A Terrible Temptation

A/N - Well, this has taken on a life of its own - LOL. I haen sen so inspired on this story that I haven\'t done anything on Dawn Breaking and am now only a chapter ahead on EPU. > I am so ashamed. Still those of you who love this story will be happy to know that I have a LOT of material for it. All Hail Kate, beta supreme!

Thanks got to: Helen, Kirirsteen, LittleBIrd, PiperS, tifsuz, Deb (great review, very detailed, glad to know you see exactly what I am doing with this story!), Talene, Droxy, Deeble, Scifichick774, Aprilgrey, Nocturnus (That is a secret as of yet, you\'ll find out later), Spaz141, Laura (LOL, yes I do hate it when my SC knows more than I do) and StellarSnape

Chapter 11 – Reason Knows Not

Severus was trying hard not to think about the fact that Hermione’s thigh was brushing his own as they sat beside each other in the Library. Ron and Ginny sat opposite them and he was rapidly becoming disconcerted by both Hermione’s soft floral scent and Ginny’s intense gaze.

He ran through Harry’s memories and found references to Miss Weasley. Ginny’s long-standing crush, bordering on obsession in Severus’ mind, was revealed to his searching thoughts. Bugger all, he thought with vicious anger. It was just what he needed: a sixteen-year-old girl with a traumatic past and a fixation on her rescuer.

Hermione shifted and sighed as she turned a page. The sigh invoked a vivid image of her splayed across a bed as he ran his hands along her naked body, his mouth drawing those sighs from a very different source than Arithmancy homework. He was shaken by the power of his reaction. Part his his anatomy rose to attention and he cursed inwardly, trying to pretend deep interest in his Defense homework.

This year’s buffoon, no worse and no better than the rest of them, had given them papers to write on the history of certain curses and he forced his mind away from the girl beside him and onto the annual injustice of why he wasn’t the DADA teacher yea year. The confused bitterness that always accompanied his hungry yearning for the position and respect he craved served to deflate his interest. He breathed out in relief. Even imaging Madam Pince in a variety of lingerie was no longer effective in protecting him from Miss Hermione Granger.

He glanced at her sideways and noted the dark circles under her eyes. She wasn’t getting enough sleep. He knew that she was being diverted away from thoughts of him. Albus’ idea no doubt; get her into Animagus training and she would be so involved in it and so tired that she would have little time to wonder about her friend’s strange behavior. Ron was so involved in Quidditch strategies that Severus doubted he thought of anything else.

“Are you ready for the game this weekend?” Ron asked him suddenly and Severus nodded, though there was a certain reluctance in his heart. “Draco may be a prat, but he’s not a half-bad seeker, so you will have to keep on him.” Ron was nervously twirling a lock of hair.

“I’m ready, Ron.” He sighed back to the redhead. The Gryffindors were playing Slytherin and Severus felt like a traitor in his heart. He wanted Slytherin to win, but he had to be Harry and Harry was simply the better seeker. He couldn’t throw the game; it would be far too suspicious. But to go out and deliberately beat his own House?

“Ron, we are trying to study here.” Hermione sounded tired and he wondered if she had gotten any sleep at all last night. As a teacher, he was responsible for the well-being of his students. In Slytherin House, he was able to fuss over his children and keep watch over their eating and sleeping habits, but right now he was outside looking in.

Right now, Hooch was caring for his charges, but he was restless and nervous about them. He hated being cut off from them, unable to soothe them when they were having nightmares, unable to guard them from the prejudice of the r Hor Houses and teachers. He found himself taking his paternal concerns out on the Gryffindors, Hermione and Ron especially. Ron had declared him worse than Molly Weasley yesterday.

“I forgot something, I’ll be back later.” Snape muttered suddenly, startling the other three.
He swept his books back into his bag and rising, left the Library. He needed to find Hooch.

She was, as usual, out on the Quidditch pitch, overseeing try-outs for the reserve House teams. He slouched up to her, doing his best to look teenaged and not like the Slytherin Head of House.

“Madam Hooch.” He addressed her and she gave him a sharp-eyed look with those yellow eyes.

“Afternoon, Harry.” She replied. They settled onto the bench side by side and he slumped over his book bag, looking as adolescent as possible.

“How are my children?” He asked sotto-voce. She gave a small bark of laughter.

“You are such an old woman, Snape.” She ducked her head as she spoke, to hide the laughter she was obviously fighting back. He fought to keep himself from glaring at the white haired woman in annoyance.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice had taken on a slightly irritated tone and he took a deep breath to calm himself. Rolanda had always had the power to piss him off more than almost anyone.

“They are fine, Snape. The young ones are homesick and weepy, the older ones are scheming and plotting… you know, the usual.” She shrugged and he counted to ten, reminding himself that hexing her would not help his situation.

“Miss Mintage has nightmares; have they stopped yet?” He decided that perhaps asking her specifics might be a more fruitful approach.

“Nope, she still keeps her dorm mates up all night.” Hooch replied with no apparent concern.

“Well, what are you doing about it?” He asked in irritation at her cavalier response.

“Doing? There’s nothing to do, she’ll get over it.” Hooch shrugged and Severus felt a great deal of helpless rage.

“She’s eleven years old and her older brother was tortured to death before her eyes when she was nine. Her father is an abusive drunk who beats her and her mother. Her mother is a broken mouse of a woman who cries all the time. She needs compassion, she needs comforting, not to be shunted aside and ignored.” He hissed it out with his teeth clenched, so furiously angry that he wanted to break things -- preferably Madam Hooch.

“I had no idea.” Hooch’s face had drained of color as he spoke and her obvious distress helped him to ease back on the murderous rage that was threatening to engulf him.

“The student files have all this information in them. Perhaps you would be good enough to read them?” He snarled as he rose, waved at her and fought the urge to stalk off in high dudgeon. How he hated laziness. There was simply no excuse for not doing a job well and the job of a Head of House was to care for that House.

He heard a noise off to one side as he left the pitch and he decided that he might as well find out what it was since he was there anyway. He moved off the road and edged closer to a dip in the hill. Hidden by a rise was a small Hufflepuff girl with pigtails and tearstained face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he plopped himself down next to her and handed her a handkerchief. She looked up and her eyes went wide when she realized who had sat down beside her.

“Harry Potter!” She squeaked. s nos not important.” She added with a shamefaced expression.

“It obviously is important or you wouldn’t be crying.” He watched her wipe her eyes and blow her nose.

“I miss my parents and am worried about them. I’m Muggleborn and they don’t have any protection.” She was looking up at him -- at Harry really -- with a look of total trust, as though he could walk out, kill Voldemort, and be back in time for supper. For the first time, he felt a real sense of the burden that everyone had placed on this boy.

“Of course they have protection.” He retorted with a small smile. “The Ministry has people assigned to the protection of all Muggle-borns’ families. There are wards and alarms on their houses and Aurors will respond immediately to any trouble.” He neglected to say that they would most likely be Order members, since while Fudge was terrified of Voldemort’s recent rise and was trying to look effective in defense, most of the real work was being done by the Order, in other words; Fudge was still a colossal moron.

“Really?” She brightened, her faith in Harry Potter great enough that she failed to see all the holes in the shield the Ministry and the Order held over the magical world. He simply nodded back at her, knowing that he had eased her mind but that her sense of safety was illusory.


He went out to Hagrid’s with Ron and Hermione that evening. Severus was looking forward to the trip. He didn’t get tond and as much time with the half-giant as he would have liked to.

As much as Snape’s showering frequency would have made mouths drop among the students, the affection he had for Hagrid would have caused a mass fainting fit. The number of times that Hagrid had carried his broken and bleeding body to the Hospital Wing after a Death Eater meeting was beyond counting. Just knowing that whether he was well and whole or doubled over in pain, Hagrid was waiting for him patiently at the apparation point was enough to get him through some terrible times.

The three of them were chattering happily as they walked out to the round one-room cottage.

“I still don’t know her name.” Severus was telling them about the little Hufflepuff and how concerned he still was about her.

“Kate Smith.” Hermione replied and he was amazed by how quickly she had pulled that bit of information from her orderly mind.

“Thank you, Hermione.” He gave her a warm smile, and her faint flush of pleasure sent a rush of some un-named emotion through him. He turned and saw an odd look on Ron’s face that was quickly gone as Hagrid opened the door.

“Harry, Ron, Hermione!” Hagrid’s large solid presence, the smile that Severus had known from his own school days and forward, gave him a feeling of relaxation and contentment. He wasn’t sure he could call Hagrid a friend; he was a fixture, but they rarely talked. Hagrid was a steady rock in Severus’ world and he had never really given much thought, he realized, to the person.

“Hello, Hagrid.” He smiled up at the bright eyes and tangled hair, the wild beard and the strange coat filled with miscellaneous and occasionally alarming items. He found himself enveloped in a bear hug, his lungs being crushed and his spine creaking. There was a moment of panic where he wondered if Hagrid were a polyjuiced assassin in disguise and then he was released.

Hermione and Ron were grabbed and throttled in turn with no complaint, so Severus assumed that the greeting was both traditional and non-lethal.

Hagrid’s hut hadnhanghanged in all the years Severus had been at Hogwarts. It was still cramped and untidy, it was still primitive and cluttered, and he settled into an oversized chair with a small sigh of contentment. He looked around at Hermione helping Hagrid get the tea things onto the table and Ron chattering excitedly about his plans for winning the Quidditch Cup and wondered if he had ever had such a moment in his own life.

He remembered blood and tears, guilt, pain, suffering and isolated moments of hope. He remembered the child he had been, five years old and watching his parents’ coffins being lowered into the ground. He remembered the gray skies and the solicitor who stood beside him, ignoring him as though he were just another stack of papers.

He recalled his Great Aunt’s house with its sepulchral quiet and white starched doilies on every surface; the terrible loneliness and bitter solitude of his days there, the pinch-faced tutor and then finally the letter that took him away from that place for months every year.

“What are you thinking about? You look so sad.” Hermione’s voice broke into the maudlin reverie he had fallen into by the fire.

“I was just wondering if there could be anywhere in the world better to be than here and I had just decided that there isn’t” He replied with a crooked half-smile.

“Why does that make you sad?” She settled on the arm of the chair, in the same pose he had taken in the Common Room not so very long ago.

“Because I can’t stay here forever.” He replied and it was a bitter admission. He looked up at warm friendly brown eyes and wished she were truly smiling at him.