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Kiss The Serpent	By : indigonightowl Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32590 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: This (and future) chapters were all beta'd about 6 years ago by Wartcap and Chartreuse from Ashwinder. Although the fic lay dormant for ages, I still have to acknowledge their time and effort and advice.

Disclaimer: Not mine...blah blah blah

FRIDAY

When Ron and Ginny wandered off to breakfast on Friday morning, mid-argument about some boy who had shown some interest in his ‘baby sister’, Hermione took the opportunity to corner Harry in the Gryffindor common room.

“Harry, can I have a minute?” she asked, catching his arm as he went to follow the bickering red-heads.

“Sure, what’s up?” he asked in a cheerful voice, allowing her to draw him back into the now empty Common Room.

“Yesterday, at the Quidditch pitch, you asked me about…” she glanced around her, reassuring herself that the common room was completely empty, before grabbing his sleeve again and tugging him into one of the chairs by the fireplace. “You asked me about kissing, and how I knew I would like it.” She sat in the chair opposite him and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees.

“Ye-es,” he said warily.

“Well, you said that you have kissed a girl, yes?” She was watching him closely.

He nodded.

“But you didn’t like it.” There was more statement than question in her words.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” he blushed, “I just didn’t feel anything in particular. It was a bit like kissing Mrs Weasley. You know - nice but not, well, sexy.”

Hermione blinked.

“But you have felt…um, sexy with someone else.” It was another statement. She hoped he could see where this was going.

Apparently he did. Harry nodded and sighed, dropping his dejected face into his palms.

“Who? I mean, I know it’s not really any of my business, but this is obviously causing you a problem, and I just want to help…if I can,” she finished lamely.

Harry muttered something unintelligible into his fingers.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she told him, uncertainly.

Harry lifted his head, his face a picture of mortification and despair. “Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione was stunned. Perhaps she had misunderstood.

“Are you telling me that you are attracted to Malfoy?” she asked carefully.

Harry nodded miserably and dropped his face back into his hands.

“Is he the only…um, boy that you are attracted to?” Her voice was gentle. She was choosing her words very carefully.

Harry shook his head without lifting it.

They sat for a minute while she digested the information and considered what to say next.

Finally she spoke. “You know, it’s OK to like boys, Harry,” she said in a very matter-of-fact way.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, “tons of women do.”

“Harry Potter, you stop that this instant,” she snapped. “Liking boys instead of girls is hardly an offence that will put you in Azkaban! In fact, there are several people at Hogwarts who prefer their own sex,” she informed him in a haughty voice.

“Like who?” Harry demanded, sitting up at her smug declaration.

“Well, like Lavender Brown, for one,” she admitted with a small grimace.

“Lavender? Says who?” Harry frowned.

“Says the fact that I’ve been sharing a dormitory with her since I arrived, and she’s made a pass at me at least three times in the past two years.” Her voice was cool at the memory. “The first time I can forgive, since she had no way of knowing if I might be interested or not, but…” she scowled and shrugged.

“Who else? You said there were several.” Harry’s interest was piqued.

She nodded. “Harper – that sixth year Slytherin…”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “The Chaser?”

Hermione nodded again.

“No way!” he insisted, wide eyed.

“Absolutely. I have it on good authority from a Slytherin conversation I overheard in the girl’s bathroom…and believe me, they ought to know. And you know that Oliver Wood is gay.”

“Oliver? Get out of here.” Harry shook his head, confused.

“You didn’t know? Katie Bell had been trying to catch him for ages before he graduated. In the end he confessed that he was actually more interested in the Weasley twins than in her. She was heartbroken for months,” she confided.

“How do you know these things, Hermione?” He wondered aloud.

“I listen, Harry. It’s amazing how people think you are invisible when you are sitting with your nose in a book. So, you’re not exactly alone in feeling the way you do.” She smiled at him in an encouraging way.

Harry was looking at Hermione with a strange expression on his face. “Have you every considered replacing Rita Skeeter? You’d be brilliant at wheedling out private secrets.”

Hermione chuckled. “Does that mean you are feeling better and plan to stop moping about the castle?”

Harry laughed - a dull, humourless sound. “Not really, but talking about it has helped a bit, I guess.”

*******

“Ickle firsties! Ickle firsties!” Peeves hooted in delight, pelting them with bits of wadded up toilet paper and some leftover cold peas he had stolen from the kitchens. A small group of first-year students cowered behind the statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor, which is where Hermione found them. She never made it to the Deputy Headmistress’ office.

“Peeves!” she screeched, whipping out her wand, “I’ll report you to the Headmaster, now lay off!”

Peeves cackled madly, making noises like an airplane dropping bombs, and began pelting Hermione with soggy toilet paper instead. The first-years took their chance to leg it, disappearing down the corridor towards the stairs and leaving the Gryffindor Prefect to handle the poltergeist alone.

Hermione found herself engaged in open jungle-tactic warfare with the half-mad spectre. In between catapulting peas at her, Peeves zoomed into the nearby Prefects bathroom and began busily turning on all the taps. Within minutes the room was awash with water and a bizarre array of bubbles and scents. Unable to side-step the puddles rapidly overflowing the bathroom and spilling into the corridor, or avoid the giant pink bubbles which were settling on her hair, Hermione tried turning off the taps while simultaneously attempting to petrify the mischievous phantom with hexes cast over her shoulder.

Peeves dodged the spells, zoomed to the ceiling and dumped the remaining cold peas on her head. Turning a little too quickly, Hermione slipped on the wet tiles of the bathroom floor and sat heavily in several inches of water, cursing the poltergeist vehemently when he cackled madly overhead.

The first years, meanwhile, had tried to alert the first teacher they ran into. They found Professor Snape talking to the Headmaster at the foot of the stairs. All Snape heard was “Granger” and “attack” before he set off at a run, thinking that Lucius had somehow heard about his quasi-relationship with the girl and taken matters into his own hands.

It was a distinct relief to find her sitting in a puddle, covered in half-squashed peas. Peeves was taunting her, blowing raspberries and hanging upside-down from the candelabra.

"Oh, bushy-hair’s a cheeky brat

She thinks she knows just where it’s at

But Peevsie sees that she’s all wet

A dirty little teacher’s pet!!”

Peeves caught sight of the dark wizard looming in the doorway and rocketed away, howling with laughter. As he barrel-rolled down the corridor he knocked over several enchanted suits of armour which tried to skewer him as he swiped their helmets off.

Hermione glared after the departing poltergeist and then looked down at herself in disgust. She would have to return to her dormitory to change now.

Now that his heart had stopped pounding and his stomach had removed itself from his throat, Severus had to bite his inner cheek to stop himself from smiling at her disarray.

She accepted the hand he offered her, and was pulled to her feet. Her shoes made odd squelching noises as she stood up.

“Thank you, Sir. That wretched poltergeist never listens to any of the Prefects. I thought he was going to flood the entire castle.”

“Interesting hair accessory, Miss Granger,” he observed. “Is that the latest fashion or are you merely saving some of your lunch for later?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm. She whirled and caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was covered in old peas, bits of toilet paper and a few rogue pink bubbles.

“Bloody Peeves, I’m going to hex him into next week!” She started brushing the sticky mix out of her hair. All she managed to do was spread it further.

Severus pushed her hands away and pulled out his wand with a sigh. “Such language! And do try to remember that you are a witch, Miss Granger. Your wand is as much a part of you as your arm, and should be the first thing you employ.”

“Evanesco.” The mess was banished from her hair and clothing. He followed it with a drying charm, and Hermione was soon returned to her original state.

“Thank you.” She was grateful her socks were no longer soggy. “Unfortunately when I lose my temper I revert to childhood. It’s the same when Malfoy annoys me – I tend to hit him rather than hex him.”

Severus contemplated her remark. “In that case, perhaps we had better ensure you take a calming potion before you undertake any encounter with the Dark Lord, Miss Granger. Muggle fisticuffs won’t be of much assistance there,” he observed.

“Perhaps not, but it would make me feel better.” She grinned cheekily at the thought of punching Voldemort in the face, before bursting into laughter.

Standing in the Prefect’s bathroom, exchanging small talk and enjoying himself, was a new experience for Severus. Even more amazing was the fact that she appeared to be enjoying herself too. Normally women either ignored him, disliked him or feared him. He had never met a woman who found his company amusing.

He continually reminded himself of the huge sacrifice she was making. She would never make a Slytherin. A Slytherin never made a deal that didn’t leave them with some advantage. Instead, this young woman was surrendering her body to a man that her friends despised. The tightness in his chest at the thought of intimacy affected him and made his defenses rise unbidden.

The idea of spending time with her was beginning to hold genuine appeal but he must not forget that she was the proverbial sacrificial lamb, the virgin sacrifice on the altar of despair. He almost snorted at the melodramatic thought. They were mere players in this farce. She was being forced down a path she would never have chosen, were circumstance different. Her Gryffindor loyalty dictated she make the best of a bad situation and that is all this would ever be to her – a bad situation. She’d smile and play her part. This was not a real relationship. Besides which, he didn’t like her…he’d never liked her. She didn’t mean anything to him.

His psyche began arguing in her defense and was instantly quashed. His face clouded into his habitual scowl, and he stepped away from her in tangible withdrawal, putting his wand away as he did so.

Hermione was instantly confused. One minute he was rescuing her and sharing a joke, now he had his Potions Master face on again and was looking like he had a bad smell under his nose.

Men! She thought with a huff. Who on earth can understand them?

Before he could retreat altogether, she grasped his sleeve, determined to find out what the problem was. “Professor, I need to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow to run some errands,” she explained.

The look on his face was carefully blank. “And you are telling me this because—?”

Hermione was determined not to let his attitude get to her. “I was hoping you might go with me.”

“Just have the accounts sent to me. It’s hardly appropriate for me to ferry you about Hogsmeade when none of the student body are aware of your valiant sacrifice.” His tone was tinged with bitterness.

“Perhaps we could go to Diagon Alley then instead,” she persisted. “None of the students will see us there.”

Hermione was still trying to work out why his attitude had changed so abruptly. Once again it felt like they were on opposing teams, and the constant shifting baffled her.

Hang on. Did he say sacrifice?

She remembered Dumbledore’s advice to her earlier that week.

“Severus has never had any friends who have loved him just for himself,” he had told her. “Even I must use him to some degree. He is not a man who trusts easily, nor is he a man to take something unwillingly given. The problem is he suspects everything and everyone, and therefore cannot truly discriminate between what action is willing and what is unwilling”

Was she unwilling? With an eighteen-year-old’s tendency to see the world in black and white, and from a position of perceived invulnerability, she realised that she actually enjoyed the man’s company. She enjoyed kissing him. She enjoyed the fact that he no longer insulted her at every turn. She was even rapidly losing her fear of taking the step into physical intimacy with him. The snarky, snarling teacher had turned out to be just a man with tragedy in his past.

Did she love him? No, not in the way she imagined being in love, but she cared about him. Had she not cared about him, even when he was being his most obnoxious self, she would never have volunteered for this task.

She remembered her words to Harry and Ron, and instantly saw her mistake. She wouldn’t have chosen to do this for just anybody. If it had been Kingsley Shacklebolt or Mundungus Fletcher, she doubted she would have been prepared to play the role of lover…even briefly, and under duress! In fact, Hermione was fairly certain that she wouldn’t even have done that much for Mundungus Fletcher! So she must care for Severus.

He wasn’t handsome in any classical sense of the word, but he…suited her, she realised. He appealed to her at some deep level. The thought that she might have been harbouring hidden feelings for her Professor was slightly disturbing. Still, now was no time to be shy about it.

With the confidence of youth behind her, she decided to be as un-Slytherin as possible.

“Severus,” she switched to his first name, unconsciously. Perhaps she would never think of him as ‘Professor Snape’ ever again. “I don’t really need you to pay for anything for me. I was actually just hoping for your company.”

He looked at her, cynicism written all over him.

“I’ll miss you if you stay behind.” She lifted her chin, her eyes and mind wide open. Even without casting Legilimens he would be able to see the truth in her words…she hoped.

“You don’t need to humour me, Miss Granger, I am perfectly aware of the truth of this situation,” he said, almost tiredly.

Hermione could have laughed.

“The truth? Severus, you spend your life wrapped in a web of deceit. I’m not sure you would recognise the truth if took the shape of a Hippogriff and attacked you. This situation, as you call it, has so many layers to it that I’m not convinced either of us knows the truth. One thing I do know, however,” she stepped closer, placing one hand on his chest, “is that I WANT your company tomorrow, and I am looking forward to Sunday.”

***********

Disbelief widened his eyes. They would become lovers on Sunday.

Cinnamon brown eyes held his. His heart was pounding and his throat tightened in response.

Surrendering to impulse, he lowered his head. He expected her to pull away. When she tilted her head and lifted her chin, he didn’t know who was more surprised.

His lips met hers. He was immediately struck by the softness of her skin. In a mingling of breath and body heat, she opened her mouth. His tongue stroked the line of her lower lip, tasting her. Her breath caught and she stepped closer.

They moved until she was wrapped in his arms, her hair falling over his sleeve as he cradled her head. Her arms crept up to encircle his neck. She leaned into him, her softness pressing against the hard lines of his body. He could feel the warmth emanating from her.

He was unable to control the arousal that swept through him. From the unexpected constriction in his chest, to his erection pressing urgently into her stomach, he was going up in flames.

He was still astonished that he had kissed her, in broad daylight, in a public place. Anyone could walk in and catch them – a teacher kissing his student. And yet she didn’t appear to be complaining. In fact, the soft noises coming from her were more encouraging than anything else.

Relinquishing all rational thought as her hands flowed over his shoulders and up to grasp his head more firmly, he surrendered. Her tongue entwined with his in a heated exchange, leaving them both breathless.

His hands moved of their own volition, stroking down the curve of her spine, pressing her more firmly against him. His hands spanned her waist, his thumbs teasing the bones of her hip.

Things were rapidly getting out of control.

The kiss ended of its own accord when they each ran out of breath. He loosened his grip, but did not release his hold on her waist. He found her staring up at him, an intense expression on her face, and it made him instantly self-conscious.

She leaned back against the circle of his arms. “I can’t believe the first time you initiated a kiss had to be in the Prefect’s bathroom.”

It was the last thing he had expected her to say.

Hermione was astonished when her candour made Severus laugh. It was a rusty sound, rarely used, and therefore even more worth treasuring.

She smiled up into his face. “So, does this mean you’re coming shopping with me, then?”

####

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Kiss The Serpent