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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
- 7
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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. I also own no rights to anything by Shakespeare or the epic Beowulf.

Matters of the Heart

K. Marie

Chapter 8

Severus, lying on his side, held Hermione safely in his strong arms. She was still, her breathing even and slow as if she had fallen asleep, though he knew it not to be true. Many a time when the Order had been preoccupied and he and Hermione had escaped to another room within the confines of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he had observed her from afar. After so much observing, one began to learn. And Severus Snape learned that when Hermione Granger was far away in thought, her entire body was relaxed, as if deep thought was her body’s equivalent to deep sleep.

Beneath them, protecting them from the harsh cold of the forest floor, his cloak lay. Hermione’s cloak, which he had enchanted to grow to twice its original size, covered them, fighting to keep out the cool autumn air, a warming charm cast to help. The October wind whispered against their skin, and despite the heating magic, it raised gooseflesh along their skin, forcing their bodies to occasionally shiver. Around them, the leaves rustled as the wind blew, the trees shedding their leaves, raining reds and oranges and yellows throughout the forest.

“Hermione,” Severus’ mouth was beside her ear, his warm breath sending a different type of shiver through her body.

“Yes, Severus?” she replied lazily, as if she were waking from a nap.

“We should continue harvesting reagents before night falls,” he suggested, bringing his hand to her cheek, stroking it softly. “Even if it means we only gather the alihotsy you’ve found. It would be better than nothing.”

“Yes, yes,” she stretched, sitting up. The cold air reached her breasts, her exposed nipples tightening. Severus, who fought the urge to touch her, make love to her all over again, did not overlook the small detail. “Now… where is my shirt?” A flirtatious smile played about her lips, almost seductively as she looked at him.

He could see that the future held many a great thing for him, simply from her sly expression. Reaching behind him as he rested on his elbow, he pushed her shirt into her hands, her bra tangled in the sleeves.

After they finished dressing, Severus shrunk his cloak back down to Hermione’s size. Gratefully she wrapped it about her, whispering a small warming charm to keep the cold air out. She tied her hair back as Severus pulled on his gloves, bending down to the nearby patch of alihotsy. Shortly, Hermione joined him as they began picking and pulling the leaves and plants from the ground, the wind whipping about them.

Once the patch had been cleared and they had spent an hour or so seeking out other patches of plants, they began the trip back to his private rooms. She still had been unable to find the hole that they had exited from, but Severus needed not a second’s time to find it and disappear into it. Hermione closely followed suit, her small hand clasped in the Potions Master’s.

“I’m going to need to shower when I get back to my dormitory,” Hermione commented offhandedly. “I am so terribly dirty.”

Severus’ mouth twitched into a small smile. “Why wait till you return to your rooms? I assure you, my lavatory is equipped with a most luxurious bath. And a shower, if that’s more to your liking.”

“Why, Severus, you certainly are a sneaky man,” Hermione replied teasingly. “Are you inviting me to your rooms?”

“Certainly you are aware of my current… part-time employment, Miss Granger?” he replied, his face sneering but humored. “In order to… do what it is that I am required to do, one is required to have a furtive nature about them. It’s simply in the job description.” Before the entrance to his living quarters, Severus turned to her, grasping both her hands in his. “And, if you do not think it terribly inappropriate… yes, I am.”

Hermione smiled at him, stretching to reach his lips. He returned her simple kiss, curling his arms around her. He had no idea that such a simple kiss could result in such an astounding reaction from his body, but as her small frame pressed against his, his body stirred. When she pulled away, Severus held open the door for her. Hermione nodded her thanks to him and entered, drinking in the beauty of the room once more.

She turned to capture the full effect of it, her cloak curling about her. “Severus, I still can’t believe how absolutely gorgeous your rooms are. It’s not at all what I would have expected!”

“Pray tell what you were expecting, Hermione?” he asked, watching her as she looked about, her eyes finally landing on the entrance to the library once again.

“I expected… I don’t know, something a bit more macabre, I suppose,” she replied honestly, shrugging off her cloak. “Or at least… considerably more… black.” The last word was said with a smile. “Considering your… taste in wardrobe.”

“I apologize for disappointing you,” his tone was harmlessly sarcastic.

Hermione smiled as she abandoned him to search the depth of his library. It was extensive, but predictably contained a majority of books on potions and dark arts. There were a few herbology encyclopedias, along with a very few novels and Muggle literature.

“Shakespeare, Severus?” Hermione plucked a heavy volume off the shelf.

“I can appreciate Muggle literature,” he replied, “Shakespeare was magnificent. Beowulf was also an intriguing piece, though the depiction of Grendel and his mother were slightly… exaggerated, I suppose. I do believe that they were ancestors of today’s goblins.”

“Severus, Beowulf is entirely fictional,” Hermione interjected, pulling the epic poem in question from the shelf.

“Now, I could be mistaken as I am not a dragon expert, but I do believe the dragon written about was a Hebridean Black dragon. They are terribly violent and are very possessive and territorial,” he replied, fingering the spine of a large book. Pulling it off the shelf, Hermione could see that it was heavy as Severus’s hand dropped several inches as he caught it. “Obviously it has evolved over the centuries, but I strongly believe it is not so much a fictional poem as it is an exaggerated retelling of Muggle strength against impeccable odds.” For a moment, Severus turned from her to face the bookshelf. As he was speaking, he had realized that she had done the very same thing. The strength she displayed in the last few weeks…

Hermione’s raised eyebrows revealed her skepticism, but she said nothing. Instead, she replaced the large volumes back on the shelf and continued perusing the bookcases, her fingers often tracing the spines. She had to admit, she was not surprised that what Shakespeare he did own did not include the sonnets. She smiled to herself.

“And Hermione, you are welcome to use my library at any time; simply ask, and I shall grant you access,” he offered, looking at her as she wandered up and down the aisles.

“You’ve no idea how grateful I am, truly,” Hermione replied, stopping in front of him. Momentarily, she seemed to consider something, and then she reached her arms around him and squeezed gently. Severus returned the gesture, hugging her for the umpteenth time that day – it seemed he had hugged her more today than he had hugged anyone in the past twenty-some odd years of his life. And how marvelous a thing it was.

Severus, leaving the confines of his library to address the many containers of alihotsy leaves, started emptying the pockets of his cloak. They managed to collect half a dozen jars of leaves, all of which he intended to prepare in different ways. But, for now the issue could be left as was, and he placed the jars on a table nearby to be addressed at a later time.

Turning, he caught site of that pretty little head sitting in the sofa in his living room. She was looking into the blaze, distant and deep in contemplation. “Would you like something to drink? Tea, perhaps?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Hermione replied, looking at him. He nodded and disappeared into what she assumed was his kitchen, while she reclined on his comfortable couch.

Moments later he returned with a steaming mug of black tea. Hermione set the cup on the table, looking up at him. He seated himself next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Who would have thought,” Hermione began, her voice distant as if she were thinking aloud, “it would have happened this way?”

“The human spirit has an interesting way of enduring great things,” Severus replied casually. “Terrible, but great.”

Hermione nodded her agreement. Her tone careful, she looked into his eyes. “Do you think this would have happened if you hadn’t…”

Severus did not need her to finish her thought, and as he stared into her kind amber eyes, the corners of his mouth twitched. The lines in his face seemed deeper somehow, as though his remorse for his act aged him incredibly. Slowly, he shook his head. “Hermione… I wish I could say with any certainty that our love was inevitable. But I simply cannot know for certain.”

She lowered her gaze to her hands, and as she inspected her fingers she noticed her nails were quite filthy from their rendezvous in the forest, no doubt. As she examined the dirty skin, a thought that had been lingering at the furthest most edges of her brain was suddenly thrust into the forefront of her consciousness. “What about Dumbledore?”

She felt the Potions Master’s entire body stiffen at the mention of the headmaster’s name. Hermione turned to look at Severus, his face stern and serious, very similar to that of Professor Snape. When his dark eyes flickered to her face, they were unreadable, blank – very much like the man she knew in the classroom.

“I don’t know, Hermione,” he replied, darkly. “I don’t know.”

Hermione stirred, her heavy eyelids lifting to an unfamiliar, blurry room. Vaguely, she felt a pang of pain in her neck, and she knew it was because she had laid on it awkwardly for an extended period of time.

Pushing herself up, she realized where she was. Severus Snape reclined against the arm of the sofa; his body twisted in an uncomfortable-looking position to accommodate Hermione’s sleeping form.

Hermione searched around her for any notion of what time it was. Touching Severus’ face gently, she coaxed him awake. “Severus, we dozed off, it seems.”

The Potions Master stirred, slowly coming to consciousness. His eyes focused on Hermione’s face, not far from his, her lips curled into a playful smile. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth, and his eyes flickered shut again.

“Severus, I probably should return to my dormitory before it gets too late,” Hermione suggested hesitantly. “If I were caught in the halls…”

“I highly doubt that anyone would think anything of it, Head Girl,” Snape growled softly. “You are my apprentice. And considering my… severe personality, it would not be unusual if I had required your attendance late into the evening.” He paused, considering her. “Nor would it seem odd if you had chosen to continue working late into the evening, given your own… habits.”

Hermione swatted at Severus’ arm playfully. “If I didn’t know better, Professor, I might think you were trying to convince me to stay.”

“Would you?” he challenged, standing quickly and nearly knocking Hermione off her feet. He caught her by the arm. “Perhaps I am.”

“Perhaps I will take you up on that offer, then,” Hermione traced her finger down the professor’s clothed chest.

Severus wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “You are something else, Miss Granger,” he growled. “Something else entirely.”

Nuzzling her face into his chest, Hermione smiled. “It is almost ironic,” she began, slowly. “Not even half a year ago, I was almost petrified of you. And now… I don’t think I could possibly feel safer.”

He did not respond, instead kissing the top of her head. Her fear of him was entirely deliberate, as it had been with all of his students. It was often he was unnecessarily mean to his students – and granted it was a very effective form of teaching, one which he did not once consider abandoning – when usually they were only seeking his approval. Hermione was no different; she had wanted so desperately for him to approve of her, to praise her, to compliment her work, and the only thing he had ever offered her was some condescending sarcasm that had no other purpose but to discourage her.

And not only had she been able to look past that, he had done worst to her. He had perpetrated a heinous crime against her, and not only had she not reported him, she had managed to forgive him and allow him to handle her in the same intimate manner, consensually. Hermione Jean Granger was a paradox. A paradox, he feared, that he was beginning to fall in love with.

Releasing her, Severus traced the contour of her lips with his finger. Hermione’s mouth curled into a shy smile and she reached her hand up to the side of his face, stroking the sallow skin, brushing the curtain of black hair out of the way. Her amber eyes glittered beautifully in the soft glow from the burning ashes in the hearth, the occasional flame casting shadows across her face as it jumped from the otherwise extinguished fire.

“I should… I should go, Severus,” Hermione said. “I should… I need to finish some of my homework assignments before classes.”

He nodded slowly. “I could not forgive myself if your grades began falling because of me.”

She smiled again, kissing him. “I knew you would understand.”

Stroking her cheek, Severus’ lips curled. Hesitantly, she pulled away from his touch as she gathered her things. He pointed her in the direction of the private passageway that would let her navigate the halls best unnoticed, and with a final kiss, she was gone.

Without bothering to change his robes, Severus fell back into his bed. He stared at the dark ceiling, the moon illuminating it softly through the windows.

“Hermione, where’ve ya been?”

“Yeah, Hermione – it’s past midnight! Don’t tell me that ol’ git’s kept you this late!”

“Harry, Ron,” Hermione began, trying her best not to sound irritated. “Professor Snape needed my help harvesting plants this afternoon. His supplies had depleted rather unexpectedly – of course he thought to blame me for not informing him – and so he requested that I assist him in gathering what we could from the forest.”

“That old bat sent you to the Forbidden Forest?” Ron spat, his face revolted.

“No, Ronald, he didn’t send me. He accompanied me,” Hermione replied sharply. “Professor Snape isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t send a student, let alone his apprentice, to the Forbidden Forest unsupervised.”

“We waited up for you,” Harry interjected calmly. “We haven’t seen very much of you lately, what with Quidditch and projects and classes. We miss you.”

With those words, Hermione was struck with a sudden pang of guilt. She had been neglecting her friends lately; caught up in her project and her homework and… Severus. “I’m sorry, Harry. I miss you too. I have just been so busy. The professors aren’t going easy on us, especially not with the upcoming N.E.W.T.s… and while I am considerably ahead of schedule, Professor Snape won’t allow me time to work on other assignments while I am supposed to be in his classroom for my project.”

“It’s all right, Hermione,” Harry offered, smiling. “We kind of figured that, after Snape had accepted, we wouldn’t be seeing much of you. That’s just the way he is.”

“And you are,” Ron added, slightly bitterly. “This weekend is Hogsmeade weekend though. You are coming, aren’t you?”

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed. “I wouldn’t miss the first Hogsmeade weekend of our last year!”

“Not even for your apprenticeship?” Ron asked, skeptically.

“Not even for my apprenticeship,” Hermione confirmed. Suddenly, a yawn escaped her, triggering a symphony of yawns from her friends.

“Well, now that we’ve made that clear,” Harry yawned again. “I think we should go to bed. Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing tomorrow morning. Huxley said we would be working on some wicked self-defense hexes!”

“Not that you really need to learn anything more, Harry,” Hermione smiled.

“Oi, mate. You could teach the class.” Ron was rubbing at his eyes. “Let’s go to bed.”

“G’night, Hermione,” Harry waved to her.

“G’night, boys,” Hermione replied, rubbing at her own eyes as she climbed the staircase to her private dormitory.

Crookshanks’ golden eyes peered up at his mistress through his squished orange face. Hermione scratched his head before she began to undress. She strode to her bathroom, first pausing in front of the mirror to examine her newly bruised body.

She wondered quietly if it was normal, what she was doing. Less than six hours ago, she had made love to her teacher on the forest floor. No less strange was it that she had made love to the professor who had raped her barely a month previous.

Stepping into the shower, Hermione breathed a heavy sigh. In the early morning hours, while he was kissing her so passionately, Severus made her feel as though she was finally complete, as though there was a missing piece that she had never recovered, and when he closed his mouth upon hers… something changed.

Making love to Severus had been the most wonderful experience she had ever endured; the man knew how to pleasure her immensely, and his touch was just perfect against her body. It was not lost on her the irony of the fact that he had made her feel such terror, such pain, and then was the source of such extravagant pleasure.

Vaguely, she worried that perhaps there was indeed something very wrong with her. How else could she rationalize her feelings towards the very man who had attacked her? It was to him that her virginity was forcefully lost; it was at his hand that she had felt so much pain. How could she forget that? How could her body betray her to crave his touch, his taste, his smell?

Shaking her head, Hermione dismissed those thoughts. That man – the man who had raped her – he was not Severus. Severus handled her cautiously, delicately, his fear of hurting her glaringly clear. He cared for her in a way that she doubted he had ever cared for someone before. He sought to pleasure her completely, to ensure that by the time he had finished, she had enjoyed his body as much as he had hers.

An evil man would not go to such lengths. Hermione thought.

The remorse he had felt in the days, the weeks, following her molestation had been sincere. She had never looked into those black eyes and seen such sympathy, such remorse. There was something particular in his dark gaze that Hermione had never seen before, and as he was above her, moving within her, she witnessed it. She did not know what it was, but it was burned into her memory. She wondered if perhaps what she had seen in his eyes was love.

She knew that what she was doing was very peculiar. She knew it would be a thought that plagued her consciousness for many weeks, or even months. But she also knew that when she kissed him, a part of her flourished; when he made love to her, she felt complete. And it was very difficult indeed to dissuade her from returning to his arms at the end of the day.

Stepping out of her shower, Hermione reached for her towel. The thought of Severus influenced her body to react so strongly, and she knew the heat and wetness between her legs had nothing to do with the hot water. Pulling on her nightgown, she sat down on her four-poster bed, stroking Crookshanks’ long fur gently.

“Am I mad, Crookshanks?” she said absentmindedly. His bottlebrush tail stroked against her face as the large cat stared up at her, as if considering her question. He purred loudly.

Falling back on her bed, Hermione waved her wand and the lights slowly flickered out. Closing her eyes, sleep slowly came upon her.

Severus stepped out of his shower, wrapping a towel tightly around his waist. As he strode past the mirror, he caught sight of the subtle bruises along his neck, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a small smile.

Many nights, the Potions Master had lain in bed as sleep evaded him. His thoughts would linger on one thing only: Hermione Granger. He could not explain why his body, his mind, was reacting so strongly to her presence. He did not understand why he had lost control and violently raped her. And he could definitely never even begin to fathom why she had forgiven him, and allowed him into her life so intimately, so completely.

The feeling of her body beneath his was like nothing he had ever known. Her warm wetness wrapped tightly around him as he moved within her – he would have lost it from the moment he pressed into her if he had not controlled himself. Something about that woman made his body betray him in a way he never thought would happen, and as he stared into those beautiful brown eyes of hers, his thoughts were not, for once, plagued by Lily Evans.

The scars from his past seemed to heal with her, as though her mere presence was enough to close the bleeding wounds. And to lean into her touch, to taste her lips – it filled the aching absence that had been his heart since the night Lily was murdered so callously. Severus knew that what he was beginning was dangerous indeed, and while he knew to protect her he should have never kissed her… he did not regret it for a moment.

She had been right when she said her associations had always put her in harm’s way. While Severus suspected that the day Voldemort learned he had been betrayed, he would seek him out with a vengeance that paled in comparison to the loathing towards Potter, he knew that Hermione would be safe. For the time being, Severus tried only to bask in the beauty that was her affection, and worry not on the repercussions of his actions.

Professor Huxley had so kindly sprung upon his class a pop quiz of sorts. Hermione, of course, proved yet again her brilliance in the topic, though unsurprisingly Harry exceeded even her performance. Huxley had required the students perform a series of defensive spells (mostly the basics for Harry, Ron, and Hermione). Many of the students that joined Dumbledore’s Army had also done quite well, and the professor was very pleased with their performance, indeed!

After class, Hermione, Ron, and Harry returned to the common room. Hermione had arithmancy in half an hour, but Ron and Harry had the rest of the morning free. After lunch, they had Transfiguration, but the boys would spend their free time, no doubt, causing trouble. For a few minutes, the trio chatted about nothing in particular, but it was not long before Hermione had to rush off to class.

She then met up with her friends in the Great Hall for lunch. Harry and Ron had once again been discussing Quidditch and Ginny had included herself in the conversation, talented a player as she was. She and Harry began to argue over something Hermione was unknowledgeable about – not that it mattered, her mind was with Severus. As she glanced up at the High Table, she caught the eye of her lover, who had been discussing something with the teacher beside him. As though he had felt her gaze, he had turned to her, and as their eyes met, her heart began to race. Quickly, she looked away, a smile cast at Harry that she knew Severus would recognize as his.

The bell finally rang, stirring Hermione from her thoughts. The group of them left the Great Hall together, but Ginny had to take her separate way as she had Herbology. The rest of them continued to McGonagall’s classroom, where the stern witch was standing at the head, waiting for the class to file in.

The class was mostly uneventful, as McGonagall stood at the front of the class, lecturing the proper method of transfiguring a horse into a carriage. Hermione stifled her bored yawns the best she could – truthfully, the topic was of little value to her, as she had mastered that spell what seemed eons ago.

Following Transfiguration, they had a thirty-minute break before their Herbology class. As they wandered through the halls in the general direction of the greenhouses, their conversation was mostly menial, nothing too serious, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel joyous in the presence of her two best friends.

After Herbology, Hermione had told Ron and Harry that she wanted to head towards the dungeons. They nodded their understanding, and Hermione parted ways with them. Though it was a Thursday, she thought perhaps Severus would appreciate her assistance in preparing the remaining alihotsy leaves and perhaps harvesting some more ingredients later.

She knocked softly on the dungeons door. When no answer came, she pushed the heavy door open. Peering around the room, the man was nowhere in sight. She moved to his office door, but it was locked, the surface cold. She knocked again, but there was silence. She thought it quite odd that Severus was nowhere to be found; what seemed even stranger to her was the churning of her stomach, the reason for such unease about his absence unknown to her.
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Matters of the Heart