Surprisingly, She Didn\'t

Status: Work in Progress

Rating: NC-17 for later chapters

Warnings: Adult situations, some language, sexual situations…list may change as story progresses.

Summary: Finding her there had been a surprise, but nothing compared to what happened when she woke.

Disclaimer: All characters/situations/places/events that you recognize belong to JK Rowling and the rest of the legal owners of everything Harry Potter. I make no money off of the writing of this fic, and intend no copyright infringement. I’m only having a little fun. And I would definitely take those two Slytherins home for tea…

Author\'s Note: This chapter is in the final stages of beta\'ing. All mistakes are mine. Hedgehog, you rule, baby. For those of you who have read this chapter previously posted elsewhere, some changes have been made, and are definitely pertinent to the next portion of the story, coming to a chapter addition near you soon! I would love to hear what you think!

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“Granger,” Draco drawled, mouth lifting to smirk at her after he had pulled his attention from the archway through which Snape had left, “Enjoy petting strangers?” His tone was decidedly suggestive.

Hermione wracked her brain for a moment, trying to remember the prat’s last name.

“Malfoy,” she responded sweetly, “I only pet the strangers I like. Too bad for you you’re not one of them.”

Draco scoffed at her a moment, then gathered himself and poured a cup of coffee. He had done a considerable amount of thinking last night, after he had been banished to his room. Granger had turned into a pretty thing. Not gorgeous, mind, but in dim light she would definitely be passable. He’d decided he’d have a little fun with her. He hadn’t had a woman in years, not since he’d been here, anyway, and the thought of having one again, even if it was her, was hard to resist. Besides, he could definitely convince her of it; it wasn’t like she was likely to be popular with boys. She’d probably fawn at the attention. As a bonus, she didn’t remember their past relationship. Yes, with his looks and charm it would be very easy to get her into his bed.

He finished pouring his coffee and then sauntered over to her, standing above her at the table and waiting for her to turn toward him. To his delight, she did.

“May I help you?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Mmmm…” he said, his mouth full of coffee. He looked into her eyes and smiled. Then he swallowed the fluid and deliberately looked down to her chest. He lifted his hand slowly, two fingers pointed outward, and then set them lightly on the center of her chest, just above the rise of her breasts, meeting the fabric of the nightshirt, and looked back up and into her eyes. His fingers slowly traced the line of the collar, all the way out to her shoulder, his gaze never wavering. Once he reached the outer curve of her arm, he gently tugged at the shirt, pulling it up and resting it on her shoulder. He traced his fingers up her neck, along her jaw and around to lift her chin slightly before removing them quickly and saying in a low tone, “I thought I could help you.” Then, he turned from her and dished up an omelet before taking the place across from her that Snape had vacated.

Hermione tried to remain calm. It was obvious that he was deliberately trying to rile her, and she wouldn’t allow herself to take the bait. She was still reeling from the intimate moment she had just shared with Severus. She’d seen his shoulders relax for a moment as she rubbed thoughtfully at his arm, seen the expression on his face change a bit into one less pained. And then she’d noticed how incredibly tense he had become as he’d walked out of the room. He was also trembling, it was almost imperceptible, but she’d caught it. She would have preferred to go after him and tried to regain that feeling of openness, or to go somewhere alone and attempt to try to understand what had just taken place, but that would only open the door for this prat to be more abusive, and she wouldn’t give him the pleasure. There was nothing left but to sit with him and make a polite exit later.

When he turned back to her, there was fire in her eyes, and he was thrilled that he had put it there. Her nostrils were also flaring a bit, and he assumed her breathing had increased in response to his touch.

“So, Granger, what have you got planned for today? Anything in particular? If not, I can think of several delightful ways we could spend our afternoon.” Draco’s voice was laced with syrupy seduction, and Hermione struggled to regain control of her emotions. As with following Severus, getting riled would give him exactly what he wanted, well almost exactly.

“I thought I would ask Severus if he needed any help with anything today, perhaps peruse the books on the shelf in the living room, and explore the surrounding area a bit. I think it would be prudent to familiarize myself with the area. It seems I may be here a while.” She kept her tone light, deliberately trying to use her façade to influence her internal self.

“Oh, a walk, that is an excellent idea. I know of many lovely, private areas that I could take you to. They are quiet and secluded. A person, or persons, could do any number of things in them without anyone being the wiser.” He smiled lecherously at her, sipped his coffee, and then took a healthy mouthful of omelet, chewing it rhythmically.

Hermione was trying to remain calm, she really was, but this imbecile was making it extremely difficult. All these lecherous comments were getting under her skin, digging at the already sensitized nerves she had from everything she had experienced since waking up memory-less.

“I think I’d like to go alone, thanks. I feel as though I need to get my bearings, both physically and emotionally, and I won’t be able to do that with company, though I do appreciate the offer,” she added belatedly and facetiously.

“Mmmm,” he considered, before swallowing the last of his coffee. He gave her a once over, slowly, his eyes dragging from her head, down to her breasts, and then back up, as though looking at a piece of property he was considering for purchase. He made no move to hide it. Hermione remained still on the surface; inside she was shaking with disbelief and rage.

Draco stood then, moved toward the coffee pot on the stove, slowly refilled his mug and then turning, leaned against the counter and said, “Oh, Granger, I’d love to help you get your bearings. At least, the physical ones. I’d be happy to devote at least an hour to that…beneficial endeavor.” The tone of his voice hid nothing about his true intentions.

Hermione snapped. This lecherous dimwit had pushed her too far. She stood, one hand on her hip and the other pointing an accusatory finger directly between his eyes.

“How dare you,” she hissed, “How dare you treat me this way? I am no more a piece of meat than you are, you selfish, ill-mannered cretin! I would never lower myself to so much as look at you as any more than the highbrow, insolent, contemptible individual you have shown yourself to be. If you so much as make one more comment or suggestion such as those you have just made, I’ll not be responsible for the things I will do to your person, you… you…MISCREANT!” She was panting by the time she finished this speech, her voice had grown raw from the final shouted bits, and she swallowed several times to cool the burn in the back of her throat.

Draco slammed his mug on the counter and pushed himself off his perch. He stalked toward her, stood toe-to-toe with her, his eyes boring into hers, noses almost touching. Then, without breaking eye-contact, he placed his hand on her shoulder, now bared as the nightshirt had slipped off again during her passionate outburst, and slowly pulled the material up to her neck once again.

He smirked at her then, his face still centimeters from hers, and said, “You can treat me like a piece of meat anytime you like, Granger.”

Hermione reeled her hand back in reaction to his provocation, her feet taking a step backward as she prepared to strike him, open fisted.

Suddenly, Hermione was overwhelmed with an image of herself running toward Malfoy, hand raised, and…

—SMACK!

She had smacked Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered.

“I’ve hit you before!” Hermione gasped out, her eyes flashing as she felt the pleasure of doing it before wash through her, the satisfaction she had gotten from hitting him with all her might. She knew now, too, that she had never regretted hitting him, just as she wouldn’t have this time.

“What?” he whispered, staggering back, his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. He hadn’t realized she could regain memories so quickly, or so specifically.

“Gods, it felt good to hit you! It would have again, I assume, if I hadn’t been stopped by the recollection.” Hermione dropped her hand to her side and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t let it stop me in the future if you provoke me again, Malfoy. Stay away from me until you learn to treat me with respect.”

With that she threw her chin up proudly and strolled out of the room, her shoulders back and her feet light on the floor.

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Severus shut the bathroom door softly, locked it, and then leaned over the sink; fingers gripping the porcelain tightly, head hung low, eyes closed. How easily he had been pushed over the edge this time, how simple it had been for that slip of a girl to take him there. He was growing soft; the years here, trying to teach Draco and laying in wait for whatever was to come were making him lose his edge. He hadn’t been challenged like he used to be, daily or even hourly. For God’s sake, he was living the life of a retired schoolteacher; gardening, reading, a little tutoring. He hadn’t felt anything that powerful since shortly after he and Draco had come here. Then again, controlling feelings of pleasure was not an area that had been greatly tested during his time with the Dark Lord.

This had to stop. He would never remain in control of this situation, never be successful in his plans to seduce Miss Granger to his side, if he didn’t get control of his emotions. After opening the tap, he splashed his face with the frigid water and then groped for a towel. After patting his skin dry, he then examined his image in the mirror, using only the murky light coming in through the small bathroom window. His hair had grown longer since he’d been here. His face had aged, certainly, but it had aged differently than he had once thought it would. Certain lines to which he had grown accustomed had faded, and new ones in different places were now more distinctly etched upon his skin. He looked somehow both more and less severe than he remembered himself being at the school.

He threw the towel into the sink and then lowered himself into the empty tub, still fully clothed, arms resting on the curved sides and head propped against the back. Though he couldn’t stretch out fully in the compact tub, it was enough that he could relax and concentrate on planning how to best regain his self-control in a short amount of time, and continue to plan how to convince Miss Granger that she wanted him. He couldn’t leave the room now; he needed his privacy and no doubt those two volatile individuals in the kitchen were already trying to get at each other’s throats. If he left the room now, Draco would come after him, trying to convince him to side against the girl, and she would no doubt fling angry words at him, lumping him into the same category as the young man. The tub would have to do.

That little episode in the kitchen had definitely thrown him for a loop. How could she possibly have remembered that particular moment? What could have influenced the return of that emotion? And, how much of that night had she remembered? How much of the people in the room with her, how much of her relationships with them, how much of theirs with him?

She had looked so smug at the beginning of the conversation, he really had thought that she would try to pester him for more information, try to blackmail it out of him. But then he’d closed his eyes and she had asked to see the Mark. Had actually asked, not demanded. And her tone hadn’t had any indication of negative emotion, not like those who felt they had any business asking him about his involvement with the Dark Lord, nothing that usually made him bite out a retort, refusing to allow anyone to see it at the same time insulting him or her for daring to ask. It had been her tone that had finally convinced him to show her, her tone and his own weakness.

He would have to use this to his advantage. It seemed that the girl liked him to show a little weakness, that she actually softened toward him when he had emotion on his face. Could he fake it, then? Would it be possible for him to maintain his control and pretend to be an emotional man? He had heard that many women were drawn to those men who had dangerous pasts, thought they could help them or fix them if they tried. He could definitely use that. She seemed to be that sort of person.

How could he do it, then? Obviously, he would have to engineer times for them to be alone, for them to have quiet moments where things would be “shared”. He could invite her into his routine. Gardening with her would definitely allow for them to be alone, as Draco had no interest in it. And, as the warmer days would be upon them shortly, he could use her already established attraction for him as well, removing his shirt, letting her see him sweat, see the muscles in his chest, arms and back work. And he could study with her as well. Though he couldn’t perform magic here, he had stocked all the bookshelves himself, and spent a lot of time researching history, potions, even Muggle sciences. She could join him in his daily reading sessions. She enjoyed it as well, if memory served him correctly. He could also take her for walks, showing her where he gathered the herbs that grew naturally, the things with which he made his teas, spiced his food, sometimes even used for home remedies. Yes, all of these things could be used to his advantage.

First, though, he would have to get rid of Draco. The young man would only get in the way and louse things up. He’d send him back to the village. Hermione needed nightclothes and work clothes. She would also need a jacket for the cooler, wetter nights they occasionally had in the summer, and gardening gloves. All of these things Draco could be sent for, and then he would have the entire day to lure Miss Granger into his clutches, or at least initiate a little more intimate contact than had happened this morning, something along a more romantic path.

There was no time like the present. Time was of the essence here, and he could use all the advantage he could get before she remembered her purpose in showing up here. He stood and stepped out of the tub, taking one last glance in the mirror to ensure his appearance was presentable, and then exited the bathroom.

He stopped in the hallway, caught by Miss Granger’s voice echoing from the kitchen.

She was threatening Draco, and had just called him a miscreant. Severus raised his eyebrows and chuckled. Things went silent then, and were quiet for long enough he almost went to the kitchen to be sure neither had killed the other, but then he heard muffled voices, Miss Granger’s, followed by Draco’s, and stood his ground.

His patience seemed to have paid off, because a thoroughly pissed off Hermione Granger was coming his way, quickly, and she appeared not to notice him.

Severus was thrilled with this sudden opportunity, and simply laid in wait.