Inside the Blackest Heart (Edit, Not Update)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 16 ~ Back in the Potions Class

Hermione walked into the Potions class exactly one minute late. The Professor had been browbeating the students for dismal marks on the last assignment when she entered. He fell silent and scowled as she walked up the aisle, sidled through the chairs and sat in her normal seat. She made quite a bit of noise slinging her backpack down and taking out her books. She was so preoccupied she wasn’t aware of the Potions Master staring at her blackly as she settled in. Finally she folded her hands and looked at him expectantly, then realized he had been staring at her silently since she entered the class. The other students all grimaced, waiting for the Professor to light into her.

“Are you settled in now, Miss Granger?” the Potions Master said evenly.

“Yes sir,” Hermione responded in a small, embarrassed voice.

The Potions Master arched an eyebrow at her.

“You were late, Miss Granger. Not only were you late, but you also disrupted my discourse on the usual inadequacy of the latest marks earned by this group I loosely call students. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor,” he said.

“Whatever,” Hermione snorted under her breath.

The Potions Master’s brow furrowed.

“And another ten points for muttering,” he added.

Hermione’s housemates groaned as Hermione looked at the Potions Master mutinously. But she didn’t say anything.

The Professor continued his tirade against his pupils for another ten minutes until he had them all, with the exception of Hermione, squirming in their seats. He gave them a reading assignment to once again review information they had previously studied. They had to write a summation at the end of one meter. Pages rustled as the students got down to work. The Potions Master returned to his seat. With hooded eyes he watched Hermione reading rapidly, her amber eyes scanning the pages left to right. Finally he spoke to her.

“Miss Granger, a word at my desk,” he said.

Hermione looked up at him, sighed and stood up, sidling past the empty chairs and approaching his desk.

“Your behavior after breakfast this morning was entirely unacceptable. You used profanity when speaking to a teacher, and stormed off without being dismissed. You will serve three days detention…”

Here Hermione’s eyes widened as she looked at the Potions Master. He was crazy if he thought she would return to his clutches. She still ached as it was.

“…with Argus Filch,” he concluded, his black eyes meeting hers. He could see she thought she would be serving it with him. He could also see that she had no intention on serving it with him if he had assigned it. He had no doubt she would have taken the write-ups. She was acting completely out of character.

“Yes sir,’ Hermione replied, clearly relieved to be assigned to Filch. He would probably have something disgusting for her to clean, but at least she would leave the caretaker’s presence walking normally.

“As for your other violation,” Snape continued, “we will settle that at another time. Return to your seat.”

Hermione walked back to her seat and sat down, amazed that the Professor didn’t press the issue of the illegally acquired potions. He probably intended to hold it over her head. Well, she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him manipulate her. She returned to reading.

The Potions Master pretended to read over a few parchments on his desk, but he studied the young witch. She had a defiant set to her jaw. He could see that she was determined not to let him get under her skin. She didn’t appear the slightest bit concerned about the potions incident. It was as if she just didn’t care. He looked at the stubborn set of her face again thoughtfully.

He had expected some residual submissiveness on her part after last night. He had been her first after all and had really laid pipe to her. He had locked her body down and rode her for all he was worth, placing her limbs in holds that rivaled any muggle-wrestling move. She had been under his complete control, subjected to his every whim. Yet she faced him without the slightest bit of deference when he confronted her today.

She also evidenced none of the usual uncomfortable reactions of a woman that’s been ravished by a man who cast her aside afterwards. There was a slight flush this morning at breakfast, but that had been it. Suddenly the Professor felt he hadn’t been rough enough. But he had been. The only other thing he could have done to brutalize her further was beat her. Was it possible that underneath all that Gryffindorness, Miss Granger was as callous as he was? Had she used him every bit as much as he had used her? She had been fucked soundly, had multiple orgasms and afterwards, stolen potions in his name using his treatment of her as justification. All in all, she had got what she wanted. And then some.

Snape had a feeling if the sorting hat were placed on Miss Granger’s curly head today, she would definitely be sorted into Slytherin House. She wouldn’t be a bad addition either. He smirked as he thought about how Albus would take Miss Granger’s shift in attitude if she made it known. The old coot favored Gryffindor house, despite being the complete opposite of what it stood for. He would hate to see Miss Granger displaying Slytherin traits. Of course he would blame Snape, but the fact was he couldn’t make Miss Granger turn dark. It had to already be there, beneath the surface. If anyone were responsible, it was Albus himself. His manipulations had made the witch deny parts of herself that if had been allowed to come to the surface, would have worked themselves out. As it stood, an ocean of resentment probably seethed under the surface of Miss Granger’s apparent dedication to duty.

If the young woman discovered for certain how the Headmaster had manipulated her, then her anger would make her rebel against him, and all that resentment would come pouring out to make itself known in many nasty ways. If Miss Granger weren’t dark…she would become that way and quickly. Nothing changes a person more than to discover the things they believed in were all lies, and the people they trusted were not worthy of trust. She would turn away from everything Albus had groomed her for and begin to live her own life with a hunger to acquire the things and experiences previously denied her, everybody else be damned. She’d become Slytherin through and through, susceptible to the lure of using evil tactics to acquire what she felt good for her own well-being. How Snape would LOVE to see that happen. It would be a more honest, satisfactory life for the witch than the one she was living now, and the one Albus had planned for her. It had the added appeal of driving the Headmaster wild.

Hm. Not that driving Albus wild was a good thing. Miss Granger could find herself locked in a small room someplace, forced to work for the Order anyway, with a cover story of having been abducted or killed by deatheaters. Albus wasn’t beyond imprisonment if it would get him what he wanted.

Hermione’s amber eyes flicked up at the Potions Master for a moment. He met them evenly before they dropped back to the book. There had been nothing in her gaze. She had just looked up from her text for a moment. The Potions Master watched as she unrolled her parchment and began to write quickly. His eyes swept around the room. The other students began writing as well, intense looks of concentration on their faces. He knew most of the summaries would be suitable for wiping his ass with, but he still had to mark them anyway.

Soon the students were bringing their parchments up with apprehensive looks on their faces. A small pile of summaries sat on the edge of his desk. Miss Granger had been the first to give him her parchment, as usual. He rewarded her with a scowl.

Soon it was time for class to let out. He called Hermione to him again. The witch actually had the audacity to sigh in exasperation as she approached him again. He took out a quill and a piece of parchment.

“I want you to present this parchment to Filch when you serve detention. It is a suggested list of chores to do,” he said smoothly, dipping his quill in the small bottle of ink on his desk.

Hermione frowned.

“But Filch gives out his own punishments,” she said, agitated.

“Yes, I know. But you’re a special case. I just want to make sure the chores are, shall we say, challenging enough.” The Professor smirked as he put the quill to the parchment. Hermione had a black look on her face.

He made a few scratches, then looked down at his quill. It wasn’t writing. He must not have put enough ink on it. He dipped it into the bottle again. It came up dry.

He picked up the inkbottle and shook it. Something rattled inside. He turned it over and shook it over his pale palm. Some crumbly bits of dried ink dropped out.

“Hm. That was a new bottle,” he said to himself.

Hermione stood there with her arms folded, wishing the Potions Master would hurry up. Snape reached in his drawer and retrieved another bottle of ink. He shook it and a liquid sound came from the bottle. He opened it and set it down. He dipped his quill in it and applied it to the paper. A thin black line started, then petered out. The Potions Master looked at the quill.

Hermione sighed loudly. He looked up at her sharply, and she shifted her eyes away.

Snape dipped his quill into the inkbottle, and again it came up dry. He picked up the bottle and shook it. It rattled. Something hard was inside. He tilted it and again small crumbles of dried ink fell out on to his desk. He looked up at Hermione, who was slouched in a sullen position now, looking impatient. Snape looked at the inkbottle, puzzled, bringing it close to his ear and shaking it. He looked up at Hermione.

“Just go, Miss Granger. I will finish the list and send it to Filch myself. Five points from Gryffindor,” he said dismissively.

“What for!” Hermione said.

“Being impatient,” Snape replied, still shaking the inkbottle against his ear.

“Ooh!” Hermione breathed, stalking from the Potions Master’s desk, grabbing her backpack and storming out of the door.

Snape took the inkbottle down from his ear. He shook out a little more dried ink on his desk and studied it.

“Extraordinary,” he said.

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A/N: Hm. More considerations by Snape. More things drying up. Interesting. Please review.