Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 130116 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 61
- 62
- 63
A/N: I haven't abandoned this! I do NOT abandon fics, even if it takes me forever to update. To make a long story short, I had to work overnights. Night time is what feeds my muse and being home during the day when THE ENTIRE WORLD IS AWAKE is one huge distraction, not to mention the fact that I would sleep half the day away only to wake up and get ready to run back to work. Now I'm working evenings which allows me to write once again, but adult life in general only allowed me to write a little each day which in turn took forever and I am so sorry! Then my poor other half had to get intense back surgery but he is coming out of hospital tomorrow so yay!
As always, thank you sooo much for the reviews!

A loud guttural hacking caused Snape to jerk out of what was the most relaxful bout of sleep he experienced in ages. Mild indignation rose from being unceremoniously thrust into reality, until he realised it was his own snore that woke him up.
Some great spy you are. Sleepy so deeply you may as well be in a coma and so knackered that you can barely open your eyes.
That was Snape's first thought as he slowly crept into a somewhat more conscious state. The air was cool against his face but the rest of him was warm, and only after shifting around a bit did he realise that a soft body was draped over his, and over both their bodies was a sheet and heavier blanket.
Hermione's head was tucked against his shoulder, her face upturned toward his. Her arm was relaxed with repose yet had been draped over his chest for the last three hours as though she hadn't wanted to let go for a single minute, not even to sleep. Snape found that his own body language was just as telling; he'd slept with both arms positioned just so around her waist, intently and possessively keeping her close even in a state of subconsciousness, without gripping so tightly that it caused discomfort.
Memories of the past few hours trickled to the front of his mind, and the first thing Snape did was look down at his mate to make sure that she was fine.
Hermione looked fine. In fact, she looked more than fine—there was a chance that his eyes hadn't yet fully adjusted to the dim light, but it almost looked as if she were glowing. That preternatural luminescence prompted him to sit up—slowly, to keep from waking Hermione—and ease the sheets away from her body.
The glow extended all the way down to her toes, but then Snape noticed another baffling fact. Hermione still had on her knickers and socks, and he still had on his boxers. That was curious as they never rushed to redress after making love. And while the time between casting the bonding spell and passing out faded into a blur, Snape was able to remember Hermione speaking to him and him responding back.
Or had he imagined the entire thing?
Hoping that he hadn't lost his remaining bit of sanity, Snape began feeling around the bed for his wand. It turned out to be on the floor on his side, and he gripped onto the mattress while leaning to pick it up. Hermione remained asleep throughout Snape's shuffling about, and she didn't move at all when the cool tip of his wand skimmed along her side.
Symbols lining the length of Hermione's flesh were illuminated as Snape dragged her wand down her body. The proof of their bonding was right there on her skin, and told Snape that everything hadn't been a dream. Yet it still did not account for their state of dress.
While he didn't appreciate the mystery, Snape was more concerned with the time. A quick glance at the window showed that it was still dark and rainy outside, but he figured that it was some time between three and five in the morning as it had been close to one when they arrived at Spinner's End. Yawning and scratching at a bit of scruff beneath his chin, Snape flicked his wand towards his frock coat draped over the chair across the room and sent his pocket watch zooming out from the folds and into his hand.
It was quarter to four—enough time to linger for a few moments longer but not enough to ignore the impending doom of reality. It was almost tempting to keep Hermione with him for the rest of the day at his house, but that could not be done without further shirking his responsibilities to Hogwarts. Sticking his wand beneath the pillow, Snape lay down next to Hermione and covered them with the blankets. Just as he turned onto his side, Hermione moved closer to him. Once her head was in one of its favourite resting spot—this one being the space between his bicep and chest— she tilted her face up and blinked sleepily, smiling slowly when she saw him looking at her.
"Are you feeling all right?"
There was a brief pause, and finally Hermione nodded her head. When her silence lingered it caused a nasty suspicion to creep up on him.
"You're still unable to speak."
Hermione nodded again, only this time she burrowed her face against him as though she was ashamed and didn't want him to see her.
"Damn. I had hoped the spell would..." Snape paused when he felt Hermione stiffen against him. "I'm not upset with you," he reassured, sliding his fingers into her hair. "This isn't your fault, Hermione, and I promise we are going to fix this."
Hermione seemed to take comfort in those words, as well as the sensation of having her scalp lightly massaged. But then Snape mentioned something about them having to get out of bed and return to the school, and she shook her head in protest.
"We can't stay here all day, but believe me, you aren't the only one who would like to."
That was the wrong answer, because Hermione climbed on top of him and attempted to trap him with her weight. It hadn't been her intention to make Snape laugh, but his body shook with mirth as he clutched her against him.
"I'm tempted to let you stay there. Very tempted." Snape exhaled hard as he moved to shift Hermione onto her back and balanced himself over her on both forearms. "But as you can see, doing this is all too easy."
Snape spoke with a straight face and still Hermione smiled at him, lifting her head and pressing her lips to his. He might have been the one to point out that he was the physically the stronger of the two, but it was clear that Hermione could lead him by the tip of his nose without brute force. The second they touched Snape felt himself being pulled back down onto the bed and he did his best to resist. Then Hermione's lips latched onto the side of his throat and he relented with a groan, allowing himself to fall atop her and succumb completely to her charms.
"Wait a minute," Snape interrupted a few minutes later upon realising that he was likely crushing his wandmate. When he moved away Hermione responded by wrapping her arms around his back. "I'm not going anywhere, I was merely doing this," he told her, easily turning them both onto their sides to face one another. "You're light as a bowtruckle whereas I am not. I also happen to know that you're fond of oxygen."
Secure with the knowledge that she wasn't being left alone, Hermione grew drowsy and complacent as a cream fed cat as his fingers idly stroked her back. His eyes were also closed, but he hadn't fallen asleep. His mind kept revisiting the impassioned embrace he and Hermione had shared in the midst of the bonding spell taking place, followed by their mutual, intensely vivid dream. Unfortunately, his mind wasn't the only thing that remembered, and Hermione opened her eyes at the sensation of his half-wakened arousal pressing against her belly.
"Apologies. Apparently he has a mind of his own this morning."
Snape moved his hips back few inches but Hermione reached out to keep him close. Evidently she had no qualms about his erection because she stayed in place with him still touching her, going so far as to slightly undulate her hips against his.
"Tell me I'm not the only one who remembers the dream..." Snape uttered in a low voice, hoping like hell that it hadn't been merely the workings of his overworked mind.
The bedroom was still dark but Hermione was close enough for him to make out the bashful look on her face. Snape was on the verge of feeling foolish himself, until Hermione shook her head and smiled.
"I take that to mean you do remember?"
Hermione nodded.
"And it was all just a dream?"
Another nod.
"Well at least I know I'm not completely mad, but a mere dream? How disappointing. But it does explain these." Snape plucked at his boxers, then Hermione's knickers. He didn't pull back right away, though; his hand lingered atop her thigh, and he was unaware of the way his middle finger casually worked its way beneath the elastic to stroke her hip.
Those caresses initially hadn't been meant as a segue into something else, but Hermione made her intentions clear by pressing her palm flat against his stomach and sliding down to his underwear.
"Wait a minute, Hermione." Snape pulled his fingers from the waistband of Hermione's knickers and held onto her wrist to keep her from going lower. "I don't think that too wise at the moment. I already lost my head in the heat of the moment with you not long ago, and I can't let that happen again."
Hermione appeared perplexed and ready for some sort of explanation.
"Do you remember the first time we slept together?"
She nodded.
"Seconds before it actually happened you turned seven shades of red whilst asking me about contraception. I've always handled that with magical methods—a potion, if you will—and the odd time using Muggle methods. Let's just say that brewing a sterility draught or going to the shops for condoms was low on my list of priorities for the past eight months or so. I took one hell of a chance with you at Grimmauld Place last August. It was a staggeringly irresponsible choice on my part and I promise to never take that sort of risk with you again."
Hermione stared at him, frustration evident on her face, although it was hard to tell if stemmed from being unable to clearly express herself or because they were not going to make love.
"Don't think I don't want to," Snape told her, threading their fingers together and lifting her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "When have you ever known that to be the case? There is a spell we could use, but it doesn't work every time and I think we've made enough life-altering decisions for one day. Getting you pregnant in the midst of all this shit is not going to be one of them."
It was hard to ignore his raging libido, but if nothing Snape was pragmatic. Hermione's thought processes were often aligned with his own, and while her body's urges also matched his, Snape knew he could appeal to her practical senses.
Hermione's breathing had grown heavy from arousal and was now slowing down. Her frown dissolved little by little and Snape knew that meant she understood and agreed with his reason for them not becoming physically intimate right now.
Fortunately she was amenable to merely having her forehead kissed and lower back stroked. The entire time Snape did his best to ignore his erection and eventually it subsided. Hermione ended up falling asleep with her fingers tangled in his hair, and after some time Snape was unaware that he had also dozed off.
When Snape finally awoke, he found himself nose to nose with his wandmate. A quick glance over Hermione's shoulder also showed the lighter blue of dawn on the horizon, and it was enough to shake her awake.
"Wake up, Hermione. We have to go."
Hermione was slow to rouse and cracked an eye open to see Snape perched on the edge of the bed, looking quite serious.
"Up you go. I didn't mean for us to stay this long," he said, watching as she sat up and yawned. "We'll have a quick shower before returning to the school."
As Snape talked he shifted behind Hermione, arranging her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. It wasn't perfect but it would keep her curls off her neck while they bathed.
It was obvious that Hermione did not want to leave the bed, but she followed Snape out of the bedroom, through the hall, and into the small, poorly-lit bathroom without fuss. It was a few minutes before the water ran hot, and Snape adjusted it to a comfortable temperature before letting Hermione get in first. He felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as they washed one another, and remembered a similar occurrence at Grimmauld Place. He and Hermione had made love countless times that night before and after casting the spell on their wands. There was no getting around the fact that they had to part ways that evening; he had to run a school and Hermione had to travel the world to hunt horcruxes with her best friends. Not knowing if or when they would see one another again, the couple had taken their time in the shower, sometimes doing more kissing than washing.
This time was no different, but it was marginally less bittersweet since they were going to be leaving Spinner's End together.

Hermione looked as though she could sleep for a few more hours. Therefore upon returning to Hogwarts Snape took her travelling cloak, hung it up next to his, and steered her toward the bedroom. The hearth had burned out and relighting it showed the bed to be occupied by two felines; Loki asleep on his side and Crookshanks on Hermione's side.
"You two know better than that. Get down!"
Loki lifted his head as Snape approached the bed, had a small staring match with the professor, and set his head back down. Crookshanks didn't even bother to pretend acting as though he'd been caught. He flicked the air a few times with his fluffy tail and turned his head to the other side before resuming his nap.
"He's your cat," Snape muttered, nudging Crookshanks out the way and pulling back the blankets for Hermione.
Crookshanks was more polite when Hermione slid into bed and lay down; he waited until her head was on the pillow before moving over and burrowing into her side. By that time Loki had rose to all fours and was intently eyeing Snape, as though asking if he planned on making their threesome a foursome.
"I'm going to patrol for a bit first," Snape stated, looking at Hermione while trying to ignore Loki who had crawled over and slithered his way beneath his hand. The cat won and began purring from the hand scratching behind his ears. "I'll try not to be long."
For a moment Hermione looked as though she wanted to protest, but when Snape smoothed his hand across her cheek she settled down and closed her eyes.

The caretaker's office was the first place Snape visited. Even though it was early he knew that Filch would be inside, at his desk with his day's first cup of tea and Mrs Norris at his feet.
"For Christ' sake, can't a man enjoy his cuppa in the morning without being bothered?" Snape heard Filch snarling under his breath after he knocked on the door and entered. "Oh, it's you. Good morning, headmaster. Thought you was one of those idiots come to harass me again."
"Which idiots are these?"
"Beastly. The one who teaches the class you had last year. Or maybe it was his sister; can't really tell them apart."
Filch shuffled forward in his chair to pick up his cup while gesturing for Snape to take a seat.
"What did they want?" Snape enquired, holding out a hand to decline Filch's next gesture of offering tea. Filch ignored him though, and poured and pushed the cup across his desk.
"Wanted to know where you were," Filch grumbled. "Said he went to your office and no one answered."
"I see."
"'Course I didn't tell that idiot nothing. I pretended like I was hard of hearing. Last time I checked, headmaster could come and go as he pleased. Didn' need to give his staff a schedule listin' his whereabouts."
"Thank you. Did anything happen during my absence?"
"Nothing terribly important. That's why what's-his-face was looking for you. Apparently I, and let's see if I get this right, 'undermined his authority' by not consulting him when doling out punishment and headmaster needed to be told. Or maybe it was the woman? Apologies, professor, I can't be sure, but she's the biggest munter I ever laid eyes on. Anyway she threw a fit when I sent the student to my office instead of waiting for her highness. "
"Who was the student Alecto tried to punish?"
"Alecto, that's right, beastly thing she is. Dylan McNevin is who I caught trying to sneak down to the kitchens. Said he missed dinner. Told him being hungry wasn't a crime but he ought to know better than to sneak about after hours. I made the lad dust my office, called one of the elves for his supper and sent him back to bed."
"You're going soft, old man."
"Enough of that, lad."
"Back on that, are we?"
"Keep your hair on. It's still early and I haven't finished my tea. There's something different about you, you know."
Snape frowned ever so slightly as he noticed Filch staring shrewdly at him. He knew that Filch always knew more than he let on to, and Filch knew that Snape knew he was anything but daft, but there was some sort of unspoken agreement between the two that kept them from outright speaking on certain things.
"Different how?" Snape asked anyway, even if he hated to admit that he was curious to know what Filch thought he saw.
Filch grunted. "It's hard to say. You almost look as though you've recently returned from holiday but I don't know what holiday you could have gone on since I saw you just yesterday."
"Me on holiday. Now that is an amusing notion." Snape allowed the corner of his mouth to curve upward. "Perhaps what you see is the result of getting more than two hours of sleep at a time."
"'Spose so. Enough kip always set me right as rain." Filch peered down as Mrs Norris hopped up onto his lap, and began stroking her back. "Fed those cats of yours last night, by the way. Came scratching at my door and refused to leave until they got supper."
"They pulled a fast one on you. I fed those damned cats before I left."
"Hmm. Could've fooled me. Someone would think they were left to starve the way they ate."
"If I starved those furry little pains in my arse then believe me, I'd have no peace. Not that I have much now to begin with."
"You've got a point there."
The two fell quiet for a long moment. Mrs Norris used that time to move away from Filch to jump down and rub against Snape's leg before plopping down atop his foot. The professor knew that he had to leave soon, but the quietness of Filch's dank office was infinitely more appealing than the prospect of stepping into the headmaster's tower office.
"I'm going," Snape finally murmured, aware that he was somewhat convincing himself to move. Before standing up he gently shifted Mrs Norris off his foot. The cat resisted at first but soon slowly slunk beneath the massive wood of Filch's desk.
"All right then, professor."

As was normal practice, Snape made way to his office without being seen. The only reason for his appearance was that he knew Dumbledore's portrait would likely be ready to spill the latest bit of information concerning the two errant members of the Golden Trio. Also if he didn't show face for a certain amount of time then Dumbledore would be certain to sic the other portraits inside Hogwarts on him. Snape didn't fancy being accosted by Sir Cadogan or the Old Naked Monk, who had thrice made an appearance when he wanted to be alone, passing along the message that Dumbledore wanted to see him. It was one thing to be accosted by the incompetent knight, but to have an elderly, arthritic man who had more wrinkles than a raisin and went around dressed in little more than a loincloth, chasing him throughout the castle was downright cruel.
No one ever knew where that painting came from, and its frame was hung in a disused room that was home to more of Hogwarts unconventional paintings, many of which were too brazen for delicate eyes of students and staff alike. Snape hadn't seen the Old Naked Monk until a year into his teaching position at Hogwarts. He had been in the middle of conversing with Dumbledore, stating his case yet again why he was more than qualified to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, when the Old Naked Monk stumbled into the frame of a former professor, Basil Fronsac. Basil, along with many of the other portraits, immediately began shooing the monk back to his own frame. One portrait went so far as describing the monk's backside as 'the palest, saddest, and most deflated sight his poor eyes ever did see and if he had any mercy he would spare them all'. Snape, who was numb to most things had been poleaxed by this eccentric turn of events. A majority of the portraits seemed to side with him, although a couple, along with Dumbledore, had been highly amused. The sight of the monk's flabby arse had been enough to make Snape decide that Potions was a lesser form of torture and he hadn't bothered with saying goodbye as he rushed out the headmaster's office.
At the moment Snape had no idea what he would encounter by visiting his office. A visit from the doddering, naked monk would be an easier problem to deal with, and preferable in comparison to the many missives that landed on his desk each day. By now he had grown accustomed to the many emphatically worded death threats that stained long rolls of parchment, many containing large splotches of ink that looked as though the writer had attempted to stab the quill right through the letter in the midst of their rant. The other side of the coin were letters –many written by parents who had children in Slytherin house, as well as other witches and wizards who once attended Hogwarts—that expressed subtle gratitude for the way he 'took control of the school and transformed it into what it ought to have been years ago'.
"Fools," Snape muttered to himself as he stepped past the gargoyle and onto the moving stone staircase. I wonder if you would remain so keen on my manner of running this school if you knew how often your children were crying themselves to sleep?
As expected, a small mountain of correspondence lay atop the headmaster's desk in a neat pile, no doubt the work of house-elves. A few of the letters were attached to small, gaily wrapped parcels—tokens of appreciation, the letters always explained. Bribes was their unspoken name, often sent by the very parents who thought they could garner the headmaster's personal attention when it came to the welfare of their children. Snape wondered how some useless trinket that he would never use, or expensive sweets that he would never eat because he didn't trust anyone would put him in the mind to act as someone's personal bulwark. Personally he felt that many of the parents were too trusting, too naive, and should have fled the country with their families long ago. Once it had been made compulsory for every child to attend school it was difficult to so much as sneeze without the Ministry popping up at someone's door. The pure-blooded children were less of a threat but it did not mean that they were exempt from the Dark Lord's wrath due to any transgressions on their parent's behalf. Draco Malfoy was a prime example of such an instance, and the boy hadn't been the same ever since the prior school year.
"Good morning, Severus," greeted a familiar voice as he stepped into the office.
"Headmaster."
"You're looking well."
"Am I?"
"You are indeed, Severus, but I'll not bore you with my idle observances. A little bird told me that Harry is possibly near."
"Is that so, Dumbledore. Tell me, did this little bird perchance sing another song that told exactly when Potter might be expected to show face? It would help immensely to know these small details since the boy's face is plastered on wanted signs from one end of wizarding Great Britain to another."
"That unfortunately is unknown. I trust you'll do what you must to ensure he is found by the right people when the time comes."
Snape listened to Dumbledore's calm way of speaking, and the man sounded so sure of himself that it annoyed him. Even more interesting was that fact that he immediately picked up on Dumbledore mentioning only Potter, despite knowing that he had been travelling the entire time with Granger and Weasley. In Dumbledore's eyes, Potter was the Golden Child, but he would have had his golden arse handed to him a long time ago if it had not been for his two best friends. Snape knew it uncharacteristic of him to even dwell on such a thing, but this was merely one more reminder of Dumbledore's convenient short-sightedness.
"Of course," Snape deferred, trying to ignore his unspoken thought: It's not as though I have any choice.
"I know that I'm asking too much yet again," Dumbledore continued. "But you did swear to do whatever would be needed."
There was no sense in becoming upset; Dumbledore was telling the absolute truth. What angered Snape was that Dumbledore felt the need to give a reminder. He wasn't likely to forget about his oath borne from guilt and recrimination, and if he was too numb for remorse then he needn't go any further than disrobing and standing before a full-length mirror to look upon the many scars marring his flesh that served as a constant physical reminder.
"Not to worry, headmaster. I don't think my duties will slip my mind any time soon."
"Headmaster... headmaster," the portrait of Phineas Nigellus suddenly interrupted, greeting both Snape and Dumbledore after strolling into his frame. "I have been keeping an eye on the children as requested, but the last I heard they were caught by Snatchers. Wherever that Mu—Granger girl, had my frame hidden, I could hear them speaking. Not very bright, that whole lot. The Snatchers were always known to be on the dim side but I did think those three would have known better."
Phineas paused to settle down in his chair, neatly arranging his dark robes around him with a flourish.
"Then again, Gryffindors were never really known for their forward thinking attitudes, were they? No offence, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore inclined his head forward all of an inch the way he always had when he wanted to say something but decided to do otherwise, yet the glint in his eye showed that he was losing patience with Phineas.
"We all have our gifts, Phineas. Those of us in every House."
Phineas bristled in his armchair at being chastised, even if it was in a most conciliatory manner. His side remarks came to a halt shortly after, and Dumbledore focused his attention back upon his unamused successor.
"I've already notified the necessary parties should Harry make an appearance, but do keep your ear to the ground, Severus," Dumbledore continued. "My abilities are somewhat limited, as expected, but know that I'll not be resting on my laurels."
Is that supposed to make me feel better? Give me a moment to search my robes for the pocket filled with utter bliss.
The temptation to come outright and say something snide was imminent, and Snape thought it best to remove himself from the situation as quickly as possible. It was his luck that Dumbledore excused himself first, stating that he needed to go speak to another portrait.
As Snape made his way back to his rooms, he noticed that his chest felt as though a large rock had been set upon it. Up until the walk from his room to Filch's office and then onto the headmaster's tower, he had been fine. Now he understood what Filch had been going on about; the caretaker described him as looking as though he'd gone on holiday, which meant that he gave off the appearance of being in a tranquil state. His exchange with Dumbledore hadn't consisted of anything that was shocking or unexpected, but it had been enough to strip away all traces of his abnormally serene frame of mind.
By the time he was back in the dungeon, the rock weighing him down turned into a boulder. It took longer than usual to unlock the door, and he was still fumbling with the latch on the other side whilst grabbing onto his chest when he noticed something brush against his ankle. Wand still in hand, Snape closed his eyes and pressed his back against the wall while doing his best to catch his breath.
Panic attack be damned, he needed to check on Hermione. Apparently his body didn't care what his mind wanted, because it forced his feet to remain planted in front of the door. Trying to get a hold on himself, Snape pried open one eye to catch a glimpse of something orange and furry scampering across the room. A moment later the orange fur returned, accompanied by a pair of small feet encased in thick grey socks. A warm, familiar hand crept into his wand hand, and he allowed the smooth length of wood to be removed from his grasp. In the cogent part of his mind Snape knew that he was in his sitting room, and he knew that the person leading him across the room was someone he trusted. However the rest of his thought process was unsound, and the only thing he cared about was doing whatever it took to stop his racing heart.
The walk was short and when his legs touched something soft, Snape realised that he was standing inside his bedroom. He was made to sit and had his shoes removed, followed by his frock coat and cravat. That same overbearing yet helpful hand then steered his head down onto a pillow and unfastened a few top buttons of his shirt.
Snape despised the sensation of his life spiralling out of control, and he still found it difficult to handle having someone in full view of his scarce but severe meltdowns. At the same time it was a relief to let someone else hold the reins, knowing that he would be properly looked after.
The hand touching his neck was soft and smelled faintly of something sweet. It moved up and paused at his hairline, brushing a few strands away from his forehead before smoothing through the rest. Snape's body and mind came back together as one little by little with every stroke, and by the time he could open his eyes he found that his breathing had gone back to normal.
"I'm all right," he told Hermione, almost able to feel her eyes boring a hole into the side of his head. "I just received some news that..." Snape trailed off, feeling foolish for falling apart in the first place and now finding it difficult to admit so. "It affects you as well so you will need to hear this, but not right this minute. I want you to eat something first. We'll go to the front room and I'll call Dobby."
Hermione climbed down from the bed first and looked back at Snape, waiting for him to follow. Crookshanks seemed to know of this plan of food, because he immediately leapt down to the floor and began weaving in and out of Hermione's ankles. Loki lagged on the bed until realising that he was being left alone in the room, and sprang down to follow behind.
Dobby ignored everything Snape told him and brought too much food for all parties, both two-legged and four-legged. In the end he didn't make much fuss over it because Hermione ate half of a sandwich in nearly one bite the moment the tray was set down on the table, and from the way she continued eyeing the tray Snape knew she would soon take another. His assumptions were correct, only she placed the sandwich and some grapes on a plate and thrust it in his direction when she noticed him doing everything else except for eating.
"I'm not hungry."
Snape might as well have told Hermione that he planned on growing an extra head and two extra pairs of legs and seeking employment at a freak show, because she glared at him as though he'd said something nonsensical.
"Stop that," he told her, taking the plate and biting off the corner of one sandwich. Snape told himself that he was eating only to placate Hermione and wipe the look of disapproval off her face, but the moment the savoury taste of corned beef hit his tongue, he was compelled to finish the entire thing.
"I'll allow you this one," Snape murmured wryly upon noticing Hermione's self-satisfied expression as he took another sandwich.
Once the two ate their fill, Snape made the tray disappear with a flick of his wand. Crookshanks and Loki were already in the throes of a food coma and had curled up next to one another on the hearth, well on their way to the fiftieth nap of the day. Everything was so cosy and comfortable that Snape hated to bring up a topic that was sure to shatter the veneer of peace.
"I just found out that your friend is possibly near." Hermione shot him a puzzled look. "Potter, that is," Snape continued. "There was no mention of Weasley but since Potter is alive I can only assume that his ginger sidekick is fine. I have no idea how those two managed to survive this long without you; Potter thinks he knows everything and Weasley wouldn't be able to pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel, but the lad is remarkably quick on his feet when it comes to matters of a more common nature. Sodding useless if someone were to poison you but if it came to duelling, I'd put my money on the redhead. And I'll thank you to never repeat that."
Hermione gave him an apprehensive smile.
"When you are able to speak again, and you will be, I promise that, I trust you to never repeat what I've just said."
Hermione's smile was slightly less dubious that time, but Snape could still see some question in her eyes.
"I don't know where they are exactly, or when they'll be expected to turn up. But I do know that all of Hogwarts is going to be turned on its arse the moment You-Know-Who finds out Potter showed face."
All traces of mirth vanished from Hermione's face as she heard the indirect mention of Voldemort. She wasn't the only affected one; the mere thought of the sadistic wizard was enough to make Snape's blood turn to ice, but the idea of the Dark Lord unleashing bedlam on Hogwarts' ground made the two-and-a-half roast beef sandwiches in his stomach feel like a brick.
"I hope I didn't worry you too much when I first came in. I know I was in a bit of a state." Snape's brow knitted together as he fell silent for a moment. "I remember yelling at you for this very thing not so long ago. Christ, I was a bastard and a half to yell at you like that, wasn't I?"
It took some time but the recognition on Hermione's faced told that she knew Snape was speaking about the time when she and her friend had been attacked in the book shop in Diagon Alley. Hermione had maintained a cool facade that entire day until bedtime, and ended up huddled against the wall in the darkened hallway of Grimmauld Place. Snape had found her crouched in a ball on the floor, hair still damp and dishevelled from her bath, trembling, and behaving as though she was moments away from having some sort of break down. Her tears hadn't actually started until he put the light out on his wand and began walking away, but Hermione's keening cry was enough to make him turn around and drag her to a place where she couldn't been seen or heard by Four-Eyes or Speckled Idiot.
Snape knew it had been completely unfair to place the burden of having to save face on Hermione's shoulders, but he also knew that giving the illusion of being unaffected was sometimes the best thing a person could do. A display of losing her wits was not something that she could afford. Even if she hadn't meant to be, there was no doubt that Hermione was the glue that held the Golden Trio together. If she were to panic, then her friends would panic, and acting the part of a spooked sheep could not be risked. Snape told himself that he was doing everyone else a favour by snapping her into a calmer state, but the truth was he somehow felt as though he owed her that much. And while he'd always hated owing anyone anything, there was the odd experience of him not minding the return of a favour when it came to Hermione Granger. She hadn't lorded the times she'd helped him over his head, nor did she emasculate him in any way when she found him clinging to the dirty floor of the sitting room, slowly bleeding out whilst fervently wishing that Death would hasten and take him.
Hermione stood up and walked over to his armchair. There was little time to balance herself as Snape tugged her to sit on his lap, but after recovering from the swift movement she arranged her legs comfortably over his. It was harder to decipher the look on her face this time, but Snape tried anyway.
"All right, I didn't yell but I could have been less of a shit. I handled the situation abominably, but it's not as though I have a wealth of experience when it comes to offering tea and sympathy."
Hermione dismissed that comment with shrug of her shoulders and leaned further into Snape.
"I don't know when Potter is going to turn up, but I am almost certain that he will. Look at me, Hermione, because I need you to take what I'm about to tell you to heart." Snape caught her chin and directed her eyes level with his. "So long as you remain within these walls you are protected, do you understand? Under no circumstances are you to leave this room. I don't give a damn if Weasley, Potter, your parents or the Dark Lord himself are on the other side of the door. I don't give a damn if you hear me screaming blue murder on the other side. You will not try to save anyone. You will keep yourself safe and stay in here. Are we clear?"
Hermione seemed a bit frightened by the fierceness of Snape's tone, but finally responded with a little nod when his intense eyes continued drilling into hers. His outburst ended as quickly as it began, and the manner in which he jerked her closer to him was unparallel with the soft kiss his thin lips pressed onto her forehead.

A/N 2: Caution - darkness lies ahead.
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Unintentional Inveiglement