Survival of the Fittest

A/N -- Thanks to all who have reviewed and my most excellent beta readers! I don\'t own Harry Potter...Obviously.

--

Pulling the duvet up under her chin, Hermione shivered. Merlin’s beard, it’s cold! It was so cold her teeth were chattering. To make matters worse, she had to go to the loo. Oh well, there was no putting off the inevitable.

Running her hand along the nightstand, Hermione searched for her wand. She frowned in frustration as the piece of wood eluded her. Then her hand came into contact with something unfamiliar and absurd memories flitted across her mind.

She didn’t have a lamp on her nightstand. Electricity didn’t exist at Hogwarts. Touching what felt like a switch, she turned the lever. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she stared at a gas lamp that illuminated a garish design of wallpaper and even worse furniture.

With a screech, Hermione jumped off the heart-shaped bed that had been in her dream. Her feet quickly tangled in the duvet and she fell onto the floor.

Oh gods! She froze on her hands and knees, ignoring the frigid cold of the room. My dream! How is this possible?

Anything’s possible with magic, you dolt! she answered. The sound of the ocean stirred absurd memories. “Oh gods! Oh gods! Oh gods!” she mumbled and jumped to her feet, lest the surly Potions prick catch her in such an undignified position.

Looking around the room, Hermione gazed through the window and saw the moon reflecting on the water. Walking over, she peered out the window, and she saw that it was snowing outside. A loud pop startled her.

Dinner had arrived. A table for two was set, complete with a feast, wine, and flickering candles. “This has got to be a joke,” she scoffed softly. The entire setup was preposterous. What had Dumbledore been thinking of when he had sent them here?

Then it hit her.

This was a joke. It had to be. Hermione smiled. She’d always known Professor Dumbledore had a wicked sense of humor. Her smile fell as she wondered what part the greasy git played in all of this.

“Okay. Ha ha! Very funny!” she cried out. “I appreciate the effort, but this really isn’t necessary.”

Hermione strode around the room as if talking to no one in particular in a different location would make a difference. “I must admit, I was somewhat upset my parents went on vacation without me, but I’m fine, really.”

The howl of an unforgiving wind was her only answer. She stared at the closed door, the floor underneath her feet creaking, slightly reminiscent of the time Sirius had dragged Ron into the Shrieking Shack, and she and Harry had followed. She’d always thought it spooky how the entire shack would sway back and forth. Dare she admit she was afraid then and now?

In true Gryffindor fashion, Hermione shook that bit of nonsense from her head, walked across the room, and opened the door to a sitting room. The room was lined from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall with books. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, one of the only two sources of heat for the small cottage, and two other doors – one leading outside and the other leading to the loo, with any luck.

--

Cold, Severus thought as his teeth chattered. Colder than Morgana’s tits!

“I’m going to kill Albus Dumbledore,” he growled and continued walking. “No! I’m going to bring him to his moment of death and give him an Invigoration Draught and kill him again and again!”

Seeing the lights of the cottage up ahead, Snape made for it. If he had his wand, the cold wouldn’t bother him. He’d simply cast a warming charm and be done with it. The thought of going back to that infernal cottage where she was, was almost as bad as suffering the Cruciatus Curse at the hands of Voldemort.

But he had no choice. It was either seek shelter in the cottage and suffer Granger’s company or succumb to the cold and go the way of Merlin. Perhaps oblivion would be better.

The wards on this small island were tighter than the wards at Hogwarts. Hell, he didn’t even know where the island was located. It wasn\'t as though he could swim for the mainland, whatever mainland it might be.

Severus growled as his traitorous thoughts lingered on the sensory overload from this morning’s events. His dreams normally were blissfully forgotten. As consciousness had delivered the memories of the headmaster\'s treachery, someone had sighed. He had flexed his hand upon warm, soft flesh and had nestled his burgeoning erection against the welcoming heat. In the fog of his drug-induced awakening, a kiss had been bestowed.

He could barely feel his fingers and toes, but the memory of waking with Miss Granger suffused a blaze within him that brushed against his soul. Undoubtedly, his secret had been unmasked.

He wanted her.

How Albus had divined this unsettling knowledge, he would probably never know. The bloody meddler was going to rue the day he interfered. Severus had no intentions of acting on his attraction for he was certain she would reject him.

Hermione Granger would no more look at him than she would a mountain troll. Stomping up the stairs to the cottage, Severus reached for the handle, and opened the door. He stopped dead in his tracks for there, sitting by the fire, dressed only in a towel, sat the woman that occupied his thoughts.

--

A blast of frigid air and a harsh curse broke Hermione’s trance as she stared into the fire. Merlin’s balls, I didn’t dream him. Clutching her towel and standing up, she backed away from the approaching wizard, putting the fire between her and a livid Severus Snape.

He held his hands out to the fire, his opaque stare running up and down her body. She expected his usual sneer of superiority and loathing, but something unfamiliar flickered across his schooled features – something that made her much-neglected sex drive stand up and scream, “Here I am! Take me now!”

A sense of modesty quelled her libido’s outcry and she pulled the towel higher so as to cover her meager assets. Was it her imagination, or did the towel just shrink?

“Miss Granger,” he drawled in his usual condescending manner, “could you find some suitable attire? A towel is hardly sufficient seeing as it is snowing outside. Nor do I wish to view such a… display.”

Pride was a powerful emotion and Hermione felt as though hers was mortally wounded. “Perhaps you should knock before entering an abode, Professor,” she retorted sharply, standing her ground.

Still holding his hands to the fire, Severus glared at her. “It was my understanding that the headmaster had confined both of us to this purgatory. Was I gone so long that you gained sole possession of this cottage?”

Contemplating the absurdity of his question, Hermione raised her chin in defiance. “What are you doing here anyway? Surely there is another cottage on the island.”

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Trust me, Miss Granger. I have traveled the perimeter of this island and have found no other dwellings. And if it weren’t for the blizzard outside, I would not be trespassing upon your good graces. Areyouevergoingtogetdressed?” he snapped irritably.

Hermione smiled, walking around the fire and toward the bedroom door. “I sleep in the nude. So what’s the point?” she replied before opening the door, walking through it, and slamming it shut behind her.

“Merlin’s balls!” she whispered frantically and started pacing the room. “I can’t believe I just said that!” Her heart was pounding in her chest as though it would burst from her body. She couldn’t help herself. He’d left the perfect opening. If it was one of the last things she did, she could say that she, Hermione J. Granger, had bested one surly Potions master.

Stopping in her tracks, she felt a trickle of excited fear run down the length of her spine. Part of her wanted him to go away while the other part wished he would break down the door and play the part of a sappy hero in a romance novel. What if he called her bluff? They had woken up this morning in each other’s arms. “Gods, gods, gods!” she moaned and walked toward the closet.

Twisting the knob, Hermione prayed, “Please let there be some pajamas in here.”

She opened the door and peered into the closet. Hanging before her were several rows of tartan flannel nightgowns. Frowning, she inspected the contents looking for any variations. She would have put her own nightgown on after her bath, but the bloody thing had disappeared. Sighing in resignation that Severus was not going to break down the door and ravish her, she pulled a gown out and pulled it over her head. After all, she would need to wear something while she perused the library. She’d spent all day sleeping. It was time to start enjoying her vacation.

Even if it did mean being around the sarcastic professor.

--

The tingling in his hands and feet was nothing compared to the painful constraint of his pants over his swollen shaft. The silent vow to kill Albus Dumbledore repeated in his head. Severus stared at the door, his imagination furnishing images of a naked Hermione Granger underneath him and pleading with him to fuck her senseless.

He shook his head as though he could dismiss the erotic thought. He knew she was lying, of course. He’d been perfectly cognizant of his surroundings this morning, having her in his arms and her mewling as he touched her.

Steam rolled into the living room from the bathroom, carrying her scent and luring him to partake in this guilty pleasure and ablutions. Looking over his shoulder warily, Severus walked into the misty room and closed his eyes. He could smell her – her scent mocking the arousal that persisted.

The scent, combined with the glimpses of flesh she had unknowingly shown him, could no longer be ignored. He stripped quickly and stepped into the shower. Taking his aching member into his hand, he closed his eyes and reveled in the warm water as it fell upon his skin. His self-gratifying measure was over before it had really begun, his semen washing down the drain along with his resolve.

Stepping out of the shower, Severus wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the fog off the mirror. His reflection startled him as his opaque eyes stared back at him, seeing every flaw of his character in excruciating detail – flaws he had ignored successfully for the last forty plus years.

His stringy black hair was limp and damp, framing the harsh angles of his pale face. Unlike the prat, Lockheart, Severus held no value in his appearance. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was encourage any schoolgirl crushes. He had enough trouble keeping order in his classes, not that he’d had many propositions in the last few years.

Grimacing at himself one final time, Severus reached for his clothes. He felt for them along the wall where he\'d hung them from a hook. His patience wearing thin, he felt around the edge of the sink for his wand.

“Bloody hell!” he huffed as he finally remembered that the meddlesome fool had confiscated his wand. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that his clothes were gone.

“This is the last straw,” he growled and stormed out of the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks as a startled yelp sounded from the other side of the room.

There she stood, clad in a horrible tartan dressing gown and clutching a book to her chest. Her eyes were wide and ravenous as they ran up and down the length of his almost-naked body.

“If you think for one second I would consider bedding the bushy-hair Gryffindor know-it-all, you are sadly mistaken! I would rather shag Hagrid!” he railed with a death grip on the towel wrapped around his waist as he stomped toward her. “Give me my clothes back, now!”

The hungry look in her eyes had turned to one of indignation and fear as Severus glowered at her. Intimidation always works, he prided himself silently as a new approach sparked to life within him.

“Actually,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive, “perhaps I could lower my standards.”

He was satisfied to see apprehension cloud her eyes as he advanced upon her. One more step and she\'d probably bolt. To hurry her along, he reached toward her, intended to frighten her into a retreat. So he was surprised when she stood her ground, a new light coming into her eyes, one he recognized as -- determination.

That\'s when the book hit him solidly on the side of his head, knocking him to his knees.

“Please do pick up your towel,” Hermione said sharply, “lest I be unable to resist your…charm,” and swept out of the room with her dignity firmly intact.

--

Albus watched the snow fall and scratched his chin, contemplating his next move.

“Do you really think it wise,” Minerva asked reproachfully, “to force Severus’ hand? You know how difficult he can be. Hermione Granger –”

“Is perfectly safe,” Albus interjected quickly, giving the snow globe he had borrowed from Minerva a gentle shake. “Nothing will happen to either of them.”

Minerva eyed the snow globe and sighed wistfully, seemingly appeased. “I enjoyed my honeymoon. The cottage on the beach was blissful and the waves lulled us to sleep every night.”

Albus moved the globe gently, pleased with the snow falling on the cottage. He’d had to get Severus back into the cottage somehow. The Potions professor had spent the entire day searching for a way out of the temporary prison . It really was for his own good. Drastic times called for drastic measures.

Setting the snow globe on his desk, Albus smiled. “The snow will be gone by morning.”

*****