Survival of the Fittest

A/N—Don’t own it. Just playing around.

--

She had stayed away from the cottage all day. Whether it was to give herself -- or him -- time to cool down, Hermione didn’t know. She didn’t care either. Severus Snape had gotten what he deserved. She only wished she’d been there to see the look on his face.

Hermione giggled. Hopefully, he had been livid and hurt. Hopefully, he had felt the embarrassment she had. If he had, her work was done.

Regrettably, she had to return to the cottage. The sun was setting and the wind was frigid. This weather on this island was bizarre. During the day, it was a tropical paradise. During the evening, it was like winter.

Hugging herself, she shivered and kept on walking. She was resolute. She would never give in to Snape again. She would never give in to his manipulative power plays again.

Never say never, the annoying inner voice proclaimed.

“Oh, shut up,” growled Hermione as she stomped up the stairs. Might as well get this over with. With a heavy sigh, she opened the door and looked into the large sitting room. She cautiously walked in.

He wasn’t there.

She eyed the lavatory anxiously. The door was slightly ajar, just like she had left it. Had Severus read the note? She’d spilled the ink in her haste to write the note. The inkbottle had been picked up and the papers on the writing desk had been straightened.

She hadn’t been this nervous since the night before the final battle. Gathering her courage, Hermione made her way to the bedroom.

Severus was sitting at the dinner table next to the picture window. Candlelight lent its illuminative streams to the waves of remaining sunlight that came through the window. With methodical movements, he lifted a cup and sipped its contents, and then set it down.

“Good evening, Miss Granger,” he greeted her, his voice colder than the weather outside.


“Professor Snape,” she replied, entering the room slowly, afraid that he could pounce at any time. As she approached the table, a meal materialized on her place setting.

Closing the journal he had been reading and setting it on the table, Severus motioned for Hermione to sit across from him. “It would appear that your evening meal has appeared. I’ve already eaten,” he explained. “Please have a seat. I think we’ve established that there is no need for formalities between us.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re taking this morning’s…um…slight rather well.”

He jumped up, startling her, yet made no move toward her. Instead, he walked to the other side of the table and pulled out her chair for her. “I must admit a certain admiration for your almost Slytherinesque tactics. Your ruse was well played. Please sit down so that we may discuss our eventual escape from this prison.”

She was speechless and approached the table with reluctance. Was it him she didn\'t trust -- or herself?

“Honestly, Miss Granger,” he said with a smile, “I don’t bite.”

Said the spider to the fly, Hermione thought.

Realizing she would not approach him, Severus gave up his position by her chair and sat down in his chair.

Her stomach growled, reminding her she had not had eaten anything since breakfast. She sat down quickly, edging her chair as far away as possible from Snape, and started eating.

He watched her, his dark gaze unwavering. She wouldn’t back down. She wouldn’t flinch and give him the satisfaction. Swallowing a mouthful of roasted chicken, Hermione place her utensils on her plate and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

“You know it’s not polite to stare, don’t you?” she announced.

Severus started, seemingly caught daydreaming. “My apologies, Miss Granger.”

Hermione took another bite of her chicken, aparantely unperturbed.

“Surely, you realize that until we demonstrate ‘a modicum of decorum’ toward one another, the headmaster will not release us,” Snape stated, lifting his cup to his lips.

Swallowing the piece of chicken, Hermione smiled and grabbed her cup, lifting it in salute. “Shall we toast, then? Shall we toast to a faux friendship that exhibits the requisite ‘modicum of decorum’?”

Severus frowned. “I wish it were that simple.”

Hermione sipped her tea. “What do you mean?”

“Albus…Professor Dumbledore believes he owes me a life debt.”

She put her cup in her saucer. “Why?”

Looking down, he cleared his throat. “I provided the intelligence for the Order which enabled them to launch the final attack. Once my duplicity was discovered, the Dark Lord punished me. During the time it took for the Dark Lord to make an example of me, the Order was able to act and Potter was able to destroy him. As Dumbledore covered Potter’s arse, Rodolphus Lestrange aimed a Crucio at Dumbledore. I had enough strength left to jump in front of the curse.”

Severus chuckled mirthlessly. “Rodolphus and Bella were always fond of the Crucio. It wasn’t the Killing Curse, but he thinks I prevented the other Death Eaters from gaining the advantage.”

“I remember,” she whispered. “I remember when you were brought into the Hospital Wing. You were barely lucid.”

His hooded gaze met hers and she couldn’t look away.

“The headmaster feels it necessary to meddle in my personal affairs in the hopes that I will ‘be happy.’” Severus rolled his eyes for emphasis.

Hermione was puzzled. “And where do I figure into this grand scheme?”

“I feel that Professor Dumbledore brought you to Hogwarts with the hopes that you might…tempt me.”

Biting her lip, Hermione could feel tears of laughter well in her eyes. This was the most preposterous theory she’d heard. “And do I?” she choked.

“Do you what?” he murmured into his cup as he lifted it to his lips.

“Tempt you,” she baited.

“No,” the wizard answered quickly.

It would have been better if he’d just cut her heart out with a spoon. “Thank the Fates!”

“My apologies, Miss Granger,” Severus stated calmly. “It was not my intent to offend you.”

She grunted and looked out the window.

“I envisage a ruse…one that will dupe the headmaster into releasing us. If you would permit me to demonstrate…affection… toward you during Albus’ next visit, I am certain he would let us go. In turn, you would need to do the same.”

--

The howling wind outside made her drowsy and she yawned. Putting a place marker in her book, Hermione set it on the table, turned the light off, and snuggled beneath the blankets. The only light in the room came from the moonlight streaming through the picture window.

Wounded pride had turned into pity. Severus Snape truly did not want her. He’d made that perfectly clear on numerous occasions. Feeling the tears well in her eyes, she let them fall.

The door to the bedroom opened and shut, causing Hermione to hold her breath and pretend to be asleep. She could hear footsteps as Severus came closer to the bed, which dipped as he sat down. There was a tug on the blanket and Hermione sat up and flicked the light on.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was husky from her interrupted pity party. Severus lounged on the other side of the bed as though he’d been doing so all along. He had removed his shirt and she could see, for the first time, the sparse black hairs that dotted the landscape of his chest and stomach, forming a tantalizing line that left little to the imagination.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Miss Granger?” Snape retorted, not even opening his eyes and turning away from her. Her eyes fell onto his back, mentally mapping the scars on his back. One scar ran the length of his back and disappeared underneath the blanket – the blanket that was riding dangerously low on his hips, giving her a glimpse of his state of undress.

“I do not believe it to be conducive to our plan, should Albus decide to grace us with his presence, for him to find us apart,” his groggy voice snapped. “If you would please dispose of any wantonly notions and go to sleep…”

“Wantonly notions?” Wounded pride and anger bubbled to the surface. “As if I would want someone as ‘charming’ as you,” she scoffed, turned off the light, and flopped down onto the bed. She continued to seethe as he fell asleep beside her, his breathing deep and even.

--

Difficult times and stressful circumstances always had a way of wheedling their way into her subconscious. Her frustrations and the weeks of exposure to Severus created a myriad of erotic dreams and images.

She felt nothing as she sank deeper into her voyeuristic travels, watching as she seduced Severus Snape. A dreamlike haze obscured her view, and when it had lifted, the scene had changed.

She was laid out on the table like a meal, her legs spread open and a dark head between them. Feeling desire pool in her loins, Hermione stepped closer to the passionate display. The expression on her face was one of pure ecstasy. As Severus feasted on her, she could see herself thrusting her hips up for his touch.

She wanted to feel him, wanted to feel what he was doing to her. But she couldn’t. Something was holding her back. Her doppelganger moaned and opened her eyes, looking straight at her. Hermione froze, embarrassed that she had been caught.

Hermione could do nothing but watch as she grasped a handful of black hair and bucked her hips. The sounds and smells of sex played out in front of her, and the cry of her orgasm brought with it a haze.

The haze cleared quickly, and she was faced with another erotic scene from her deepest desires. She was perched face down on the table, grasping the edge of it as Severus hammered into her from behind.

It was raw, almost animalistic, yet totally arousing.

Hermione moaned, wanting so badly to touch herself. But she couldn’t. She mustn’t.

The sound of flesh against flesh drove her over the edge of reason and she whimpered.

“Say it,” the dark-haired wizard growled, reaching around their coupled bodies and touching the connection.

Her doppelganger’s helpless whimpers caused her to shiver. What did he want her to say?

Hermione’s question went unanswered as a fog covered the scene. When it lifted, the scene was the same, only the position was different. She was on top, her back arching with effort of reaching her release. Severus’ hands were on her hips and arse, controlling the rhythm.

“Say it,” he commanded again, trying to get her to admit something before he would give her what she wanted.

Arrogant bastard, she mused. Even in her dreams, he was a control freak.

“Say it, Miss Granger.” He held her in his lap and stilled their movements.

Her doppelganger whimpered.

“Miss Granger,” groaned Severus, licking her shoulder.

“I—I…love you,” she moaned, causing Hermione to recoil as her subconscious revealed a truth she was not prepared to hear.

“No,” she groaned, backing away from the scene. How could she love him?

“Miss Granger?”

It just wasn’t possible. How had she let the schoolgirl crush turn into something more tangible? “No, no, no.”

She looked at the lovers over her shoulder just in time to see them reach climax. Severus’ hands were on her upper arms.

“Wake up, Miss Granger,” he growled, shaking her.

“No, no, no,” she chanted as the fog surrounding her began to lift.

“Very well, then,” Severus said, his tone bordering on annoyance.

Opening her eyes, Hermione blinked. She was covered in sweat, and she kicked off the blankets with a grunt. “I really wish the weather would make up its mind,” she mumbled into her pillow as rays of sunlight filtered in through the window.

“Perhaps you should get out of bed,” remarked Severus as he stared out the window. “Without a clock, I can not be certain. But I believe it is about time for elevenses. Or do you plan on lounging around in bed all day?”

She sat up in bed, pulling the chemise down over her thighs. She’d been awake until the wee hours of the morning, listening to him breathing, half hoping he would attempt to seduce her. But that would never happen. Hadn’t they already established that she didn’t “tempt him?”

Severus turned a page in a book and ignored her. Hermione blinked her eyes in rapidly, not believing what she was seeing. He was eating and crumbs were falling onto the pages.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She yanked the book off the table and blew the crumbs off the pages. “I can’t believe you,” she railed, her voice indignant.

“Of all people…” she sputtered. “I would have thought…thought that you of all people… would treat books properly. I can not believe you!”

His dark eyes were wide with surprise.

“These books don’t have protective charms like the ones in the library,” she fussed, holding the book mere inches from her face and inspecting it. “Do you realize what kind of pests food attracts…the damage they can do?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Snape shook his head. “I do admire your dedication, Miss Granger. But don’t you think you’re taking this a bit far?”

Hermione scoffed.

“Are you so enamored of books that you fail to see what is right in front of you?” Severus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she whispered, her face ashen with shock.

--

“Nothing,” he answered quickly and looked away. Severus was cross, wanting nothing more than to take the young witch in his arms and shag her senseless – Albus Dumbledore be damned! He was not going to capitulate.

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione left the room clutching the book to her chest.

“I’m pleased you are up,” Severus stated as he followed her, deftly changing the topic. “I think we should practice.”

Hermione’s brows knitted together. Her expressions were always wide and animated. Her reaction last night had been worth the effort it had taken him not to reach across the bed and seduce her.

“Practice what?” she questioned.

Unable to contain a smirk, Severus met her gaze. “Intimacy, of course.

*****