A/N: This is my first fanfic and since I love the pairing of HG/SS, I'll mostly be focusing on that here. I'm thinking of doing a 6 to 7 chapter thing here, but depending on how things go, there might be more or less chapters. Along the line, there may be some mature content, but since I've never written fanfic with mature content, I'll be a little hesitant and make it as subtle as possible.
Disclaimer: Since, these are so needed; I don't own the characters and the setting or anything in reference of JK Rowling's genius I'm not making money, this is for fun!. Obviously, this whole thing comes from the genius of JK Rowling and I am merely twisting it to fit my plot. I don't own anything, alright? Okay!
The gentle caress of one Hermione Granger sounded through the empty halls of Hogwarts, causing a dull echo to vibrate off the walls. Hermione found herself looking side to side, as she took step after step in the dank castle. She didn't know what she'd heard and even if she'd been mistaken, she knew the sound she'd heard was nothing to take lightly.
She shuddered as a sudden low moan reached her ears, which seemed to be coming from the walls. She did a quick 180, but did not dare speak. She was only one person, and a girl for that matter lurking in the darkest nooks and crannies of an aging castle. The sounds led her here, to the Slytherin dungeons, getting louder as she went along. She had no clue as to where or how she'd gotten here so quickly, but she did know just being here was creepy enough.
Just as she was about to turn around and admit defeat, she heard the low moan of pain again. "Hello?" She said hysteria evident in her distant tone. The frizzy mass of hair on her head did nothing to help her see well enough. Each time she moved her head, a curl seemed to block her view. She was surprised she'd made it thus far without being attacked.
Who would want to attack a scrawny little Gryffindor like you?
And of course, she couldn't go against her conscience. She rarely could.
Her wand was held limply in her right hand, while with her left, she held parts of her hair back from her face, waiting and listening for that moan that always seemed to make her scared, not for the person's sake but her own. Beads of sweat dropped from her face and onto the cold, battered floor.
Although her eyes were focused on the ground, she hadn't anticipated a hand shooting out from a door that had been closed just split seconds before.
She jumped back with a start, her heart beating as if it wanted desperately wanted to leave her chest and hop off to some far off land where hearts resided. He held her chest absently as she stumbled backwards, pointing her wand at the still hand peaking outside the now open door.
She took steady steps, muttering 'nox' as she approached. Hermione didn't know who it was, didn't want to know who it was, and although she knew she should send whoever this was off to the Hospital wing, she wasn't in the right mind to do so. For all she knew, this could be someone unwanted in the castle, faking ones death. The thought ran through her mind strong and believable, but she didn't want to act on it. So, instead, she bent down, placing her small hands into a much bigger hand, batter from wear and tear of some sort of labor. She turned the limp, pale hand over.
Once she was convinced nobody was around, she stood, pointing her wand in no place in particular. "Lumos" she spoke briskly and found her self kneeling before a man, long strands of black hair falling to the cold stone.
She wiped at the sweat that continued to form despite the coolness that wafted through the dungeons. Hermione turned her head away from the still body, her head bowed in thoughts. Her head was bowed long enough for something strange to happen:
"Stop! I told you..."
Hermione looked down at her arm as she felt a sudden tightening around it. "Get-get off!" She yelled, tears already starting to form in her eyes. She just wanted to get out of here and knowing this man was okay made it okay for her to feel selfish at this moment. "Get off! You're hurting me!"
Still, his grip tightened around her. He seemed to possess some sort of strength, such a fragile body shouldn't and that confused Hermione. Black, long, greasy hair, pale skin, slim frame could only mean –
"Professor! Professor Snape?"
"Mhm…I told you, I swear I told you bloody ki-kids to…bloody do your work right!"
Gulping, Hermione tried a different approach.
Raising her trembling hands, she brought it down on the side of Snape's face that was visible to her. The reminder of the slap was a simple pat sound that echoed throughout the long hall, but it was very obvious that slapping one of her Professor's was a mistake, even if this was her last year as his student. For one, his attitude was a lot more – demented, as if he was split seconds from returning the same sort of abuse her hand had entailed just minutes before.
Yet, instead of returned abuse, she felt his hand pull further up her arm, until it resting where the button of her robe was. "So muggle of you." He growled into her ear. She shuddered outwardly, trying to push herself away, but his grip on her tightened.
You'd think without a doubt, that Hermione would kick and thrash until her legs and arms came off, but all she could do was sit limp, as the distant smell of booze reached her nose. Her Professor, the one she had underlying respect for, was drunk?
"You-yous must be Gr-Granger." He spoke with a detached, broken tone that would stay etched in her mind when she went to Potions the next morning.
"It doesn't matter who I am, sir! Professor, please, let go!"
Was she concerned for his welfare? Honestly, she wasn't. She just wanted him to get his abnormally long fingers off of her robe. It was most uncomfortable and not very appropriate. She slapped his hand away with such a force, she wasn't sure if it was her hand or Ron's huge bear like hands she'd replicated to be hers for a day.
For a moment Snape looked surprised, in a daze before his head fell right onto her lap. She jumped slightly, pulling his head aside to rest on the cold ground again. She couldn't help but feel a small tingle run through her body, and reminisce of his head on her lap was still vividly etched in her mind.
"Aquamenti" she spoke, her wand pointed above her Professor's head.
"Wha-wha? Bloody hell! What the hell is goi.." Confusion swarmed over his contorted features, but soon after his eyes refocused, they took on a whole new meaning; Anger, then embarrassment, and then anger again.
"Miss Granger…" he spoke in a drawl of a voice, but with obvious effort. It would have been better if he slept it off, she realized.
She stood abruptly, her back pressed up against the wall, as she watched as the minutes seemed to pass, as Snape approached her. He towered over her small, seventeen year old figure, intending to frighten, but he couldn't help but go further than that.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor," His voice was becoming all the more harsh as he continued with his speech. "And Miss Granger, while you're at it, you can report to my classroom at seven sharp for detention."
"Miss Granger…You will speak of this to no one. Do I make myself clear?"
"Sir! I- but, I was only trying to help! I do not deserve a detention. As you might know, I have NEWT's to study for."
"I am well aware of that, Miss Granger, but I did not ask for your help and I am sure, you can study in detention. You needn't worry about noise."
Professor Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he did so. Hermione could not help but step forward in the little space they had, extending a tentative finger to rest on a strand of hair that had escaped onto his face.
Snape swiped at her hand, avoiding a touch that he thought to intimate. "Don't Miss Granger. You are my student, I am your teacher. Keep that in mind."
"But, I- Oh, Professor I wasn't intending…" she choked out. She couldn't believe he was thinking she wanted to – that he would even come up with something so obscene.
"Detention, at seven."
What could she say? No? She knew that Professor Snape wouldn't take no for an answer, so instead, she nodded and backed herself into the corner, hoping he'd turned with his ever present dramatic sweep of his robe.
No such thing happened. Instead, he stepped forward with a feral look on his face. He trapped her, grasping both of her wrists. Hermione squirmed, which did no good for her, or him. She felt that same tingle shoot through her body and his body react.
She stopped, turning her face to the side, her eyes closed. She knew what this entailed and if anything she was sure he'd feigned drunkenness.
"What," She arched into him, a moan slipping from her thin lips. "Sir?!" she said, her voice near hysteria.
"Detention, at seven. Two hours." His breath rank as they neared her ears.
Hermione shuddered against him, sighing into him. She didn't open her eyes until she felt a wind, and his black robe billowing behind him.
See, there's the problem with you 'Mione. You're always helping people, so next time; just leave him there to wither in his own sorrow of drunken memories. Maybe then, you wouldn't feel the way you do right now.
"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" she mumbled angrily under her breath.
How could she let this happen? She closed her eyes once again. She knew she'd tell Harry and Ron eventually, but she couldn't tell them what had transpired while he'd been issuing the detention. No, she hadn't moaned. No, she hadn't let her guard down. No, she hadn't felt vulnerable to his touch. No, no no! And it was soon after she realized one thing -
Detention was her true test.
A/N: Chapter two, is coming up once I get a good nights rest! R&R, please! No flaming please! If you no likey – don't review. I like constructive criticism, but don't be super harsh. R&R, R&R!