Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Scattered	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25011 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I don't make any money from this fiction.

Chapter List
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- 2
Harry Potter is Dead

Hermione Granger had never felt such heartbreak in her life. Even obliviating her parents, and hiding them off in Australia hadn’t been as bad as this. Tears flooded down her face as she stared at Hagrid’s sobbing mass, and the small dark haired boy clutched in his arms. Harry had snuck off after the battle, and was dead. She couldn’t believe it. She sank to her knees, feeling her own breath hitch with cries of horror.
The swarm of Death Eaters that followed, forcing Hagrid forward through his misery, were cheering, celebrating the death of the Chosen One.
“No…” Hermione heard Ron’s soft whisper. He took a few steps forward, breaking away from the mass of those protecting Hogwarts. Hermione couldn’t pull her eyes away from Harry’s limp body, unable to really focus through her tears.
“Harry! HARRY!” Ginny was screaming, her voice cracking, as a loud clamor rose behind them, the whole of Hogwarts screaming at the death of their hero. Hermione could barely make out the shape of Voldemort right in front of them, and wiped at her face, feeling panic start to rise. She needed to be strong. Unhindered by tears. She could cry later.
She looked up again, hearing Voldemort’s voice as he waxed on about his victory, but she couldn’t make out the words, her eyes still on Harry. He was moving. He wasn’t dead! She gasped involuntarily as he jumped from Hagrid’s arms, yanking his wand out of his robe. All eyes seemed to go to him, as he pointed his wand at the giant snake coiled around Voldemort’s shoulders. Voldemort turned, lifting his own wand, a half a moment too late.
“Depulso!” Harry shouted, sending the snake flying from Voldemort’s body, and to the feet of the cheering crowd of students, and teachers. Hermione grabbed for it, at the same time as three others, pulling the basilisk fang she’d kept, out of her pocket, and stabbing quickly into the head of the snake, before it had a chance to strike anyone. There was a flash of green as the snake seemed to scream, and die, and the bushy haired teen looked up to see Harry falling to the ground, his face slack, his eyes glazed. Voldemort had killed him, for a third time, in the split second Nagini had gone flying.
The Chosen One slumped to the ground, amidst a renewed wave of shrieks, and cries. He wouldn’t be getting up again, and they all seemed to realize this at the same time, staring down at his still-opened eyes, and unchanging face. He’d gotten them the last horcrux to kill, and sacrificed himself, yet again. There was a stampeding sound, and Hermione pushed herself to her feet, her eyes catching sight of Ron, his mouth open in a scream, as he charged at the Dark Lord, his wand raised, his face full of fury.
“Ron, NO!” Hermione screamed as Voldemort smiled a sickening grin, and blocked the green jet of light that shot from Ron’s wand easily, as a Death Eater stepped in to defend their master, knocking Ron to the ground with a hex, and froze him in place with a full body bind. Hermione was halfway to him when she realized others were being taken in the same fashion. Some were running, throwing shield charms up as they went, trying madly to escape, into the castle, the forest, around the mass of Death Eaters toward the gate. So many falling, so many fleeing. She ran, glancing back at Ron on the ground, swearing to herself that she’d save him.
She couldn’t do that now. But she would. They hadn’t killed him. There was hope. She ran away from the others, heading into the grounds, knowing that the masses of stampeding people were more dangerous than the open field of grass. She heard a voice yell behind her, and waved her wand in a panic, shielding her back from a hex, and veering sideways, in case her charm didn’t hold. She saw the whomping willow just ahead, and ran faster, knowing it led to the shrieking shack. She could apparate away from there. She raised her wand in front of her, lifting a stone, and sending it flying into the stilling knot on the base of the flailing tree. The tree froze, and she slid quickly into the hole, scrambling forward on her hands and knees, her mind working quickly, pushing her despair down, and focusing on freedom. She could hear someone entering the tunnel behind her, and heard a few muttered expletives from a male’s voice. Whoever’d been chasing her was nowhere near as small as she was, and was getting stuck. Neither could use their wands in the tight space, and Hermione scrambled faster, her hands scraping along the ground, her hair catching at an occasional exposed root, or bit of rock.
She finally scrambled out of the tunnel, into the shack, and froze, her eyes locked on the limp body of her professor. She’d forgotten that Snape had been killed here, his form still bleeding on the floor.
The noise from the tunnel behind her jolted her out of her shock, and she pointed at the small opening with her wand.
“Bombarda!” She shouted, causing the hole to explode, and fall in on itself, blocking the entrance.
A gurgled gasping sound caught her attention, and she spun on her heel to see Professor Snape’s chest rise with breath, as the sound repeated. His fingers twitched at the ground, and she realized with a shock that he was still alive.
“Oh no, Professor.” She said, the sight of him driving all thoughts of his service to the Dark Lord from her mind. He needed help, and she’d seen far too much death that night already. She collapsed next to him, inspecting the still seeping wound on his neck. He’d lost a lot of blood.
“Professor, can you hear me?” She asked, picking his wand up off the floor, and sliding it into her back pocket. The man didn’t move, and she felt a moment of panic at his still chest, before another gurgling breath filled his lungs.
“Anapneo!” She pointed her wand at his throat, and was glad to hear his next breath clearer, with no liquid sound. She looked from his blank, unconscious, yet open eyes, to his tattered neck. She had no idea how to heal this. Was it safe to Apparate him in such a condition?
“Professor Snape, I need your help. Professor Snape? Please wake up!” She shook his shoulder, and gently patted his face, bringing an almost startled gasp from him as his eyes blearily focused on her face.
“Ho- Home.” He finally managed to say, and Hermione nodded, grabbing his shoulder tightly, and disappearing with a loud POP.
The air was squished from her lungs, and she landed in her parent’s dark living room. The house was vacant, and she looked back to Snape’s face, wondering what use her home was. She groaned, realizing that he’d meant his home. She felt like a dunce, and took hold of his shoulder again, shaking slightly.
“Professor, I don’t know where your home is.” She admitted, feeling slightly bad for bringing his eyes back into focus. They held pain, and confusion. Not something she’d ever seen on his face before. It made him seem more human, and he scrunched his face, wincing slightly.
“Cokeworth.” He choked out, and Hermione nodded, thinking hard of the place she’d seen photos of a few times. They reappeared in a dark alley, and she quickly disillusioned her bleeding Professor, looking around for any witnesses. The alley was deserted, and she apologized quietly, gently lifting the Professor into the air, and hovering him along behind her, as she approached the mouth of the alley.
“Where, now, Professor?” She asked in a whisper, turning when she got no answer. His eyes had closed, and he looked paler than ever. “Professor!” She shook him gently, and his eyes came open.
“Spinner’s End.” he mumbled, his eyes falling back shut, and she nodded, tiptoeing out of the alley, and hiding her wand behind her back keeping her camouflaged professor aloft. She headed down one road, trying to move quickly, and not draw attention, knowing she looked like she’d just survived a war. She had.
“Hey now, what’re you doing, slinking around?” A voice called from a doorway. She turned, and saw the form of a fat, greasy man leaning out of his front door, looking at her suspiciously.
“I’m trying to find Spinner’s End.” She said, putting on her most pitiful expression. “I’ve gotten lost, and fell in an alley.” She tried to explain her appearance away. He studied her for a moment, and pointed a finger down the bleak looking road.
“That way, to the left. You sure you’re okay? You look kinda…”
“Obliviate!” She pointed her wand at him, and hurried off down the street, following his directions. She moved at nearly a run, knowing Snape’s time was incredibly limited. He could stop breathing at any moment. Snape’s limp form floated behind her easily, and she rounded a corner seeing a line of pitiful houses, on a pitiful street, next to a pitiful river. She hurried down it, casting charms, looking for a magically protected one. She knew his house would be warded. She just had to find it. There! The slight glimmer of her charm bouncing off a ward had her veering to the right, and magically unlocking the door, entering, and letting Snape float in after her. She slammed the door closed, and set up a few quick barriers of her own, before slapping the man awake again.
“We’re here, what now?” She asked, her mind cataloguing everything in the room as she looked around. Books, rickety furniture. Dusty, worn carpets.
“Potion… Cabinet…” Snape mumbled, his hand lifting slightly to point at a door. She hurried to it, only to find it locked.
“Alohamora!” She tried, but it remained locked.
“Signus Vox” Snape’s voice rasped, and the cabinet doors popped open, revealing a stash of bottles, vials, and flasks.
“Which one?” She asked, riffling through them. None were labeled, but she identified a few by their look alone.
“Green. Third down, twelfth right.” He answered, his voice nearly inaudible, his breaths barely moving his chest at all. She pulled it out, and waved her wand, setting him gently on the floor as she uncorked it.
“All.” He mumbled as she opened her mouth, cutting her off. She held it to his lips, and poured it slowly into his mouth, pausing to let him breathe, and keeping at it until the bottle was emptied.
“Blood-red, top right.” he said, and she hopped up obediently, grabbing the proper one. It was a blood-replenishing potion, and she smiled with relief, crouching down next to him, and holding this, too, against his lips. He drank a bit more quickly, color flooding his pale skin as the potion took effect.
“Right next to it, over the wound.” Snape said, his eyes closing, and fluttering open, as though he was trying to stay awake. Hermione stood, and grabbed the dark yellow potion from next to the empty space the red one had left, and uncorked it, sniffing. Dittany, and an almost smoky smell. She hesitated for a moment, before pouring the potion directly on his neck, the thick syrupy liquid drizzling slowly over the slashes, and blood.
“Ahh!” Snape grunted, his face scrunching in pain. Hermione paused, lifting the bottle away, worried, and looking into his still-pale face.
“Don’t stop, you stupid girl!” He hissed, glaring up at her. She jumped slightly, and kept pouring, doing her best to ignore the hissing that came from his mouth, and the way his face twisted. Smoke was rising from the potion where it touched his skin, and it smelled rather singed. She watched the yellow liquid seep into his neck, stitching the skin back together, and sealing off the damage.
“Stop when it’s covered.” Snape managed to bite out, the potions effects making him sound more alive, and stronger. He was no longer on the verge of death.
“What was that green potion?” She asked warily, finally pulling the bottle away, and recorking it. His wounds were sealed, and sizzling, and he seemed to be over the worst pain.
“Antidote for Nagini’s venom.” He said, opening his eyes, and piercing her with a black stare. “What happened?”
“Harry died. Nagini’s destroyed. Everyone scattered. Some were captured.” She said, feeling the grief wash over her anew. Now that Snape was on the mend, her mind started going back to the images her panic had pushed away. She felt tears stinging her eyes again.
“Help me up.” He ordered. The shock of that order brought her back to the black stare.
“Professor, no! You can’t move!” She argued, watching as he tried, regardless, his hands pushing at the floor, and lifting his head.
“I have to make… More blood-replenishing potion.” He said, his eyes unfocusing as he winced, and fell back to the floor.
“I can make it.” She said, and pulled her wand from her pocket, lifting him into the air. “Where’s your bed? You should rest.” She asked, and followed his instructions, lifting him carefully up a flight of stairs, and into a small bedroom.
“Why are you helping me, Granger?” He asked suspiciously, as she pulled the sheets over his body. She paused at the door of the room, thinking on it a moment.
“Enough people died tonight.” She finally said, and he watched her go, the suspicion never leaving his eyes as he glared after her.
Hermione closed the door behind her, and put up another ward, not wanting him to surprise and disarm her while she brewed the potion he needed. She didn’t trust him, even if she’d saved him. All she could hope for was that she somehow felt less terrible, by saving one life, even if it was the life of a miserable villain.
She searched the shelves, discovering them organized alphabetically, and quickly found the book she’d need, opening it, and searching quickly for the blood-replenishing potion. She held her finger in the page, and searched the house, looking for traps, hidden Death-Eaters, and the potion’s room. She found only the latter, and got to work, using the potion to blank her mind again. She wasn’t ready to think just yet. She could think later. Come up with a plan. For now, she had a job to do.
Three hours later, the potion boiled softly in it’s cauldron, and she gave it a last stir, extinguishing the flames, and scooping a glassful out, carrying it up the stairs.
“Professor?” She knocked on the door, and got no answer. She opened it slightly, and saw he was still in the bed, his face slack, one arm hanging off the narrow mattress. She approached, and tapped his hand gently, waking him.
“Wha-” He looked around dazedly, taking in the bushy-haired girl, his room, and the glass in her hand. He sat up slightly, groaning, but saying nothing as she put an arm behind his shoulders, and helped him up.
“You need to drink this.” She said, holding it out to him. His eyes focused more, and narrowed. He sniffed it, and tested a sip, seeing if she’d done it right, before downing the whole glass.
“I’ll need another in an hour.” He said, and flopped back down, his eyes closing.
“Do you need anything else?” She asked, wondering if there was some other potion she’d need to brew.
“My wand.” He said, eyeing her pointedly. He’d seen it in her pocket.
“No.” She said, straightening her spine, and backing away. “I may be helping you, but you’re still the enemy.”
“I’m not.” He breathed, his eyes barely able to stay open as he argued.
“We’ll see.” She countered, and snapped the door shut, leaving him to rest more. What was she going to do when he got better? Let him go back to Voldemort? Hex him to the bed permanently? She didn’t know. And she didn’t know how long it would take for him to get better. Somehow, she hoped it would take a while, so she wouldn’t have to decide, until she’d had plenty of time to come up with a plan.
She hurried back to the stone room and bottled a few servings of the potion she’d made, leaving the last of it in the cauldron, to use later. In the meantime, she should wash up. Staying filthy did no one any good.
She found her way easily to the meagre bathroom, and began filling the tub, locking, and warding the door before pulling her clothes off, and stepping in. The water was almost too-warm, but she sat in it, leaving Snape’s wand on the counter, and keeping her own on the edge of the bath. She hugged her knees as the tub filled around her, the warmth not reaching her core as she finally let the grief, and pain of it all wash over her.
She sobbed into her arms, tears spilling down her face as she remembered Harry’s slack face as he was killed, again. There was no way he would get a third free pass to overcome the killing curse. She saw Lavender’s ravaged body, Fred’s serene face as George sobbed over him. Ron, overcome, on the ground. Who knew what his fate would be? Death, or torture, most likely. She cried harder, thinking of her sweet Ron, writhing under the Cruciatus curse. She’d just, finally, kissed him for the first time, and he was snatched away so soon.
She’d felt hope like none other when Harry had jumped from Hagrid’s arm, wand aloft, but to have him snatched away too, so quickly, was cruel. She hoped Ginny had made it out safely. And the other Weasley’s. And Luna, and Neville. She had to first find out who’d been caught. Then find those that hadn’t. The Weasley’s first, she decided, rinsing her face, and trying to pull herself together, as the water grew cold. Harry was gone, but there was still hope. They hadn’t captured everyone. She would head the Order herself, if she had to. She wasn’t going to let that evil snake win. He’d taken Harry, and Ron, and so many others. But he had no more horcruxes. He was vulnerable. Would he make more? Would he find new precious objects to do it with? How long did she have before he started building his defenses back up?
Maybe Snape would know. Voldemort had tried to kill him, maybe he’d finally change sides for good, she thought. It was worth a shot, and she had to try.
She finished washing, and pulled the plug, stepping from the bath, finding a clean white towel under the sink. It smelled a bit dusty, but she figured the whole house had been left alone while Snape ruled Hogwarts. She pulled a brush through her damp hair, trying not to contemplate the grease it might hold from Snape’s head.
She set her clothes in the tub, and hit them with scourgify, rinsing them, and drying them magically, before pulling them back on. She snatched Snape’s wand from the counter, and went to give him his next dose of potion.
He was asleep again when she entered, and she woke him silently, handing him the glass, and leaving without saying a word. The potion seemed to be working wonders, and his face was slightly pink-tinged, more color than she’d ever seen on it before.
She washed the glass out in the tiny kitchen, and set it to dry, enjoying doing the task by hand, remembering snippets of her childhood. She desperately wanted to be a little girl again, free from war and heartache. She sighed, and moved into the sitting room, plopping on the comfiest looking chair she could find, and curling her legs in. The sun was rising steadily, seeping light through the dirty looking windows, but not really brightening the room any. It seemed to just highlight the dust on everything, and in the air. She watched it swirl around in a stream of wan sunlight, her eyes shutting longer and longer every time she blinked.
A loud thud woke her from sleep, and she sat straight up, wondering what had made the noise. She didn’t have long to wonder before another loud bang echoed through the house. The door was being bombarded with spells. They’d found her. She scrambled to the door, casting a few more strengthening charms at it, and ran back through the sitting room, and up the stairs. She burst into Snape’s room, and found him already awake, sitting up, looking flushed, and worried.
“Death Eaters.” She hissed, reaching for him.
“We can’t apparate from inside.” He said, and she groaned.
“Of course not!” She vented, grabbing his arm, and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Try anything, and I’ll jinx you.” She warned, pointing her wand tip at him, even as she pulled him carefully from the room, and down the stairs. She paused, trying to determine how to get out. They were at the door, obviously.
“Wait, grab the potions!” He gestured to his locked cabinet, but she shook her head.
“No time. They’ll be in any second.” She pointed her wand at the back wall of the sitting room, and blew a hole through it. She didn’t bother apologizing for the books she’d gone through while making the hole, knowing their lives were more valuable than any book he had. She pulled him through the settling dust of the explosion, and heard the door finally explode inward.
“I heard it!” A shrill voice called, peeved, as they came into the sitting room, to see the hole blown in the wall. “They’re getting away! Catch them!” It was Bellatrix, and she aimed a curse at the murky duo hobbling farther into the back alley behind the house, trying to escape the anti-Apparation jinx.
“Here!” Snape ordered, and Hermione turned, seeing a jet of red heading toward her through the smoke and dust, as she was pulled into a vice of magic. She took a deep gasping breath as soon as they landed in her parent’s living room again. Snape sank to the floor as she released him, adrenaline surging through her veins.
“I don’t think they saw us.” Snape gasped, looking relieved, and nearly red-faced.
“Of course they saw us! She nearly stunned us!” Hermione shot back, sinking into the couch, and trying to calm her racing heart.
“I mean, I don’t think they knew it was us.” Snape fixed her with a nasty glare. “If Bellatrix knew I was alive, and you were helping me, she would have been aiming to kill, not stun. Understand?”
Hermione nodded, feeling her cheeks heat at his tone. As though she were a first year who’d failed to grasp his class. The sweat on his brow, and his labored breathing caught her attention before she could get riled, and she moved forward, touching his forehead gingerly.
“You’re burning!” She gasped, and jumped to her feet, pulling him upright, and leading him toward her parents’ room. “It feels like you’ve got an awful fever!”
“Hmph.” Was the only answer she got as she lay him in the bed and ran to the bathroom, grabbing pills and a glass of water.
“Here, take these.” She offered them to him.
“No. We should have grabbed those potions.” He growled blame clear in his voice.
“Well, we didn’t, so you’ll have to make do. Take them!” She ordered, slapping them into his hand, and pushing the water into his other, glaring at him, daring him to refuse. He popped them in his mouth with a grimace, and took a swig of the water, swallowing, and trying to hand it back.
“Keep drinking. You’ll need lots of water.” She said, and he glared, taking another gulp before setting it on the night stand. She left him to rest, and went to the kitchen, opening the cabinets, searching for something to eat. They both needed food, and energy. She found mostly canned food, and poured two cans of soup into two bowls, heating them to steaming with her wand, before plopping a spoon in each.
“Here, eat.” She ordered, setting the soup down on the bedside table, and leaving again, to eat her own in peace. And in the dark. The electricity to the house had been cancelled, as had the heat, and water. She’d have to use magic for anything she needed. She sighed, and looked around, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of her parents. She’d sent them away, but hadn’t been able to let the house go. It was a hope that one day she’d be able to bring them back. After the war, after the never ending terror.
She waved her wand, cleaning the empty bowl, not even having tasted the soup she’d eaten. Probably for the best, since it was usually metallic flavored. She went to fetch Snape’s bowl, and washed it, too, tiptoeing in and out of the room as he slept, sweat still beading on his brow. After she finished, she crept back in, and felt his forehead again. Still burning up. The dark yellow Dittany mixture was fading, seeming to soak right into his skin, leaving behind dark red patches on his neck. She leaned closer, wondering if it was supposed to do that. It looked… infected. She pressed a gentle finger to the flesh, feeling the heat, and swelling confirm her worry. The bite had gotten an infection. And the potions had done nothing to stop it.
“Professor…” She nudged him, and he groaned, his face scrunching in displeasure. “Professor, The bite’s infected.” She said, hoping to catch his attention. He’d know how to fix it.
“Mm.” He mumbled, his face smoothing out, and his eyes opening. “What?” He asked groggily, his eyes barely focused on her.
“Your neck looks infected.” She said, and he smiled wanly at her, his features nearly unrecognizable in the expression.
“So?” He said, as though trying to play it off as nothing.
“So, you need help. I don’t have anything to stop an infection!” She said, and he seemed more lucid for a moment.
“No. No one can know.” He said, grabbing her wrist, and looking suddenly desperate. “No one can see us.”
“Alright… I’ll… figure something out.” She said, and pulled her wrist from his grasp. Even his hands were hot, and clammy.
“Be careful.” He murmured, his eyes closing again. Hermione felt her heart stutter as his face smoothed back out. Was he delirious, too? She stood, and paced in the living room, trying to figure out a solution. She needed penicillin. Muggles wouldn’t recognize her, but wizards could be anywhere.
She rifled through her drawers, pulling out a wide-brimmed hat, and a pair of her mother’s wide sunglasses, pulling her hair into a braid, before glamouring it a light blonde. No one should suspect her. She changed her clothes, and grabbed her purse, trying to look as casual as she could, before setting up layers upon layers of wards, first Snape’s, and then the front door. She should have plenty of time to leave, and come back. She set a charm over the whole building, to alert her if anyone apparated in, and finally, apparated away, to the next town’s pharmacy. She went in, and walked up to the empty counter, glad that there was no line, and no one around to stare.
“What can I do for you today?” The woman who walked up to the other side of the counter asked, and Hermione slipped her wand from her jacket.
“Imperio.” She muttered, flicking her wand at the dark haired woman, and feeling guilty as the woman’s face went slack.
“I need something to fight infection.” Hermione told the woman.
“Alright.” the woman offered a dazed smile, and wandered off, shuffling through shelves for a moment, before coming back, with a rattling bottle. “Here you are, ma’am.” She handed the pills over easily, and Hermione muttered a ‘thank you’, keeping the curse in place until after she’d left. She felt her stomach twist with remorse over controlling the woman like that, but she’d needed the pills immediately, and without questions. She apparated back to her parent’s house, and hurried into the bedroom with Snape. He hadn’t moved an inch. She read the label on the bottle, and popped out two pills, setting the rest aside, and tapping Snape’s arm to wake him.
“Wha-” He woke up, bleary, his face confused, his eyes glazed.
“Here, take these.” She pushed the pills into his hand. He lifted his hand to his mouth without question, and she handed him the water. He took a drink, and just held it. She removed it from his fingers, and set it back down.
“What’s your name?” His voice startled her, and she looked at him curiously.
“Professor, are you feeling alright?” She asked, pressing her palm to his cheek. His skin felt like fire, and his eyes seemed to swim around her face, seeing her, but not lucid.
“So sweet.” He murmured, his own hands lifting to touch her face. His palms were scorching, and she dropped her hand, feeling a blush creep to her cheeks, as she pulled at his wrist, trying to remove his touch.
“Professor, you need to rest.” Hermione muttered, pushing at his shoulder, to encourage him to lie back. His hand was faster than lightning, grabbing her, and pulling her down with him, his smirk alien and charming all at once.
“Professor!” She cried in surprise, as she was yanked down nearly on top of him and rolled to her back as he practically pinned her to the bed.
“Mm, I like that. Say it again.” He murmured, lowering his head, to breath in her ear. Her heart was racing, and she struggled to understand what had just happened. Was… Was Professor Snape making a pass at her? He had both her wrists, and she worried for a moment that he was going to grab the wands from her pockets, but instead, his lips pressed into her ear, frazzling her nerves, and mind even more.
“Professor, stop…” She breathed, fear spiking through her. He was weak, feverish, and still managed to overpower her, holding her easily, and kneeling comfortably between her legs. Between her legs? She realized that he’d gotten between them when he rolled, making her feel more vulnerable, and distressed. What was he going to do? Should she fight him off? Was he really so delirious, or was he going to mock and sneer?
“Stop? Really?” Snape’s voice was low, and self-confident as he pressed his body against her’s, his feverish heat surrounding her as he drug his nose along the edge of her pulled-back hair. She shivered at the feeling, deciding that he really was delusional, and needed to be stopped.
“Please…” She said, tilting her head away, trying to remove his face from her skin. He seemed to get the entirely wrong idea, and she felt blazing lips against her neck, as hips tilted into hers, and his hands slid away from her wrists, to her hair. She felt herself burning under him, from more than the heat rolling off his skin. His lips were electric, softly tingling against her neck as they moved. His large hands were surprisingly gentle, and his hips pressed into hers held a very personal surprise. She’d never been touched like this before, and she found it was enslaving.
“Oh!” She gasped, her free hands moving to his shoulders with the intention of pushing him off. But they stopped short of their goal, resting against the black fabric, as he ground his erection against her, and made his way up her throat. She’d never thought of Snape as ‘sexy’ before, but they way he moved, and touched, and kissed, he certainly felt sexy.
A soft moan escaped her lips, and he seemed to take that as an invitation. He pulled his lips from her neck, and pressed them against her mouth, soaking up the quiet sounds she was making. He was rocking against her, kissing her more deeply with every second, and his hand slid from her hair, sliding down her side, slipping his fingers under her shirt, grasping the bare skin of her waist firmly.
Her thoughts were muddled in a haze of feeling, the concept of shame seeming a distant memory as she moved her hips tentatively against his, and felt her chest press harder into his, her back arching into the movement. He growled against her lips, his teeth playing with her bottom one for a moment, before releasing, and delving his tongue into her mouth. He tasted like potion still, a slightly metallic taste on her tongue as he kissed her senseless. Ron’s kiss had been sweeter, less heated, and definitely less erotic.
Ron! She turned her face from Snape’s, gasping for air, and logic.
“Wait, stop!” She cried, her hands finally pushing at his shoulders. “Professor, stop!”
He pulled away, his eyes focusing on her a moment, before he swept down, pressing one last kiss to her parted lips, and rolling off of her, his eyes closing as he hit the bed, and breathed heavily. Hermione shot up like a bullet, and practically ran from the room, feeling her whole body burn with embarrassment.
She could NOT believe she’d just let that happen! Or been into it! Hermione shut herself in her own bedroom, and collapsed on her bed, burying her face in her pillow. Her face felt like it could catch fire. The junction of her legs felt like it already had. She groaned, and flopped onto her back, feeling shame wash over her, as she thought of Ron. He was sweet. He didn’t deserve her rutting against Snape just because he was incoherent. Had he even known it was her? She doubted it. If he had, there was absolutely NO way he’d have even attempted that. Should she feel used? She figured so, but couldn’t muster the right amount of indignation to really feel it. All she felt was the heat from his mouth, and the way he’d pressed into her, growling, and biting animalistically. The fire in her slowly dwindled as she made herself push the thoughts away, and focused on her plan to keep the war going.
She had to find a way to tally their losses, and captures. That was the first thing. She should find a Daily Prophet, and listen in on some conversations. She’d need polyjuice potion, or to learn disguising charms, so she could walk around freely. Or as freely as anyone could.
She tapped her wand to her hair, reversing the blonde spell, and unbraiding it. She needed to work on getting Snape to realize that he’d been on the wrong side, and to help her. She was certain that he could teach her to hide incredibly well. Maybe he’d even teach her occlumency! She tried to stifle her excitement at that thought, reminding herself that his cooperation wasn’t guaranteed. The first thing she had to do: make him well enough to actually talk to. She had to begin trying to convince him of their cause as soon as possible. If she couldn’t… She decided she’d have to find a way to keep him locked up, away from Voldemort. She couldn’t let him help the other side anymore. The Order couldn’t afford any more adversaries. They’d already been dealt a heavy blow the previous night, and Snape couldn’t be allowed back to their side.
She pulled the pillow from her face, to see the sun streaming in through her window. It was barely noon. Groaning, she pulled her wand out, and walked around her home, casting charms, hexes, and wards on every wall. She needed sleep, but they would find her eventually. She had to be prepared for them.
When she finally flopped back on her bed, she pulled the blanket over her head, not bothering to change clothes. She didn’t want to be on the run in her pajamas, did she? She closed her eyes, and started revising her current pros and cons, letting her mind sort as she drifted quickly to sleep.

A/N: Chapter one, just sort of a teaser until The Hole is completely uploaded. Chapter two of Scattered to come soon. If you've come across this first, and are interested in reading Ron's side of this story, you can find The Hole here: http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600099353
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Scattered