The Harder They Fall

Chapter Four

Professor Snape did not run. But he moved very quickly, his teaching robes billowing behind him. He nearly ran into Madame Hooch escorting Ginny Weasley out of the Great Hall.

“Where’s the Headmistress?” His businesslike demeanor was spoiled when he licked his lips suggestively while staring at the pair of clinging women.

Ginny cringed away from him. Madame Hooch regarded him fiercely. “Inside.”

Snape did not wait. He edged past the pair, entering the Great Hall in chaos.

“Professor Snape!” The Headmistress called loudly across the room.

He didn’t want to alahe she students by shouting his news across the room, but he wasn\'t prepared to push his way through the crowd. In addition to the dangers of spreading this pernicious fever, he wasn\'t sure he could keep his hands to himself. Soft young students, innocently flirtatious, warm and smelling of honey and sweat were incitement enough from this distance. Professor Snape cast a spell enabling long-distance speech within line of sight and whispered in the Headmistress’ ear. “Poppy says Hermione is contagious. I appear to be affected now, as well. I’m returning to the infirmary to see what can be done.”

“I suspected as much.” A similar spell placed McGongall’s voice intimately close, though she remained e she she was, directing students. He shivered slightly at her next words. “I seem to be suffering from certain lapses in judgment myself. I have sent Potter, Weasley and Malfoy to the infirmary with the punch bowls. You will be able to test this evening’s refreshment for the presence of a lust potion?”

“If we are dealing with a potion, I should be able to determine which one and brew an antidote.” The Potions Master frowned, not sure if the Headmistress could see his expression. “However, I must remind you that potions do not, as a general rule, behave in this manner. We may need to call in a curse breaker. I will know more when I have tested the pumpkin juice. I will see you in the infirmary.”

He could see her nod. Snape turned on his heel and left as quickly as he had come. This mess was growing more complicated by the minute.

***

“Headmistress?” His voice, once rather thin and petulant, had matured as he had. Neville Longbottom stood nervously near.

“Mr. Longbottom? Can I help you with something?”

Neville bit his bottom lip gently, shifting his weight. “Uh, well, that is, I…” He smiled shyly. He was taller than she was, now. “I just wanted to say that I’ve always admired you, and, well, if you should need a helping hand, er, or, I mean, just some help, I’d be more than happy to service you, er, I mean, be of service to you, er, uhm… make myself useful.”

“Is that so?” Minerva looked the boy over appraisingly before her brain got the better of her libido. How many of the students have been affected? Minerva knew she couldn’t send everyone to the infirmary. It would be a madhouse in moments. An orgiastic vision of half the student body cavorting on the pristine hospital cots dazzled Minerva’s vision for a moment. The cream of the Wizarding World’s brightest young talents consumed by lustful mating and procreating would go a long way towards restoring the strength of British Wizardry in the years to come. Minerva hesitated to call it a curse. If it could induce a shy boy like Neville to proposition the Headmistress of Hogwarts, imagine how many young hearts could find mates tonight, given the opportunity.

“Headmistress?”

A regretful sigh, and Minerva pushed the fantasy aside. “Thank you, Neville. You are a sweet boy. If you could make sure your younger housemates all reach their dormitory safely, I would be very grateful.” She tried to keep the hint of promise from her voice, but the young man blushed anyway.

“Yes, ma’am.” Neville turned away reluctantly, casting a shy smile over his shoulder, in case she should change her mind.

Minerva McGonagall removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers. She had to clear the Great Hall. Then she would return to her office to activate the school-wide Dormitory Sleeping Charm. She only hoped that it could keep the most restless students confined to their own beds for the night.

Perhaps she ought to spike the morning pumpkin juice with a hefty dose of a contraception potion. Remembering well her own years as a student, Minerva knew where there’s a will, there’s a way. And everyone she\'d spoken to in the last hour had been very willing.

***

Snape raced up the stairs to the infirmary, his progress much quicker burdened only by the small hand basket he carried, not weighed down by a squirming armful of nubile student. Just as he was congratulating himself, he saw the three boys blocking the stairwell ahead of him. He shouted, “One side! Make way!” as he hurried towards them.

Ron and Draco waddled up the stairs, each carrying a large bowl of liquid. Harry danced behind them, alternately exhorting them to hurry up and get it over with and slow down so they wouldn’t spill anything. Harry\'s hand rested on Draco\'s back, ready to catch the blond Slytherin boy if he should stumble. Ron had to fend for himself.

Snape wasn’t prepared to linger behind this juvenile roadblock. “Move, Potter.” Snape touched the boy’s shoulder for emphasis. A spark arced between them, like the discharge from a misfired wand.

“Oh, mercy!” Harry squeaked, falling to his knees. “Draco!”

“What did you do?” Ron craned his neck around to see what the fuss was.

Snape took advantage of the redhead’s inattention to slide by him and continue his progress unfettered up the stairs.

Draco turned violently to observe Snape’s progress. He sloshed the contents of his bowl. “Keep your hands off him! You hear?”

“Rest assured, Mr. Malfoy. Potter’s virtue is safe from me. But if you spill one drop of that,” he indicated the bowls the boys carried, “you’ll be able to summon unicorns the rest of your life. Understood, gentlemen?”

The boys mumbled their agreement at Snape’s back as he disappeared into the shadows above them.

Snape felt pretty good. Maybe the effects of whatever-it-was were finally wearing off. He hadn’t felt the least urge to kiss any of the three boys on the stairs, and his mind felt quite clear now. Perhaps returning to the infirmary he could question the hopefully now sober Miss Granger in a more productive manner. He was certain she held the key to unlocking the mystery of these strange events.


***

Hermione thought the book lessless than helpful. But, as she continued to skim through chapters she realized what the book implied. Simply by touching someone, Hermione could pass magical energy on to them. If she was suffering from a magical malady, this was the most likely method of contagion.

With a sick feeling in her stomach, she tried to count how many people she had touched this evening. The dance floor had been packed. Leaving aside the few people she had danced with, she’d tapped people on the shoulder to get them to move, she’d bumped into people by accident, she’d even kissed Ginny Weasley on the cheek after whispering something to her.

The question now was: what was she suffering from?

He stood in the doorway, scanning the room.

“You’re back!” Hermione marked the book and put it aside quickly, standing and moving towards Professor Snape. “Madame Pomphrey locked herself in her office.” She paused, remembering her condition. She wasn’t going to touch him again. “She said I might be contagious.”

Snape hovered in the doorway, not willing to abandon the field, but not sure he ought to press forward. Setting his basket of supplies on a table just inside the door, he took several steps into the room. “Your friends are on their way up with the punch bowls. I’ll need help testing their contents.” He looked everywhere but at her, but seemed to be as aware of her presence as she was of his. He didn’t speak further.

Hermione broke the awkward silence. “I’ve been reading this book on contagion. How likely is a potion to be contagious?”

“Not very, I’m afraid.” Professor Snape removed his robes and set them out of harm’s way. “This is more likely the result of a curse.”

She could see the outline of his back faintly through the wilted cotton of his white shirt. “A curse? Oh.” Hermione watched him assemble ingredients. His movements were precise, economical. His hands were graceful, strong, competent. She remembered how they felt, holding her securely over his shoulder. She wanted to touch him. She clasped her hands behind her back. “What kind of a curse?”

He snorted. “You tell me.”

“I was fairly drunk, wasn’t I? Earlier, I mean.”

“You could say that.”

“I read somewhere that alcohol tends to lower inhibitions.” Hermione tried to sound businesslike and productive. “But it doesn’t make you feel things you don’t already feel.” She edged towards him.

He lifted a small brass cauldron from the shelf above him and peered into it, ignoring the girl behind him.

“I don’t think I’m cursed at all. I feel perfectly fine, now.” If Hermione thought this statement would clear the air and bring things back to normal, she was mistaken.

Snape whirled around to fher.her. “It never happened, is that it?” His eyes flashed fire as he closed the distance between them. “It was all a mistake and you didn’t mean it, I suppose. You were drunk and you don’t remember, eh?”

“Wh-wh-what?” She cringed away from his obvious anger. She’d lived through his classroom rages, but this was entirely unexpected and she wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir!”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her towards him. His breath was warm across her face. “Do you think I am not a man, that I am not flesh? You think that I don’t feel?” His voice was anguished. Severus Snape, spy, soldier and son of a bitch, sounded like he was going to cry.

“Am I hurting you?” The question was ludicrous. Hermione realized dimly that she ought to be angry with him instead. His fingers dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her arms, but the pain didn’t seem important. Her whole body hurt. As her blood pulsed with every heartbeat, each cell in her body strained towards the man before her.

Hermione’s hips jerked forward, almost involuntarily. Snape rewarded this motion with a reciprocal pressure. Hermione’s eyes nearly crossed with the pleasure of feeling the thick bulge in his trousers pressed against her lower belly. It wasn’t quite right, but oh, the pleasure of being so close.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, oh, yes!” She stood on tiptoe, trying to get him closer.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yes!” She wrapped a leg around him, aching to fill her empty spaces with the feel of him.

“It’s not real, Miss Granger.” He released her abruptly. Her legs were shaking so hard, Hermione immediately crumpled to the floor. “We are victims of an unknown magic. Do not let it get the better of you again. If you cannot maintain control over your baser instincts I shall have to find another assistant.” Professor Snape lit a small fire under the cauldron he had chosen, the back of his head revealing nothing of his emotions to the girl on the floor.

Hermione’s whirling brain took several moments to process this. The floor was cold. She was on the floor. She was alone on the cold floor. Her eventual rebuttal sounded weak, even to her own ears. “Hey!”

Professor Snape continued to ignore Hermione.

She got to her feet carefully, brushing dust from the seat of her skirt. “You started it that time. And you didn’t say anything about me being your assistant, before. What makes you think I want to be your assistant?”

“What makes you think you have a choice?” Professor Snape countered. “Do you see anyone else here with enough competence to follow my directions adequately?”

“I’m the only one here.”

“Precisely.”

Indulging in a pout, Hermione stuck her tongue out at the back of her former teacher’s greasy head. “That wasn’t very nice.” He did not deign to answer.

Hermione returned to the cot and sat down. A few moments later Snape surprised her by taking a vial from his basket and bringing it to her. “Drink it all.” He shoved it into her hand and returned to the cauldron. The label read: \"Amor Reductivus.\" It was a lust inhibitor potion.

Uncorking the vial, Hermione downed the contents in one long gulp. Anng tng to ease the longing ache that brief clinch had roused again. Shuddering, she re-corked the vial and set it aside. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Snape uncorked another vial, drinking it without breaking his impassive expression.

“I didn’t want this. Not like this.” Hermione imagined she could see him flinch. “I had a plan, you know. I’ve been working on this plan for months. I was going to owl you a letter.” Tucking her feet under, Hermione regarded the Potions Master moodily. “It wasn’t going to be any old letter. It was going to be clever and casual and really, really witty. I was going to wait until I got my N.E.W.T. results and write to thank you for being such a good teacher. I was going to invite you out to lunch. There was that nice little restaurant near Grimmauld Place that we went to once. I remember you liked it. It’s near enough to the old Order Headquarters that it wouldn’t have had to feel like a date, just like two old comrades getting together to… well, to pretend they weren’t on a date.” Hermione stared into space. “I know you’re not harboring any secret passions for me or anything, but I wanted the chance to get to know you as me, not a student, not a member of the Order, just Hermione and Severus, talking. I thought, if we had any sort of chance together at all, it would have to start with just talking. Neither of us are all that good at befriending strangers. And now it’s bruinruined. Anything I say now is going to be tainted by the fact that you think I’m under a spell, and that I made my first pass at you while I was stinking drunk.”

“Hermione.” Snape’s expression was unreadable, but at least he was meeting her eyes. “I had no idea…”

She shrugged, trying to act bravely. The fabled Gryffindor courage had to be good for something.

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but a loud cry interrupted him. “Oi! Professor! Where do you want these stupid bowls?” Ron Weasley lumbered in, punch bowl held in front of him like a very pregnant belly.

***

A/N: Wow! All these positive reviews are going to my head! My muse eats them up like candy and gets all hyper. Right now she\'s jumping up and down on Ch. 5 and writing doggerel, so if you don\'t like where this is going, blame the reviewers! (just kidding!) Thanks everybody!