Demons In the Dark

Disclaimer: See Prologue.

Thank you, DelilahKelley, for all your help!

~*~*~*~

Then, a voice, all dark chocolate and velvet:

"Don't what... Miss Granger?"

Any coherent word or thought she may have possessed vanished at that moment.

No. Not him. Oh God... please... anyone but him!

She lay in the mud, in the rain, pinned helplessly. He held her body stretched beneath his – they lay against one another as only lovers should.

NO!! her mind screamed frantically. It cannot be him!!

She had followed him into a thunderstorm where he had attacked her.

She had tried to curse him, and he had attacked her again.

She had wanted to harm him, but he had set her body on fire with the lightest brush of his lips, replacing her fury with lust.

He was her demon.

Her Master.

Severus Snape.

She was brought from the recesses of her dark thoughts when he spoke once more: "I shall... ask you... once more... don't what?" The words were slightly slurred, all running together except for the last two, which he emphasized with great care and precision.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, her anger outweighed her fear now that she could put a face to her attacker. She didn't dare speak – she had no answer, but she also did not want him to hear her voice tremble. With a grunt of frustration at her silence, Snape rose swiftly, pulling her upright by her wrists.

Hermione let out a small yelp of pain as she was pulled to her feet before him. She was barely able to regain her balance before she was thrust back roughly against the very tree she had been hiding behind earlier. Again, the wet bark dug into her back, while at the same time his fingers moved to dig into the soft flesh of her upper arms.

"Answer me..." he whispered, leaning down to brush his nose along her cheek. She was shocked to hear the tone of his voice. It was almost... pleading with her. She closed her eyes and half-heartedly turned her face away from his soft caresses.

He chuckled softly in her ear at her feeble attempt to escape him. "Impudent girl."

Again, she could smell the sweet scent of whiskey on his breath. Is he... drunk?

The moon returned just as he started to speak again. "So stubborn..." he bit out, sliding his left hand up her arm and over her shoulder, laying it to rest against her cheek.

"So willful..." she heard him say, his voice only a hint softer as his thumb ran across her rain-soaked lips. He took her chin in his hand and gently but firmly turned her face to his.

In the sparse moonlight, she found his eyes for the first time. They were black shadows underneath his brow... dilated and glittering. As she looked into those eyes, he slowly leaned towards her. His words were barely a whisper against her face. "So... beautiful."

She knew it was going to happen, knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow. Her eyes closed, and she exhaled through her nose as he pressed his lips softly to hers. They were wet and soft, but ice cold. She found herself unwittingly leaning into him. Her hands moved of their own volition, twining themselves firmly in the hair at the base of his neck. Their mouths moved slowly, firmly, over one another, savoring the moment. In the back of her mind, Hermione pointed out to herself that he did indeed taste like whiskey.

He's drunk! her conscience screamed.

Jolting back to reality, she realized what she was doing. Shit!! Gently, she removed her hands from his soaking wet hair, sliding them down his arms. She noted that his cloak and robes were soaked through and realized that his body was probably just as cold as his lips. Her hands found his, and she gently pulled them from her face. Their kiss broke and his face slid against hers, coming to rest in the crook of her neck, his hot breath falling heavily on her wet skin.

"Pro-professor..." she whispered, a tremor shaking her voice just as she knew it would.

He did not answer as his hands released hers and moved to her waist. His face nuzzled into her shoulder, and he gave her hips a gentle squeeze, pulling her against him. She could still feel... him... through the cold, wet fabric of his trousers. The sensation was almost too much for her to overcome, and she mentally screamed at herself that he was not in his right mind. What could possibly have driven this hard, stoic man to such a measure as drunkenness?

"Sir...?" she whispered. She still got no response, only the press of his body against hers as his hands moved around to explore her backside.

Damn him! she cursed inwardly, closing herself off to the waves of sensation that shot through her as his hands tightened convulsively around her, pulling her even harder against him.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly ran her hands up over the soaking wet fabric covering his chest, pushing him gently away. He allowed himself to be moved, but only just.

It was enough to allow her to take his cold wet face between her hands. She could not help but think that he was going to catch his death out here in this weather. So was she, for that matter. His gaze was cast downwards, allowing rivulets of water to run down his face. His hair dripped softly onto her arms, where the water ran down to her elbow before falling to join the millions of other droplets on the forest floor.

"Severus..." she crooned, pleading with him. When she received no response with the use of his given name, she knew that whatever demon was plaguing him tonight had a firm grip.

A memory, still too fresh to be forgotten, but too painful to remember, fluttered across her mind's eye, but she dared not focus on it, not now – not when he needed her, whether he knew it or not.

Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for what she was about to do, for what she was about to say. She had long ago promised to never again endear him with false words, even if it they were only false in his mind.

She knew he needed a severe jolt. He needed something to bring him back from this waking nightmare.

"Love?" she whispered to him, bending to look up at him beneath his wet hair, her eyes both pleading and questioning.

She could barely make out his own dark eyes in the moonlight as his gaze locked with hers. For a moment she saw painfully familiar emotions flash across his face: sorrow, regret, longing... fear...

... love.

She could see that there were so many things that he ached to tell her, to show her... and God how she ached to return those feelings. She held his gaze, seeing the fire and the pain therein, let loose by the liquor flowing through his body. He seemed lost, staring blindly at her, his mouth partially open.

Then, with a jolt that sent droplets of water flying into her face, he jumped back from her as if burned, his face becoming the emotionless mask she was so familiar with. He stood there in the downpour, in the moonlight, his black hair wet and clinging to his face as his breath came in ragged gasps. His body gave off a heady mix of arousal and fear, both emotions ebbing and flowing, each threatening to overwhelm the other, fighting to take control and send him over the edge.

Hesitantly, Hermione closed the space between them, slowly reaching out her cold dripping hand to softly wrap around his, which was slowly clenching and unclenching into a fist. "Severus..."

Standing there in the rain, she gently entwined her fingers with his as his fist unclenched again. He looked down at their joined hands, feeling hers trembling in his. She was very cold, ice cold, deathly cold, as was he. His brow came together in confusion.

"Hermione...?" he said as his hand gave hers a small, if perhaps involuntary, squeeze.

"I'm here, love," she said softly, returning the squeeze gently, yet hesitantly.

At the sound of her sentiment, he took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed his eyes shut. His teeth clenched, and his jaw cracked audibly. She knew what he was doing – he was rebuilding his walls, preparing to force her away... again. When he finally looked back to her, she instantly knew that this was not Severus, but Professor Snape.

"Miss Granger?" he asked icily, snatching his hand away, in all outward appearances the modicum of control and stoicism.

"Severus!" she said exasperatedly, ignoring his use of her more formal title. "What in God's name has happened to you tonight?" She stepped towards him and reached up her hand to brush a strand of wet hair from his face.

His hand snatched her wrist with an audible slap, causing her to jump with fright. Eyes glistening, but never leaving hers, he watched her with barely withheld rage. He then released her, shoving her firmly, but gently, away from him.

"God has nothing to do with it... or me," he spat nastily. "You should know that better than anyone."

At that, he turned and swiftly fled into the night, leaving her standing there in stunned silence, battered, bruised, cold, and terrified, her tears masked by the darkness and the rain.

~TBC

A/N: Will she go after him...? We'll see... Oh, did anyone notice that they're both very cold? I don't know if I mentioned that... hehe...

Thanks for the R&R!