Chapter Twenty Four - Which, If Not Victory, Is Yet Revenge

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JKR and/or Daniel Knauf. I do not profit from writing this story.

Author's Notes: My beta, Melusin, has made this chapter readable for your pleasure.

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Snape detested the idea of surrendering to a coughing fit in the middle of the Great Hall. Unless he was expelling a thunderous reprimand or sneering some insult, Severus Snape never drew attention to himself in the midst of an audience. Holding in his breath, he had fled the moment his throat had constricted.

Once he was behind closed and...thanks to his quick spells...soundproof walls, Severus nearly keeled over. Bracing his palms against his thighs, he hacked and coughed until the last remnants of that blasted pumpkin juice had cleared from his windpipe.

This was as close as he was ever going to get to raucous laughter.

Severus had been waiting all day to witness Black's reaction to learning the whereabouts of Hermione. And Snape had to admit... his sadistic needs had been properly sated. Now all that was left was the inevitable confrontation between Black and himself. Snape certainly felt no need or obligation to explain a damn thing to Black. He just predicted that the mangy mutt would confront him...eventually.

If Snape had remained seated at the High Table, he was certain Black would have demanded answers in the middle of the Great Hall...regardless of the underage audience and without concern for tact or discretion. So, apart from the undignified choking fit Snape sought to suffer alone, he would have exited the Great Hall regardless.

Snape also enjoyed the scheme of forcing the beast to suffer a bit longer and earn their inevitable confrontation. If Black was at his mercy for information about Hermione's condition, Snape was certainly going to make him aware of it.

Hermione had been in his rooms all day, and thanks to Minerva's permission...largely due to her overbearing concern for the Gryffindor's wellbeing...Hermione would stay there until she had completely recuperated.

Which was to be determined by Snape himself.

*** *** ***

"Why do you keep looking around?" Lavender snapped. She spoke low enough in Harry's ear to prevent others from eavesdropping, but it didn't alter the suspicious impatience that grated in her voice.

"No reason," Harry grumbled.

Lavender was chipper in an instant, shooting him a toothy grin. Scooting a bit closer, she softly placed her hand on his thigh.

Harry frowned into his bowl of pudding. Half-heartedly prodding one of his favorite dishes, Harry gave up attempting to eat it. Not unlike the previous meals today, he just didn't possess a proper appetite.

Glancing to his left, he snorted at the sight of Ron shoveling food into his mouth. Despite the worry and anxiety both of them had endured for Hermione, it appeared nothing short of death would prevent Ron from enjoying his meals.

Professor McGonagall had tried to reassure the two of them that Hermione was in good health and would attend classes again very soon. But Harry's nerves wouldn't ease until he heard such reassurances from Hermione's own lips.

"Snape," Harry growled to himself. He stabbed at the mush in his bowl, sending spurts of pudding onto the table's surface.

Harry grudgingly admitted to himself that if Hermione needed to be healed by complicated potions, then she was in the right hands.

But he just didn't like it. It was Snape for Merlin's sake!

Harry was regretting telling Sirius the details. He should have waited until after dinner. But his godfather had been hounding him all day for particulars and wouldn't accept 'later' as a suitable response. Luckily, Professor McGonagall was by Sirius' side in an instant, quickly shooing him out of the Great Hall and to his office to finish the tantrum.

Harry might not have understood the nuances of love and relationships, but he wasn't so thick as to not recognize Sirius'... er... crush. Regardless of their age differences, Harry had been somewhat open to the idea of Hermione and his godfather becoming more...familiar. He would much rather see her with him than dumb-witted gits like Krum and Seamus.

That was before, however.

It had soon become noticeable to Harry that the crush was entirely one-sided. If Sirius wasn't careful, he was not only going to lose any hope of Hermione reciprocating the attraction, but he could even make an enemy of her. And Harry couldn't imagine being forced to choose sides between one of his best friends and his godfather.

Even though Harry wasn't surprised by the reaction Sirius had just had, it deeply unsettled him, nonetheless.

Sirius simply had one of those persistent personalities that refused to take 'no' for an answer. When Sirius didn't get what he wanted...what he felt he rightly deserved...Sirius would not only grow extremely sullen but take whatever action necessary to achieve his desires: like escaping from Azkaban for the sole intention of killing Pettigrew, attacking Ron to get to Pettigrew, and leaving number twelve when Dumbledore had instructed him to stay there no matter what the circumstances.

And we all know what became of that decision. Unless he starts acknowledging his mistakes, history is going to repeat itself.

Harry groaned. He knew it was true, but he didn't want to think such gloomy thoughts about his godfather. Ever since his last conversation with Dumbledore, Harry could swear that the old man had somehow engrained his 'pearls of wisdom' into his head.

Almost like he had been possessed.

But Harry recognized that it wasn't Dumbledore's fault. He couldn't help it: neither of them could. With every day that passed, Dumbledore was weakening more and more. And as the Headmaster steadily lost his magic and wisdom, it was steadily... collecting... in Harry.

And Harry wasn't enjoying one minute of it.

Balancing his chin on his outstretched hand, Harry sourly gazed down the Gryffindor table. Frowning once more at Hermione's empty spot, he questioned Ginny's empty seat as well.

Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her at meals today, either. If she wasn't ill, Harry had hoped that she might have been able to visit Hermione down in the dungeons.

There was absolutely no possibility in the seven levels of hell that Snape would allow Ron or himself into his private rooms.

But perhaps Ginny...

Harry jolted in his seat. He hadn't been paying attention to Lavender's stroking of his leg until she gave his inner thigh a firm squeeze.

"Don't," he snapped, yanking his body away from her hand.

"Then pay attention when I'm talking to you!"

*** *** ***

Sometime before midnight, Severus entered his private rooms with a billowing flourish, heading straight for his bedroom.

His eyebrow arched. Snape was mildly surprised to notice that his bedroom door was closed.

Nonplused, Snape reasoned that these were his rooms, and therefore, there was certainly no need to knock. Quickly entering without salutation, he slammed the door closed behind him and smoothly crossed the carpeted stone.

"Been rummaging through my bookcases, I see," Severus hummed in a monotone voice. He kept his back turned towards Hermione as he hunted for a clean robe in his wardrobe.

Hermione was sitting up in his bed, back perched comfortably against his pillows. Every candle in the room was lit. She had been so utterly engrossed in the large tome balanced on her bent knees that she hadn't glanced up when Snape entered.

"Hmm...?" was the only acknowledgement that she bestowed on him. No one, not even Severus Snape himself, could successfully distract Hermione from her reading.

Well... perhaps Severus Snape.

It wasn't Snape's voice, nor his gruff temperament that had captured Hermione's attention.

A flash of bare, pale skin forced Hermione to mindlessly read the same sentence repeatedly.

Snape had completely undressed with her in the room and had not hesitated in doing so. She didn't want to be caught ogling him, but his wiry muscles and bare arse strained her concentration on the Multi-Species Transfiguration text she had found engaging only moments before.

Elegantly throwing clean robes over his broad shoulders, Snape casually began buttoning the thick fabric as he stalked to stand at the foot of the bed. He didn't truly care if she read his books, but there was no doubt that she had lingered before his numerous bookcases before finally making a decision. The multiple slicing wounds on the surface of her skin might be closed, but it would be days before the internal damage was properly healed. Thinking this, Snape snapped, "What did I tell you this morning about getting out of bed?"

"I was already up," she breathed, attention focused on the book once more. "I suppose I somehow wandered into your office after using the toilet."

Impertinent! "Since I am standing directly in front of you, I would prefer it if you would give me your undivided attention when you are spea...is that my shirt!"

"Yes, it is," Hermione replied sweetly. She licked her finger and turned the page.

Snape did not respond. He continued silently glaring at her, still as a statue, breathing heavily through his nostrils.

It took a moment for Hermione to realize that she had just answered him again without looking up from the book.

She loudly slammed it shut.

"Firstly," Hermione saucily tsked, "I would like to thank you for bathing me after you healed me last night, but it would have also been very kind of you to have given me something to wear."

Hermione had slept most of the day and evening unaware that she had been completely naked. Around the fourth time she had awoken from a delirious dream, she was coherent enough to take in her state and notice that no robe or nightgown had been laid out for her at the foot of the bed. The next logical step was to hunt for something to wear, so she didn't see anything wrong in taking things into her own hands.

Snape crossed his arms, gazing at her indifferently. "The only items of clothing belonging to you were ripped and drenched in blood."

Hermione snorted. "And you couldn't send a house-elf to my room to get me a few things?"

"I am shocked, Miss Granger," Snape responded in mock bewilderment. He splayed a graceful hand across his chest. "I am completely aware of your past efforts against the enslavement of such innocent creatures. I would never force a helpless elf to work...without pay...in your name."

Hermione was now the one silently glaring with her arms crossed. She struggled against the urge to hurl a pillow at him.

Severus shot her a devious smirk and disappeared into the bathroom.

"What did you expect me to do?" Hermione called after him. "Recuperate in your bed bare-arsed for the next few days?"

Snape was silent a moment in thought before his voice echoed against the tiles. "It was an idea..."

*** *** ***

The next day of classes weren't quite as entertaining as that first day back.

Rumors began circulating with unsurprising speed, students pondering the whereabouts of the Head Girl and the circumstances of her attack. Many rightfully assumed she had been kidnapped by Death Eaters owing to her Muggle-born status. But as Snape stalked the corridors, he caught a few alarming words mixed in with the tales, including 'ravished,' 'sadistic entertainment,' and 'disgraced.'

That simply wouldn't do.

Snape had deducted so many points by the end of the day that anyone who dared to breathe as he passed them in the corridor was reprimanded for gaping like a fish. Expectantly, his final class entered the classroom reeking of the trepidation that had always been his favorite environment in which to lecture.

Severus cursed under his breath when he felt the presence of a body pause by his desk. Rubbing his forehead with his hand, he hoped that if he pretended not to notice the little bugger, then he would finally exit the class with the rest of the students.

Knowing what Potter wanted to discuss, Snape didn't have the patience for him at the moment.

When the last of the seventh-year students placed their labeled bottles on the surface of his desk, Snape recognized that Potter was still standing off to the side. The boy...young man's...height annoyed Severus. Even with the added inches of the raised dais his desk was perched on, Potter's eye-line managed to meet his own.

Snape slammed his balled fist down on his desk, sending the boy an irritated glare. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir..."

Snape had to prevent his eyes from bulging in shock. Did the boy actually just apologize and call him 'sir' in the same sentence?

"... but I wanted to see...to ask how Hermione was doing?"

Snape leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. "Hasn't your Head of House been keeping you informed?" he drawled sarcastically.

"She has, sir. But I know Hermione has been taking potions to heal her, and... er... Professor McGonagall isn't a Potions master."

Snape's upper lip curled. "What is it you want to know?" he chided.

"It's been two days... Do you have any idea when Hermione will start attending classes again... sir?"

Snape didn't respond right away, his eyes narrowing once more. The little shit was actually being polite. Not just by using the correct words but by actually sounding like he meant them, which was new. Snape wanted to choke him more than ever. He didn't feel obliged in the least to explain anything to the Gryffindor, but Snape wanted to see how long Potter could keep this up. "Exam day before the hols," Snape said emotionlessly.

Harry scratched the back of his head. Shifting uncertainly, he half-turned to exit before facing Snape again. "Do you know when...if Hermione could receive visitors?"

"Never." The very idea of Potter in his private rooms!

"I wouldn't presume, sir."

Snape eyed him skeptically.

"But Ginny would like to see her... sir."

Snape opened his mouth to sneer a reply but was interrupted when his classroom door suddenly flew open, banging against the opposite wall.

Sirius Black stormed into the room.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Snape groaned under his breath. Now he was in the company of two of his least favorite Gryffindors. He watched Black march towards his desk before asking contemptuously, "Are you lost, Black?"

"Where the hell is she?"

"To whom are you referring?" Snape asked in insincere puzzlement.

"Sirius," Harry hissed, "I don't think this is the time."

"I know you have her chained up somewhere, you sick bastard!" Sirius' face was a deep shade of red, ready to turn almost purple. Hands fisted at his side, he struggled to remain on the opposite side of Severus' desk.

"Sirius!"

"Leave off, Harry!"

"I think we both should leave. You're overreacting." Harry moved to grab him by the arm.

Sirius roughly shook him off.

"She's been living with Snape, Harry! Snape!"

The one goal Harry had hoped to achieve had now been shot to hell because of his godfather. There was no way he was going to persuade Snape to allow Hermione visitors now. Harry shot Sirius a disappointed glare before turning to retrieve his belongings. Hesitating in his path to the door, he turned to confront Sirius once more. "You're acting like a spoiled brat."

Sirius wordlessly glowered at him.

Shaking his head, Harry fled the classroom with a disgusted groan, ensuring that the door was properly closed to drone out Snape and Sirius' inevitable argument.

The corner of Snape's mouth was raised in an amused smirk. He was leaning comfortably in his chair, enjoying the spectacle that had just taken place.

"Where is she?" Sirius spat, taking a threatening step towards the desk.

"Who?" Snape's eyes widened. He casually lowered his chin in his hand.

"I don't have time for your crap, Snape! Where's Hermione?"

"Oh... oh, her." Severus scratched his chin with the tip of his finger, tilting his face to stare at the ceiling. Humming loudly, he took his time, exaggerating his attempt to remember what he'd done with her. "She's asleep," Snape said gruffly. He reached for a stack of parchments and slowly started thumbing through them.

"Where."

Snape was thoroughly enjoying tormenting Black but knew he was about to take this a step too far.

The temptation of that step too far emanated in his muscles. He had waited to see Black like this and knew this confrontation could become twice as entertaining. But Snape's idea of enjoyment tended to lead to duels. Thinking this, Snape vainly attempted to remain silent a few seconds longer, gazing unresponsively at Black through his greasy hair before sending Black a challenging leer.

Sirius lunged forward, slamming his fists on Snape's desk. "WHERE IS SHE, YOU PATHETIC, BUGGERING DEATH EATER!"

Grinning evilly, Severus thrust himself up, matching Black's threatening stance over the surface of his desk. "In... my... bed."

Sirius snarled as if in pain, thrusting his hand into his robes for his wand.

Snape shoved himself away from his desk. The wooden chair flew back and cracked against the wall.

"Expelliarmus!"

As soon as both men had their wands leveled, unspoken hexes dancing on their tongues, a third party cast a seamless spell from the corner of the room. Snape and Sirius both watched, flabbergasted, as their wands flew out of their outstretched hands and landed seamlessly in Hermione's.

All three uncomfortably gazed at each other. Hermione's other hand was still wrapped around the silver handle that led to Snape's rooms.

Sirius was disturbingly aware that the robe tied hastily around Hermione's waist was black and dragged on the stone floor.

"What is going on?" she gasped. She glanced down at the wands clenched in her fist, eyeing them with disbelief. Disbelief that the safety she had depended on down in the dungeons was being breached by the threat of a duel, disbelief that the sharp spell that had quickly ended the confrontation had come from her own mouth. "There was so much screaming." Hermione was aware of the horror-struck muscles pulling in her face, but after the last few days, she just couldn't muster enough energy to mask it.

"My wand, Miss Granger," Snape said coolly. His dispassionate expression reprimanded her own.

Hermione swallowed and hesitantly walked to tuck Snape's wand into his outstretched hand.

Turning towards Sirius, Hermione was aware of Snape's eyes on her, his fierce gaze forcing her to stand her ground. She did not move forward like Sirius expected. Instead, Hermione extended her arm so he would have to walk to her.

"Hermione..." Sirius breathed softly. He couldn't blink as he gazed at her.

Hermione was conscious of him inspecting the scratches and bruises on her face and arms. She tilted her head diagonally towards the floor, forcing her curls to fall against her cheek.

Taking his wand, Sirius' fingers lingered on Hermione's wrist. "You're... all right."

She attempted to smile reassuringly. "Of course I'm all right." Taking a step back, Hermione gasped when the light pressure of his fingers instinctively curled around her wrist.

She froze, heartbeat quickening. Hermione was afraid, but she didn't know why. Snape was right behind her... He would protect her.

But she couldn't see or hear Snape. Unable to gauge Severus' reaction to this, she only imagined his eyes boring into her back, waiting for her next move.

Hermione didn't want to embarrass Sirius, but she didn't think he had a right to act so passionately worried. The last time she had been alone with him, he had held her tight, forcing a kiss on her, while ignoring her flailing against him.

She still hadn't yanked her hand away.

What the hell was wrong with her?

"You know you shouldn't be exerting yourself, Miss Granger," Snape growled, his dangerous voice shattering the silence. "Go and lie down."

"Yes, sir," Hermione whispered.

Sirius tugged her wrist harder.

"No, Hermione. You don't have to stay here! You can go the hospital wing where you'll be in proper hands."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, obviously insulted. "I am in proper hands."

Sirius flinched, his lips pursed sourly.

Blowing out a resigned sigh, Hermione finally yanked her hand out of his. "My wounds were fairly serious ones... which cannot be healed by spells alone. Professor Snape has me on a series of potions that I must take every day. This would be too difficult in the hospital wing; surely you, Harry, and Ron must see that? Plus... given the... circumstances of my... of the incident... I think this arrangement would be best..."

"Circumstances..." Sirius snorted. "You mean like the fact that Snivellus' friends were the ones who nearly killed you?"

"Don't say..."

"Were they all masked?" Sirius hissed at her. "I wouldn't be surprised if he kidnapped you himself."

Hermione took a second too long to deny this. Wetness gathered in her eyes.

"Oh, good God... That's what happened, isn't it?" Sirius made a move to wrap his arms around her, yearning to pull her away from the beast waiting calmly behind her back.

Hermione quickly thrust herself out of his way. She was nearly pressed into Severus. The hem of his robes wrapped around her ankle.

A dexterous hand she knew all too well lightly rested in the hollow of her back.

"No!" Hermione yelled with a new energy. "Of course Professor Snape didn't do this. Without him, I wouldn't even be here. And I don't appreciate you speaking so flippantly about my... experience. Why are you trying to make me feel worse?"

Sirius dumbly gaped at her. "I'm not... I didn't mean..."

"I think that is quite enough excitement for one day, Miss Granger," Snape said quietly, face turned towards her ear.

Hermione silently nodded and turned in the direction of his private rooms.

"Dammit, Hermione!" Sirius yelled. "You don't have to stay here!"

"Your right... I don't have to." Half-way through the conjured door, Hermione tilted her head back, eyeing Sirius harshly. "Don't insult me by spreading lies about Professor Snape. I'm exactly where I want to be, Sirius."

"Professor Black," Snape corrected her with a vicious snarl.

Hermione nodded at Snape with an apologetic smile. "Good day, Professor Black."

When the door slammed shut behind her, Sirius made a move to follow but stopped when the silver handle abruptly vanished. Whirling around, he stared at Snape in appalled disbelief. "What have you done to her?"

Crossing his arms, Snape sneered, "Whatever I wanted."

*** *** ***

Hermione awoke the next day slightly more energized. Tentatively curling her toes against the rough carpet lining the stone floor, she was pleased when the muscles in her calves did not cramp. Taking advantage of her solitude, she convinced herself that she was strong enough to shower without the assistance of Snape's house-elves. Repugnance for brain-washed labor aside, Hermione was a bit disturbed by the elves' bullish eagerness in helping her rise out of bed and... shower. She snorted to herself at the remembrance of the giggling fit they'd instigated as their tiny hands attempted to scrub the soles of her feet.

Slowly padding her way to the bathroom, Hermione released an amused snort and rolled her eyes. Propped up against the foot of Severus' four-poster lay a black, wooden chest, on top of which were piles of pristinely folded laundry.

Her laundry.

She hastily grabbed a few things before heading into the bathroom.

Hermione was thankful that the Potions master's amenities were very similar to the bathroom she had in her Head Girl's rooms. Remembering her first experiences with the intimidating Prefects' bathroom, Hermione didn't have the energy to fumble with unfamiliar taps. She just wanted to get clean as quickly as possible and go back to bed.

She hadn't been up for more than twenty minutes, and her limbs were already starting to feel a bit wobbly. Hermione wondered if the blue gunk Snape has been feeding her every day since her... return... had been taking a toll on her energy.

She groaned when hot water pounded against her back and ribs. The heat felt marvelous on her muscles, but the shower-head's pressure stung her tender scars.

Scars.

Hermione sighed, her body cringing.

Lathering herself more vigorously, the logical part of her mind fought to push these self-conscious thoughts away. Things could be worse...much worse. Appreciating the gift of her ever increasing health, Hermione knew the thin red welts scattered across her ribs would continue to fade.

She just didn't like looking at them.

If Hermione didn't look at them, she wouldn't have to remember the circumstances that had led to their presence on her body.

Unless she was passing the dawdling hours reading, her mind would wander to the events of that night. Hermione could still see his mad eyes in darkness.

Macnair.

Those unblinking, dilated pupils sunken behind a grotesque mask. Even though she couldn't see his ruthless smile, Hermione clearly imagined it when she closed her eyes. The cackle he released in response to her screams with every Slicing Hex he wreaked on her body...

Stop it, Hermione.

Hermione heard the pipes groaning before she realized she had just turned the water off.

Hermione hadn't talked about the Death Eater meeting or her horrid run-in with Voldemort and Macnair, and now it was becoming increasingly evident that she needed to. Her feelings and worries were preying upon her, and if she didn't verbally rationalize all of these confusing thoughts soon, she feared she would succumb to the mental turmoil she had endured back at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Snape hadn't broached the subject yet, but that didn't surprise her. Hermione wanted to talk to him, but she was unsure of how to introduce the subject without putting him on the defensive.

Face smothered in her towel, Hermione groaned loudly, willing herself to stop thinking so much.

She carelessly slipped on a nightgown, desiring nothing more than to lie down and go back to sleep.

Reaching for the door, Hermione stifled a scream when the handle was suddenly yanked out of her hands.

Hermione uneasily gazed up at the intruder but quickly calmed when she realized that it was only Severus.

Of course. Who else would it be?

"Merlin!" she breathed. "You scared the crap out of me."

Hermione continued to vigorously dry her face and hair, so she took no notice of the long pause before he spoke.

"Did I?" he asked silkily.

"Were you waiting long?" Hermione waved her wand to remove the condensation from the mirror and quickly dried the wet spots on the tiled floor. "I must have lost track of time in all the heat..."

Hand braced against the door frame, Hermione stepped to the side to give Snape free access to his bathroom.

But he didn't move.

Snape's billowing robes and tall frame completely blocked the doorway, his hands clutched on either side of the frame. Hermione didn't realize he was intentionally preventing her from leaving the bathroom.

Curiously gazing at him, her stomach clenched when his eyes failed to meet hers.

Breath hitching, she swallowed loudly. Snape was meticulously taking his time devouring her body.

In her abrupt haste to end her shower, Hermione had carelessly slipped a nightgown over her moist shoulders. Feeling his eyes on her, she was unexpectedly aware of the thinness of the material.

A deep flush blossomed on her chest.

Which Severus noticed. Finally dragging his ravenous vision above her neck, he bore into her, expression filled with intent.

Hermione recognized this dangerous look... the look that both terrified her and sent a hungry tingle between her legs. Maybe it was the dilation of his pupils, or maybe it was his tilted chin that forced him to look up through strands of lank hair... but despite how intimate their relationship had become, those eyes never failed to force Hermione to take a tentative step back.

Which was exactly what she did.

Severus followed with a step of his own. He didn't say word... There was no need for him to verbalize his intentions.

Hermione's chest heaved as her breathing increased. Back pressed against the wall opposite the door, Hermione stiffened against it.

Snape did not scold Hermione for her continuous retreat from him. He silently stalked towards her. Savoring the sight she presented once more, the edge of Severus' mouth raised into a smirk. The only sound in the bathroom was that of an erratic drip in the shower and the clink of metal as he steadily unfastened his belt buckle.

Hermione's abdomen throbbed at the sound of the leather whipping loose from his trousers.

Snape stopped advancing on her right before their bodies met. Tilting his head to the side, he elegantly raised a hand to her neck, pushing away the long strands of wet curls that had soaked the fabric covering her breasts. He took his time removing each curl, fingers skimming across her cleavage.

Snape's other hand disappeared between them, deftly unbuttoning his trousers with a quick movement.

Hermione wasn't fearful anymore, but her hesitancy was still strong. She wanted nothing more than to have him press his lips against her, but couldn't find the courage to initiate it.

No sooner had she thought this, Snape had slid a hand up her neck to firmly grasp her jaw. He pulled her face toward him, pressing a knee between her legs.

His knee rose, edging her quivering thighs apart.

Feeling her legs nearly give out from under her, Severus lowered his face, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth.

Everything within them released at once: the fear they had shared in the Forbidden Forest, the uncertainty of either of them leaving the Dark Lord's presence alive... never mind together. Snape's tentativeness regarding her physical safety the past couple of days had placed a physical barrier between them that had morphed into constant sexual tension.

It had been difficult for Severus to have her in his bed and not fuck her good and hard.

Strangely enough, he had taken that frustration out on her by robbing Hermione of her clothes. Snape's irritation always seemed to abate at the knowledge that he wasn't suffering alone.

But there was no stopping him now.

Before either of them had noticed, Hermione was yanked away from the bathroom wall. Hungry hands closing around her bum, Hermione was roughly deposited onto the surface of the counter. She gasped at the cold granite pressed against her skin, instantly conscious of Snape pushing her nightgown up her thighs.

Driving his body between her legs, Snape swallowed her aroused moan. Tongue trailing down her jaw, he had to fight against his impulse to bite into her warm throat.

Snape ground himself between her thighs. Hermione threw her head back, banging the crown of her skull against the mirror. The pain seemed fitting in the midst of their frenzy of arms and tongues.

"... far too long..."

She had been mumbling continuously. Snape finally discerned her exact words.

"... far... far too long."

Yes, Snape thought to himself.

It has been.

Responding to this line of thought, Severus' hands wrapped around her arse, jerking her towards him, and finally thrusting into her.

Hermione gasped loud and sharp. Snape would have been aroused by the sound if her body hadn't frozen against the mirror. Or if her expression had shown a minimal amount of pleasure, instead of the pained furrow of her brow.

Chest heaving, he waited a few seconds longer; her hands hadn't let go from the rough clench against his arms. Pushing back slightly, Snape frowned as he continued gazing at her. He waited for a sign that her pain had subsided.

Hermione finally released a shaky breath. Her body sagged against him.

"Obviously, it hasn't been long enough," he scolded.

"I'm okay," she breathed, attempting to smile.

"That certainly did not look 'okay.'"

Sitting up, Hermione palmed her sides. "My ribs are still a bit tender, that's all. I'm feeling better every day."

"Better is not well. Get into bed."

"No!"

"What..." Severus wasn't able to finish his reprimand. His sneering mouth was suddenly enveloped in warm, humming lips. Severus succumbed to the arousing kiss for a few seconds... until he felt her thighs scoot further off the edge of the counter, forcing him to sink deeper into her wetness.

"Severus..." Hermione softly whined when he pulled away. She pressed her face into his neck, willing him to stop moving.

Gathering her by the waist, he pulled her off the counter much more carefully than the method used to put her there. "I did not spend all of my time, skill, nor my depleting stock of potions ingredients only to kill you myself."

"Don't be so dramatic. You wouldn't have killed me," Hermione pouted.

"Nevertheless... get into bed."

Holding his open trousers with one hand, Snape stormed towards the bathroom door and held it open until she exited.

*** *** ***

It was pitch black in Snape's bedchamber.

Hermione had been staring into the shadows for a good hour, her mind forming odd shapes in the darkness that floated up towards the roof of the canopy.

She didn't know how much more of this 'recuperating' she could take. She had slept all day, which only left her awake and restless at night. Snape wouldn't even allow her to complete her school work yet, and the idea of falling behind was driving Hermione mad. Perhaps if she had the distraction of her classes, her analytical nature wouldn't be feverishly attempting to explain everything that had happened at the... Death Eater... meeting.

Knowing that this was a foolish time to bring the topic up, Hermione was still determined.

Turning over on her side, Hermione eyed the shadowed figure of Snape's lithe body. Pushing herself up on her elbows, Hermione thought better of shaking him awake.

Instead, she leaned into the blackness of his hair splayed across the pillow. "Severus..." she whispered against it.

Severus was a very light sleeper. He immediately, though somewhat groggily, grunted in acknowledgment.

"I...um... can't sleep," Hermione stuttered.

"Remind me to alert the Daily Prophet in the morning," he groaned thickly. Snape readjusted his position, yanking the bedclothes past his chin in an effort to disappear beneath them.

Hermione thrust her leg out with a huff, kicking the covers away.

"Severus we need to talk..."

When Snape still didn't respond, she sighed in frustration. Pushing herself to a sitting position, she hissed, "Severus!"

Snape spoke very low, obviously trying to control his temper. "Do not force me to bind your limbs and Silencio you, Hermi..."

"The Dark Lord has something planned for me, doesn't he?"

"Bloody hell!" Caught off guard, Snape had rolled onto his back, punching his fist into the mattress.

He breathed heavily through his nostrils.

"I need to know what he's commanded of you," Hermione said quietly.

"I think it would be best if we discussed this..."

"No, we are discussing this now."

"Silence!" Snape roared. His body moved like a snake, sitting up with a quick snap.

The severity of this outburst made Hermione physically flinch away from him.

"I still find myself baffled," Snape thundered in the darkness, leaning over her threateningly, "that someone who has never once spoken over a professor in a classroom, especially me, now seems to constantly have trouble holding her tongue. How many times must I demand that you do not interrupt me!"

"Lumos," Hermione shakily whispered.

All of the candles in the bedroom ignited at once. But with the bed-curtains drawn around them, only a fraction of light squeezed through the small openings hidden between the folds of fabric.

Severus face was red. Hermione could clearly see that he was livid but doubted that her interruption was the only reason.

She haughtily crossed her arms. "I am not a mere student any longer, Severus, remember?"

Snape continued to glare at her.

"Listen," Hermione sighed dejectedly, "I apologize for interrupting you, and I promise to resist in making this a continued habit... but don't try to change the subject or dismiss me when I'm speaking to you! I know I guessed the right question to ask... your reaction made that obvious. But I am not going to wait until tomorrow to find out what sinister plan the Dark Lord has you using me for! I'm not stupid. I'm a Mudblood..."

"Don't use that word in my chambers," Snape groaned distastefully. "I hear it enough everywhere else."

Hermione was about to admonish Snape for his interruption, but that comment disheartened her anger.

"I'm a Muggle-born," she stressed loudly, "and there is no possible way the Dark Lord would allow me to leave...unharmed...to return to school with my Death Eater professor!"

"I do believe you have just received your first 'O' of the year from me, Miss Granger," Snape drawled nastily. "What an excellent display of reasoning and deduction."

Hermione was stung.

Gazing at Severus, she steadily shook her head in amazement. "This is my life you're joking about, Severus. Don't you care if I...?" Realizing where she was going with that line of thought, Hermione instantly cut herself off.

"Forget it," she said quietly. Hermione reached for the bedclothes and turned to lie down. "I apologize for needlessly waking you. Goodnight."

Severus sighed loudly. Leaning over her, he curled his fingers around her arm, urging her to face him again.

Hermione tugged her arm out of his grasp.

"Don't be stubborn," he scolded lightly, pulling her more insistently.

Hermione finally laid flat on her back but kept her face pressed against the pillow.

"And do not cry. You should be accustomed to my sharp tongue by now. And, you should certainly know better than to ask me for details of my orders."

"But they're concerning me."

"Partly." Noticing the miserable tone of her voice, Snape relaxed slightly, falling closer to her as he rested on his elbows. Misery he could handle much better than an enraged witch. "But you must trust that I will tell you what you need to know."

Hermione raised her eyebrows expectantly. She was making it very clear that she expected to be told something...now.

"As I am certain you have deducted at this point...due to your dealings with Dumbledore...the Dark Lord also has an... interest... in Black. Mainly Black's mental state. Both he and Dumbledore are prepared to take any necessary precautions to prevent such a mental case from unnecessarily taking his life. And they have also both come to the conclusion that love...lust...and the like, would adequately pull Black from his self-centered petulance."

"I've heard this conversation from the Headmaster already..." Hermione acknowledged carefully. "But... how did the Dark Lord come to that conclusion?"

Snape hesitated before saying, "I convinced him."

"You what!"

"I said what needed to be said... or else you wouldn't be here!"

"I know... I know... It's just... disturbing."

"As anything involving Black naturally is."

"But what other plans are there?"

"Given everything from the moment that we left the Dark Lord depended on you, my main priority has been to prevent your death. Now that that is obviously out of the way, I haven't really entertained much else. But stop asking me questions and don't pester me. That is... if you trust me..."

Hermione smiled, snorting softly. She quickly turned to face him, her arm reaching up to push a strand of hair behind his ear. When Snape closed his eyes at the contact, Hermione leaned up to kiss him on the cold, bony flesh of his cheek. "You know I do," she whispered.

Soft, warm kisses peppered his face. Snape instinctively leaned against her.

When the wetness of her tongue dragged across his throat, he finally pulled away.

"That's enough."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulder blades before he moved too far. "No, please," she begged at just the right tone to make his cock twitch. "Don't pull away... I just want to touch you."

Severus groaned in resignation. He didn't know what was worse: a raging erection pressed into the cold mattress or a warm hip.

Hermione made the decision for him. She scooted under the space separating him from the mattress.

"Just lie down, Severus. Go back to sleep," she breathed in his ear.

Snape finally allowed himself to relax, his body half on top of her. When his chilled face pressed into the warmth of her neck, he growled, "Nox."

---

Author's Notes: The plot is lagging... I know! But it will definitely start picking up again next chapter. On another note, I was very pleased to receive an email from the LJ community The New Library informing me that I have been preliminarily nominated for the first round of The New Library Awards in the following categories: Best Dark!Fic, Best SS/HG Hurt/Comfort, Best SS/HG Drama, Best SS/HG AU, and Best New Author. I cannot explain how humbled and speechless I feel. I thank those of you who nominated this story. I am also using this opportunity to pimp the TNL awards (and shamelessly pimping myself), which is currently open for second-nominations. Many incredible fics are running (which makes this even more intimidating), like Lariope's Second Life, MiaMadwyn's Care of Magical Creatures, Melusin's Professor Snape in the Bedroom with Chocolate Ice Cream, and Mazzy's GeeLicious. The TNL Awards can be found here: http://community.livejournal.com/tnl_awards/2911.html

-As always, I am eternally grateful to my beta, melusin. Without her, this story wouldn't be what it is.

-Chapter title taken from John Milton's Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 105.

-Next up: Why has Ginny been avoiding Harry? Will Snape allow Ginny to visit Hermione? If he does, I wonder what news Ginny has for her... It's the week of the hols, and omniscient Dumbledore believes a bit of Christmas celebrations are just what the Order needs... at Sirius' house.