Chapter 4: A Cocky Keeper and A Dizzy Drunkard

Author's Note: At the beginning of Chapter 11 in the American Edition of HBP (pg 217), I imagine all the time being described as about two to three weeks. This chapter and the next take place during that time period. The second half is in the "few weeks" described on page 237. By the way, Wandless in Love belongs solely to fawkes_07, author of "Fair Exchanges", one of my favorite HG/SS stories. Many thanks to the fantastic Soul Bound for all her help on this chapter.

Chapter 4: A Cocky Keeper and A Dizzy Drunkard

I returned to the common room grumpy and frazzled; Snape had assigned me a wickedly boring task and would have little to do with me throughout the night. I had come in to the room, and he assigned my task...de-worming moldy textbooks...without looking at me. But when he caught a glimpse of my eye, his silence was broken by a look of terror. I looked away, and when my gaze returned to his sharply molded features, they were rearranged to give the appearance of collectedness. But I could still hear his quickened heartbeat.

I threw my books down next to the sofa where Harry was sitting. He was fiercely scribbling an essay for Snape, and I glared at him as he scratched his messy hair in a feral manner. When he finally sat up to look at me, I merely sighed and rubbed my temples.

"Where's Ron?" I ventured.

"He went looking for you," Harry responded, "in the library."

"When did he leave?" I hoped I could blame my absence on time.

"A half hour ago," Harry said, looking at me as though where I had been could be read across my cheekbones. "He said if he didn't see you in the library, then he would go to that place on the fourth floor where you read."

"Don't look at me like that, Harry." I sighed; this conversation seemed to have no end in sight.

"Like what?" He tried to defend himself, but he knew he was scrutinizing me for answers.

"I just got back from..." I paused, formulating a story, "...from prefect duties. I was patrolling the halls, and some ridiculous fourth-year Ravenclaws gave me a really hard time for sending them back to their common room. Almost too quick-witted, those Ravenclaws."

"Yeah," he muttered. We sat in silence for a moment while Harry put his essay into his bag.

"There you are!" shouted a voice behind them. I turned to see Ron clambering through the portrait hole; he was panting as though he had been running.

"Here I am," I said, intent to convey that I wished I wasn't.

"I...looked...everywhere." He placed his hand on the back of the sofa directly behind me, and I could feel his breath washing down my back. I sat up straighter, and Harry smirked.

"I'll be going to bed now," he said. "I'll be seeing you, mate." He clapped Ron on the back, and I heard him chuckle as he walked up the stairs.

Ron flopped down on the sofa directly next to me so that we were sharing a section of it. His limp hand was dangerously close to mine. I shifted, a rising nervousness compelling me to edge closer to him. I did so, and my whole rib cage rose in anticipation. But then I made the dire error of inhaling, expecting an entrancing scent, something I recognized from a dream. But instead, I caught a whiff of leather that I often associated with Quidditch, and the moment died right then.

He obviously felt the electricity turn to silly putty, and his face fell slightly as he turned to face me. "'Night, 'Mione."

"Goodnight."

The next morning, the three of us headed down to the Quidditch pitch for tryouts. I watched my feet as we walked, trying desperately to remember what that scent was that I had expected to smell the night before. I looked up when Ron began to strut rather ridiculously, receiving giggles from Lavender Brown. I was disgusted by the exchange and brooded about it and why I felt any sort of jealousy towards Lavender, who stayed up at night reading books like Wandless in Love whilst gossiping about the exact shape of a certain boy's behind...a habit which was most unbecoming in my opinion.

I sat in the stands without speaking to Ronald; he did not deserve my attention. The git, I thought to myself. He'll probably not make the team, and then he'll have a horrible attitude. And while Lavender is determining if his arse is more heart-shaped or square, I'll have to cheer the big baby up. I buried my nose in my Defense textbook as the tryouts commenced. I came to a page about the Confundus curse, and an idea popped into mind.

I went to Professor Snape's room on Saturday evening mostly because I had nothing to do, having finished all of my homework. I wasn't surprised to find the heavy, wooden door shut, so I knocked and awaited a reply. The door swung open, and I saw Snape's retreating back. I stepped cautiously in, half-wishing I had something to grip protectively over my torso.

"Sit," he commanded as he sat at his desk to face me. I sat.

"Do you need any help today, Professor?" I asked tediously. My voice was shaking with a strange nervousness that had just come over me.

He rested his elbows on the table and began to massage his face with his hands. "I wonder if you have ever heard of the potion properties of jasmine, Miss Granger." His voice came much more quietly than usual, and words blended together.

I accepted the tangent. "Well, I wear jasmine oil on my neck..."

"I am well aware of the fact," he mumbled as he continued to rub his face.

"Oh." I could only mutter a single syllable due to shock.

"Do you make life harder on me on purpose, Miss Granger?"

"I don't believe I know what you're talking about, Professor."

"Oh, stop with the Professor bullshit." I gasped at his informality. "My head hurts."

I caught a sour scent wafting from him, and I immediately assumed he had been drinking. He leaned forward onto his desk and let his head rest there. He moaned slightly, and I took that as a sign that he needed my help.

"Upsie daisies, sir," I said as I hoisted him up from his chair, slinging his arm about my shoulders as I dragged him to the door I assumed led to his quarters. Anyone observing this would have had a hearty laugh at seeing my five-foot-five frame supporting a six-foot-tall man. I allowed myself a smile at his vulnerability.

I opened the door to see a dark room with stone walls. A four-poster bed stood in the middle of the room. It was adorned with black velvet curtains and grey, woolen blankets. I sat him down on the bed, and he laid back without protest. I observed the bleak room and observed that it led to another closet-sized room, which contained a washbasin and a bath. I drew him a cold bath and returned to the bed. I sat next to him to find that the usually severe professor was humming to himself. I smirked.

"Let's get you into the bath, Professor."

"I said no more Professor bullshit," he reprimanded.

"Sorry, er...Severus,"

"Help me into this bath."

I instructed him to take off his clothes and climb into the bath and that I would be waiting in his office should he need me. I retreated from the room and returned to his office to find the place strewn with bottles of some sort of beer made out of an Australian fungus, which explained the horrific stench. I placed them all in the trash with my wand.

I sat at his desk and allowed myself to grade some second year papers until I heard the bath start to drain. I returned to the dreary bedroom to find Severus clothed in a nightshirt and some soft pants. He was still quite tipsy, and his speech was slurred as I placed him on his bed, but at least he no longer reeked like a dead animal. I patted his chest in what I thought to be a motherly fashion as I turned to go. I was eager to leave the uncomfortable scene, but the drunkard wouldn't have it.

He caught me by the hand and spun me to face him. With astounding force, he pulled me down to his level, and before I could think, his lips were on mine, easing me into a kiss. Something within me melted, and all logic halted. My knees gave way, and I was locked by the mouth with Severus Snape. He pulled me down to lie upon him on the bed, and the archaic mattress creaked. He wrapped his strong arms around me, and I was intoxicated as well, but he was my beer, perhaps a bit less pungent however.

His tongue intertwined with mine, and a rush of emotions built within me. I reciprocated the kiss passionately; we were both on fire. But when his hand slid up my school shirt, my flaming passion induced cold feet, and I withdrew.

"Severus," I said, sitting up. I was still straddling him, and my heartbeat was throbbing as though a lightning storm was taking place within me. "We have to stop. You're drunk."

"I won't deny it," he said, his hands clasped tightly over my hips, holding me there.

He sat up and stared to trail kisses over where I applied my Jasmine perfume each day. I immediately remembered that Jasmine was an aphrodisiac and I cursed myself for that choice of scent; it was obviously not helping the situation.

"I have to go," I said, but my body screamed that I should stay. I knew that I couldn't live with myself if anything happened, and so I attempted once more to pull away, but he had a firm grip on my hips. I leaned forward to kiss him again to try to loosen his hold on me, and he removed one hand to start unbuttoning my shirt. I moaned deep in my throat and forgot my motivation not to kiss him, but when my Gryffindor tie was lying on the floor with my shirt and my red, lacy bra was exposed, I remembered quite quickly. I jumped up, and the clasp on my skirt broke because he had been working on undoing it.

I ran out of the room and grabbed my jacket off of his chair. I slung it over me and ran to Gryffindor Tower because I knew if I went at any slower a pace, I might just turn back.

Author's Note: Please review! Comments are very much appreciated.