Four: There Are Wounds That Stir Up The Force of Gravity

Anti-Litigation Charm: None of the characters belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling, who let my entire reason for reading the Harry Potter series bleed to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. I'm building a better world.

His lips ? No. His back ? No. His face? No, no, no - I'm not asking so much!

Severus Apparated to the same point he always used, just outside the wards of the school. He stood still for a moment, looking down at his feet, letting his stomach catch up with the rest of him. He could see little whorls in the dust, showing the patch of dirt he used over and over, Apparating and Disapparating from Hogwarts. How many times in the last six months had he been summoned before the Dark Lord, and thankfully returned to this same spot, with his body and his sanity intact? How many times had he returned with neither?

He looked up at the castle, his home for so many years. He hardly thought of his house in Manchester as home. It was merely the place he had existed, until he came here. Hogwarts had ever been refuge and haven, workhouse and prison. He loved it almost as much as he hated it. He had never wanted to teach, but his foolish, bitter choices had narrowed his options down to nothing, until Dumbledore picked him up that horrible, hideous night, and gave him a choice of life over death. Severus was no longer sure he'd made the right decision.

Hogwarts would forever stand as a symbol to him, of what he'd had and lost. At one time, he thought he could eventually atone for his sins. Lately, especially on nights like this, he knew that to be no longer true.

As he walked past Hagrid's hut, Severus saw the half-giant standing on his top step, peering out into the night. A lantern was in his raised hand, bathing the ground around his door with soft light.

Silently, Severus nodded to the large man, and Rubeus returned the nod with a gentle smile, stepped back inside, and closed the door. Dumbledore would often notify Hagrid that Professor Snape might be returning from a meeting the worse for wear; more than once, since the Dark Lord's return, Hagrid had carried the injured wizard up to the infirmary, in the late hours of the night.

Severus found it rather comforting, that Hagrid would often wait up, just in case. It was always a relief to both of them for Severus to be able to return to the castle under his own power, rather than taken there, cradled like a battered child, in the arms of the soft-hearted Hagrid. Severus, to be honest, also appreciated the fact that Hagrid never judged him.

Only now could Severus allow himself to think of Hermione. Would she be waiting, worrying about him? Why did the thought that she might, seem so sweet to him? How could the silly ramblings of a child give him such pleasure, such a feeling of hope that, after all, they might be able to find safety? Perhaps together?

The meeting with the Dark Lord had ended several hours ago, but Severus had made an unscheduled stop, before returning to the castle. As he left the presence of the Dark Lord, he had been almost overwhelmed with relief, and a brittle, uncertain joy. He felt shaky, and feverish, and, truth be told, randy as hell.

He remembered the little play with Hermione with incredible clarity, as if reviewing it in his mind like a Muggle film. It had been intense, and arousing, and had left him wanting more. It had been a long time since he'd given in to his desires, other than to relieve himself with his hand. That would not do tonight. He needed to celebrate.

He Apparated into Knockturn Alley, bristling with the exhilaration of surviving another night without torture. He was thrumming with life, and relief that he was not dead, or, at the very least, physically abused again. His heart was beating wildly, and shortly, he found the right witch, paid her price and cast the cleansing charms on her, the protective charms on himself, and the notice-me-not charm on them both. He had just enough self-restraint to push her face against the wall, in one of the Alley's many alcoves, release his eager cock from his trousers, bend her forward and plunge into her, with a growl of satisfaction.

He was finished in a matter of minutes, enjoying the anonymous heat of the nameless, almost faceless woman, hearing her grunts mingling with his, as he pounded into her, wanting only the life-affirming release of fucking a willing cunt. His pleasure mingled with the sweet knowledge that he'd survived one more encounter with death.

He did not stop to analyse why he'd chosen the whore with honey-coloured, bushy hair, or how much he enjoyed wrapping his hands in it as he engaged her body.

Behind his tightly closed eyes, he didn't have to analyse who he pretended to fuck. As his climax roared from him, he didn't question why he'd silently formed the word, Hermione! over and over on his lips, as his issue shot hard and hot into the hired vessel. It did not please him on some level, but completed him on another.

Once he'd finished, and cleaned himself, he walked away, feeling dissatisfied, as he always did with prostitutes. It was true, the witch was just a whore, but he hated the feeling of this indifferent, meaningless screw. It never occurred to him that he was not a sex-deprived pervert.

He was a loved-starved man.

It would have humiliated Severus to realise he did not know there was a difference. He only knew the feeling that he had done something pointless. He merely considered it a dark necessity, one that would never truly satisfy him, because the darkness was never satisfied. Merlin, his brother Death Eaters would laugh themselves apoplectic if they knew his weak, childish thoughts.

He walked slowly, deliberately, up the school steps, counting them, as he always did. It calmed him, prepared him for his briefing with the Headmaster. He knew he was merely whistling in the dark. No amount of counting was going to calm him tonight. He had no idea what to tell Dumbledore. Severus felt restless and tired, all at once. His skin both tingled and crawled, from his encounter in the Alley.

On the surface, it had all started so simply. He wanted to show Black that Miss Granger could not be used to place another notch on his bedpost. Because he'd been unable to do so with Lily, he wanted to protect the girl from Black and the blind trust of her friends,. He wanted to be safe himself. He enjoyed Hermione, as someone who enjoyed intellect and cleverness. The young Gryffindor had been the most irritating of students, until he realised she was as hungry, as lonely, and as needy as he. He could no longer tell himself he wasn't intrigued on a more physical level as well.

He'd started this mess, out of desperation and torture, and now he had to keep all the balls in the air. He'd done it before, but he had been a much younger man, with more reserves to draw upon. He was older now; the years had blunted his razor edge, making him a clumsier, albeit more destructive weapon. He had no right to the girl. His first mission was to ensure Potter lived to defeat the Dark Lord.

But what then? Would he be free? Would he even be alive to enjoy that freedom? If he lived, he wanted to start afresh. Could the little, curly-haired swot be the key to a new life? Would she even want to be? Could he place his love and regret for Lily behind him, permanently? Did he even have the capacity to love someone else?

He had felt her respond to him. His large, sensitive nose smelled the unbearably sweet scent of arousal. She had pretended to pretend, he was sure of it. Where did that leave him? Where did he want this to go?

Mainly, he just wanted it all to be over, one way or another. For Potter to win, or for himself to die. But it would be so sweet to run away, to grab Hermione's hand and run. Oh, Lily, what have I done?

As he entered the back side of the castle, through the tunnel entrance to the dungeons, he thought about what he would tell Miss Granger. How would he explain that he had a job to do, that she was part of it, and he needed her to play the game as well?

There was time to think on it. First, he needed to shower, and wipe the stench of his own lust from his body. Then, he would sit down with a glass of wine, and give this serious consideration.

He walked toward his private quarters, off from his office, and saw a figure walking the halls in front of him. He sighed. He had faced one of his fears tonight; it was now time to face another. Then he smiled. Hermione Granger had come to him. She had come to HIM, Severus Snape.

Hermione sat in her room for almost an hour after the DA strategy meeting, arguing with herself about going to see Professor Snape. If she went to his private quarters, what on earth would she say to him?

Well, Professor, I just wanted to see how you were doing after your meeting with Lord Voldemort. And since, just by speaking to me, you made my knickers so wet that I had to change them, I thought I'd stop by, to see what you planned to do for an encore... Of course. Then, she'd just slide out of the room, on a slime trail of his scorn.

On the other hand, what if he were injured, and needed her again? That's stupid, Hermione. The man has been doing this for months now, and he was just fine before you blundered in on him at Grimmauld.

But he had already told Voldemort about her, before she'd found him there. He was already upset with her, when he left Grimmauld Place that night, which was why Voldemort saw her in the professor's mind in the first place. She had caused his punishment.

It had been that guilt that had made her start the strange little charade, the one that began with her pretending to be infatuated with her professor, and ended up with her - well, being infatuated with her professor. She thought of his voice, how sweet and seductive it had sounded, like the softest silk sliding over her nerve endings, awakening her to feelings she'd never experienced before.

She paced her small room, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully. We're in this together. I should at least make sure he's alright. Hermione grimaced. She was doing a pitiful job, fooling even herself. He had stirred something within her, something dark and forbidden and oh, so, tempting. She lay on the bed, very still, trying to remember the feelings he'd evoked, when he touched her cheek. His fingers were so sensitive...

Stop it, stop it, stop It! She raged at herself, embarrassed. If her professor knew what she was doing, what she was thinking, he'd probably be mortified. They were acting out a scene for him to replay for Voldemort. That was all it was. What play are we enacting this time? The Passion of Christ?

Gods, she'd made a fool of herself. And now, she didn't know what to think, or believe. Professor Snape had promised that she didn't have to go back to Grimmauld again. But was that just another part of the game? Maybe I could ask him.

No, you'll go to bed, and ask him at a more appropriate time, she told herself. She was still telling herself this as she threw on her cloak and headed out the door.

Severus would have known it was her from a mile away. Her absolutely unreasonable hair, fluffing out in every direction, her slightly toes-out walk (which he remembered reading somewhere was a tell-tale sign of ballet training), and her tense posture, all told him even from this distance, that Miss Granger had come to his quarters. His soft boots carried him down the hall behind her, and he made an impulsive, but potentially disastrous decision. She was still walking away from his door, and any minute now, she would turn and...

"Miss Granger?" Hermione jumped, with a little squeak, and as she spun around, her eyes widened in shock. Before Severus could react, she turned and ran so quickly, he barely had time to register her terror-paled face. "Miss Granger!" he hissed, but fear had given her wings. She flew down the hall as if the hounds of hell were after her.

Severus felt something shift from the top of his head, and he cursed silently to himself, as the heavy cowl fell from his hair. He was still in his Death Eater robes. The girl was racing down the corridor, and it would only be a few feet before she was in view of the staircase. From there, she would run straight toward the Ravenclaw Common Room, screaming that there were Death Eaters in the castle...

As she ran, she suddenly whipped out her wand, and cried, "Expecto Pat-"

"Impedimenta!" he shouted, and the girl was stopped so suddenly, it looked like an invisible arm had yanked her around the waist, and held her aloft. "Muffliato!" Severus called, and Hermione's cries for help were silenced, her Patronus left unsummoned.

He ran from behind, removing the heavy robes as he ran, saying, "Miss Granger, please don't panic. It's me, Professor Snape."

Suspended in midair, the young woman looked as if she was floating underwater. Her hair, which had been streaming behind her, was twisting and turning in the magic current of the spell, tangling hopelessly. As he grew near, Severus put an arm against her back, and another around her waist. He whispered, "Finite Incantatum," and caught her neatly as the canceled spell dropped her to the floor. He steadied the frightened girl on her feet, and she turned huge, tear-filled eyes to him. He stepped back, feeling foolish and, no doubt, looking the part as well.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger," Severus began, and made a half-hearted gesture at his robes. "I had forgotten about these."

The girl was shaking, and she turned her face away from him for a moment. She gasped, "I thought for a moment... I thought..."

Severus put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Calm yourself, Miss Granger," he said, sternly. Experience had taught him that a nearly hysterical student could be placated more with a firm voice than a soothing one. "I apologise for jinxing you, but I had to stop you, before you mistakenly alerted the entire school that we were being invaded."

Hermione looked at him, shaking her head, then she sagged with relief. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, sir. I saw the robes, and I just panicked." She made a little gesture of frustration. "I feel so foolish! I came down to see if you were alright, and the moment I saw you, I started running like a first-year!" She gave him a beseeching look. "How am I supposed to help Harry if I run like a fool every time I get scared?"

Severus felt a momentary stab of fierce, hot, irrational jealousy. He'd just risked his life in front of a madman for the chit, and all she could talk about was helping bloody Potter! Severus could feel the sting of betrayal, the same betrayal he'd felt when Lily chose James. It was happening again, and he had risked his neck for her! Again! Anger severed any latent feeling of tenderness or remorse. His brows lowered, and his voice sounded hard, flat and final.

"I suggest in future, Miss Granger, that you refrain from sticking your bushy head where it doesn't belong, and perhaps you won't find yourself running from imaginary peril. Lion, indeed!" He sneered down at her, enjoying the shocked hurt in her eyes. "You certainly won't win points for the famous Gryffindor courage."

He turned on his heel, not wanting to see the reaction of his words. It had hurt like fuck when he'd walked away from Lily, and felt the distance growing between them, along with her silence. He didn't want to stick around to hear that silence again...

"Now wait just one damn minute!" Severus froze in his tracks, and slowly turned to see Hermione Granger, striding after him, her amber eyes thunderous, her wild hair almost crackling in anger. "Don't you dare walk away from me after saying something like that!"

Stunned that a student would challenge him so vehemently, Severus whirled around and stalked back to her. "I would advise you to lower your voice and change your tone, Miss Granger. Thirty points from Gryffindor for your insolence."

That stopped her. She never lost points for her House. For a moment, he thought he had cowed her enough, but she merely changed tack, and continued walking toward him.

"Fine. I probably deserved that." She came close enough for him to see the sweat on her forehead, the corkscrew curls of her hair, where the Impedimenta Jinx had twisted and knotted it. She was still breathing heavily, and he waited for her to speak.

She drew herself up to full height. "You frightened the devil out of me – I came down here to see if you were alright, or if you were hurt, or needed help. And you scared me, you jinxed me, you insulted me, then you took house points away from me!"

She had worked herself up into a state, and now stood, breathing hard, staring at her professor, who was looking at her as if she were from another planet. Frustrated, Hermione raised her hand to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, only to be met with the complete tangled mess that was her hair.

She huffed. "AND you've tangled my hair into knots! How am I supposed to fix this?" She looked into his stony face. After a moment's silence, she sighed. "But you are alright, aren't you?"

Severus opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. He was completely overwhelmed by the little witch's impudence. He was still smarting from her remark about Harry, angry at her self-righteous outburst, and flummoxed that she'd had the cheek to stand up to him. He was the one who walked away, head held high. He was not followed. How dare she -

Amidst all the conflicting emotions, was the sudden realisation that, before he'd frightened her into her sudden dash, she'd been here because she was worried about him. After all the anger, her first words were, 'But you are alright, aren't you?'.

He sighed. "Come with me, Miss Granger." He stared at her hopeless hair with growing dismay. "Perhaps I can help you, and we can discuss this little... outburst with calmer heads." He gave her hair another glance, and shook his head, bemused.

For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse to come with him. She merely looked at him, waiting. Severus smirked, realisation dawning. "I am quite unharmed, Miss Granger. Thank you for your concern. Right now, our most pressing matter is, shall we say, a little less perilous."

Once they had returned to his study, Severus excused himself, and took the opportunity to change back into his regular school robes. It would not do to be seen here with Miss Granger in anything other than a professional setting, no matter how much he would prefer it otherwise.

"Now," he said, drawing his wand. "Let's see if we can address this." He pointed his wand at her crazed hair, made a figure-eight motion with his wand, a downward slashing movement, and intoned, "Teresdec Orocuros!"

Hermione felt his magic slide around her hair, untangling the unmanageable mess, as if being brushed by unseen hands. Her hair began to smooth and curl of its own accord, into long, luxurious ribbons. The curls slid around themselves. One slinked around her arm. Severus smirked as one daring little curl reached out and attempted to slip around his wrist, like the tendrils of an octopus.

"Cheeky," he murmured, watching the curl insinuate a tentative grip on his wand. Hermione watched in fascination, as her hair reached to slink around her professor's hand almost possessively. Before it could wind its way around him completely, he dropped his arm, and stepped back, studying his work.

"That's a little better, I think, Miss Granger," he said, a self-satisfied smirk crooking the edges of his lips.

"That's – that's wonderful!" Hermione laughed, watching her hair smoothing and curling, as if alive. "You'll definitely have to teach me that one, Professor."

"Indeed, although you may have to take a few running starts at it. Usually, if you make a downward motion of your wand, your hair will straighten. Yours, however, apparently desires to do otherwise."

Hermione laughed, her cheeks turning pink. She pulled the searching curl back, and let it twirl around her finger. "It usually does. My mum always said my hair had a mind of its own, but I've never seen it manifested so literally, until now." Her hair finally settled around her head in soft, curling waves. She smiled her thanks at her professor, and he nodded his acknowledgment.

Now that the initial terror of the evening had passed, Hermione felt drained, and completely idiotic. She'd taken one look at the menacing figure striding down the hall, and instead of assessing the situation, she'd turned tail, and ran like a first-year. He must think I truly am a dunderhead, she thought.

It was only as she was about to reach the main body of the castle, did it occur to her to conjure her Patronus, to warn the DA. She shuddered now, at the thought that she might have actually sent it. Oh Gods, what a hideous mess she'd come so close to making! She felt a bit shaken at the thought of how much damage she could have wrought.

"Miss Granger?" Hermione looked up at her professor, who had obviously asked her a question. She'd been too immersed in her own embarrassment to notice. Feeling even worse, she gulped. "Yes, sir? I'm sorry. I was – "

"Indeed," was the rather dry reply. He looked only slightly patient. "I merely asked, would you care for tea?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, thank you, sir. I really should to return to Gryffindor Tower. I'm going to have to avoid Mr. Filch, as it is."

"Yes. In future, Miss Granger, perhaps you could refrain from taking unnecessary risks, however well intended. While I am flattered you were concerned for my welfare, I wish to remind you that I am a fully grown wizard, and capable of taking care of myself."

His tone sounded testy and crabbed, and Hermione felt as if she'd completely ruined the golden glow of their earlier time together. She nodded, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry." She rose to leave. "Goodnight, sir. I apologise for my poor manners earlier."

"Miss Granger, wait." Hermione looked up into his pale face, and could have sworn she saw something... it was gone before she could categorise it, but it certainly wasn't anger, or disappointment. It was...

Professor Snape tilted his head slightly, and, had it been anyone else, flirtatiously. Smoothly, he drawled, "Correct me if I'm wrong, Miss Granger, but you did attempt to conjure a Patronus earlier. Is that correct?"

Her face froze in uncertainty. The conflict in her face, of caution warring with the desire to show off her skills, made Severus want to laugh. He could almost see the wheels turning as she stammered, "Well, sir – Actually, I did, but – " She turned frightened eyes up to his, and he felt a little, hard knot form in his belly. It was sweet and welcomed, but he didn't truly understand, or trust it.

"Would you please conjure it now?" His voice could have given silk lessons. "For me?"

Again, Severus suppressed a laugh, at how her reticence disappeared, replaced by delight at the chance to show off her abilities. Immediately, she raised her wand, and after giving him an indefinable look, cried out, "Expecto Patronum!"

A bright light flashed, and from her wand sprang an otter, playful and saucy. It swam in the invisible waters of magic around Severus, watching him intently, its expression flirtatious, and inviting. With another muttered spell from Hermione, it quickly swam away into nothingness, leaving the room darker, and, to Severus' mind, a bit bereft.

He turned to the young witch, and gave her a short nod, a look of grudging respect in his customary scowl. "Quite impressive. Very few witches your age are capable of such a fully-formed Patronus, Hermione."

Hermione felt her stomach flutter at the sound of her name, sliding from his lips. She blushed, and ducked her head. "Thank you, sir." Pride won over self-consciousness, and her pleasure at his praise seemed to be its own Patronus. She rewarded him with a smile, the likes of which were seldom reserved for Severus Snape. "Thank you!" she repeated, feeling absurdly pleased at his compliment.

For a moment, Severus dropped his eyes, thankful he had taken his passions to a more experienced witch tonight. The pull of this young woman was like that of a succubus to him, and he hated himself for feeling its lure. What's more, he hated her for pulling him in, albeit innocently. He loved Lily, didn't he?

It was time, he deduced, to put her back in place, both in her mind and his own. He continued his suave enquiry. "And, will you tell me..." He hesitated, and locked his gaze with hers. "How you learned to conjure it?"

Hermione, locked in his stare, knew she had been trapped. If she lied, he would know. If she told him the truth, her suspicions of his knowledge of the D.A. would become fact. Oh, gods, she thought. I've destroyed us.

"Hermione?" his voice was like chocolate, dark and intoxicating, and she shook her head, knowing what would happen next. He tilted his head, in that almost-flirtatious manner, and a smirk played about his lips. "Hermione, is there something you don't wish to tell me?" He stepped toward her, and Hermione knew she should try to block him out. His eyes were filling her vision, large, liquid, black - mesmerizing, and draining her will...

"Come here, Hermione."

Come. Here. Hermione. The three most seductive words in the English language, when issued from that stunning, velvet-lined throat. Hermione shook her head, even as she walked toward him. Was he casting an Imperio? Her feet moved toward him of their own accord, and she could no more stop herself, than stop breathing.

When she got close enough to touch, he gave her a sneer that was almost sensual. "Look at me," he whispered, and she felt him enter her mind, and he moved effortlessly through her consciousness, gently probing, opening her, peeling back the walls of her resistance, like the most delicate pages of a book. He was a scent, and a flavour, and a hypnotic voice, moving within her mind...

Her fear – Death Eater!... running down the hall, feeling his spell yanking her off her feet and suspending her in the air... talking with Harry and Ron, "We should work more on shielding this week, there are still a lot of weak spots" ... Draco... "Snape's already promised we can have you when he's through with you"...

She could feel his anger at this, and he changed within her mind, grew harder, colder, then changed again to something else, something warmer, desirable... You're a good girl, Hermione.... oh, yes, such a good girl... touching me, Professor Snape is touching me... I like it...it feels good, forbidden, wanted...

And suddenly, she was alone again. He was gone, and she felt chilled. There was a slick taste in her mouth that had nothing to do with him in her mind, but something that had been in his mind, earlier... She was falling, her mind sizzling with the implication of what he'd seen, and now what he knew.

Strong hands gripped her arms. She heard a sob escape her throat, a sound of humiliation and fear, and suddenly, she was sitting in a huge chair, and her professor was kneeling down in front of her, apologizing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes bleak. He was holding her hands in a painful grip. "I shouldn't have! I just wanted to – "

He jumped up and strode away from her, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. "I had no right," he rasped, the silkiness gone from his voice. He sounded upset and angry, but not, Hermione realised, at her. This anger was self-guided. He turned to her. "Sometimes, I think I may be going mad."

Hermione watched him carefully. "I'm frightening you, Miss Granger. I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I can't seem to get a grip on my emotions." He looked almost in tears. "I practically raped your mind, like one of the Marauders. I'm not like this," he pleaded.

His eyes grew darker, angrier. "I think of Black pawing you, touching you. He knows I..." Pain snaked around him. Suddenly, a dark, liquid fire settled in his belly, and he felt his body flush with hunger. Looking at the girl, he felt a crippling desire for her. He could take her now, no one would know... He could Obliviate her afterward. He could take her over and over, feel her warm maiden's blood splashing over his rigid cock...

"Ahh!" he cried, suddenly understanding. The soft, slimy touch of the Dark Lord... the forced kiss of his hand. The Dark Lord had given him the Votumtactus - the Dark Caress. What a fool he'd been! Hadn't he seen Death Eaters use the spell to incite one another's bloodlust, to enable them to prolong their stamina for a raid?

Panicking, Severus backed away from the girl. He held out his hand, as if to hold her at bay. "Miss Granger. Please listen to me. If you care anything about me, you'll leave now. I am not well. I must go see the Headmaster." He was almost visibly cowering. "Please, please do this for me. I promise I'll explain, if you'll just go now!"

Hermione looked at him, her concern warring with her fear. "Sir, should I call the Headmaster?"

"No! You can't be seen with me now! Please!" Shaking, Severus forced himself to calm. "Miss Granger – Hermione, I have been cursed, and I don't wish to hurt you, but I will if you stay."

Hermione could see the anguish and fear in his dark eyes. Seeking to soothe him, she said, reassuringly, "I'm not afraid – "

"You should be! I will hurt you, witch!" His fear changed into anger, and his eyes blazed at her. "The Dark Lord knows I desire you, girl, and if you stay, I'll take you against your will!" He drew his arms around himself, as if holding his own body in check. An almost helpless look of longing passed over his face, and his voice became intense and silvery. He took a deep breath through his large nose, and closed his eyes, ecstatically. "I can smell you, I can almost feel you – if you let me touch you, I'll take you on the floor like a – "

Severus' eyes flew open, and he raged, "Please leave! Can't you see I have no control over myself?" He swallowed, panting. "I promise it will pass. Just, for the love of Merlin, girl, leave, while I still have the strength to let you go!"

Hermione nodded, and turned to leave. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"I will let you know. Don't come back until I allow it – GO!" he thundered, and almost wept with relief, when she fled from his study. Gods, he wanted her, wanted to pull her down on the floor and punch another hole in her. It would feel so good, and her cries would sound like sweet music. His thoughts began to race, and run wild and voracious in his mind, feeding on the uncontrollable lust the Dark Caress produced.

He grinned savagely. Black will never have her. I'll howl my pleasure so loudly, he'll hear it, slinking in his coward's den in Grimmauld Place... She belongs to me. She is mine... I'll take her over and over and I'll smell her maiden's blood and it will inflame me more and I will fuck and fuck her I'll fuck her in front of Black and laugh as she comes on my cock I can call her back -

He actually opened his mouth to call her name, knowing she would return to him, out of sense of concern, the latent desire he'd raised. She trusted him. She believed he would protect her. He made her feel safe...

A tiny pearl of light broke through the madness, and it was small, and pure, and shaped and scented like her. He knew with certainty he'd go mad, rather than allow anyone to hurt her. He had dragged her into this. He would hide her, even from himself, if necessary.

He staggered to the fireplace, snatched a handful of Floo powder, and announced, "Headmaster's Quarters!"

Hermione made her way quickly to Gryffindor Tower, as alarmed and frightened for her professor as she'd been at Grimmauld Place. And through her worry, and anxiety, were his words, playing over and over in her mind: The Dark Lord knows I desire you, girl...

Title and opening lyrics are from the song Gravity, by Rickie Lee Jones 

The Hair Spell is dedicated to the great Sempraseverus, whose drawings of Hermione's hair inspired Severus to create it, just for Hermione.