An Unlikely Savior ~ (Edit) COMPLETED

WARNING: This fanfic is not an intimate HG/SS fic, in other words, except for the initial encounter they are not sexually involved with each other. I would say it is more of a platonic relationship, but that's kind of stretching it a bit, considering what Snape has done. So, if you are looking for a story that has them ending up as lovers, this won't be it. Maybe they can end up not killing each other. lol. Thanks.

Chapter 1 ~ An Unlikely Savior

Separated from Harry and Ron, her wand lost, Hermione fled, running up the marble stairwell, away from the Great Hall. She heard someone howl, "There's one! She's running up the stairs! After her, Fenir!"

The Death Eaters had made it into the castle, and were battling staff and students. The house elves had joined the fray, swinging knives, pots, two-prong forks and whatever utensils could do damage. Harry and Ron were in the midst of battle, blasts, cries, smoke and the scent of blood and scorched flesh filling the Entrance hall as people fought for life and freedom, many finding death and relief.

The huge, rangy wizard's yellow eyes narrowed as he watched Hermione disappear down the first floor corridor to the right. He smiled nastily, showing pointed yellow teeth as his quarry fled. He looked back at his comrade.

"I'll get her," Fenrir snarled, "I love the feel and taste of young witch."

Fenrir loped after Hermione, taking the stairs three at a time, his too-tight robes not impeding him at all. This would be an easy kill.

Hermione's heart leapt and fear lent wings to her feet. She tore down a corridor where she knew of a secret passage that was passworded. If only she could reach it before the werewolf reached her.

Fenrir slowed his run to an easy trot, enjoying the scent of fear Hermione left as a trail behind her. The werewolf loved to play with his food.

Hermione continued to run, her heart bounding, feeling light as air as her fright added adrenaline to her bloodstream. She wasn't a coward. If she had her wand, she would turn and fight. But she was wandless and stood no chance against the Death Eater. Her only choices were to either run or die.

Most likely, if she didn't get through that passageway, she'd end up doing both.

"I smell you!" Fenrir rasped loudly, his growling voice echoing off the stone. "Fresh meat for Fenrir!"

He took great joy in killing, enjoying the screams and geysering blood of his victims streaming over him as he tore at them with his teeth and long yellowed nails. In the case of women, he like to kill them mid-coitus, severing their arteries while buried balls deep in their bodies, feeling the life drain around him.

Yes, Fenrir Greyback was one sick piece of work.

He began to speed up, falling to using both his hands and feet, running like a true wolf and covering an amazing amount of ground. Hermione looked back and screamed as he flew toward her, and in her fright, overshot the passageway and found herself trapped at a dead end. She turned, pressing her back against it, watching death approach with filthy matted hair, a feral smile on its face.

Fenrir stopped about twenty feet from her.

"I recognize you. You're Potter's little girlfriend. Quite a pretty little witch," the werewolf said. "I remember you from the forest of Dean. I noticed you. If not for the Dark Lord wanting you alive, I would have had you then. But . . . that's no longer a problem now, is it?"

"No . . . please," Hermione begged as Fenrir approached her menacingly.

"Begging only turns me on more. Screams are the only thing better," Fenrir breathed, tearing his robes open and working on his belt.

His unwashed scent washed over Hermione and she gagged, closing her eyes as he moved closer. She was tiny compared to the werewolf, who towered over her now. He reached down into his trousers and pulled out his foreskin-draped cock.

"Now," for the preliminaries," he growled, grasping Hermione by the throat with one dirty hand and lifting her by it, slamming her against the wall as she pulled at his grip with both hands, her eyes wide with horror as she struggled, face to face with the werewolf, his sour stench and breath making it even harder to breathe. She tried to scream as he ripped at her robes with his other hand, then her jeans beneath them.

Everything began to dim, and Hermione's eyes glazed, her struggles slowing as his grip on her throat relaxed. Fenrir lowered her back to the floor, satisfied she was subdued enough to continue.

Hermione slumped against the wall, falling into the state of any captured prey facing death, the quiet paralysis that spared them the full effect of their impending end. Soon, it would be over.

Hopefully death would be a peaceful place.

Dull acceptance replaced horror as Fenrir tugged off her trainers and began on her jeans, his nails scratching her hips carelessly as he roughly removed her clothing, a lustful leer on his face as he roughly turned her around and once again slammed her into the stone wall, her back to him. He pulled her back, bending her, tossing her robes up and revealing her naked ass. He dug his nails into one smooth cheek and Hermione let out a despairing cry of pain.

"That was a poor offering," Fenrir growled, slapping the head of his erection against her flesh, Hermione's eyes filling with tears, "but no worries. You'll be howling like a bitch in a moment or two."

Hermione felt his girth slid down the cleft of her buttocks. He felt enormous as he positioned himself, fingering her core and bringing his hand to his nose.

"A virgin. Fenrir has found quite the prize. At least you won't die one," he hissed, pulling back his foreskin and pressing the head of his cock against her entrance.

"Now!" Fenrir growled, and Hermione tensed, waiting for the pain, but it didn't come. Fenrir's hand tightened on her waist painfully and he stiffened, gurgling. Hermione felt his cock fall away from her body as well as his hand. She turned her head to see him staring down at her sightlessly, his mouth open and almost of foot of a blood-streaked silver blade protruding from the center of his chest.

He stood there, his arms dangling at his sides for a moment, then his head dropped, and the blade suddenly disappeared. Hermione slid out of the way as the werewolf dropped heavily to the floor, dead. But it wasn't his body she stared at, but the person who stood behind it, a sword in one pale hand.

Black eyes glittered down at her, and she could see a bit of bloody rag tied tightly around her savior's throat, only slightly visible under the lank, black hair. Crusted blood was flaking off one robe-clad shoulder. The familiar cruel mouth twisted slightly.

"Why Miss Granger," Severus Snape said softly and a bit venomously, "you look as if you've seen your first true ghost."

Hermione stared up at the Potions master, unable to speak.

"If left to you, I would indeed be a ghost. None of you attempted to render me any aid," the dark wizard continued. "No doubt you believed I deserved to die. I would have been well within my rights to let Fenrir rape and kill you."

Hermione didn't reply. She didn't know what to say. But he had killed Dumbledore, so how could he expect anyone loyal to him to try and save him?

"I believe the matter between Mr. Potter and my former master has been resolved," Snape said, turning his head slightly and listening.

Hermione listened too. The sounds of fighting had stopped. Then cheers began, happy shouts and youthful voices rising in victory.

Snape turned to look at Hermione.

"Apparently in Mr. Potter's favor," he purred. "I will be going now, Miss Granger, to wait for Mr. Potter to clear my name. But I will return and collect from you."

Hermione blinked up at him.

"Collect from me?" she asked blankly.

Snape's dark eyes shifted to the prone body of Fenrir Greyback and back to Hermione.

"I killed a man for you, Miss Granger. I could have been long gone and would have been had I not seen his pursuit of you while I was making my way to my quarters to retrieve a few items to take with me before I went into hiding. Now, that will have to wait. My first thought was to let you die, turnabout being fair play, but . . . I thought if I did save you, it would later work out in my favor. You owe me a Life Debt, Miss Granger, and I plan to collect on it."

"What . . . what will you want?" Hermione asked him tremulously.

Snape wiped the blade of his sword on Fenrir's body, then opened his robes and inserted it into a scabbard hidden beneath. He closed his robes and looked at Hermione intensely.

"Since you owe me your very life, Miss Granger, it doesn't matter what I want, does it?" the wizard said darkly. "Life is the most precious commodity of all, and since I don't want your life, whatever I do want is secondary."

"Won't you give me an idea?" she asked him.

Snape flinched as he heard footfalls behind them, coming up the corridor.

"I must go," he told the witch, "what I want from you is also precious, Miss Granger, but less so than your life. Watch for me, witch. Nocturnis!"

Snape whirled his wand over his head. Suddenly, the corridor went pitch black.

"Hey! What's going on?" a voice cried from up the corridor. "Who's down there?"

Hermione could feel Snape was gone. She was alone now.

"It's me! Hermione Granger!" Hermione called back, afraid they'd send hexes.

"Hermione? Hermione!" she heard a familiar voice cry.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, running up the corridor as the darkness began to lift. She ran to the boy-who-lived, leaping into his arms and clinging to him. Neville and several other students were with him.

"Hermione, you're shaking. It's all right. Voldemort is dead. I killed him," Harry said, holding her tightly, trying to soothe his friend. "We're going to be all right. But first, we have to go back and get Snape's body and bring him in to lie with the rest of the heroes."

Hermione shook her head.

"No we don't. He's not there, Harry," she told the boy who lived, stepping back and pointing down the corridor at the body of Fenrir Greyback."

"He saved me from being killed by Fenrir, Harry. Snape survived," she said.

Harry looked at the body and the blood beneath it, then back at Hermione incredulously.

"But he's dead. I saw him die, Hermione," Harry responded her, unable to believe this.

"You saw him lose consciousness Harry, but none of us checked to see if he were truly dead. He wasn't pleased about that either," she replied. "But he's alive, Harry. He's the one that cast the spell and darkened the corridor. He said he's going into hiding until you clear his name. Then . . . then he'll come back."

Hermione didn't tell Harry about the Life Debt Snape had claimed in exchange for saving her life. She didn't know why she didn't tell him. Maybe she didn't want him to know Snape had put conditions on her. It would ruin Harry's newfound appreciation for the wizard.

Hermione watched as Harry and several other wizards went to inspect Fenrir's body.

"Why are his pants down?" Neville asked, staring at the wrinkled flaccid member resting against the dead wizard's thigh.

Harry looked back at Hermione. She looked very small and vulnerable standing alone in the corridor. His eyes hardened as he looked back at the dead werewolf.

"He tried to rape Hermione," Harry replied darkly. "But Snape killed him."

"Snape? But Snape is a Death Eater, why would he save Hermione?" Neville asked Harry, who continued to stare at the corpse.

"He's not a Death Eater, Neville. It's a long story but it will come out after long," Harry said quietly. "Snape's not a Death Eater. He's a hero. A selfless hero."

Hermione heard Harry.

Snape might be a hero, but a selfless hero? No, that wasn't completely true, at least in Hermione's case. In her case, his heroism came with a price.

How high that price was, she had yet to find out.

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A/N: When I sat down at my computer to write the next chapter to "A Turn for the Better," This scene popped into my head and I wrote it down. Thanks for reading.

A/N/N: I had to write a little more to this and add it to my "to pursue at a later date" list. Damn plot nifflers.