Inside the Blackest Heart (Edit, Not Update)
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
65
Views:
60,623
Reviews:
1020
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
65
Views:
60,623
Reviews:
1020
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
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.
The Potions Class
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 6 ~ The Potions Class
Breakfast in the Great Hall was not easy for Hermione. Professor Snape was there. He wasn’t doing anything particularly awful, only eating his breakfast of ham and eggs, and looking at her from time to time with his usual scowl. But the problem was, to Hermione that scowl was a special scowl reserved for her because she got away from him last night. Whether it was or not, was anybody’s guess.
Snape could tell that Miss Granger had not slept well last night. Her eyes had slight dark circles under them, and her skin color was a little off. He didn’t wonder. Almost getting fucked by your Potions Professor up against a dungeon wall would have that effect on a young witch. Damn Albus and his meddlings. He was sure now that the Headmaster watched him closely. How else would the old wizard have known he was about to ravage his golden girl within an inch of her life? He would have to find a way to divine what kind of magic Albus was using to watch him. He was just as bad as Voldemort.
He looked at Hermione again. She had Potions with him this morning. She probably thought she was safe in class with so many potential witnesses present. She was safe from getting fucked, but not out of his reach, as she would soon find out. He didn’t plan to let up on her. When he had pressed against her, he felt her trembling and it wasn’t fear. At least she wasn’t the whimpering little chit he thought she might be. He had been of the mind she might cry when he cornered her, not that it would have made any difference to him. He had fucked crying women before. Generally he’d do his best to make them cry harder. Miss Granger probably would hold back the tears until he actually started fucking her. He was almost sure she was a virgin, and if she was, he’d make sure she never forgot her first. Gentle, he was not.
Snape glanced over to the head of the table, and saw Dumbledore watching him with a sober look on his face. For a moment, the Professor thought about throwing an obscene hand gesture his way. He always thought about that, flipping the Headmaster the bird, but never did it, tempting as it was. Though he despised Albus, he still had to show him respect, even if the cruel bastard set him up to be tortured at least once a month. Actually, he was expecting Albus to come up with some new painful bit of disinformation shortly, especially considering he had his cock firmly focused on Miss Granger. Didn’t the Headmaster realize that he was just going to make him harder on the young witch? Probably. But as long as the Potions Master didn’t fuck with her brain, the Headmaster would just accept it, like he accepted every other black act he committed, so long as he kept bringing him news of Voldemort.
He looked back at the Gryffindor table to find Miss Granger gone. No matter. In another half hour she would be seated securely in his domain.
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When Hermione entered the Potions classroom, instead of taking her usual seat in the front of the class, directly in front of the Professor’s desk, she took an end seat on the third row. Since there were no assigned seats she felt this would not be a problem. The class had a tendency to fill up in the back first, the last seats taken being those in the front row, occupied by the unfortunate latecomers. Other than Hermione, no one willingly sat in front of Snape. It was like sticking a bull’s eye on your forehead.
At exactly ten, the Professor swept into the room, his robes billowing. He walked quickly behind his desk, stood and surveyed the room, taking a quick mental attendance check. He saw Hermione seated in the third row and scowled.
“Miss Granger, why are you seated in the third row?” he asked her. The students all turned to look at her.
“I just thought I’d like a change, Professor. I can see you fine from here,” Hermione responded.
“Yes, well I cannot see YOU well from here. And given your dismal inclination to help other students cheat, Miss Granger, I would rather have you up front where I can curb your desire to render aid to the less gifted,” the Potions Master responded smoothly, “Now, take your usual seat. Ten points from Gryffindor.”
Hermione scowled at him.
“Why take points from me?’ she spat, furious at his unfairness.
“Because I can, Miss Granger,” he said silkily, his eyes glinting at her as she walked to the front row and sidled in, sitting down in front of him, her face frowned up.
The Potions Master smirked at her, then walked from around his desk, and started pacing back and forth in front of the class.
“Now due to the usual slew of low marks earned by the destitute of brain, of which this class is in abundance of, we will be reviewing the last chapter and writing a summary of each paragraph, IN CLASS to be handed in at the end of the session, “ he said, then he looked at Hermione pointedly. “Except for you, Miss Granger. Your mark was passable, barely.”
Hermione seethed. She had aced that assignment and she knew it. The Potions Master walked back around his desk, opened it and pulled out a list. He walked back around the desk to where Hermione sat, and handed it to her. She looked at it, then up at him, her brow furrowed.
“What’s this?” she asked him.
“That Miss Granger, is a list of Potions I would like you to collect from my Potions stores. You will find a cart there to put them on. I need them for a project I am working on. There is also a short ladder folded against the far wall. You will need it to reach the shelves on top,” he replied.
Hermione scanned the list.
“There are forty potions here!” she said.
“The sooner you start locating them, the sooner you’ll finish,” the Potions Master said smoothly, “I suggest you get started, Miss Granger, or you can finish looking for them in detention this evening.” He arched his brow at her.
To the other students, it seemed like a normal, snarky gesture on the part of the Potions Master, but to Hermione it meant something else entirely. It meant she would be alone with Snape, and he planned to finish what he started the night before. If she skipped the detention, she would be written up and it would be a blot on her record. Her shoulders slumped and quietly she got up from her desk and left the room to go to the stores. The other students watched her go.
Snape slammed his hand on his desk.
“What are you all gawking at? You have an assignment to do. Did I fail to mention that those who fail to summarize the whole chapter by the end of class will get double failing marks?” he sneered. The sound of turning pages filled the room as every student hit the books.
Snape left the room, heading for the Potions stores.
He walked quietly up to the open door and saw Hermione bent over in the corner of the storeroom, reaching for a bottle way in the back of the shelf. He slipped in and quietly closed the door behind him. Hermione noticed the loss of outside light, and turned around, her eyes wide, her heart rising to her throat.
The Professor leaned back against the door, his black eyes on her, expressionless.
“Alone again, Miss Granger,” he said in a low voice.
Hermione swallowed. She could seem to get any words to come out of her mouth as she looked at the dark wizard lounging against the door. She began to get that feeling in her lower belly again.
“Miss Granger, I suggest you continue looking for those potions if you don’t want detention with me tonight,” he said to her, his eyes sweeping over her slowly. She was quite curvy under her robes.
“Yes sir,” she managed to rasp out, “but would you please open the door? I need more light.”
The Professor smirked at her and stood up quickly, making her jump nervously. He chuckled and opened the door.
“Your nerves seem bad, Miss Granger. Not sleeping well?” he asked her, studying her face.
She shook her head.
“Well, come by my classroom tonight after curfew, and I’ll give you something to help you sleep,” he purred at her, his meaning unmistakable. Hermione managed to gain a bit more courage now that the door was open.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” she said, “I don’t need any help.”
Suddenly, the Professor was against her, trapping her in the corner of the storeroom. The bottles on the shelf rattled as he ground himself against her brutally. He was rock hard. Hermione gasped, feeling as if a sheet of fire had washed over her. One of his cool pale hands moved upward to stroke her face, then slid down over her throat, then cupped her breast through her robe, squeezing it lightly before finding her nipple and pulling it. Hermione’s mouth dropped open and her eyes closed as he continued caressing her breast and rubbing himself against her, his breath quickening as she responded, helplessly moving against him. Suddenly he stiffened.
“You see? You want me to fuck you, Miss Granger. Detention. Tonight. Eight o’clock. Panties optional,” he growled, pulling away from her and reaching to the top shelf. He took down a bottle of deflating draught and drank from it. He stood there a moment, looking at her, the bottle still raised in his hand.
“I wish you could see your face,” he said. “It is proof positive you want to dance with a deatheater. And you will, Miss Granger.”
Hermione was panting, tongues of fire licking at her thighs as the Potions Master replaced the bottle on its shelf and left the storeroom in a billow of robes, not looking back.
Hermione pushed herself out of the corner, confused at what just happened, her entire body tingling.
“Why didn’t I scream?” she asked herself, already knowing the answer as another wave of desire washed over her.
She did want to dance with a deatheater.
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A/N: Moving right along. Please review.
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Chapter 6 ~ The Potions Class
Breakfast in the Great Hall was not easy for Hermione. Professor Snape was there. He wasn’t doing anything particularly awful, only eating his breakfast of ham and eggs, and looking at her from time to time with his usual scowl. But the problem was, to Hermione that scowl was a special scowl reserved for her because she got away from him last night. Whether it was or not, was anybody’s guess.
Snape could tell that Miss Granger had not slept well last night. Her eyes had slight dark circles under them, and her skin color was a little off. He didn’t wonder. Almost getting fucked by your Potions Professor up against a dungeon wall would have that effect on a young witch. Damn Albus and his meddlings. He was sure now that the Headmaster watched him closely. How else would the old wizard have known he was about to ravage his golden girl within an inch of her life? He would have to find a way to divine what kind of magic Albus was using to watch him. He was just as bad as Voldemort.
He looked at Hermione again. She had Potions with him this morning. She probably thought she was safe in class with so many potential witnesses present. She was safe from getting fucked, but not out of his reach, as she would soon find out. He didn’t plan to let up on her. When he had pressed against her, he felt her trembling and it wasn’t fear. At least she wasn’t the whimpering little chit he thought she might be. He had been of the mind she might cry when he cornered her, not that it would have made any difference to him. He had fucked crying women before. Generally he’d do his best to make them cry harder. Miss Granger probably would hold back the tears until he actually started fucking her. He was almost sure she was a virgin, and if she was, he’d make sure she never forgot her first. Gentle, he was not.
Snape glanced over to the head of the table, and saw Dumbledore watching him with a sober look on his face. For a moment, the Professor thought about throwing an obscene hand gesture his way. He always thought about that, flipping the Headmaster the bird, but never did it, tempting as it was. Though he despised Albus, he still had to show him respect, even if the cruel bastard set him up to be tortured at least once a month. Actually, he was expecting Albus to come up with some new painful bit of disinformation shortly, especially considering he had his cock firmly focused on Miss Granger. Didn’t the Headmaster realize that he was just going to make him harder on the young witch? Probably. But as long as the Potions Master didn’t fuck with her brain, the Headmaster would just accept it, like he accepted every other black act he committed, so long as he kept bringing him news of Voldemort.
He looked back at the Gryffindor table to find Miss Granger gone. No matter. In another half hour she would be seated securely in his domain.
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When Hermione entered the Potions classroom, instead of taking her usual seat in the front of the class, directly in front of the Professor’s desk, she took an end seat on the third row. Since there were no assigned seats she felt this would not be a problem. The class had a tendency to fill up in the back first, the last seats taken being those in the front row, occupied by the unfortunate latecomers. Other than Hermione, no one willingly sat in front of Snape. It was like sticking a bull’s eye on your forehead.
At exactly ten, the Professor swept into the room, his robes billowing. He walked quickly behind his desk, stood and surveyed the room, taking a quick mental attendance check. He saw Hermione seated in the third row and scowled.
“Miss Granger, why are you seated in the third row?” he asked her. The students all turned to look at her.
“I just thought I’d like a change, Professor. I can see you fine from here,” Hermione responded.
“Yes, well I cannot see YOU well from here. And given your dismal inclination to help other students cheat, Miss Granger, I would rather have you up front where I can curb your desire to render aid to the less gifted,” the Potions Master responded smoothly, “Now, take your usual seat. Ten points from Gryffindor.”
Hermione scowled at him.
“Why take points from me?’ she spat, furious at his unfairness.
“Because I can, Miss Granger,” he said silkily, his eyes glinting at her as she walked to the front row and sidled in, sitting down in front of him, her face frowned up.
The Potions Master smirked at her, then walked from around his desk, and started pacing back and forth in front of the class.
“Now due to the usual slew of low marks earned by the destitute of brain, of which this class is in abundance of, we will be reviewing the last chapter and writing a summary of each paragraph, IN CLASS to be handed in at the end of the session, “ he said, then he looked at Hermione pointedly. “Except for you, Miss Granger. Your mark was passable, barely.”
Hermione seethed. She had aced that assignment and she knew it. The Potions Master walked back around his desk, opened it and pulled out a list. He walked back around the desk to where Hermione sat, and handed it to her. She looked at it, then up at him, her brow furrowed.
“What’s this?” she asked him.
“That Miss Granger, is a list of Potions I would like you to collect from my Potions stores. You will find a cart there to put them on. I need them for a project I am working on. There is also a short ladder folded against the far wall. You will need it to reach the shelves on top,” he replied.
Hermione scanned the list.
“There are forty potions here!” she said.
“The sooner you start locating them, the sooner you’ll finish,” the Potions Master said smoothly, “I suggest you get started, Miss Granger, or you can finish looking for them in detention this evening.” He arched his brow at her.
To the other students, it seemed like a normal, snarky gesture on the part of the Potions Master, but to Hermione it meant something else entirely. It meant she would be alone with Snape, and he planned to finish what he started the night before. If she skipped the detention, she would be written up and it would be a blot on her record. Her shoulders slumped and quietly she got up from her desk and left the room to go to the stores. The other students watched her go.
Snape slammed his hand on his desk.
“What are you all gawking at? You have an assignment to do. Did I fail to mention that those who fail to summarize the whole chapter by the end of class will get double failing marks?” he sneered. The sound of turning pages filled the room as every student hit the books.
Snape left the room, heading for the Potions stores.
He walked quietly up to the open door and saw Hermione bent over in the corner of the storeroom, reaching for a bottle way in the back of the shelf. He slipped in and quietly closed the door behind him. Hermione noticed the loss of outside light, and turned around, her eyes wide, her heart rising to her throat.
The Professor leaned back against the door, his black eyes on her, expressionless.
“Alone again, Miss Granger,” he said in a low voice.
Hermione swallowed. She could seem to get any words to come out of her mouth as she looked at the dark wizard lounging against the door. She began to get that feeling in her lower belly again.
“Miss Granger, I suggest you continue looking for those potions if you don’t want detention with me tonight,” he said to her, his eyes sweeping over her slowly. She was quite curvy under her robes.
“Yes sir,” she managed to rasp out, “but would you please open the door? I need more light.”
The Professor smirked at her and stood up quickly, making her jump nervously. He chuckled and opened the door.
“Your nerves seem bad, Miss Granger. Not sleeping well?” he asked her, studying her face.
She shook her head.
“Well, come by my classroom tonight after curfew, and I’ll give you something to help you sleep,” he purred at her, his meaning unmistakable. Hermione managed to gain a bit more courage now that the door was open.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” she said, “I don’t need any help.”
Suddenly, the Professor was against her, trapping her in the corner of the storeroom. The bottles on the shelf rattled as he ground himself against her brutally. He was rock hard. Hermione gasped, feeling as if a sheet of fire had washed over her. One of his cool pale hands moved upward to stroke her face, then slid down over her throat, then cupped her breast through her robe, squeezing it lightly before finding her nipple and pulling it. Hermione’s mouth dropped open and her eyes closed as he continued caressing her breast and rubbing himself against her, his breath quickening as she responded, helplessly moving against him. Suddenly he stiffened.
“You see? You want me to fuck you, Miss Granger. Detention. Tonight. Eight o’clock. Panties optional,” he growled, pulling away from her and reaching to the top shelf. He took down a bottle of deflating draught and drank from it. He stood there a moment, looking at her, the bottle still raised in his hand.
“I wish you could see your face,” he said. “It is proof positive you want to dance with a deatheater. And you will, Miss Granger.”
Hermione was panting, tongues of fire licking at her thighs as the Potions Master replaced the bottle on its shelf and left the storeroom in a billow of robes, not looking back.
Hermione pushed herself out of the corner, confused at what just happened, her entire body tingling.
“Why didn’t I scream?” she asked herself, already knowing the answer as another wave of desire washed over her.
She did want to dance with a deatheater.
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A/N: Moving right along. Please review.