Ablution

~ Ablution ~

Suddenly feeling all too eager to leave the bar for someplace perhaps a little warmer and a little more inviting (she hoped), Hermione stepped unthinkingly out into the pouring rain. As quick as a Seeker, Professor Snape reached out and snatched her back into the entryway. She looked up to find him peering down at her disdainfully.

"I suppose an Impervius spell is beyond your capabilities this evening," he spoke through gritted teeth. "Please allow me."

A shiver ran over her entire body as the spell wrapped her in its invisible protection. She watched as he fluidly cast the spell upon himself before they started down the long road toward Hogwarts.

"Wouldn't it be wiser to Apparate, Professor?" Hermione asked, slightly out of breath, desperately trying to keep up with his considerably larger step. At this rate, she would collapse from exhaustion before they even reached the gate.

He stopped rather abruptly with the intention of letting her catch up, only to have her stumble into him. Hermione had to grab fistfuls of his cloak not to fall backwards into a rather enormous puddle, which nearly pulled Professor Snape off balance as well.

"Miss Granger," he growled. "Will you please be more careful? Impervius spell or not, I prefer to remain standing."

"Sorry," she mumbled as she found her footing and let him go.

"To answer your question: I do not feel it is wise to Apparate when one has been drinking," he continued, walking at a slightly slower pace to accommodate her smaller stature. "I have no doubt of my ability to Apparate myself, but to be perfectly honest, I do not feel up to Apparating the both of us."

Well, it made sense; she would most certainly splinch if she tried to Apparate, everything considered. At least he had the decency to slow down so she could keep up.

Suddenly, Hermione felt her heel slip on the pavement. The world began to spin, thanks to the hot toddies coursing through her bloodstream, and time slowed down as she tried to futilely regain her equilibrium. She tried valiantly to save what little dignity she had left, but she knew that was probably a lost cause. Then, rather abruptly, her descent came to a halt, and she found herself enveloped in a cloud of black silk, saved once again.

Gasping for breath, she looked up into the wide eyes of her savior, his face only a few centimeters from her own. He searched her face wordlessly to make sure she was all right, though the few seconds it took for her breathing to slow down felt like an eternity. The sudden attraction she felt in that moment, as he looked down upon her with concern, made her limbs tremble and her heart flutter in her chest.

The bubble of protection against the elements suddenly became very small. Wisps of his hair swung forward and blew in the stormy breeze, and short puffs of warm air dissipated right in front of his slightly parted lips. She could see every fine line in the faint blush of those lips. She wondered what they would feel like upon her own. Would they be as hard as his words were sharp, or would they be uncharacteristically soft just as the rest of him had been that evening? She wanted to touch them, to feel them, if not with her mouth, then with her fingertips.

Her hand was beginning to move of its own accord to satisfy the musings of her brain when an exclamation broke their mutual reverie.

"What the bloody hell?!" The words ascended over the wind and rain. "Let go of her immediately, Snape!"

The voice was familiar. Why shouldn't it be? That voice had only been a part of her life since she was eleven years old. Professor Snape, of course, did the exact opposite of what the voice commanded and pulled her closer, enveloping her safely within his outer cloak.

"And why should I do that, Mister Potter?" Professor Snape asked dryly. "You seem to have no claim on her any longer."

"And how quickly you stick your big nose into affairs that are none of your business," Harry growled in Snape's face. "I suggest you take your sodding claws off her before I give you a first-hand demonstration of exactly how your Dark Lord met his demise. Come on, Hermione. Let's go."

Keeping one eye on Snape, Harry held out his hand, fully expecting Hermione to take it. Instead, she shrank further into Professor Snape's warm embrace, trying to escape Harry's grasp. Professor Snape tightened his hold gently around the girl who was now shaking like a leaf in his arms. She hadn't expected to run into Harry so soon; she hadn't given it much thought but expected to be able to avoid him for at least a week or two, long enough to master her emotions.

"I am going nowhere with you, Harry," she said, her words dripping with anger. "How dare you presume I would go anywhere with you after what you did to me!"

"Don't be silly, Hermione. Where else will you go? Let's go home, and we can have a civilized conversation over a hot cup of tea." He thrust his hand toward her, this time demanding that she take it.

Using the professor for support...her legs felt as though they were about to give out...she braced herself for what she had to say. "I will not go with you, Harry Potter, much less return to a flat that is no longer my own. Professor Snape has offered me a place to stay for a while, and I accepted his most generous offer. He has shown more care and compassion for me tonight than you have in the last five years."

"You most certainly will not stay with Snape! There is only one thing that snake is after, and his intentions are in no way compassionate!" Harry spat.

Her voice quavered. "You have no right to tell me what to do anymore. His intentions are none of your business, and neither are mine. You and I are through, Harry Potter, and you may relay that news to your boyfriend as well. I want nothing to do with either of you ever again!"

Harry stood there for a moment, staring at her with eyes that would have cut her into a million pieces if Professor Snape had not been there to hold her together. His fortitude somehow shored up her waning strength. She glared back defiantly until, without another word, Harry spun on his heel and stalked off in the direction of their...or rather his...flat.

Only when he was out of sight did the weight of the situation overwhelm her. Her body trembled violently and tears gave way to uncontrollable sobs. The man who had saved her from self-destruction and defended her against the boy-who-shattered-her-heart gently picked up the pieces and headed off toward the castle, as she leant her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

~~~o o~~~

It was a long trek down the path toward the castle, and only when the familiar battlements came into view did the sobs finally abate and the tears dry up. Professor Snape wisely decided to use his private entrance to the dungeons in order to avoid any unwanted attention. At this point, Hermione would certainly view any attention as unwanted.

"Can you stand? I need to put you down to remove the wards," he murmured into her ear.

At her silent acquiescence, He set her gently on her feet and let go momentarily to swipe his wand in the necessary pattern. The walk down the dark, stone corridor was a quiet one, though by no means uncomfortable. He directed her with a hand on her back, allowing her the silence she needed to recover.

He didn't begrudge her the decidedly Gryffindor display of emotion. It was healthier than suppressing it, and he knew it would bring about a swifter recovery. Still, it was unsettling to find her staring morosely at her feet when they had finally reached the door to his quarters.

"Miss Granger, if you have changed your mind..."

"No!" she said quickly, startling herself out of her thoughts. "No, I mean, I haven't. It's just I...well, I suppose I'm feeling slightly depressed and...oh, bloody hell, I could really use another drink!" He almost chuckled at the confession as he let down the wards and invited her into his rooms.

Her shyness dissipated as she realized that the sitting room had been transformed into a small library. Books spanned the walls from floor to ceiling. An overstuffed, somewhat worn chair sat in the middle of the room on a Persian carpet. It looked terribly comfortable and so unlike the image she had formed in her mind about Professor Snape.

She was visibly torn between wanting to have that much-needed drink and a nice hot bath or losing herself for hours in a good book and forgetting about everything that had happened. It was fortunate that Professor Snape was there to direct her to the door on the opposite side of the room. She supposed the drink and bath were slightly more necessary at the moment.

His living area was another surprise...a continuation of the rich furnishings, and nearly as distracting as the library. Overlapping carpets of muted earthen hues covered the stone floors. The sofas were luxuriously covered in solid fabrics as a counterpoint to the wild Persian patterns and were definitely chosen with comfort in mind. It had a lived-in feel and, something she hadn't expected from her ex-professor, an inviting atmosphere.

Professor Snape directed her to another door. "The bathroom is right through here. Why don't you run the bath, and I'll go prepare your drink. What would you like? Something sweet? Something strong, perhaps?"

"Surprise me," she answered with a weak smile. She actually had no idea what to ask for, much less what she preferred.

If the rest of his quarters made her feel at home, the bathroom made her feel like she had died and gone to heaven. It was tiled from ceiling to floor with black and white Italian marble, and the bathtub, large enough for three people, was partially sunken with two steps leading up to it from the outside. She ran the bath full of thick, foaming bubbles and played with the different charms to add scent. She finally settled on something that smelled vaguely of nutmeg and cinnamon, scents that she equated with comfort, and stripped quickly, leaving her damp and musty clothes on the floor.

Sinking into the bath and submerging beneath the layer of bubbles that skimmed the surface, she began to feel her body unwind. All in all, it was a surreal end to a surreal day. The circumstances that led her here were unusual enough, but it was almost unbelievable that she was actually taking a bath in Professor Snape's quarters.

When she resurfaced, it was to find the owner of said bath standing before her with a glass of green liquid in his hand.

"Oh! What's this?" Whatever it was, it was pretty. Though leave it to him to choose something green.

"A martini. Specifically, an apple martini. I think you'll like it," he replied, handing the drink to a bubble-coated hand.

Hermione noticed his attention slip for just a moment to the bubbles that most conveniently cloaked her. At first she thought that perhaps she was showing a little too much skin, but a glance downward assured her that she was properly covered. She smirked and took a sip of the luminescent drink.

"This is really good. Thank you." She smiled up at him. Pausing a moment, she decided to be forthright. "Professor, I want to thank you for earlier tonight, for helping me deal with Harry ... for letting me stay here ... for all of this."

"As I've said before, Miss Granger, I have a penchant for damsels in distress." He almost smiled. "However, since you are feeling so kindly disposed, perhaps you would do me one small favor?"

Hermione gulped down the last of her drink before replying. "Anything, Professor. Just name it."

"Very well. It seems that I have only one bathroom, and you are using it. Since I did not have the luxury of using the facilities at the bar, I ask that you close your eyes or look the other way for a moment."

Her florid blush tweaked a corner of his mouth. "Come now. Surely you can afford me one little kindness after all I've done for you."

If she hadn't been nude beneath the bubbles, she would have cut her bath short and given him some privacy. As it was, there was nothing to do but stay put since her dirty clothes...and wand along with it...had mysteriously disappeared, and Professor Snape had not as yet gifted her with a towel. She figured that turning her head while he went about his business would be less embarrassing than giving him a show.

Closing her eyes, she consented. "Very well, Professor, go ahead."

All intentions on showing good faith and keeping her eyes closed were dashed against the stone floor as he chuckled at her discomfort. He forced his features back into a frown, not quite able to attain the usual scowl.

"Ah, ah, ah, Miss Granger," he scolded. "Peeking is not very Gryffindor."

Her eyes snapped shut, and she placed her hands over eyes for good measure. This time she remembered to keep them closed, even as quiet laughter echoed from across the room.

She supposed embarrassment at such a thing was rather silly, though she had never been in the vicinity of a man while he was relieving himself. Harry was probably more self-conscious than most; he was intensely private and never allowed her inside the bathroom while he was using it. However, he had no compunction whatsoever about walking in on her while she sat on the toilet. She had tried to argue that it was a double standard, but talking to Harry was like talking to a wall sometimes...well, most of the time.

Still, it was oddly silent. She expected to hear the evidence of his...was it four or five?...Firewhiskys by now. Slyly peeking through two fingers, she found him unbuttoning the last two buttons on his trousers. She had to bite her tongue so as not to give away her indiscretion by exclaiming, "You even have buttons on your trousers?!" The exclamation died in her throat, however, as he came fully into view.

Whatever it was that she had been expecting, it wasn't the obvious lack of undergarments, though that was rather surprising. It wasn't even the never-before-witnessed action of a man taking himself in hand and relieving himself. What drew her attention to the exclusion of all else was the size of the organ that lay in his palm. Whatever she may have surmised about Professor Snape in the past, it had nothing to do with the overly-generous size of his penis.

Her nipples tightened beneath the bubbles. One complaint she had always had about Harry's prowess was that it never felt as though he fit her quite right. When she was with him, she ached to feel more, to feel him stretching her. She ached to feel full. She throbbed deep down at the thought of Severus Snape filling her ... He certainly looked as though he could.

Her thoughts were suddenly banished as her hands were pulled away from her eyes. Thank the gods he hadn't noticed she had been peeking again! She looked up to see Professor Snape's amused smirk.

"I said you may open your eyes now, Miss Granger. I hope you haven't fallen asleep; I have a whole shaker full of apple martini that would go to waste."

Carefully, she rearranged herself beneath the bubbles. "Another drink would be lovely, thanks."

She felt herself flushing. It had suddenly become dreadfully warm, and she knew it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. What she didn't quite understand was how she could feel like this so soon after Harry's betrayal. The thought nearly drowned the warm feelings with a fresh bout of tears; that is, until Professor Snape returned holding another apple martini in one hand and a Firewhisky in the other. She reached out eagerly to take her drink.

The warmth in his voice made her forget Harry for the moment. "You have sophisticated taste for one who doesn't drink. Every so often I enjoy an apple martini; the blending of the sweet with the sour can be quite pleasant."

His voice soothed her still-fragile nerves, and she took a healthy swallow, paying attention to the sourness of the drink that was still quite noticeable even though tempered by the puckering sweetness. She smiled up at him as he situated himself on the steps of the tub, the stark white bubbles threatening the blackness of his robes.

"I agree, Professor. It is quite enjoyable."

"I think, taking the circumstances into consideration, that we are beyond formalities. Wouldn't you agree?" he asked, leaving no room for disagreement.

"It does make sense, sir...that is, I mean..."

"Severus." His name sounded like a hiss as he leaned toward her ever so slightly. "Don't be shy, Hermione. I would love to hear you say my name."

His closeness made her cheeks redden yet again. Why was she getting all flustered? Could it be that the only barrier between her and Professor Snape...er, Severus...at the moment was a thin sheen of bubbles? She drowned the thought with the last of her second martini.

"Perhaps I should wait before refreshing your drink." He noted her flushed skin as he casually sipped his Firewhisky. "In the meantime, why don't you tell me why it is you choose not to drink...under ordinary circumstances, that is."

Hermione looked away. She really had to get control over herself; every thought of Harry brought her close to tears. For some reason, she no longer wished to subject Prof...Severus to any more of her sniveling. She didn't want to become tiresome.

"Harry didn't like it when I drank. He said it made me act silly, and he didn't want other people seeing me lose control."

Severus's expression hardened almost imperceptibly, though Hermione most certainly noticed; she had become an expert in deciphering his various expressions by her seventh year. Out of habit, she opened her mouth to defend her reasoning for accepting such a stringent request.

Raising a palm to ward off her useless excuses, he asked, "And what else did your Mister Potter protect you from? In all your years since leaving Hogwarts, exactly what have you experienced of life? As I remember, you used to be so fond of learning and exploring the unknown."

Hermione looked down into the thinning spread of foam, realizing the water was becoming tepid. She could broach no argument. Harry had held onto her after the war, and Hermione had made the sacrifices necessary to support him. Looking back on it now, knowing what she knew now, she would have made different choices. But she was no Seer; she couldn't tell the future. Young people made mistakes all the time. Her parents had tried to warn her, but she had shunned their advice, convinced that they could not possibly understand; after all, Harry was unique. True, he did not like her to do certain things, but given his upbringing, she couldn't fault him for being insecure.

"Mm. I thought as much," he continued. Her reaction was enough of a response. "As he undoubtedly proved to you tonight, Mister Potter has never thought of your well-being. He has only been concerned with his own. Am I correct?"

He was correct, she sadly admitted to herself, but to actually voice the fact was another thing. Harry had stifled her. She did not have the career she would have chosen because of Harry. She was horribly anti-social because Harry had kept her isolated from what friends she used to have, and being isolated did not really lend itself to making new friends. But worst of all, she had used the excuse of their long-standing friendship to justify staying with a man...very much still a boy in many ways...who discouraged experimenting in the bedroom, made her feel inferior physically to other women, and neglected to notice that she actually needed to feel satisfied too.

Hermione looked up into Severus's eyes, thoroughly disgusted with herself, and stated quite honestly, "Yes. You are correct. And now, I believe I shall have another drink."

Solemnly, he poured another glass for her. Her eyes were lit with the sudden understanding of her situation; she would undoubtedly speak about it when she was good and ready. He waited patiently and was not disappointed.

"I missed out on everything; you have no idea," she murmured into the green swirl of her drink before looking up and meeting his eyes. "I wanted to double major in Potions and Transfiguration after graduation, but I had to settle for an apprenticeship in Charms because Harry didn't want to leave the area. He couldn't, he said, because he had already lost so much, that he needed to have some stability in his life to make up for it. I sort of understood what he meant; he had sacrificed so much growing up. I guess I felt sorry for him."

The only pause she took was to drink. The liquid seemed to give her courage to continue, to get it all out in the open. There was no turning back now.

"I have a job I absolutely hate because of him. I have no friends left because of him; I suppose I don't need to tell you I have not made any new ones. My parents even offered to pay my tuition and lodging if only I'd go on to University, but I thought I was doing the right thing. Now I have wasted an opportunity; those are five years of my life I will never get back.... Not to forget, I have degraded myself to being the plaything of a man who couldn't give half a Knut if his woman was satisfied as long as he got what he came for!"

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Oh! Did she just say that in the presence of Professor Snape, dreaded Potions master of Hogwarts? Oh, gods. She certainly had not intended to reveal so much, but once the ball starts rolling, it gains momentum. Strangely, though, the admission had lifted a weight from her heart.

"So, am I to understand that Mister Potter was rather selfish when it came to your ... needs?"

She barely noticed him lean toward her so that he could whisper the last bit into her ear. It shot wisps of pleasure down her neck, sinking beneath the dwindling bubbles.

"It's a pity," he purred, "that in those five long, wasted years, a woman as beautiful as you has not properly been appreciated."

Her next breath was swallowed in the softest yet most passionate kiss she had ever experienced. She didn't move a muscle, afraid it would end, and when he finally did pull back, she discovered that the simple act of breathing had abandoned her. With her mind suddenly infused with lust, she met his smoldering gaze, only to feel the sparks of electricity dance in between them.

~