Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"You are fifteen minutes early, Miss Granger," Snape commented, not looking up from the essay he was grading. A 'T' in red ink blotted the parchment as it slashed through the abysmal work.

She was leaning against the doorframe, rucksack haphazardly shouldered, teetering on the invisible line between the corridor and his classroom. Lower lip secured between her teeth.

"Either come in, or come back at noon, Miss Granger, but please do not darken my door with your indecision." Still not looking up from his paperwork, he moved on to the next essay.

She hadn't moved. Teeth released her abused lip, red and slightly swollen from their assault.

He was in shirtsleeves, shoulders hunched and head bent low; fine black strands of hair slick from standing over cauldrons spilled forward brushing the edges of essays as he furiously scribbled down corrections.

Hazel eyes, greedy with the initial stirrings of lust, drank in the sight of him. She bit down hard on her tongue, piercing the flesh as warm, thick, coppery blood flowed, combining with saliva. She swallowed the metallic mixture, tamping down her wayward hormones for the moment. Hermione's desire peaked while on her menstrual flow. She tended to isolate herself during that week of the month and would even forge through the pain of her curse and pleasure herself to lessen her sexual craving.

"In a bit of a snit are we, Professor?" With an eyebrow cocked, she sauntered into the room, closing the door behind her.

Snape cast a Silencing Charm, ensuring they would not be overheard.

"Your ability to state the obvious is astounding, Miss Granger."

Lips pursed in a pout, she moved to stand in front of his desk, rucksack still draped over her shoulder as she heaved it back into place.

"Petulance does not become you."

"That would be the pot calling the kettle black, sir."

"I am not ill-tempered, merely dour."

He straightened the piles of parchment on his desk, methodically organizing them by name, class, and House.

"Sarcasm: the poor man's wit."

"Misdirection. Really, I would expect more from you, Miss Granger, but, then again, Gryffindors lack the finesse for wordplay." A ghost of a smirk graced his lips as he finally acknowledged her physical presence, his eyes meeting her face, giving her his undivided attention.

"Your face..." Concern colored her voice as she motioned to the welted, red scratch raised on his cheek.

His hand reached to his cheek, tracing the line marring his face. "It is nothing. I had forgotten it was even there." The subject was closed.

She nodded, itching to sooth the mark with her fingers.

"So..." She set her bag down and rolled her shoulder, working out the kink that had developed. "Should I continue cataloging your stores?"

"Please, have a seat." He gestured to the student workbench adjacent to his desk.

"Professor?" Worry crept into her voice; their light banter forgotten at his sudden formality, she was unnerved. Hermione moved to take her seat. Apprehension settled at the pit of her stomach.

"Dolores Umbridge and Yaxley will be on grounds next week registering Muggle-borns as part of the pureblood mandates the Ministry has set into place under the guise of protecting those in our society who are more apt to experience discrimination."

Hermione gasped, shocked; she had assumed Hogwarts would be the last place that toad would step foot in after last year's incident with the centaurs.

"It is imperative that you remain with your cohorts, Potter and Weasley, at all times. If possible, stay close to Gryffindor Tower."

She nodded, dazed.

Severus moved from behind his desk to stand in front her, palms splayed on the small table, nails digging into the wood.

"I cannot protect you, Hermione." Anguish etched his features, the lines of his face embedding themselves deeper into the grove between his eyes and around his mouth.

"I would never ask..."

"You wouldn't have to," he cut her off. A swell of ferocity darkened his eyes, making the irises and pupils indistinguishable.

Hermione launched herself at him, knocking the bench to the floor with a noisy clatter and shoving the table away.

He couldn't breathe. Surprise choked him as did the arms tightening around his neck. Her small frame, crawling up his rigid body, lips seeking purchase his own.

Severus struggled to disentangle himself. Hands reaching behind head, he pried her arms from him, pushing her away from him. Her wrists locked in his unyielding hold, keeping her at arm's length.

"Please..." She sniffled, her emotions overwhelming her reason. The pinpricks of pain as the curse sparked only made her want to claw at him, to lose herself in the clinch of physical contact to overcome her bondage.

"Calm yourself!" The whisper was harsh as he jerked her to him, standing toe to toe. "I will not enable you to harm yourself." His tone was calmer now, soothing.

"Feel... I want to feel..." The look of abject hopelessness in her eyes seared his soul.

"You will, but not like this... Not like this." He let go of her, but remained as close to Hermione without aggravating the Fealty. She would do well to control her impulsiveness.

She sucked in air. Tears mingled with snot. The slimy ropes of excrement dribbled down her chin; she hastily wiped it away with the sleeve of her jumper.

"I want..." She turned away from him. What she wanted he was unable to give and she to receive.

Defeat deflated her tense stance. "What am I to do?"

Silence permeated the room.

He could not answer; it was not his place.

"I harbor tender feelings for you." Her back was still to him.

"Yes." He acknowledged her admission.

"Have you nothing more to say on the matter?"

"My silence is not a reflection of my feelings, Miss Granger."

She turned sharply, mouth parted, hazel eyes searching his face.

"Please do not read more into my statement than what was said."

Hermione's brow furrowed, her anger steadily simmering.

"Must you speak in riddles? Give me a straight answer for once." Her voice rose, hands planting themselves on her hips.

"In case you hadn't noticed," he took a menacing step towards her, "my ambiguity on certain matters is the only reason, I repeat, the only reason, Potter still breathes and you live to see another day."

He crowded her personal space. "Do not ask things of me I cannot give." Each word clipped and to the point.

"Coward," she spat.

He reared back as if slapped; nails embedded into his palms, his restraint a frayed tether.

"Leave. Now."

She stood rooted to the spot, her fallacy weighing down on her. "I..."

"Now!" he roared.

Hermione paled. Fear numbed her limbs. She couldn't move.

She flinched when he moved in on her again. He crushed the juncture of her arm and elbow in a merciless grip. His fingers spastically dug into her flesh. A yowl of pain tore from her as he flung her in the direction of the door.

Stumbling to regain her balance, she cradled her left arm close to her body. She opened her mouth to form words: trite apologies... anything.

She fled, running, unconcerned where her feet were taking her, following the impulse to run away as fast and far as she could.

The air crackled with electricity and tension, static causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise to attention. A wave of his hand to right the fallen bench saw it exploded into countless, burnt splinters. Severus' magic was surging, dangerous for a wizard whose control was resting on a hair-trigger.

He was not a coward. How dare she mock the sacrifices he made in order to protect her precious Potter, that the last sixteen years he watched over the ungrateful ingrate making sure he scraped by. Did she know or even care that each time he intervened on behalf of her and her duo of dunderheads bought him a round of Crucio from the wands of Death Eaters if he was lucky, the Dark Lord's if he was not.

He paced like a wild animal, cagey and feral.

Hermione's bag lay on the floor, forgotten in their confrontation, his boot caught in the strap.

"Fucking hell!" He caught himself before he could tumble to the ground. Snarling, he kicked the offending leather rucksack away from him.

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The library was her sanctuary, her calm in the maelstrom that was her life. Mindless, she let her feet carry her to the picture window. The skies were gray; rain would be falling soon.

She rested her forehead on the cool glass. A headache blurred her vision, and a dull throb worked its way from her temples to the base of her neck. Eyes closed, she struggled to keep the tears at bay.

Hermione stayed that way for sometime. Clouds had devoured the sun.

Plops of rainwater danced on the window pane. The melodic tap tap plunk eased the tension from her body.

A familiar shadow fell over her.

"I shouldn't have called you a coward."

Severus set her rucksack down by the sill, the sleeve of his teaching robe brushing her denim-clad leg.

"You could have struck me, and I would have accepted it gladly. I had no right to lay a hand upon you." His normally smooth and arousing voice was gone. In its place was a fragile and mournful imitation.

He was on his knees before her, his head falling forward to rest in her lap.

Her heart constricted: her poor, broken man.

"I love you," he breathed.

Pretenses shattered, he cried.

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A/N: To SLU my unyielding gratitude. A heartfelt thank you goes out to all my readers, you guys keep me motivated.