefore, there are two clear options. One, I Obliviate your memories of all that has transpired between us past the first night in the Infirmary and send you packing to Gryffindor Tower, or two: I allow you to keep them with the understanding that you will spend your time in detention every night with me so I can keep an eye on you. In addition, should you so desire to pursue what I’m offering you, there will be no sexual contact between us until you’ve finished this year out, in the spring. I’m a patient man, albeit a difficult one, and I’m certainly no letch. I won’t keep you prisoner, and I don’t care to force your hand on the matter. Whatever choice you make is yours and yours alone. Dumbledore is expecting me shortly. Make yourself at home.”

He spun on his heel and left abruptly.

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A/N: And I delivered, though it was a teaser AND a cliffhanger! Evil, I know. Thanks for reading, and please, don't forget to rate/review if you like what you've read!
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Lions, Snakes, and Traitors, Oh My.