What I’d do For You

Many thanks to my betas, Lariope and Lulabelle72. A million hugs to RedSkyAtNight for taking Britpicking. And thanks to Chivalric for her comments.

Snape returned to Hogwarts after eating lunch with Hermione and her cousin--he needed a drink. His head was spinning with the information that he had pulled from Jezzie's mind. He couldn't believe that Hermione had told that fucking Muggle everything. Everything! She knew of the wizarding world as if she were a witch herself. And what really irked him was how Hermione could be so careless as to divulge every secret of magic to this girl!

His head hurt due to the knowledge he had pulled from the girl's mind, but also from being... nice. Not to mention, it cost him severely to behave in such a caring and well-mannered way to the stupid girl. Hermione would expect this behavior more often. He felt positively sick from it. He needed to lie down and process it. He went to a cabinet in his cramped kitchen, pulled a bottle of gin down and poured it into a tumbler before heading for his favorite chair to think.

Hermione sat--no, paced--inside the study of Grimmauld Place as she waited for Harry and Ron to return from Auror training. Her skin itched with intense aggravation. She tapped a foot angrily on the floor, gritting her teeth as she thought about her lunch with Jezzie and Snape. She was fidgety to the point that she nearly screamed. She had to tell the boys that she had just spent the afternoon with the fucking bat of the dungeons. Only they would understand. Jezzie thought it was fun to have him around--she thought he was fucking sweet! How? How could she think that! After everything he has done to me over the years!

"Hermione?"

She screamed. She was so caught up in her anger that she hadn't heard them enter the house.

"All right?"

"NO! Sorry--no, I am not all right! Do you have any idea where I have been today? And with whom? Snape! We had lunch. In Muggle London--we had sandwiches at the Benugo Bar, then went for a walk along the South Bank and even went for a ride on the London Eye! Why, you ask? Because I caught him in my house--in my house--and Jezzie was there, and she just fucking swooned over him! I've never seen that... that man treat another person the way he treated her! It was like he was trying to be a gentleman! And we all know that isn't Snape!" Hermione suddenly stopped and looked frightened. "Oh, my! What if he was under a curse--I didn't even bother to check that! I was just so angry that he was there--"

"Hermione! Calm down! We can barely understand what you are saying--you're talking too fast!" Harry said, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her into a chair.

Ron handed her a glass that smelled strongly of Firewhisky.

She swallowed it in one gulp.

"Impressive--although, that's going to burn... Now, what happened?" Ron asked.

After coughing, Hermione, in a slower and semi-controlled voice, explained the day's unwanted adventure. Harry and Ron reacted just as Hermione expected... and wanted.

Just as she was calming down, the fire sprang to life. Snape stepped through. He dusted off his left shoulder, looked at each of them and said, "Ready, Miss Granger?"

Of course not. "Yes."

She snatched her large bag and stepped inside the Floo next to him. Ron and Harry said they would see her that evening, and then she was lost in the green flames.

She pushed past Snape quickly and started for the door to the dungeon corridor as soon as she stepped out of the large fireplace, but as soon as she set foot in his office, her anger level suddenly shot up.

"Shall I meet you for lunch in the Great Hall?" he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"Sod off!" she snapped, swirling around to face him. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She had never said that to anyone out loud--and in that tone! She had no idea what made her say it now.

His eyebrow slowly raised, and his onyx eyes narrowed to small slits. "Miss Granger," he said in a dangerously low voice.

"I--I'm sorry," she said, then turned and ran out of his office as quickly as her legs could carry her. She took the circular stairs to the main floor two at a time. Her chest was constricted, and a sharp pain was stabbing at her side, but she continued to run toward her private chamber on the seventh floor. By the third floor, she slowed her speed and leaned over one of the banisters to catch her breath.

Why does that man drive me to act like that! That isn't me! I'm never disrespectful like that--even to him!

She finally reached her room. Grabbing a small hand towel from the bathroom, she used it to dry the sweat that had beaded up on her face. Then she plopped down on her small bed and stared into nothingness.

"You need stop letting him get under your skin and just do your research," she scolded herself.

"I agree," said a silky voice from the doorway.

Her heart jumped into her gut, and she sat straight up, nearly screaming from shock.

"How dare--"

"Calm down, you silly girl. I've got some ideas on some objects that will be of interest to you. You left my office before we could discuss them."

"Oh?" she said.

He walked closer to her bed, and suddenly Hermione felt the temperature of her skin rise. Something was all too familiar--like he had once stood at her bedside... doing something to himself... No! That couldn't be possible.

"Yes. There are some items in the Headmaster's office that are not Dumbledore's personal possessions--they have been there since before his appointment. I believe Tom Riddle had access to some of those items when Dumbledore was not in the room. I would suggest looking in there today, as the Headmaster is currently away for the day. Oh, yes--he wanted me to tell you that he will be gone for the rest of the week, and you are to stay here, as promised. I will take you back tonight to get your personal items."

She swung her legs off the bed and walked over to him. Standing directly in front of him and looking him in the eyes, she took a deep breath before saying, "I apologize for my behavior. Again. I'm not sure what's been getting into me."

"You just said that I crawled under your skin."

"Yes," she said, eyes never leaving his.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he smirked as he looked her up and down. "Do I?" he whispered, leaning slightly into her.

She could feel his hot breath dance across her lips. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Yes. You do."

"Indeed."

She was pulled into in his aura--her groin pulsated, and a chill coursed through her, causing her nipples to harden.

Why? Why does this man make her hate him one minute, then with one silky "Indeed" make her lose all coherent thought and want nothing more than for him to... touch her?

She opened her eyes and was staring into his. His hooked nose brushed against the tip of hers. She was lost in his essence. And she wanted to feel those lips across her own and wanted that harsh tongue, which always seemed to verbally slash her apart, inside her mouth.

"Hermione," he said so softly that she was surprised she heard it with her heartbeat pounding madly in her ear.

He brought a hand up to a strand of hair that was dangling in front of her face, twirling it in his finger as he leaned even closer into her...

Suddenly, he hissed in pain, snatched his finger from her hair--pulling the strand, causing her to hiss in pain--and turned away from her.

"I have to go. I'm being summoned. You are to stay here until I return," he snapped, then fled from the room.

Hermione stood there for a few minutes, rooted to the ground. What had just nearly happened? Had they almost kissed each other? Kissed--Snape?

"No, of course not. He bewitched you somehow. That's what it is. He's playing some wicked game!"

Then, a tiny voice echoed through her mind--a voice that told her how much she desired the man and how much she wanted to run her fingernails across his back. She quickly pushed those thoughts away--how dare she think of things like that--and immediately immersed herself in her work. She would find out what happened when he returned.

Hours later, well into the night, Snape returned. How he made it back to the castle without dropping dead, he did not know. In fact, he was positive that if it hadn't been for his secret flying ability--well, not really secret anymore--he would have never made it.

It was days like this that made him want to rid the world of Voldemort and his fucking Death Eaters for good. The summoning was unexpected, but normal business. It was what happened afterward that put him in this position.

Rodolphus and Greyback had ambushed Snape after the meeting. He had been walking alone to the Apparition point outside Malfoy Manor when he felt the magic from behind him but was too slow to react and was Stupefied. Too slow to react? That was a first. And why? Because of her. He had very nearly had her and could not stop thinking about her heaving chest, the smell of her arousal, the way she opened herself for his kiss. Well, he had been able to push those thoughts away as he sat in front of the Dark Lord, but the minute the meeting was finished, all he wanted to do was to get back to her quickly to see if she would want him again. Yes, she had wanted him. Hadn't she? Well, there was only one way to find out. And as he was thinking this, he was attacked from behind.

He couldn't remember much, except that the wolf and the wizard were cross with him because... well, he wasn't too sure as to why. They never had a reasonable explanation. He had tried using wandless magic against them, but he remembered Greyback tackling him to the ground and slicing--oh, yes, that's why his chest was on fire. Had he been bitten as well? No, surely not, just sliced opened for whatever reason. And physically beaten by Rodolphus. And how could he even see out of his eye? It was throbbing!

He made it to the secret entrance that led directly to the dungeon. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of getting his hands on that blue potion that sat on his shelf--that blue potion that would stop all this horrible pain that coursed through his body.

The wards to his room immediately dropped, and the door swung open wide to let him pass. He stumbled over to the shelf, un-corked the phial and let the potion fill his mouth before he swallowed. Then, he slumped to the floor.

He didn't know how long he had been lying there, but by the sounds of that shout that thundered in his head, he knew he didn't look any better. But at least the pain was diminished.

"Professor! What happened? What can I do to help?" He heard her footsteps bellowing across the cold, stone floor.

He had been in this position before, except every other time, it had been Dumbledore's voice that asked that question. And every time he wanted to sneer the hell out of the old man for being ridiculous--it was obvious that he had been beaten. But this time, when he heard her crying out, something inside him fluttered. Before, he had always wanted to be left alone to deal with his pain, but this time was different. She would finally get to see the shit that he had to go through--she would finally get to see the sacrifices he had to make for the Order. And by the tone of her panicked voice, she was genuinely concerned for his well-being. That was something Dumbledore, or Voldemort, had never been.

He felt her warm hand cup his face. He had never known a touch like that, and if he hadn't been so drowsy from the potion, he would have instantly pulled away.

But it was so tender. And her words were so soft. He suddenly felt magic rush through his veins--she must have cast a generic healing charm over his body. Then, he felt something hot touch his lips, and a spicy liquid penetrated his tongue. Pepperup potion.

He opened his eyes and saw her with a horrible look of concern on her face--was that a tear? Was she crying? For him? No one ever did that. But--yes, she was crying.

"Severus--can you hear me? How are you feeling? You're scaring me!"

Severus? Yes. He liked the way that rolled off her tongue.

"I'm better," he finally croaked.

She was on her knees, straddling his limp body, obviously to get close enough to pour the potion down his throat, but the position--the closeness to her warmth teased him, and he felt his member twitch with excitement.

"Here, let me help you up," she said, standing to her knees, leaving his lap--had she felt his cock harden? He hoped so. She offered her hand for him to use as leverage, and he grasped it, pulled his legs inward, and slowly stood up, grunting in pain the entire time.

"Come on, you need to lie down." She guided him toward his room, holding onto him tightly.

"I need a shower first--I feel disgusting," he said softly. His throat was dry, and it strained him to speak.

"Okay," she said and walked toward the bathroom instead.

When he entered the room, he saw his image in the mirror. He was astonished at how horrible he looked, but even more so that she wasn't sickened by the sight--she didn't avert her eyes.

His eye was bruised and swollen over; his lip was split and blood had dried across his mouth. His hair was stringy and clumped in places where the blood had dried it together. His nose--well, it was already crooked so that wasn't too different. And then there was his chest. Five, long and jagged marks were torn right through his chest, starting at his right shoulder and leading down to his left oblique. The front of his black shirt was nearly gone, just bits of cloth were barely holding it together. His wounds were deep, and the blood was still slowly running out of them.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself as he stared at his wounded body in the mirror. Hermione was slightly behind him, off to the side, looking at him through the mirror. She boldly placed her right hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure killing him would give you great pleasure, but there are other ways to cast your revenge that will last longer."

With his good eye, he looked at her through the mirror. And grinned--well, as much as he could without tearing his lip open even more. She was a devious little girl when she wanted to be. And she was right... Killing Greyback would be wonderful, but that pleasure would only be temporary. If he could draw out his pain--torture the fool... Well, that would be brilliant. And the same with that other stupid fuckwit that had the nerve to attack him.

Now, more than ever, he wanted to kiss her. "Yes. You're right."

She removed her hand and turned toward the large bathtub, filling it up with hot water and bubbles. He staggered over to her and sat on the edge of the stone wall that encased the tub. He slowly picked the torn cotton from his chest and attempted to get out of his shirt.

"Just use magic to remove your clothes," she said.

"I would, but my wounds on my chest are too bad; I don't want them to tear open because of the magic. In fact--I need my wand--I think I dropped it--I need to close these injuries."

She reached into her pocket and pulled his black wand out and handed it to him. He cast a spell over his body, nearly singing the incantation. Bright light emitted from the tip of his wand and instantly closed his open wounds. When he was finished, he looked down--there would be horrible scarring, but he might be able to prevent that if he could rub some of his special salve on it. He flicked his wand and Accio'd a container that sat on the counter. He took the lid off the jar, dipped three fingers inside the teal goo and started rubbing it on his chest. It was so cool and refreshing on his body. He closed his eyes and let it soak into his skin. Then, he felt small fingers on his chest, and his eyes shot open. She was massaging the salve onto his wounds.

"Y-you don't need--"

"Yes, I do. Dumbledore told me to look after you while he was gone. Besides--I don't mind; it's the least I can do. Just relax--I'll do it."

He swallowed hard. She wanted to do this? He let her rub the salve into his chest. The running water behind him, the smells of the cinnamon bubbles, and her hand gently rubbing his body relaxed him in a way he had never been. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, nearly falling asleep. Then, her hand left his chest. And found his belt. He opened his eyes again, and she was unbuckling the leather strap.

In a whisper, she said, "Let me help you out of these clothes."

She bent low and started tugging at his boots. When both feet were free of boots and socks, she stood up and turned the water off, then held her hand out to him.

"Stand up. You need to get your trousers off."

This must be a fucking dream. No... I'm dead. This is my afterlife. Oh, god, she's pulling my trousers down. Yes! No--cold water, Madam Pince, lemon drops, a sunny day, cold water, her hand around my dick--fuck!

His cock was standing at attention, tenting his black boxers. She kept her eyes locked with his.

"A-are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked, her voice shaking. Then, she slipped her fingers under the elastic and pulled his boxers over his hips. He knew she was trying to ignore what she was doing by talking.

"From what I remember, I was attacked as I was leaving from a meeting with the Death Eaters. Greyback and Lestrange."

She was below his knees, and he lifted one leg and stepped out of his boxers. Her face was directly in front of his cock, but she was now staring at the ground. Oh, how he loved the way she looked in this position. He wanted to snatch her head and shove his dick into her mouth and fuck it until she gagged. He felt a wetness bubbling up on the tip of his throbbing head. But he controlled himself, turned around and stepped inside the bath.

The water was hot on his legs, but it felt good. He sank to his knees, and then she helped him lay backward onto the side of the tub. Gods, that feels good. The salve protected his wounds, so there was no stinging from the bubbles. He closed his eyes and continued his story. "They didn't say why they attacked me--but I can assure you, when the Dark Lord gets word of this..."

"Shhh... Just let the water relax you. I'm going to go make you some tea and something to eat so that the potions don't upset your stomach. I'll return quickly. Let the water soothe your muscles..."

She was slowly draining his energy with that intoxicating voice. And her touch was worse. He didn't want her to leave! But he was too drowsy to complain, and he did what she asked; he closed his eyes and let the water alleviate the pain in his muscles.

Hermione was fumbling around in the kitchen. Her hands were shaking and tears were collecting in her eyes, threatening to fall at any second. She had Flooed to his room to see if he had returned, and when she had seen him against the wall in a bloody mess--all thoughts left her mind. She was scared--terrified even--but she had to be strong for him. And when she saw the marks across his chest--oh, gods! She knew it was from Greyback--that fucking bastard.

Why? She couldn't help but wonder what made them attack Severus Snape, Voldemort's right-hand man. He's a condescending arse, maybe he said something wrong--no, that's ridiculous. Perhaps they found out that he has been protecting Harry and is for the light--wait, that's even worse than the first idea. He would have been killed, not just desecrated.

Hermione pulled a chair out from the small kitchenette, dropped onto the seat, sat her elbows on the table and placed her head in her hands. No one likes him--not even the Death Eaters. People are cruel to him just because they can be--no wonder he keeps his distance from everyone and is a hateful bastard... I would be too if I were treated with disrespect, if I were constantly picked on--well, for a while I was. Thank goodness for Harry and Ron, or I... I could have been just like him. An outsider--well, more than I already am. He is truly alone. And look what he has been through tonight--will anyone see that besides me, and maybe Dumbledore?

Hermione suddenly looked up, her arms fell limp on the tabletop, her mouth was ajar and her eyes were wide. I treat him like everyone else. I'm just as bad as the boys... Even worse--as Greyback! I forgot he was in the Order when he came to my house to look after me, and I was so hurtful with my words! I may tell others to call him by his proper title, but I called him Snape the other day even though I could see it in his eyes that he hates that--and no fucking wonder! It's so disrespectful! And oh, gods--I'm always quick to blame him for everything! For my N.E.W.T.s--he was just doing his job!

In a matter of seconds, Hermione's opinion of Severus Snape changed. He may be a pillock at times, but that didn't matter anymore--that was just his personality. Here was a man that put up with a lot of shit. A man that, literally, was being used and abused for the sake of others. A man that needed someone to look after him for once. And it was up to her to be that person--to be that woman who supported him--no matter how much he irritated her.

After preparing a sandwich and tea, she darted back to the bathroom to check on him. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing slowly and deeply--he was asleep.

She sat on her knees on the side of the tub, dipped her hand back inside the salve and gently rubbed it into the large bump over his eye. After a few moments, the lump disappeared, and he actually began to look like himself once more. Then, she scooped some water into her hand and poured it over his head, soaking his hair. The water ran from his scalp, reddish-brown from the dried blood. She found a bottle of shampoo and lathered a small amount in her hand and then massaged it into his scalp. He let out a small moan and she froze.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked in a small voice.

"Never."

She flushed and continued washing and rinsing his hair. Then, she stood up, cracked her back from leaning over at such an awkward angle, and retrieved a towel. "I think you need to eat and then get some sleep," she said, holding the towel open so she could wrap him in it as soon as he stepped out of the tub.

He slowly stood up--and oh! There was that... that... Does he always have a hard-on? Hermione quickly turned her eyes; what was she thinking? She wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked it into itself so it would stay. He used another towel to dry his hair and wipe his arms and chest down. His wounds were looking better--still red and fresh, but better...

He followed her into the kitchen, where his tea and sandwich was waiting. She sat down across from him and waited for him to finish eating. It took him three bites to eat the sandwich. She made him two more.

"I need to go home tonight to retrieve some items so that I can stay here for a week while Dumbledore is gone," she said.

He swallowed his food, took a sip of tea and said, "No. Not without me. We will go tomorrow after I have had some rest. You can use whatever you need to of mine, for tonight."

"O-okay."

He finished eating, and she followed him to his bedroom.

Wow.

His room was well-sized, and in the center was a large sleigh bed. The craftsmanship was beautiful; an intricate dragon was carved into the foot of his bed. Above the headboard were two rapiers, crossed in the middle. The duvet was a navy blue, intertwined with silver thread, and large pillows were lined up across the headboard. Candles were floating high above them--much like the Great Hall--casting a warm glow throughout the room.

He crossed to the right side of the bed and pulled back the covers; then, he walked over to a dresser of matching design, removed a white cotton t-shirt from the drawer and handed it to her.

"Here, you can sleep in this for tonight." Then, he slowly walked back over to his bed, removed his towel--what a nice arse!--and climbed into bed. Hermione tucked the shirt under her arm and pulled the sheet over his lower body. Before she could walk away, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

He looked as if he wanted to say something to her--his lip was almost trembling. She peered deeply into his eyes and knew what he wanted to say.

"You're welcome," she said, sparing him from having to say those two words that seemed to escape his tongue.

He slowly released his firm grip from her wrist and let his hand lightly slide down hers, pausing at her fingertips for a split second longer.

Yes, her opinion of this man had changed. She smiled down at him as he closed his eyes. She whispered, "Nox," left his room and headed for the shower. She decided to sleep on the sofa--just in case he needed her during the night.

When Severus woke the next morning, he was surprised to see Hermione asleep in a ball on his sofa. She had stayed through the night. For him. This was not the same girl he had known only a few hours ago. Something in her had changed--her attitude toward him. He had sensed it when she started washing his hair. Perhaps seeing him in such a state made her feel sorry for him--or perhaps she truly did care for him. Either way, the beating he had received had had an awesome effect on his plan to--have her. She had nearly kissed him earlier, of her own accord he might add, and then she had nursed him back to health and watched over him. Plus, she had seen him naked. He had seen her looking at his manhood. He had seen the look of desire flash through her eyes.

He was wearing her down. His plan was working.

"How are you feeling?" she said sleepily, sitting up and facing him.

"Much better. I should be completely healed by this evening."

She pushed her blanket off her body and stood up. "I'll just get dressed then."

He couldn't take his eyes off her. How many times he had dreamed of seeing her in his shirt... How many times he had dreamed of seeing her wake up in the morning, her hair scattered around her head, the freshness in her face... He saw her dark nipples through the white t-shirt, and he was so very glad he hadn't grabbed the black one like he was first going to do.

He didn't move as she walked passed him, the shirt barely covering her round bottom. He watched the swaying of her hips and the jiggle of her arse as she went into the bathroom. As soon as she closed the door, Snape ran from his private chamber and into his private lab, locking and warding the door with a quick flick of his wand.

Wanking off to her was something he was used to by now. But he wanted more. He wanted to spill inside her warm quim and not just his cold hand.