Confrontation

Chapter 20 ~ In the Bedroom of the Potions Master

Slowly, Hermione regained consciousness, her head spinning slightly as she blinked up at the green canopy above her.

”What happened? Where am I?” she thought as she sat up in Snape’s bed and stared at the austere surroundings. The room was dimly lit, only two small torches on the stone walls. The room smelled a bit, well, like a lab, though there was a slight sweetness beneath the medicinal scent. There wasn’t much to look at. A dresser, wardrobe, chair, and a clock. She looked down and saw a huge Slytherin crest on the covers beneath her. She leapt off the bed as if it had suddenly become white-hot, staring at the silver serpent resting against the green field.

”Oh my gods, this is the Professor’s bedroom! He did come and get me! Oh Merlin!” she gasped, running for the door and reaching for her wand as she did so.

It wasn’t there.

”Shit,” Hermione breathed, tugging on the doorknob desperately. It wouldn’t budge. It was warded. She had been warded in.

Suddenly, her belly began to ache and the witch felt nauseous. She ran into the open door to the bathroom, up to the loo, dropped to her knees and heaved, nothing coming up. She heaved again, gagging and still nothing rose except a bitter taste in her mouth.

Oh gods, she wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready for him.

Hermione heaved again.

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Severus slowly and carefully opened the door to his bedroom, his dark eyes darting to the bed, noting immediately it was empty. He entered silently, looking about the room. Then he heard the sound of gagging coming from the bathroom. Quietly, he strode up to the door and looked in to see Hermione bent over the loo, clutching her stomach and heaving as if trying to turn herself inside out.

The wizard let out a slightly aggravated sigh as he looked at her profile, her eyes reddened and wet as she hovered over the bowl.

Circe’s sodden sailors. He couldn’t take the witch this way. He’d feel like a rapist. Contrary to whispered rumors, Severus Snape had never enjoyed forcing himself on anyone and wasn’t about to start now. He had hoped for a nice, hot seduction of the torn little witch. He knew she desired him, and it would have been quite arousing to witness her surrender to him. But this . . . no . . . this was wrong.

Just as quietly as he entered the room, he exited it, heading for his stores to collect several potions to calm Hermione.

He would have to wait.

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After rinsing her mouth with cold water from the basin, Hermione exited the bathroom. Nothing had come up, but the sick feeling remained with her. She had faced numerous dangers with Harry and Ron over the years, even helped in the Final Battle and had been next to fearless. But this situation, the idea of having the snarky Potions master shag her scared her to death. Yes, yes, she knew she was attracted to him powerfully, but the thought of actually being subject to the cold, dark wizard’s lust was the most frightening thing she could imagine.

And it was because she couldn’t imagine what it would be like in reality. Fantasies were only that. She couldn’t seem to bring back the heat she’d felt this evening after he kissed, and more than kissed her. Fear of the unknown was blocking those delicious feelings. Gods, would he take her anyway?

Hermione sat back down on the bed and rested her face in her hands for a moment, then started as she heard the door click. Her face ashen, she stared as Snape glided in, the tall, dour wizard’s black eyes resting on her as he closed the door behind him.

Hermione swallowed as he approached her.

Snape had the distinct impression of approaching a cornered, frightened little animal as he walked toward Hermione, who drew back on the bed until she was against the headboard, unable to even speak as she looked up at him.

Snape frowned at her.

”Good thing you had more courage when it came to figuring out how to face the Dark Lord, or we’d all have Dark Marks and masks,” the wizard snapped at her, sitting down on the bed a little distance from the witch and pulling several bottles out of his pocket.

He unscrewed the top of one and held it out to the witch.

”Stop acting like a scared little rabbit and drink this,” he growled, frustration clearly in his voice as his eyes swept over the Gryffindor.

“What is it? A lust potion?” she asked him tremulously.

Snape scowled at her. How dare she think he’d resort to artificial methods to shag her? He was tempted to tell her it was a fast acting poison but refrained from doing so.

“It is a Calming Draught. I witnessed your little bathroom dilemma. You have to have something on your stomach before you can bring it up, witch. Clearly, you haven’t eaten a thing since this afternoon,” he replied, frowning at her. “Take this. It will settle your stomach. Then I will return you to Gryffindor tower.”

“Return me?” Hermione said, the ache in her belly subsiding somewhat as she took the bottle from the Potions master, who looked at her with glittering eyes.

”Yes. Return you. It is clear to me you are not ready for this mentally, despite . . .”

Here, the wizard’s eyes swept over her small form again, narrowing slightly.

”. . . despite how you respond to me physically. I don’t believe you emotionally mature enough to handle me, Miss Granger. In that aspect, you are still . . . a child. I am no pedophile.”

Hermione nearly spit out the potion she was drinking when he said this.

”What do you mean, pedophile? I am going to be nineteen soon, Professor. I am an adult!” she said to him, her eyes flashing now, her stomach calmed more by her growing anger than the draught. What did he mean she wasn’t mature? She was probably the most mature student at Hogwarts. Everyone said so.

“In years, yes. But emotionally, Miss Granger, you are still a little girl. You got a bellyache for gods’ sakes. That is not the reaction of a woman prepared for intimacy,” he said to her, an eyebrow arched as her face grew black.

“But . . . but I AM a woman!” Hermione said, tossing the potion bottle back at him, clearly affronted now. So, she had a moment of weakness. She was entitled to that, wasn’t she? It didn’t mean she was immature. Just . . . just a bit wary.

Snape neatly caught the bottle in one pale hand, amusement on his face now as he saw how agitated Hermione was becoming. Her ashen face was now rather crimson.

“You . . . you abducted me. Of course that made me out of sorts,” she continued.

Snape didn’t bat an eyelash at this statement.

”I told you I would come for you if you didn’t come to me,” the wizard replied, attempting to pass her another potion.

Hermione shook her head. She didn’t need anymore damn potions. Snape continued.

“Running into the bathroom and trying to bring up your internal organs because I did so speaks to me clearer than your protestations ever could. Now, I’m taking you back to your ‘safe’ little room . . . where you can curl up with your ‘safe’ little dreams of tangling with rather dangerous wizards without actually having to do so . . . ”

Hermione turned so red she looked as if she were about to explode. Snape was glad he took her wand from her. It definitely looked as if an “Avada Kedavra” was in the making.

“How dare you make me sound like a coward! I’m not afraid of you!” she yelled at him furiously, throwing a tantrum. “You could do your worst and I could take it!”

Snape smirked at her.

”You have just proven to me exactly how immature you are, Miss Granger,” he purred at her. “To even suggest you could ‘take my worst’ when you have no idea what my worst is, is quite a foolhardy declaration. You have never been with a man, witch and I assure you I am a man in every way. It’s time for us to go.”

Snape knew quite well that if he liked, he could reduce Hermione to shuddering tears inside of twenty seconds if he were that type of wizard. He was almost tempted to do it, but his better side won out. He stood up, pulled out his wand and cast a Silencing spell on himself. He grabbed Hermione’s arm.

”What . . . let me go!” Hermione shrieked, struggling to pull away as he yanked her up and tight against his lean body. The contact calmed her immediately, as she felt him against her.

Snape Disapparated, the couple appearing in Hermione’s room. He let the witch go and she looked up at him, feeling torn now, especially since the short contact had the effect of bringing those delicious little feelings back to the fore.

“Professor, I . . . I just . . .” she began.

”Save it for your dreams, Miss Granger,” the wizard said silkily, tossing her wand on her bed then silently and quickly Disapparating.

Hermione stood there impotently for a moment, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides before she let out a frustrated shriek and threw herself on the bed.

Damn him. He was wrong, so wrong about her. She was a woman, and she was ready for sex. Gods damn him!

Back in the dungeons, Snape sighed as he undressed and readied himself for bed, hard as diamond. Damn the little minx. He should have ripped her robes off her and showed her exactly what being with him meant, especially after that ”take your worst” statement.

But as usual, he had shown restraint in the face of great temptation.

It was an aspect of himself that he didn’t find appealing at this moment as he fell into bed on his back, nude, erect and leaking, forced to take the situation in hand.

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A/N: Sorry, no lemons yet. I thought a scared Hermione, then an angry Hermione would be amusing. No doubt she’ll be on a mission now to prove to Snape she is “mature” enough for a shag. Lol. Thanks for reading.