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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Rating: M – inappropriate for readers under the age of 16; contains scenes of explicit sexuality and violence.

Disclaimer: Characters and settings ©J.K. Rowling.

Matters of the Heart

K. Marie

Chapter 9

Snape stared across the long table at a blonde woman, older than he. Her eyes were focused on an object beyond Severus, but he had a feeling she was just trying to avoid his eyes. Her pretty face had an expression as though she had just sniffed something foul, but Severus knew her well enough to recognize just a hint of melancholy in those ice cold eyes.

He had always liked her. He had never understood, though prejudice as she was, why she had married the man that she did. She had been a lovely young woman when he had attended Hogwarts with her, if not a little smug and narcissistic. He knew it was the result of coming from her particular lineage, but still.

The woman stood as her husband entered the room. Severus’ dark eyes flickered to him, his blonde, pointed head held up in all his aristocratic glory. His lip curling, Snape narrowed his eyes as the other man nodded curtly. His wife moved soundlessly from the room.

“Lucius,” Severus said softly, following him with his eyes.

“Severus,” Lucius replied, his face smug. “I do hope Narcissa treated you with conversation? She has been quite quiet these past few months.”

Snape grunted in reply. He was still looking at Lucius, his eyes subtly flickering over the elder man’s face, trying to read him. Malfoy lowered himself into the chair his wife abandoned, unsheathing his wand from his cane and fingering the snake head gently.

“Why have you called me here, Lucius? You are aware that I am a very busy man,” Severus growled.

“Ah, yes. You must be so terribly busy up there at that school,” Malfoy drawled, leaning back in the chair. “What with grading and teaching and what-have-you.”

“You would be surprised,” Snape said, irritated.

“Ah,” Malfoy began, straightening. “Severus, you know that I admire you for the duties you’ve performed for the Dark Lord. One may go so far as to say that you have earned a certain amount of respect, not only from me, but from our fellow Death Eaters.”

Severus gripped his wand tightly against his side. Malfoy was adjusting the elaborate sleeves of his dress robes, and apparently did not notice Snape’s subtle defensive move. He continued: “And because of that respect, I have called you. You see, my sister’s-in-law accusations have finally come to the forefront of our lord’s attentions. And while I, myself, have my doubts about the validity of her claims… the same cannot be said about the Dark Lord.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “And why is it you are the one coming to me about this, and not our lord?”

“I would hate for the Dark Lord to summon you one evening, I having left you unawares about the potential threats to your life, Severus,” Lucius replied, seemingly genuine; Severus knew otherwise.

The Potions Master leaned against the table, his wand hand ready to draw. “Do you honestly think me so foolish, Lucius?” Severus challenged. “I have known you long enough to know that you are concerned for the well-being of no one other than yourself. I am also aware that you are quite envious of my place in the Dark Lord’s ranks and you would go to any lengths to plant ill thoughts in the mind of our lord, if it meant my downfall.” His voice became a dangerous whisper. “So, honestly, Lucius – why is it you have brought me here?”

The elder man feigned shock, his expression slowly changing into that of pouting. “You honestly think so low of me, Severus?”

“You honestly are concerned for me?” His black eyes were scanning his face for any inkling of his true intentions, and yet his mind was impenetrable.

“Why, Severus,” Lucius drawled. “We have only known each other for nearly three decades. Why would I have any ulterior motives, other than to watch out for my ‘kid brother?’”

“Because you are desperate to be as close to the Dark Lord as I am, Malfoy,” Severus hissed.

“If you insist, Severus,” Lucius shrugged. “But when our lord accuses you of misplaced loyalties – or worse, involvement with a Mudblood…” the word rolled off his tongue with a degree of revulsion; it was almost as if he spat it.

“What are you talking about, Malfoy?” Snape snapped. While the latter portion of his statement was more concerning to the Potions Master, he concealed it, instead displaying irritation that any such accusation of misplaced loyalty would be made.

“My son seems to have reason to believe that you are having a liaison of sorts with a certain student of yours,” Lucius began. “Your apprentice, I believe?”

“Explain,” Snape growled, his dark eyes nearly slits.

Lucius’ mouth curled into a satisfied sneer. “My son claims to have seen you in… compromising positions with your apprentice. Granger, I believe her name is? That pain-in-the-ass know-it-all Mudblood girl.”

“I am quite aware of the apprentice you are speaking of,” Severus snapped. “And any such claims are preposterous.”

“Are they, Severus?”

“If you are quite through, Lucius, I have work to return to.” Severus stood up abruptly, his dark robes billowing around him.

“Of course, Severus,” Lucius bowed his head. “I am glad we had this… little chat.”

Grunting, Severus disappeared with a pop.

Hermione worked silently in the solitude of the dungeons. With a mortar and pestle, she quietly ground some of the alihotsy leaves into a fine powder, bottling the final product and labeling it in a careful script. Then, using the same technique, she bottled up a coarser powder of alihotsy. In a small cauldron not far from her, some of the leaves were boiling to a sticky substance.

With the only sound in the room the quiet scratch of quill against parchment and the occasional gurgle of the cauldron, Hermione was considerably startled when the dungeon door was thrown open and smashed against the wall, shaking the shelves and the jars upon them.

“Oh!” she cried out with a start. Severus swept into the room, his face turned into a terrifying scowl. When he registered her startled sound, quickly he turned to her, his face softening slightly.

“Hermione, what are you doing here?” his eyes scanned the premises, and he realized she had been preparing the reagents they had gathered the day previous.

“I thought perhaps you would have wanted to continue harvesting,” Hermione said quickly, nervously. “But you weren’t here so I thought I would begin preparing the alihotsy to be used later on. I hope you don’t mind! I’ve been using your notes!”

“Where did you–”

“They were with the vials of leaves on your desk,” Hermione replied softly. “I thought perhaps you intended on preparing the reagents yourself, so when I came down and you weren’t here…”

“It is all right, Hermione,” Severus said quickly. “You were correct in assuming how I was going to spend the rest of my afternoon. Admittedly, some unexpected events came up and I never got around to it… thank you.”

Hermione turned her head to the side, examining Severus with her eyes. He seemed distressed.

“Severus, what’s wrong?” Closing the gap between them, Hermione raised her hand to his cheek and stroked the sallow skin.

Severus leaned his face into her touch, his eyes closing. It suddenly occurred to Hermione that he really was just a lonely man, longing for some feminine affection. She smiled slightly; he was the first man that had ever truly desired her company. True, Harry and Ron wanted her around, but sometimes she had the aching feeling they really just wanted her to do their homework for them. But Severus... Severus had no other reason other than the true enjoyment of her presence. That thought alone made her feel a great deal happier than she had in awhile.

Opening his eyes to her, Severus replied: “I do not want to concern you with it.”

“Severus,” Hermione began, her chastising nature inching into her voice. “You cannot involve yourself with me and then turn around and tell me it isn’t my business.”

“That is not–”

“Oh, please, Severus,” Hermione snapped. “Do you think I am so naive? You might as well have told me it was none of my business. You are a miserable man because of the secrets you keep.”

Severus scowled. If she wasn’t a complete mastermind on the ways of his workings! Rubbing his fingers at his temples, he released a frustrated sigh. “How far have you gotten?”

“Pardon me?” she asked.

“How far have you gotten?” Severus repeated, turning from her and approaching his desk. “With the alihotsy?”

“Oh – I have ground the leaves into two consistencies, and currently I’m boiling another batch of alihotsy down…” she replied, looking over to the cauldron. “It certainly smells quite foul, doesn’t it?”

Snape nodded, sitting behind his desk. He focused his eyes on Hermione; her hair was tied back, her hands covered with the standard dragon hide gloves he required for his class. Her small waist was emphasized by the apron she had tied around her body to keep the concoction from splattering onto her clothes. He was so incredibly attracted to her.

“You tried to change the subject, Severus,” she said softly, moving to the desk. Placing her small, gloved hands on the surface, she leaned to look into his face. “Something is amiss. Tell me.”

If nothing else, Hermione Granger was a determined young woman, and Severus was well aware of that. He studied her face for a quiet moment, staring into her brown eyes. They were soft, yet fierce, and he knew to argue would be futile.

Severus sighed, defeated. “My absence earlier was due to a summons to Malfoy Manor.”

Her sharp intake of breath caught Severus’ attention, and his eyes flickered from the surface of the desk to her pretty face. “Malfoy” – he stared in her eyes, reassuringly in a way – “summoned me. We discussed some matters, but the most alarming was his mention of my… alleged affair with my apprentice.”

Hermione’s brown eyes widened, her eyebrows traveling further and further up her forehead every word he spoke. “But… how?”

Severus shook his head. “I do not know, Hermione. He was impenetrable – I could not tell if he was bluffing.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Severus could tell she was rolling over every possibility in her mind. Standing suddenly, Snape said: “I must speak with Professor Dumbledore. You may stay and continue working, or you may return to your dormitory. I cannot say for sure how long I will be.”

She simply nodded, and he swept from the dungeons.

Severus’ pace was brisk and silent as he stalked towards the entranceway to Dumbledore’s staircase. He was very concerned with this recent summons to Malfoy Manor, and as he approached the gargoyle protecting the path, he muttered the password and ascended the stairs.

“Ah, Severus. Come in, come in! Take a seat. Lemon drop?”

Snape held up his hand in polite refusal. Taking a seat in the proffered chair, Severus combed his fingers through his black hair.

Dumbledore waited quietly for the Potions Master to begin. With fingers steepled together, he looked at the younger wizard over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. Fawkes the phoenix craned his neck and crooned, looking down at Severus from his perch on the high back of Dumbledore’s chair.

Looking up at Dumbledore gravely, Severus began: “Earlier this afternoon, I received a summons to Malfoy Manor. It was Lucius Malfoy whom had called – and he did so with a warning.”

Dumbledore turned his head to the side slightly, narrowing his light blue eyes. Severus looked into his face, nearly witnessing the ancient wheels turning in the ancient wizard’s head. Nodding slowly, Dumbledore invited Snape to continue.

“His intentions seemed true enough, though it is impossible to know for sure; the man’s mind was impervious. I have never known Lucius to have such skill in Occlumency, Headmaster,” he sighed. “It’s unnerving.

“However, he cautioned that the Dark Lord’s credence in my true loyalties was wavering. Apparently, he’s beginning to consider the validity of Lestrange’s accusations. I fear perhaps that the same is true for many of the Dark Lord’s followers, as well. Malfoy claims he doubts his sister’s-in-law accusations, but… I am uncertain of his honesty.”

Dumbledore remained silent, simply considering Severus. The younger wizard held his gaze, uncertain of what to say next. Finally, the elder wizard spoke.

“That is quite unfortunate, Severus,” his voice was grave. “That would explain, however, the lack of information. But also, there have not been any unexplained deaths or crimes, neither in the Muggle nor wizarding worlds. It is… curious, to say the least. And the only explanation Malfoy offered was that Lestrange’s accusations were finally starting to surface?”

“Yes, Headmaster. I am not sure how willing I am to believe that, however. She has been doubtful of my loyalties from the day he returned to power. The Dark Lord never seemed to consider them then,” he replied softly. “I simply cannot be sure.”

Dumbledore nodded, seemingly in agreement. “And there was nothing else he spoke of?”

Shaking his head slowly, Severus once again had the suspicion that Dumbledore knew far more than he let on. Obviously, the man was a skilled Legilimens just as the Potions Master was, but Severus was also a master Occlumens, and so it was nearly impossible for anyone to break through that impenetrable wall that was Severus’ mind.

“No, sir, nothing of significance,” Severus replied. “Repeatedly, I accused him of dishonesty – I, as well as anyone who knows Lucius, am well aware of the fact that he so desires my position within the Dark Lord’s ranks. I am – or, was – his closest… accomplice, and he confided in me nearly everything. As you know.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his twinkling blue eyes boring into Severus’. “It would seem then, our only remaining option is to strengthen the castle’s defenses. I will call a meeting following dinner, and we shall alert the staff then. And Severus” – Dumbledore paused, the deep crevices in his face becoming even more so through his seriousness – “be careful.”

Following the staff meeting, Severus returned immediately to his private quarters. The gravity of the situation was beginning to pull at him and he needed to lie down, to relax (if it were even possible!). Pulling off his robes, he laid on the comforter of his large bed, the cool fabric whispering against his warm skin.

The staff had not panicked during the meeting, though they were quite reasonably concerned. Hogwarts was the safest place one could reside, and so they were not terribly worried about the issue of Severus’ secret agency. They discussed what should be done to protect the students, and if the Ministry should be involved.

His thoughts flickered to Hermione. He wondered where she was, how she was. No doubt she had secluded herself in her dormitory with the pile of homework she had yet to do. No doubt her mind lingered on their conversation previous, and no doubt she wondered how Malfoy had obtained such information – and in such a short amount of time!

Staring at the dark ceiling above him, Severus wondered the same thing. It was only the evening previous that they had made love for the first time; Severus tried to remember if there was anything suspicious about the evening, if there were any rustling leaves or snapping tree limbs that would suggest an audience, but he could recall nothing of the sort.

“Lumos,” he whispered, and a nearby lantern flickered to life. Reaching towards his nightstand, the Potions Master pulled open a drawer and lifted the photo album out and onto his bed.

The album fell open to the same worn page as always. A young redhead stood with her arm hooked through a young black-haired boy’s, both of whom were smiling and waving up at Severus. Letting out a small sigh, Severus stared down at those emerald eyes he was forced to see so often these past seven years.

Turning the page, the folded, yellowed paper of the note she had written him stuck firmly to it. Carefully, Severus pulled the slip off to reveal the photograph beneath. Still in their fifth year, Severus and Lily Evans sat together beneath the tree close to the edge of the lake. They both wore long sleeves; it was springtime, a few weeks before their O.W.L.s. In his lap, Severus held a textbook; Lily sat across from him, cross-legged and laughing. He was smiling, too.

Touching the photograph with his finger, a tear cascaded down his sallow cheek. How he missed her voice so painfully, they musical sound of her laughter. Closing the book, he rubbed roughly at his face and replaced the album in its drawer.

And yet, when Hermione was with him, his pain was relieved…

He laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

“Damn it!” They were the last words Hermione remembered speaking. She had wanted to say more, but could not form any comprehensible thought through her anger. Suddenly, her breath was stolen from her as a powerful force wrapped around her, crushing her.

Her eyes widened in shock, his mouth pushed roughly on hers. A sharp pain struck the inside of her lip and she vaguely tasted something metallic. Panicked, she began struggling, pushing with her arms against him, thrashing, his strength too much for her. He kept his face against hers, his lips against hers.

She felt the hard edge of the table press painfully against her body, his weight forcing the edge to bite into the soft flesh of her buttocks. He leaned her back; his body so close to her own, so close she could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. And yet, nothing could match the speed of her own pulse, so quick she thought the muscle might burst.

Suddenly, Hermione brought her knee into his groin, very fast, very hard. An animal sound burst from the throat of her attacker, and he backed away, clutching at his injured manhood. He glared menacingly at her through the curtain of his greasy black hair, catching Hermione’s gaze as she stared, her eyes wide with terror and disgust. The moment of freedom seized her, and she turned for the door.

Before she reached the threshold, she was caught mid-stride and fell, face first, to the cold stone floor. She caught herself on her arms, the impact causing her to yelp in pain. She heard him mutter something, and throughout the classroom reverberated the slam of the distant classroom door. She heard the quiet click of the lock, the glass rattling on the shelves. She began to cry.

Somehow, he had turned her over. He was climbing up the length of her until he rested with his elbows just above her shoulders. His black hair hung around their faces, his eyes narrowed evilly and his lips curled into a cruel, cruel smile. Hermione pushed at him with her arms, kicked at him with her legs. He was too strong.

“No, no! Please!” she cried, struggling. He was on top of her, kissing her, touching her. Her face was soaked with tears and sweat. “Please! Please, don’t!”

Her mind whirled, unable to understand anything at all. Her instincts told her to continue fighting, eventually she’d wound him enough to escape. She kept kicking, clawing, hitting – even though he was far too strong. Suddenly he wrenched open her blouse, buttons popping and flying this way and that. His eyes glittered maliciously with lust as he exposed her lace lingerie.

He tore open her bra, her nipples reacting to the cold air of the room. Hermione felt her face burn red as she tried to cover herself, but his arms thwarted her attempts. She closed her eyes tight against the scene; his teeth were at her neck, hurting her, bruising her. The tears did not cease.

She felt him rip off her panties, felt his touch, felt his mouth – his mouth! Her soft sounds of pleasure had disarmed him; she aimed a kick at his head, but the heel of her shoe caught his shoulder instead. He stumbled backwards. Scrambling to her knees, Hermione made to flee. She gathered her clothing and ran for the door.

Her wrist was painfully wrenched and she was thrown to a desk. He clambered above her, binding her limbs with a spell. The tears continued streaming, soaking her face. With eyes clenched shut, Hermione heard the soft whisper of his robes gathering at his feet. He was on top of her again, kissing her again, violently. She tasted blood again, but it hardly registered.

Then, for a moment, he stopped. She looked at him, her eyes wet and wide and petrified, staring in his face. It almost seemed as though he were considering releasing her. His normally pale face was flushed with lust.

Moments passed. She felt him return to her core, dip his tongue inside her. The pleasure was extreme, but it didn’t last long. He ascended her again, and stared her in the eyes. His face wrenched with malice, she felt a strong burst of pain, and she let out a scream–

Hermione’s eyes opened wide. Her face was soaked with tears and her body shivered with a cold sweat. Pulling the covers over herself, she sat up in bed, frantically looking about her room.

Crookshanks sat in the chair by the hearth, his bottlebrush tail swinging nonchalantly in the air, his golden eyes staring at her. She released a soft sigh, wiping her face with her blanket and falling back into the pillow.Her entire body was trembling violently, the pain coursing through her as though it had actually happened. For a moment, she stared at the canopy of her four-poster bed, her face blank, her eyes dry.

And then, the tears began to flow.

With his hands folded atop the cool wood, Severus sat patiently behind his desk. The morning had dawned so quickly, and he was in a fouler-than-usual mood. His first two classes passed without event, though the students were not spared his malice. His third class of the day was by far the most competent group of students he lectured; it was his seventh year advanced potions class, and it was the class Hermione belonged to.

Though he would never openly display it, Severus was looking forward to seeing Hermione again. He knew it foolish but he had missed her in the few hours they had been separated. She would be the first to enter as always – if there was anything he could rely on Hermione Granger for, it was routine. Every school day was the same for her; she would arrive in every class earlier than the other students, her books open and her quill inked.

Drumming his fingers against the desk, Snape waited as the castle echoed with the stampede of footsteps. Any moment now, his students would file in, a hushed silence falling upon them as they entered his dungeons.

Above him, a heavy drumming shook the classroom as students navigated the halls. It would be moments before anyone reached his classroom door, and he continued sitting, waiting.

The first student to arrive was a timid Ravenclaw boy. Snape’s black eyes followed him as he quietly approached his usual table, his shoulders hunched under the professor’s cold glare. Another student entered, and another, and another – and there was no sign of Hermione.

Concern rose in him, but he did not show it. The students filed in and there was only one empty seat: the front row, second from the right. Hermione’s seat. To ask her fellow Gryffindors (though few there were) would be a preposterous idea – it would only raise suspicions if what Malfoy had suggested were true – if light was being shed upon the developing relationship between he and his apprentice. Perhaps he could catch Potter and Weasley in the halls after class.

His fathomless eyes lingered on her empty seat for a moment as the final student entered and took her seat. They stared up at him in silent, frightened intimidation. Even as a group of seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds, he still intimidated them and it was one of the few things he was appreciative of.

Standing abruptly, Snape slammed his hands down onto his desk. Class would have to start, with or without Hermione Granger.
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Matters of the Heart