The Hunted

Disclaimer: JKR owns the rights to anything you recognize in this fic. I wish I did, but alas! Life is like a box of Bertie Bott's. Sometimes you get chocolate fudge, sometimes you get earwax.

Credit: Credit goes to my wonderful beta, Tevildo, for cleaning up my horrible punctuation and grammar. Any errors that remain after he is done with a chapter, are solely my own. Feel free to pelt me with cauldron cakes for these.

AN: As promised – chapter 3, beta’ed and uploaded within 24hours. I don’t have much to say except for "Hermione is smarter than she looks". Chapter the next is my favourite of the lot! */wind you up* As with the other chapters, it will be up as soon as you bribe me suffici… er we finish banging it into shape.

She wanted to scream in frustration. What was he doing? The past few months he had ignored her. He was barely friendly with her when they shared a meal, leaving her to do all the talking; as he did when they were patrolling together. When he did speak, he used that mind-blowingly sexy purr of his… it slithered into her ear like a lover’s tongue and settled as an arousing warmth in the pit of her stomach. She groaned as she caressed her clit more urgently.

She didn’t know how he always managed to find her in the dark corridors, but it both scared and thrilled her. She had been admiring the pristine white world outside the window when she had sensed him. Suddenly he had been there behind her, as insubstantial as a ghost, the soft rumbling of the breath which cycled through his chest roaring in her ears.

And then… his warmth… his hands… his breath… She shuddered in release, the remembered sensation of waiting for those lips to descend on her skin undoing her. Her body was still tightly strung, her orgasm doing nothing to dispel her restlessness. Why hadn’t he kissed her? Why…?

As her mind skipped back over the events since she had started working at Hogwarts, her eyes went wide with realization. He was playing with her! Reeling her in like an expert fly-fisherman. Thinking back, he had shown extraordinary patience – habituating her over several months. She sat up in her bed, her face white with shock and rage. What game was he playing? What did he want? Why didn’t he just court her openly? She would have been receptive.

But this…this reeked of the Slytherin mentality. He didn’t want her to love him… he wanted her to beg for him.

‘Two can play at this game, Severus Snape,’ she thought, scowling darkly.

***

He had been rather surprised to find himself next to Pomona at breakfast. Hermione was sitting at the other end of the table, having an animated discussion with Hagrid. Severus scowled. Big, hairy oaf. He quickly composed his face into polite interest, trying his best to ignore Hermione’s laughter.

When he managed to secure a seat next to her at dinner two days later, she had been decidedly cool towards him. She didn’t touch him, and deftly avoided his hands without seeming to. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together slowly as she became embroiled in a conversation with Minerva.

Trying to catch her alone on patrol had also been impossible; she had taken to having long history discussions with Sir Nicholas while she walked. The ghost’s pale glow framed her profile as she strolled past the dark nook into which Severus had ducked. The Gryffindor ghost would not be easily persuaded to leave her alone with him.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening! Her affections seemed to be waning. She was supposed to be using that lovely mouth on him under his desk by now. What the hell had gone wrong? He had been patient. He had been in control. Where was his reward? He snarled into the darkness.

***

The following weeks were hell for his students. He was reported as stomping around his classroom, deducting points and pouncing on the smallest errors. Filch had more detention help than he knew what to do with and the trophy room had never housed shinier awards. Severus hardly ever showed up for meals any more. After an entire term of his diligently gracing almost every meal, this worried Minerva deeply.

“Severus, this cannot go on,” she scolded him. He stood sullenly in front of her desk like a wayward student. He had refused a seat and had ignored her offer of tea. Minerva had tried broaching the subject gently, then diplomatically, and had finally in exasperation resorted to bluntness. “Students are in tears before even reaching your class! Whatever is bothering you had better be resolved and resolved outside your classroom. I will not let the students be terrorized in this manner. Albus may have let you get away with it, but I will not. Have I made myself clear?”

The man in front of her seemed to contract and then expand again, as if Albus’ name had been a prism passing over him, distorting his shape. When he looked up, his face was passive, but his eyes burned. “Yes, Headmistress.”

“And I want to see you at meals,” she added, rifling irritably through some parchments on her desk. “We need to present a united front in the eyes of the students.”

“Yes, Headmistress,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“Oh, go on down to the dungeons to sulk, Severus,” Minerva said, her tone gentle, even affectionate. “You may not believe it, but you are among friends. If you need help, you need only ask.”

He gave her a curt nod and was about to leave the office when she added, “If you cannot resolve your problem yourself, I will be forced to take more drastic steps, Severus… Please do not make it necessary for me to resort to that.”

Minerva sighed as her office door banged shut. She worried about that boy…

***

Severus bristled when he had to take the place next to her at lunch. It had been the only vacant seat left and he dared not go against Minerva’s wishes. He had to stay. He ignored Hermione, not even returning her greeting. The scent of her wafted maddeningly at him throughout the meal; he had to consciously restrain himself from burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply.

His eyes flicked toward her – she had opted to wear her hair up today, leaving that delectable neck of hers invitingly open. Severus clenched his hand into a white-knuckled fist next to his plate as she idly twirled a loose strand around her finger – winding and unwinding… winding and unwinding. A faint flush was evident on her neck and cheek, but she was turned slightly away from him, chatting amiably with Poppy, paying him no heed despite his rudeness.

He simmered slowly through lunch and the rest of the day, his students almost more frightened of the quiet Potions master than the one running amuck. He was thinking, and a thinking Slytherin was a dangerous thing.

Sitting in front of his hearth that night, well on his way to being pleasantly sozzled, Severus came to a decision. Stomping around like an ogre wasn’t doing his plan any good; he had to calm down. He had merely overestimated her attention span. All he had to do was reinforce some of the supports in his plan – it wasn’t a total loss yet.

The swig of cheap firewhisky seared its way down to his belly. He could wait her out… he was, after all, a very patient man.

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