Beneath

Severus realized that he was still too far from her, at least twenty-five yards from the break in the ice, and that he might not reach her in time. “She‘s not coming back up!” he thought. Running faster, he scoured the frozen surface with his eyes. Rounding the edge closer to the hole she‘d made, he dropped his coat and robes, broke through another section of the ice with his foot and dove into the frigid lake.

“Just a little farther, hang on, hang on Hermione,” he silently begged, as he pushed his body through the half-solid, frigid waters. Reaching out, he grasped her around the waist and yanked her toward the opening in the surface. Pushing her head above the water was difficult, but a pair of strong hands took hold of Hermione’s coat and his arm, dragging them both from the freezing water, and out on to the snow.

Hagrid rolled Hermione over, pointed his umbrella at her, and mumbled a spell. She coughed and sputtered the water from her lungs. She opened her eyes, locked them with Severus’, and started, “…so…s…s…sorry, out walking, don’t…don’t be angry…”

“Now don’t be worryin’ about that, Hermione,” Hagrid cooed. Nodding slightly, she drifted into unconsciousness.

Then, Hagrid turned to Severus, “here, I collected yer wand, Professor Snape…can yeh manage ter walk, sir?” Hagrid asked raggedly. “I’ve got Hermione, and can carry her right easy enough, even tho‘ she‘s soaked through and through, but the both of yeh…”

Severus caught Hermione by the hand and quickly cast a drying and wng sng spell over both of them. “It’s alright Hagrid, I’ll make it. Just see Miss Granger to the hospital wing. I’ll join you there soon.”

Severus dragged himself, stumbling, down to his rooms. He showered the dried lake water off, welcoming the pounding water on his aching arms and shoulders. Still shivering, he pulled on a black sweater, wool pants, socks, and boots, then made his way to Hermione’s bedside in the infirmary. Hagrid must have woken Albus, Weasley, Potter, and Minerva McGonagall, as they were shoulder to shoulder with Madame Pomfrey hovering over Hermione.

“Miss Granger is very lucky you found her, Hagrid. She’s fainted, due to a nasty chill, and doubtless she’ll have a bout of fever, but no frostbite,” Madame Pomfrey began.

“Blimey, Madame Pomfrey, it wadn’t me who rescued her, I was just there teh help, it was Prof…”

“Nonsense, Hagrid,” Severus interrupted coolly, “you are quite the hero of the hour.” His eyes locked on Hagrid’s, “and I for one am glad this is all over.”

“‘Course, I am too, but…”

Madame Pomfrey interjected, “as I was saying, it may be days or even a week before Miss Granger is well enough to return to class. She needs to get some rest. It is now almost two in the morning. Therefore, all of you must leave. Out!”

Ron started, “awww Madame Pomfrey, couldn’t we just…“

And Harry finished, “ stay with ’Mione for a few more minutes?”

“No boys, Madame Pomfrey is right, off you go back to bed. Classes begin bright and early. You may visit Hermione tomorrow,” said Dumbledore, with a grin. At that, Madame Pomfrey turned and started toward her rooms at the opposite end of the hospital wing.

“Good night Hagrid, Severus, ” Dumbledore nodded nonchalantly, then continued, “Minerva, Harry, Ron, would you care to accompany me as far as the Gryffindor tower stair?”

“Yes, of course, Headmaster, thank you,” Minerva spoke for all of them and jostled the Gryffindors out the door.

Hagrid gave Severus a confused look, “well, I’ll be shovin’ off too, I s’pose. That was a brave thing yeh did, Professor, brave indeed. Why don‘t yeh want anyone to know it?“

Severus smiled, the humor not quite reaching his eyes, “I think it’s best for the students not to know. They might think I’ve gone…soft.”

Hagrid shook his head and lumbered off.

“Alone at last.”

“How very trite,” Severus thought wryly. Bending slightly, he searched her face, luxuriating in the rare opportunity to study her. How he loved the gentle slope of her cheek, the angle of her stubborn little chin, her softly generous lower lip. He stroked her lips with the barest touch of his forefinger, and stopped suddenly, his fingers hovering over her. He realized that he had never touched her skin before. She had never touched him either, not even casually, as she did all others of her close acquaintance. Surely, she at least considered him an acquaintance. She must! After so many painful hours in close proximity, in classes, living and working side by side at the Order house...but she never so much as brushed by his robes. His skin burned with the need to feel her fingers sliding over it.

Severus\' hand shook slightly as he reached for her again. His fingers slipped slowly around her wrist, as he gently lifted her fever-heated little hand. He supported her fingers with his as he slid her hand across his cheek. His entire body wavered, shot through with arrows of pleasure. He was ovme, me, intoxicated by it. He had dreamt of the feel of her hand on his skin, but the reality was well worth a lifetime of torment, hell, his life to date had mostly been torment. In that moment, he realized that Hermione’s merest touch had the power to purify him of all that had gone before. He inhaled deeply, greedily drinking her in - roses, sandalwood, vanilla, then bergamot assailed him.

Cursing himself for being so pathetic, he sighed, pressed a kiss into her palm, and lowered her hand to the bed. Gods grant him the strength to let her go. There really was no other choice. What was he planning to do? Declare himself to her a few hours after graduation…like a lovesick schoolboy?

Once again, his eyes grazed her sleep-soften face. When did those dark marks beneath her eyes first appear? And the pallor of her skin? She had always been fair, but never like this. What an incredibly attentive lover he turned out to be! True, he loved her only in his own mind, but by the gods he should have noticed! She worked so hard. Perhaps a kind word or two regarding her work in potions class wouldn’t go amiss? Fear of being found out haunted him from the first, and if anything, he had become crueler to her. Punishing, admonishing her slightest error…

She shifted and flailed an arm above her head. The fever was taking over. She tossed her head back and forth, moaning.

“Harry nn…Ron. Drrraco said ssssick wanted… p..p..professor hmmnn watching… waiting… wanted…to… No longer cnmm trust…”

Severus stood absolutely still. His head was pounding. That…that little Malfoy git promised to keep his secret, then ran to tell Hermione in the same hour! No wonder she was out walking by the lake in the middle of the night. She was horrified!

Naked dread spurred Severus into action. He turned around abruptly, awkwardly, and hastened to his room. He entered purposefully, banging the door against the wall. A shiver passed through him as the heat in the room dropped sharply. Pulling his wand from his boot, his chattering teeth were the only sound. A heartbeat later Severus raised his wand and charmed a cyclone of opening and closing drawers, clothes flying in every direction. Suitcases and trunks opened and filled themselves, then closed and floated to the door. He just needed to write a quick resignation… damn, but he was dizzy, and his headache had worsened considerably. Trying to keep hold of his desk as he searched for his…what was it, oh yes, his quill, Severus’ body swayed and crumpled to the floor.

*******************

She was sitting in potions class. Alone. Wait, no, Professor Snape was looking down his nose at her from behind his lectern. Detention. Damn!

“So Miss Granger, what excuses do you have to entertain me with this time?” he hounded. “The potion you have produced could no more resuscitate a heart-attack patient than weak chamomile tea. The color should be white, not dingy gray. This is beneath even your miserable abilities. Well…speak up, girl. Explain yourself!”

“Well sir, Harry and I were working on our potions together, as Ron was out sick. Draco said that he wanted to help us, and we agreed. We had added all of the ingredients in order, and we were watching and waiting for the results. I don’t know what happened, Professor. We waited no longer than the allotted time. “

She lifted her head and faced a smirking Severus. Having some knowledge of his difficult past, she had honestly tried to overlook his ruthless lack of consideration for others. She had long admired Professor Dumbledore’s ability to sidestep or ignore Snape’s perpetual rudeness.

However, she was sick of calmly defending herself, of being made to feel like a complete idiot. She knew he was singling her out deliberately, but why? He had no affection for Gryffindors, especially her friends, but she had always excelled academically, even in potions. Nevertheless, despite her effort to be contentious, studious, and polite, he seemed to dislike her more each day. Well, obviously politeness wasn’t working. Maybe he was spoiling for a good fight? If so…by gods, so was she. Hermione allowed herself to think about, to remember his classes over the past several years, and an ocean of abuses surfaced. A cold rage began to fill her.

A bead of sweat worked its way down her spine.

Under her breath, she bristled, “I trust that the directions you gave were correct.“

“What did you say, Miss Granger?” Severus snapped, moving toward her.

Emboldened by more memories floating through her mind, she stood and walked abruptly toward him, overtaking the walls he surrounded himself with, breaching the invisible line marking his personal space.

Tilting her face up, she met his eyes. “You heard me, Professor.”

He grimaced, and then turned his back on her, moving away. “No, I don‘t believe that I did. Surely, that remark could not have come from the mousy little Miss Granger.”

Hermione moved as if to press close in behind him, to touch him, but in the last second she turned sideways and breezed by. He whirled around, as if now determined to keep an eye on her, as she made her way over to the apothecary storage area.

“I assure you, I am Hermione Granger, and I did question your ability to adequately provide accurate directions.”

She bristled contemptuously, “what are you going to do about it? Glower me to death?”

The rush of finally finding the courage to defy him washed over, drugging her senses. Shaky laughter welled up from deep inside her and fought for release. She began opening and closing the cabinets one by one, while he stood still, clearly horrified. “Miss Granger, I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but there are dangerous elements in those lockers. A young novice like yourself…could get into grave trouble.“

Hermione turned her face from the cabinets to look disdainfully over her shoulder. “Look…. Severus…that is your name, right?”

He glared at her and arrogantly crossed his arms. She turned back to the powders, opened one of the containers, and sifted the contents through her fingers.

“Loooook Sevverusss, I’m opening your jars, fondling your precious ingredients. What are you going to do, spank me?” Laughter trailed behind her as she tried to evade him.

”Stop that! Get away from there!” Before she could escape, he was across the room. He grabbed her arm roughly and shoved her away.

“One hundred and fifty points…” he started.

“Or perhaps you’ll drain Gryffindor’s point coffers. That’s really what you’re dying to do, isn’t? Well, if you try…I’ll…I’ll…I’ll cry assault,” Hermione shot out, sidling past him, to the front of the room.

Her hand shaking, Hermione ripped away her school robes and tie; and pulled her shirt apart, buttons ricocheting against the floor like bullets.

She looked down at her handiwork, and then lifted her eyes defiantly to his, “I’ll cry and tell them how you seduced, corrupted, ravished, and thoroughly debauched me. I’ll tell stories that will make their toes curl and their decrepit juices flow like Niagara.”

Snape menaced closer, stopping within inches of her. His eyes spoke hatred in stony silence.

“Unless you’d rather be alone.” She walked past him, dodging to the side just beyond his reach, and skirting along one of the pillars.

She looked up at him from behind her hair, offering only half of her face, “that is the way you like it best. All alone…so you can beat yourself with your pity stick.”

Tilting her head back, she smirked and lifted the back of her wrist to her forehead, continuing dramatically, “poor me…so misunderstood… nobody knows me so I‘ll just berate the world with my acid tongue because that‘s what they get…that’s what they get for not worshipping me…even though I treat them like trash…”

Snape reached out and grasped her upper arms, as if to shake her, and dragged her hard against his body. Hermione gasped in surprise as he took possession of her mouth in a punishing kiss.

“Bitch,” he bit out. “ Sweet…tempting…little…bitch…”

Her stomach constricted and a ferocious ache roared to life low in her belly. His tongue invaded her mouth, its heat sweeping over hers, bringing to it the sweet taste of brandy. Snape’s hands slid into her hair, fumbling, until he clutched the sides of her face. His hands slipped down and gripped her shoulders, using his lean muscular strength to press her back against the pillar. She reveled in the feel of him demanding her submission. He softened as she writhed against him, and began trailing tiny soft kisses across her cheek, lingering, nibbling beneath and behind her earlobe. Hermione pushed out of her shirt.

Nuzzling down her neck, he whispered deep and low, into her skin, as his hands loosened their vice-like grip on her shoulders, “you…you can’t know what it’s like…to…to see you everyday. Your beauty destroys me, ‘Mione, to stand near, trying to focus, but there’s only you and bhinghing you in…and longing…such aching to reach out and touch you…to bury myself in your goddamned magnetic, radiant warmth.”

“I’ve imagined so much,” he intoned, delicately tracing the tops of her shoulders, her collarbone, “so much…what it would be like for you to want me…to need me…and other things…lying in my bed…night after night…tossing and turning thinking of you touching me…stroking your hands over me...”

He slipped his hands into her silvery lace balconet. Unfastening the front, he slid the bra off her arms. Gently, he ran his hands down between and around her breasts, never quite hinghing the place where she yearned for his touch the most. He dropped down to his knees. Deep, smoky whispers vibrated against her lower stomach, as he unhooked her skirt and dropped it to the ground.

He droned seductively, tasting her skin, “do you like this? Do you want me…even a little? Do you want me to go on touching you?”

Fiery needles shot down to her clit, her core. She moaned low her throat, “y..yeh…yes.”

“Yes, what?” he teased, then demanded more, biting her hip, “say…my…name.”

“Say it!”

“Yes…Severus, yes, touch me…touch me.”

“You are mine,” he snarled possessively. His dark eyes compelled her, melted her. “Mine!”

Why had she never seen him? She understood that he was attractive to others…and could comprehend his appeal aesthetically, but before it had been only his power, his intellect, int intrigued her. How could she have missed his aristocratic beauty? As the torchlight played hypnotically over the planes of his face, over his shimmering ebony hair, she knew. If she had truly opened herself, enough to see him as something other than her embittered Potions Master, she would be lost.

Hermione shivered as he pressed both of his hands against the backside of her knees, spreading her legs slightly. He stroked up and inside her thighs softly, edging closer, closer. His right hand slid up to her stomach, then higher to stroke her breasts, and finally her nipples.

His hand dipped, reaching the top of Hermione’s stomach, and clawing, his hand scratched a straight line, marking her to the edge of her soft down. A spasm rocked her. Her body was wavering; she was finding it more and more difficult to remain on her feet. Snape slipped his hand inside her silver boyshorts, turning his palm up to her and faintly brushing flat against her softness. Teasing the outer edge of her folds with one finger, he turned his hand over again and gripped the lacy crotch or par panties. With a low guttural moan, he ripped them from her and tossed them aside as if they had bitten him.

He spun Hermione around and she embraced the pillar, tantalized further by the cold rough stone. He raked his slight, end of day beard over the backs of her legs, between her thighs, over her butt, to the base of her spine. She convulsed, clinging to the pillar, and held her breath at the heady sensation. He kissed his way up again, until he was pressing his face into the back of her neck.

Honey dripping from his tongue, he massaged her with his lips, his low growl, “I wonder if you’d let me touch you right now, if you knew my darkest dreams…the unspeakable things I want to do to you,” he asserted pressing his body, his arousal into her, steadying her quivering form, “if you knew how much I want to pound into your tight… hot… wet… pound you into my bed, my floor, my desk… mindlessly pleasuring you over and over… and have you begging, screaming, all the while… deeper… harder…”

Breathing in rapid little puffs, she awkwardly reached for him behind her. Tangling her hand in his soft hair, she drew his lips to hers once again. He pulled her into his tight embrace, and she savored the roughness of his clothes against her flushed, sensitive skin.

Kissing his way down her body, he quickly pulled his wand from within, then shrugged out of his robes. He gripped it three inches from the base, pointing it upside-down. Whispering an incantation over it, he slid his free hand up the back of her left leg, lifted it, and hooked her knee over his shoulder. Hermione was shocked as Severus’ wand began to hum and vibrate in his hand. Brazenly, he slipped it between her folds, running the end lightly around the outside of her clit, never quite reaching the most sensitive part. Raising his sultry eyes to hers, he watched her struggling to stave off the fire raging through her body, culminating at her core.

“Relax and let it happen, my darling,“ he spoke gently into her curls. “Relax. You won’t fall…I’ll catch you.”

Hermione’s hands moved to her breasts. She rubbed her palms over her nipples, then squeezed the tips tightly between her thumbs and forefingers.

Severus pressed the vibrating wand against the top of her sensitive nub, and stroked down, around, and back up again. Repeating the process, once, twice, and again, Hermione tossed her head back and forth, moaning incoherently, then shattered above him, splintering into a thousand disparate pieces. He dropped the wand, and left it reverberating against the floor, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face to her stomach.

She fell over his shoulder, panting. Her legs were jelly, and yet heavy, so heavy. She laid her head against his back, drawing in much needed air mingled with his delicious scent.

“You’re so beautiful, my darling…so responsive,” he murmured absently, kissing the side of her hip.

\"I’m so…tired,” she yawned.

“Oh no, not yet,” he drawled, pushing her back up, smug male laughter behind every word. “First, I want to taste you.”

“Nooo, Severus, no,” she said, trying to twist out of his grip, as he lifted her leg over his shoulder once again. “I’m serious!” she scolded.

“I can.nnah..aha..”, she slurred, as his tongue slipped languidly over her. He lapped her center back to life with slow whorls, then licked her clit hungrily, as he gripped and lifted his still-throbbing wand closer. She ran her hands through his hair, trying not to pull too hard, but losing herself once again to the waves of pleasure assailing her senses.

“You taste so good…you’re so beautiful…so delicious. I want to fuck you so badly,” he sighed against her soft down. “Let me fuck you, darling…” he whispered, replacing his tongue with the wand.

The pleasure of his ministrations, mingled with the haunting timbre of his voice overwhelmed her. She was so close, but she needed something she couldn’t, wouldn’t name.

“Yessss…yes, please, Severus, I need, I need…”

Severus slid his wand to her neglected entrance, his tongue taking over her aching nub, swirling it around and around. With his other hand, he dipped his fingers into her dripping heat and moved back to massage her tight little anus. Finally the rolling wand penetrated her core and he lifted it slowly higher, around and around, deeper into her, stopping at her hymen. He began pumping the wand in and out, always short of piercing her. He worked her relentlessly, with his mouth in front, his hand in back, and his wand between. Slowly, he raked his teeth over her tight little bundle of nerve ending. Turning his head slightly, he bit down.

Hermione’s locked throat opened suddenly, against her will and pushed forth keening little cries. “Please…please…please…more…I need…more,” she choked out before thrusting herself upon his wand completely. Shuddering, her muscles grasping the wand as it moved out, welcoming it, opening for it as it slid back in, she sobbed out her orgasm and collapsed against the pillar.

Severus wavered backward, and looked down. Dropping the wand, he cursed it to a standstill and kicked it aside. He slowly stood as she slid down the pillar, staring at his hand in astonishment.

Staggering backward, he panicked, “I…I…have your blood on my hand. I’ve defiled you…I’ve…destroyed…something beautiful…again…I didn’t think…not after Voldemort died…I didn’t mean to…I only wanted to…to…”

She struggled gingerly to her feet and closed the distance he had put between them. Raising her hand to his arm, she led him to her and kissed him softly. Severus groaned, wrapped himself around her, and kissed her as if his life were coming to an end.

He broke thss, ss, panting, “Hermi…Mmisss Granger, you must go. Now that I’ve… we’ve…I won’t be able to stop…stop myself from touching you again…and I…”

She cupped his face in her hands. “Severus, you fool, can’t you see that I love you?”

******************

“No…can’t!” Hermione shouted and sat bolt upright in her bed.