Darkness Within
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
17,516
Reviews:
84
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
17,516
Reviews:
84
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Consequence
One Month Later
Severus was sitting by his open fire, sipping at a glass of Firewhisky and reading through the Daily Prophet. He was waiting.
It had become almost a ritual, to the point where he wore the same clothes and followed the same routine. He glanced at the muggle clock on his mantel and took another sip of his drink. He had ten minutes. He closed his eyes and took and slow, deep breath.
Shortly, he would leave. He would shrug on his black muggle jacket and check his hair in the mirror, slug down the rest of his drink and apparate to the Traveller’s Rest pub in a run down part of West London. There, he would purchase another whisky, usually Black Bush, then sit on a bar stool and wait for Hermione to arrive. She wouldn’t see him. She was, as a rule, intoxicated with alcohol before she arrived. But he knew she wouldn’t be alone.
Severus looked at the clock again and folded his newspaper, laying it gently on the arm of his chair with a soft sigh. It was time to leave.
*********
Severus caught sight of her as she pushed open the half door and held it open for her companion. With a subtlety that was a testament to his years of spying, he glanced with a blank face and blank eyes in their direction. Hermione looked at him but didn’t see him and Severus registered her dilated pupils and slightly vacant expression. The couple walked past him and Severus, ever sensitive to aromas, inhaled the unmistakeable smell of stale vomit and fresh alcohol on Hermione’s breath. He turned his eyes to his drink and tried to ignore the clenched sensation of his stomach, then looked at Hermione’s date for the night. If Severus didn’t know better, he would have assumed Hermione was a prostitute and the man, her latest customer. He knew this wasn’t the case, however. Hermione never took their money.
This one was different in some way and Severus’s senses were immediately on edge. He was older than the others, for one thing, and considerably scruffier and unkempt. He had at least a weeks’ worth of greying stubble on his cheeks, and his salt and pepper hair was dirty and pushed in slick lengths behind his ears. He was wearing muggle jeans and an old, threadbare checked blue shirt.
Severus ordered another drink and waited. After twenty minutes Hermione stood and took her companion by the hand, dragging him out of the pub. She was unsteady on her feet and Severus frowned as he noticed the smirk on the man’s face. He downed his drink swiftly and followed them.
By the time Severus had disillusioned himself and caught up with his quarry, Hermione was having a hard time staying on her heels. He could hear her mumbling and a deep, croaky laugh came from the man she was with. He watched as the man put his arm around her to hold her upright as they walked, and then without warning, he steered her into a side street. Severus’s eyes narrowed as he followed closely behind. This wasn’t part of the routine. Hermione was usually the one in control, but then, she wasn’t usually this inebriated.
The man paused at a gated alleyway, glanced around and pushed the gate open, his hand grabbing Hermione’s shoulder and pulling her with him briskly.
Severus increased his pace, his heart beating fast beneath his rib cage. His mind was racing as he pushed open the gate and walked down the alley behind a row of houses. He heard a noise from the back yard of the first house and as he entered, he stifled a shout, pulled out his wand and muttered ‘Stupefy’ as quietly as he could.
The man stiffened where he lay and almost suffocated Hermione, she was unconscious beneath him, her skirt ripped and blood pouring from a split lip, and her legs akimbo.
‘Shit,’ Severus muttered. ‘Stupid fucking witch.’
With a shove of his foot, he rolled the man from Hermione’s body, his jeans around his ankles, cock still erect. Severus kicked him fiercely in the ribs and heard the satisfying crack of bone, before turning back to the prone witch. He pulled what was left of her skirt down around her hips, trying not to look at her knickerless and hairless pussy as he did so. He bent to lift her and was shocked at how light she felt in his arms. The smell of alcohol assuaged his nostrils and he fought down the nausea in his throat.
With a sharp crack, Severus apparated.
Severus was sitting by his open fire, sipping at a glass of Firewhisky and reading through the Daily Prophet. He was waiting.
It had become almost a ritual, to the point where he wore the same clothes and followed the same routine. He glanced at the muggle clock on his mantel and took another sip of his drink. He had ten minutes. He closed his eyes and took and slow, deep breath.
Shortly, he would leave. He would shrug on his black muggle jacket and check his hair in the mirror, slug down the rest of his drink and apparate to the Traveller’s Rest pub in a run down part of West London. There, he would purchase another whisky, usually Black Bush, then sit on a bar stool and wait for Hermione to arrive. She wouldn’t see him. She was, as a rule, intoxicated with alcohol before she arrived. But he knew she wouldn’t be alone.
Severus looked at the clock again and folded his newspaper, laying it gently on the arm of his chair with a soft sigh. It was time to leave.
*********
Severus caught sight of her as she pushed open the half door and held it open for her companion. With a subtlety that was a testament to his years of spying, he glanced with a blank face and blank eyes in their direction. Hermione looked at him but didn’t see him and Severus registered her dilated pupils and slightly vacant expression. The couple walked past him and Severus, ever sensitive to aromas, inhaled the unmistakeable smell of stale vomit and fresh alcohol on Hermione’s breath. He turned his eyes to his drink and tried to ignore the clenched sensation of his stomach, then looked at Hermione’s date for the night. If Severus didn’t know better, he would have assumed Hermione was a prostitute and the man, her latest customer. He knew this wasn’t the case, however. Hermione never took their money.
This one was different in some way and Severus’s senses were immediately on edge. He was older than the others, for one thing, and considerably scruffier and unkempt. He had at least a weeks’ worth of greying stubble on his cheeks, and his salt and pepper hair was dirty and pushed in slick lengths behind his ears. He was wearing muggle jeans and an old, threadbare checked blue shirt.
Severus ordered another drink and waited. After twenty minutes Hermione stood and took her companion by the hand, dragging him out of the pub. She was unsteady on her feet and Severus frowned as he noticed the smirk on the man’s face. He downed his drink swiftly and followed them.
By the time Severus had disillusioned himself and caught up with his quarry, Hermione was having a hard time staying on her heels. He could hear her mumbling and a deep, croaky laugh came from the man she was with. He watched as the man put his arm around her to hold her upright as they walked, and then without warning, he steered her into a side street. Severus’s eyes narrowed as he followed closely behind. This wasn’t part of the routine. Hermione was usually the one in control, but then, she wasn’t usually this inebriated.
The man paused at a gated alleyway, glanced around and pushed the gate open, his hand grabbing Hermione’s shoulder and pulling her with him briskly.
Severus increased his pace, his heart beating fast beneath his rib cage. His mind was racing as he pushed open the gate and walked down the alley behind a row of houses. He heard a noise from the back yard of the first house and as he entered, he stifled a shout, pulled out his wand and muttered ‘Stupefy’ as quietly as he could.
The man stiffened where he lay and almost suffocated Hermione, she was unconscious beneath him, her skirt ripped and blood pouring from a split lip, and her legs akimbo.
‘Shit,’ Severus muttered. ‘Stupid fucking witch.’
With a shove of his foot, he rolled the man from Hermione’s body, his jeans around his ankles, cock still erect. Severus kicked him fiercely in the ribs and heard the satisfying crack of bone, before turning back to the prone witch. He pulled what was left of her skirt down around her hips, trying not to look at her knickerless and hairless pussy as he did so. He bent to lift her and was shocked at how light she felt in his arms. The smell of alcohol assuaged his nostrils and he fought down the nausea in his throat.
With a sharp crack, Severus apparated.