Promises, Promises

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Lulabelle72. Her fic, An Unreasonable Man, inspired me to continue with this story. I practically begged to use her invention, The Slytherin Grotto, and was delighted that she agreed. She has really encouraged me throughout this fic, making me want to become a better storyteller. If you noticed, I have also named this chapter and used a different summary--this is another influence of LB72, and I am afraid that this story would never have been finished if it weren't for her ingenious creativity. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

The next morning, Hermione sat on the end of one of the long benches in the great hall, hunched over and tapping her pencil across her lips, deep in thought. She needed the use of the Head Table, which was about five feet in width and nearly twenty feet in length, to fully open the map. Even completely unfolded, the map seemed to be a foot wider than the table. What truly amazed Hermione was the fact that when the map was folded, it was no bigger or heavier than her Advanced Transfiguration textbook--although folding and un-folding it was dreadful, and in her spare time, she was going to have to come up with a spell to make it more manageable.

She stared hard at the parchment and was overwhelmed by the size of the castle. She was supposed to find a single item containing the last bit of Voldemort's soul in this? This monstrous labyrinth and its surrounding areas? Impossible! But, yet... perhaps not.

Something had caught her attention.

She pulled a magnifying glass out of her pocket; straining her eyes to read the minuscule writing on the map had given her too many headaches. She put the glass over one of the fold-outs, near the dungeons. Yes, she thought she had seen those two words: Salazar Slytherin. But what was this? Salazar Slytherin's Grotto? A grotto?

Oh, how she loved her magical map. She carefully re-folded the map, making sure she kept this new room visible so she could find her way down to it, and then tucked her magnifying glass into her pocket, snatched her notebook and pen, and took off running toward the dungeons.

In her excitement, she missed a step and stumbled down the circular steps, bumping her head, scraping her arms, and shouting the entire time. She landed with a hard thud at the bottom of the stairs. Her heart was racing, and pain washed through her body. With a loud groan, she rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself onto her knees. After checking for broken bones, she looked around the dark dungeon. Her map was sprawled across the cold ground, her notebook was flipped over, pages bent, and the magnifying glass--well, she could no longer feel its weight in her pocket. It was surely broken.

She rolled her neck to loosen the tightness, put her left foot flat on the ground, and slowly pushed herself into a standing position. She pulled her wand from her hidden pocket and Accio'd her belongings to her outstretched hand.

"Damn it!" she yelled as she fumbled with her map, desperately looking for the Grotto. It had nearly escaped her notice the first time, when the map had been neatly spread on the Head Table. Now, with the enormous map once again disheveled, she had no idea where to look.

"Fine! I'll just search these damnable dungeons without the help of a map," she yelled as she attempted to re-fold the map to a decent carrying size. It took her nearly twenty exasperating minutes. She became so frustrated that she pulled her wand out, waving it fiercely over the parchment. She suddenly remembered a charm that Molly used when folding laundry--it took her several tries, but the map was finally able to be folded with a few swish and flicks.

She stomped off toward the dungeons, only slowing near Snape's office to wonder if he was in there... If she had managed to heal his wounds well enough... If he was all right.

Putting aside thoughts of Snape for the moment, she continued on and chose a path that led to the left--a path that she had never been down before. Worried that the deep dungeons were indeed going to be like a labyrinth, she used her wand and marked the first knight with a red star so she could find her way back--just in case.

She didn't know how long she had walked or how many doors she had opened with a simple Alohomora, only to find empty classrooms and broom cupboards--but she finally hit a dead end. A dead end with a locked door, a locked door that just wouldn't budge, no matter how many charms and enchantments she placed upon it. Yes, this was it. This had to be the entrance to the Grotto. And since it was from the time of Salazar Slytherin, she supposed that being fluent in parselmouth was the only way to unlock it. Or perhaps the Head of Slytherin House could open it. Snape. Yes, Snape should be able to open this!

She quickly retraced her steps--the red stars had come in handy--and headed back to his office, where she proceeded to pound his door in her excitement, shouting for him to open up.

The large, heavy door slowly creaked opened. A whiff of his scent leaked out and tickled her nose--crushed herbs, thyme perhaps, and a small hint of leather, most likely from his belt and boots. The burning glare of his eyes made her heart stop for just a moment.

"The next time you bang on my door like a banshee, Miss Granger, you will find yourself--"

"I don't care! I've found something--something of importance!"

He stood there, his face suddenly blank, waiting for her to continue.

"Do you know of Salazar Slytherin's Grotto?"

A wicked, crooked grin broke across his cold features.

"Yes," he said at length.

She huffed. "Well? Tell me about it. How can I get inside there?"

He swung open the door to his office and welcomed her inside. She went to sit at the wooden chair in front of his desk, but he stopped her.

"Come inside my private quarters. We will be more comfortable there."

Surprised at his invitation, she nonetheless followed him through another heavy door. On the other side was a small sitting room. Two oversized chairs with fluffy cushions faced each other, flanking either side of the fireplace. A sofa sat opposite the fireplace. In front of it was a small table with piles of books, parchment and ink wells. As she stepped further into the room, she noticed the small kitchen table to the right--she remembered sitting there with him before they'd left to retrieve her belongings. His words had been stern when he'd told her not to speak to anyone about his attack.

He sat in one of the oversized chairs and gestured for her to sit in the other. As she sank into one of the large chairs, its cushions enveloping her in softness, she forgot for a moment why she was in here--all she could think about was curling up in this incredibly soft chair with a blanket, some tea, and one of his books. That would be heaven.

She snapped back into reality when she realized that he was holding a glass in front of her face. The aroma of wine swirled around her nostrils.

"Oh, thank you," she said, taking the glass of wine from him. For a split second, she wondered if he had poisoned it--but no, she trusted him completely, especially after that night. She took a small sip and let the red wine roll around her tongue before she swallowed it. Normally, she wasn't a wine drinker, but this--this succulent, velvety wine--was intoxicating. She took another sip, and he sat down in the chair across from her, watching her avidly.

"So, you found the Grotto. How?"

She didn't want to tell him of the map. But of course, look who she was talking with--Mister Legilimens. He would know if she lied. So, she supposed the truth would be best. She explained the map and how she had been searching the dungeons for hours.

Talking as fast as she did made her thirsty. She sipped more wine. She didn't realize that it was such a long tale until she watched him stand from his seat, go to the small bar that was tucked into a corner, and pour her another glass of wine.

"Why didn't you just ask me about it when you initially found it on your map?" he asked as he handed her the glass.

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She averted her eyes and took another sip.

"Ah. Because working with me is your last resort? Yes?" he said.

"I just need to get in there," she said quietly.

He looked over at the clock that was sitting on the mantel. Then, he looked back at her with that crooked smile and said, "Very well."

Suddenly, Hermione felt uneasy. But she had no time think about that, as he was on his feet and moving swiftly through the oak door, back through his office, and she had to catch up with him.

She felt like a puppy trying to keep up with its owner. His long strides down the dark hallways were no match for her, and she was nearly jogging to keep up with him.

"Can you please slow down?" she exclaimed.

He ignored her!

Finally, after many twists and turns and without marking any knights with stars, they reached the door at the end of the corridor.

He held his wand out, tapped once, and the iron handle became a black snake that flowed through its own keyhole.

He pushed open the door. A cold draft swallowed her body, and she wished she was wearing more than just jeans and a blue cotton, blouse. He continued onward down a steep incline, and she followed, keeping close to his body--for warmth. Hermione tripped as soon as the stone floor changed to hard-packed dirt and stones; she hadn't expected this. She fell against his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting her weight fall to her hanging feet. He barely stumbled, even with her dangling from his neck, and came to a dead stop. She berated herself for being so clumsy and loosened her death grip on him, dropping to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I tripped," she said in a tiny voice.

He looked over his left shoulder, his hair covering most of his face, and his hooked nose dominating his profile. The blue-green flames that glowed from the mouths of the black torches of upright snakes flickered off the black eye that was looking at her.

"You seem to be doing that quite a bit today," he said in an icy voice.

Oh, god! H--how the hell did he know that!

Before she could say anything, he continued walking down the steep, narrow and winding path. She followed, and this time, she stayed back a few steps.

Then, they were in a rounded room with rock walls and irregularly cut holes. She peeked into one of the holes and saw the deep green glow of water. They were under the lake. She thought she saw something heavy pass by the window and stir the water, but it happened so quickly, that she really wasn't sure.

"Well? You're here," he said.

He was standing near the rocky wall--or was he leaning? She blinked her heavy eyes and stepped away from the window. Even though it was beyond cold, she was warm. So much, in fact, that she could feel sweat beading up on her forehead.

"T-thank you for bringing me down here. Now, please explain this place to me."

"It was Salazar Slytherin's invention. He wanted a private domain."

She tried concentrating on his words, but she was just so warm. "C-can I get back in here to do some searching later on? Suddenly, I am not feeling so well."

She briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she felt like she was teetering on a boat in the middle of choppy water. And he was behind her. So close, in fact, that she could feel his body pressing into her back. He leaned over her and, in that damnable voice, whispered, "Miss Granger."

She leaned her head back onto his chest and sighed heavily. "Yes, Professor," she said in a dreamy voice.

"You cannot come back in here unless you are accompanied by a Slytherin. What is it that you think might be hidden in here?" His hand softly stroked her hip as he spoke.

"H-hidden Horcrux," she said as she took in deep breaths and closed her eyes.

"It's not here. I've already checked. This has become a hangout for mischievous students who like to experiment with sex and mind-altering herbs," he said, running his thumb nail back and forth over her right breast before cupping its weight and squeezing gently.

She opened her eyes. What was he doing? The room was nearly spinning. And there was a deep pull between her legs, an ache of desire. "S-sex?" she stuttered.

She felt his hand leave her chest. It slowly ran down the front of her jeans, tugged at her zipper, and slipped into her knickers. She felt a cold finger slide into her before stroking back up to press against her clit--and oh, god, did that feel good.

"Hermione?" he said softly in her ear.

Faster and faster, he circled her most sensitive area.

"Yes?" she whispered ever so softly.

"I need you."

She could feel her orgasm building, and she leaned back into his body. He wrapped his free arm around her and held her against him. She desperately wanted to spread her legs wider, but standing like this, in jeans, made it difficult.

"You need me?" she asked, then moaned.

"Yes. I need you to promise me something. Can you do that?"

What was wrong with her? A part of her wanted to run away--Professor Snape was touching her! Her world was dizzy--had she drunk too much wine? But his fingers, his voice... they were consuming her, and all rational thought was gone.

"Any--oh god, yes. Anything!"

"Promise that I will be the only man that you will ever want and will ever be with. Promise me!"

She was groaning and breathing so heavily by now, that she was surprised that she was able to answer at all. "YES! I promise! You're mine, and I'm yours! Yes, yes! Oh, gods!" The muscles in her legs spasmed, and she went weak, but he held onto her tightly. Her heart was beating out of her chest--was that her groaning that loud?

Then, everything went black.

Snape pressed his hard cock against her limp body and ran his middle finger though her folds and into her warm, wet quim. He could still feel her walls convulsing from her orgasm. Pushing his finger deeper inside her, he clutched her to him as he expelled inside his trousers. "Oh, fuck, yes!" he shouted and heard his own voice echo off the ridged walls of the Grotto. Pleasuring her had turned him on more than he'd thought possible, triggering this quick orgasm. He had brought her into the Grotto for only one reason, but who was he to complain? This was a special treat, an addition to the plan that he had quickly devised back in his room when she'd begged him--yes, she'd begged him--to take her to his House's best kept secret.

The excitement and orgasm brought him to his knees, with the girl still leaning into his body, passed out. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent. "Hermione," he said in a quiet voice. He knew she was unconscious and therefore couldn't scream at him, but for a moment--a brief moment--it was like she had willingly given herself to him, and that was more thrilling than having to force her. And she had nearly kissed him before he had been unexpectedly summoned. He smelled her desire the second before his Mark started searing into his arm. And what about afterward? He had returned home, beaten and exhausted, and she had helped heal him. He thought he had seen a deep yearning in her eyes at seeing his naked body. Hadn't he? He couldn't be sure, he was never sure with Hermione. And that is why, when she came to him only an hour ago, he had done what he had done.

He had drugged her.

He had slipped two potions into her wine while she was busy making herself comfortable on his favorite chair. The first was a sleeping potion. As soon as the victim drank it, they had thirty-five minutes before they fell into a death-like sleep. The effects were dizziness before passing out, and she would most likely not remember this night. The second potion was a mild aphrodisiac. The fruity flavour of it masked the saltiness of the sleeping potion.

He had expected her to put up more of a fight when he started touching her. Again, she had surprised him. Did she want me to touch her? No. She would never want that.

Nobody wants you.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and laid her onto the cold ground before rising to his feet. He pulled his wand from his pocket and cast a Disillusionment Charm over the both of them. Then, he leaned over her body, put one arm under her back and his other behind her knees, and scooped her up into his arms. He carried her back to his private room, where he was going to tuck her into his bed and let her have a good night's rest.

After all--she did just promise herself to him. It was the least he could do.

A/N: Tons of hugs for Lariope for betaing this chapter--she's always there for me, going above and beyond the call of beta duty. Many thanks for RedSkyAtNight for her Brit-picking--you're a doll. Thanks for the support as well, Chivalric.

Up Next: Snape is no Lockhart.