How It Came About

Disclaimer: All characters are for J.K.R. of course. Plot thought of by Betz. The other stuff belongs to me!

As always, a big thanks to the brilliant Charmed Nay for being my beta!

Severus watched from the shadows as she made her way out to the lake in the predawn light. He'd told himself at first that he came back time after time to be sure she was safe. This part of the lake happened to be near the forest. There was no telling what could come out to accost her. Not that she couldn't handle herself, mind, but it wouldn't hurt to have someone there to give a hand. It didn't take long for him to realize that it was more than that. He hungered to see her away from the others. Away from her friends. The two idiots. He enjoyed her when she was alone. She just didn't know it, and she likely never would.

She did this every morning when there was no rain. Even when the weather had been cold. He supposed she was trying to keep in shape, but why? He couldn't fathom it. She was perfectly fine as she was. Rounded bum, flaring hips, ample breasts, and stocky legs above average length. He supposed the running had built up her legs. Often, as he passed her in the castle, he found himself hating the robes she wore simply because he couldn't see her luscious limbs.

He'd come upon her by accident nearly three months prior. He'd been out for a night in town and had come home completely frustrated. The chit that he'd been with had done and said all of the wrong things. It had been a turn off, a complete disaster. He knew he was an excellent lover, but it was difficult to relay his talents to the particular dolt that had taken to him that night. The hard on that he'd finally managed had been quickly wiped away when the idiot went down on him. Her teeth had scraped him painfully. He had been near the lake pondering why he could never find someone that he found pleasurable when footsteps sounded. Years of spying had taught him to be alert and to act with stealth. He'd slinked back off the path when Hermione Granger came running by.

She'd stopped only a few feet away and began stripping her clothes. She'd waded into the lake for a light swim. He'd never forget how she looked that early morning. The sky had still been mostly dark blue with touches of pink peaking out over the mountains. It had given her a nearly angelic glow. How she was able to stand the chill of the water, he never knew. She was clever, though, so it was possible she'd placed some sort of charm on her person. She had come up looking like a nymph as she'd waded to the shore. He'd hungrily watched as she'd pointed her wand at her mass of hair, drying it quickly. She had taken her time, slowly pinning it back up once dry, and then eased back into her clothes. He'd watched as she stretched and walked back to the castle at an unhurried pace. That had been the moment that he'd known.

He wanted her.

Someone like her. Someone who didn't take hours on end to glamour herself. With her, what one saw was what one got. She didn't mind asking questions, speaking her mind, debating things that she had a different opinion about, or accepting when she was wrong about something. Eventually.

Breaking away from his reverie, he watched as she made her way back near him. It wasn't every morning that she stopped to have a swim, such as this one, but she always stopped to stretch at least in an attempt to cool down. He'd taken to assuming the same position each morning in wait. The episodes only left him wanting more. Sometimes he fantasized about throwing her down and pounding into her. On those mornings, he would shamelessly relieve himself as he watched her. As she sauntered back to the castle, he began to ponder things.

At some point after he'd begun to watch her, he'd made a decision to find someone like her. He was tired of being alone. The Dark Lord was no more. All he had was Hogwarts and his fantasies of her that left him feeling regret and loss. Most women he saw when he did venture out were once his students, which was wont to happen with so many years of teaching. So, after overhearing a conversation between Rolanda and Pomona, he'd formed the perfect plan to find his own Hermione.

Severus Snape decided to become a gigolo. He put an ad in the Evening Prophet, near the back section, stating that he was a man for hire. Of course, he didn't put his true name. He would never reveal his identity, less it bring shame to him and Hogwarts. He only put that the meetings would be discreet, the fee negotiable, and that he would screen all clients prior to meeting them.

No, it wouldn't do to have just any witch. They had to fit a particular criteria. He knew what his perfect woman needed: light, brown hair...long, the longer the better...brown eyes, a beautiful smile, at least some intelligence was a must, and definitely cleanliness. He'd not bed a dirty or used looking wench. An experienced lover was always a plus. His facial expression darkened at this point. How many lovers had Hermione had? Weasley? Potter? It was a pity that he didn't know her well enough. He would have those answers, but did he really want them? He already barely stomached Weasley, and Potter was not much better. Those two always monopolized all of her time. If he knew for certain that they had been her lovers, he would despise them even more.

Vector had been killed in one of the battles early on. Albus had appointed Hermione as the new professor for Arithmancy. That had been when she was only newly graduated, two years prior. For nearly six months back then, they had been on speaking terms. Somewhat. She'd tried to talk to him, and he'd grunted his replies. Sometimes they'd had a small debate at a staff meeting or at the meal table, but they'd never spent any private time together.

In retrospect, he wished that he had taken the time to become her friend. The final battle where Potter had lucked up again against Voldemort had come and gone. Hogwarts had become severely understaffed, what with Hagrid and that new bloke Jones, the Dark Arts professor, being killed. Weasley filled Hagrid's spot as Grounds Keeper while Potter slipped into the Dark Arts role. It had been a nightmare come true for Severus. The Golden Trio was together once again.

At that moment, Granger had changed in his eyes. She was no longer just Professor Granger. She had become Potter's friend again. She still sat next to him at meals, but her sidekicks sat on the other side of her. When she ventured to talk to him, he rebuffed her. He wouldn't make conversation with those two about, trying to listen. She sat with them at staff meetings, near them in the staff box at Quidditch games, and showed up with them in tow to any outings the staff had in town. His chance had come and gone. Severus would have liked to have known back then what he knew now. Had he taken the time to get to know her better, maybe something could have happened between them. He just didn't feel as if he had any way to compete against her bloody friends for her attention.

Making his way back to his chambers, he thought about the clients he'd had since he'd begun his business. There had only been four. He had received many pleas for services, but after he'd investigated most of them, he found them lacking in some way or other. He would always send replies to those to inform them that they didn't meet his requirements. Yes, that was cold, wasn't it? What did he care? Some of them had even been former students. There was only one in that category whom he would truly bed. Hermione.

The first client had been a witch of about thirty years. She resembled his little Hermione, but she was about as smart as a troll. He could never see himself with her under other circumstances. She was pleasing in bed, and he had enjoyed their sessions immensely. It would never develop into anything else though. When her owl came requesting him, he made the arrangements to meet with her straightaway. It was a pity that she opened her mouth at all during their meetings. He had finally talked her into playing games where he could bind her mouth. It was very easy then to close his eyes and imagine that the real Hermione was beneath him.

The second client had been a complete disaster. She was a young chit who had moved to the area, and she'd needed someone to show her the area as well as have a night of passion. To make a long story short, he'd never met with her again. He was sure the feeling was mutual. She was a demanding little witch and had tried to dominate him. That would never do. They'd ended up having a massive row, and she'd told him that she would have refused to pay him if he hadn't been the best lay she'd had to date. He smirked. Yes, rough sex at the peak of anger was always enjoyable.

The third client had been someone he'd seen only twice. She had been unhappy in her marriage. Where he didn't mind small talk, all she did was talk. From the moment she got to his room, to the moment he thrust into her, to the time she left, she babbled on and on about her husband. It was hard to remain in the mood when a woman half sobbed and half yelled about another man. When the same thing happened the second time, he had finally given her advice for her marriage. Thankfully, he hadn't heard from the woman again.

The fourth and final client into his venture had called on him a few times. He expected her to be calling on him again soon. This was one he enjoyed as well. She always paid extra, as she had interesting sexual tastes. Her husband didn't like to play in the bedroom. She always felt frustrated. Severus made sure to spank her as hard as she wanted, and he'd never heard a woman that sounded so much like a banshee when she would come.

He had received a promising owl that came in yesterday, according to the description of herself, but he would have to check into this woman. She hadn't given him her real name. He had already tried to look her up that way, so he replied to her via owl, telling her that he would need more information to view her. He would have to be sure she met his specifications. She had mentioned having long hair, being twenty years of age, and the physical description fit what he liked.

With a final glance in the mirror, he smoothed down his fresh robes and made his way to the Great Hall. She was already there, undoubtedly sipping on some juice whilst reading the Daily Prophet. He smiled inwardly noticing that her two friends were missing. As he sat next to her, he eyed her secretly, taking in the tendrils of hair that had already fallen out of her clip. She smelled of her usual citrus scent that she obviously bathed with. He inhaled deeply, savoring her scent.

"Good morning, Professor," she said softly, reaching over his plate to grab a bicky. "Sorry," she said, blushing profusely as her breast grazed his arm.

Severus wanted to ask her to do it again, but to allow him the time to pull up his sleeve so that he might feel it against his bare skin. He didn't. Instead, he replied tersely, "Indeed. If you have the need for something, just ask. I shall get it for you." Hermione wouldn't look at him. He could see that her cheeks were still stained from her folly. "Is something the matter, Professor Granger?" he asked cheekily. Without her two friends present, it was easier to talk to her and to poke fun at her.

"No, Professor Snape," she answered quietly. Under the pretense of stirring his coffee, he took a moment to watch her as she chewed on her breakfast. A couple of crumbs remained on her lush lower lip, and he nearly groaned as her pink tongue darted out to lick them away. He started when she began laughing, thinking she had noticed that he was watching her. "Look at this!" She pointed wildly to her paper, showing him a passage.

Severus read aloud, "It would seem that Cornelius Fudge had quite a scare last night as he ate dinner with his partner at the Leaky Cauldron. The ex-Minister of Magic took one bite of a pasty and promptly turned into a Crup. He barked at his partner for a few moments before returning to his own form. After an investigation, it appeared that Mister Fred Weasley had sent the delicacy over to him accidentally. He had intended for his sibling, a Mister George Weasley, to eat the pasty. The pair are co-owners of a joke shop over on Diagon Alley, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. They claim that the faux pasties will be available as early as next week."

Severus chuckled lightly. He imagined that Fudge had been none too pleased. He also wouldn't put it past the pair of jokers to have done it on purpose. "Too bad they didn't get a photo."

Hermione took the paper back, beaming brightly. Her fingers brushed his lightly. He felt a jolt spread from his finger at the touch, and he noticed that she too seemed to have felt it. She lowered her eyes demurely and bit her lip. He had finally mustered the courage to talk to her again when Potter and Weasley plopped down next to her.

"Read this," she said, handing the paper to them.

Severus turned away to converse with Minerva, ignoring their howls of laughter. He was disappointed immensely. They had shared a laugh together. There had been some sort of connection just then. Why had those two berks chosen that moment to show up? He added this to another list of reasons to dislike the pair.

Minerva excused herself, and he silently ate his bangers, overhearing a portion of the trio's conversation. "Oh, come on, Mione," Weasley whinged, "you are never fun anymore! Charlie is only going to be in town this weekend. You know he wants to see you, what since you had that date with him last summer. It will do you both some good."

"No, Ron, I have a lot of essays to grade, tests to mark, and I have to prepare a study list for my N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. students. They'll be testing in three weeks. I just won't be going," she said, sounding wistful. "Sorry. Send my regards."

"Ron, if she doesn't want to come, then just let it alone," Potter commented.

For once, Severus could have given the boy a compliment. But, then, the boy ruined it all by speaking.

"Hermione, is just a prude. If she doesn't want to spend the night with a man, so be it."

Weasley started laughing when Hermione scoffed. "What? It's true. Charlie said you froze up on him and ran off last time. He wants a second chance to thaw you out," Weasley taunted. "What did he call her? Her-my-icy-woman?"

The boys began laughing anew.

Severus glared at them indignantly. They shouldn't be speaking to their friend that way. "Excuse me, boys," he said with a sneer. "I would suggest you lower your voice, unless you actually want the entire staff and students present to know that you are mocking a fellow colleague."

Both looked immediately embarrassed and ducked their heads to eat. Hermione, though, seemed truly hurt. Severus saw her lower lip tremble slightly, and her eyes became suspiciously bright. She threw her napkin in her plate and hurried out of the hall.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered to Harry. "Didn't think she'd be upset about it. Shouldn't have mentioned that icy bit, eh?"

Severus had heard enough. "You are about as smooth as a prickly stem, and about as bright as a flobberworm, boy. If your brother possesses the same charms, it's no wonder at his stupidity in not seeing that she hadn't iced up, but she merely hadn't been interested in his insipid advances." Severus placed his napkin in his plate as well, exiting the hall with his robes flaring out behind them.

He pondered what this meant? Had she never been with a man, or had she just not wanted to be with Weasley's brother? It would seem that neither Potter nor Weasley had ever had a taste of her, what with their maddening comments. Didn't the dunderheads see that they had truly hurt her feelings? Perhaps she had better taste than he had previously thought. She would make twenty-one years of age in a mere four months or so. Surely, she had made love to someone before now.

The moment he entered his classroom, a large, brown owl accosted him. The idiotic creature was flying about in circles as if not sure where to land. He reached out to snatch the parchment from its leg. It finally flew away. What kind of person would have such an inane creature? "Ah, my mysterious client," he murmured, moving to his desk to read the letter. He gasped in horror as he read the name. Heavens, no. Luna Lovegood.

Severus promptly took out his quill to return a denial of services parchment, but then an idea formed in his mind. This girl was a friend to Hermione. He could use that to his advantage. Grinning wickedly, he began writing his response. As the first student entered for class, he put down his quill and quickly read over the letter, grimmacing at the false gibberish.

Miss Lovegood,

Mr. R. Libertine

Perhaps the tart would pass this message on to Hermione. He'd taken extra care to sound respectable, and he hoped that it would pay off. He hoped that she would tell Hermione how touching and sincere his refusal had been. Mostly. Could he be with her under the guise of another if she dared seek his services? He wanted to sample her lips, devour her flesh, and indulge in her body in every way. If this was the only way possible, what should it matter? She would never know. His charmed mask and voice-distorting spell would hide his identity.

Severus sighed. Something such as paying a man for services was likely beneath a woman such as herself. He would chalk this up to another fantasy. Hermione could have nearly any man she wanted. It was likely that Potter and Weasley would quickly take up any offer she would make given the chance. Glaring at his class, he pocketed the letter. He would owl it later.

"What are you waiting for? Hand in your assignments!" he barked, enjoying the way most of them jumped before fumbling with their parchments.