General Disclaimer: Yeah, like I’m really J. K. Rowling… If you believe that, then you belong in St. Mungo’s, not I. “Get away from me, Gilderoy! If I wanted your damned autograph, I’d ask for it!”
“You don’t want to die a virgin, do you?” Ron asked, pressing wet lips against her neck. His hands were reaching under her white uniform shirt to caress her breasts through her white cotton bra.
Considering the circumstances, she should be thinking of something besides how hard the wall was behind her, shouldn’t she? Hermione only felt uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. She kept waiting for the moment her brain would shut off and her body would take over, but it never came.
Instead, Ron kept grinding against her thigh so hard she wondered if she would be bruised in the morning and one stone kept poking her in the back.
“Ron, stop it!” she squealed as he bit her neck. “What are you? A bloody vampire bat?” She shoved him away and rubbed her neck. With revulsion, she felt her neck wet with his saliva.
“Come on, ‘Mione,” he wheedled, trying to push against her again. “What’s the matter? You know what the Death Eaters will do to you if you’re ever caught? And you and I are high on their hit list because we're close to Harry. Don’t you want your first time with someone you love?”
“Do you mean someone who will use coercion to try to force himself on a woman?” a silky voice asked from the darkness of the hallway. Ron swore under his breath and Hermione felt her disgust at Ron melt into the shame of being caught. And of being caught by all people, Professor Snape.
Hermione shoved Ron further from her, trying to tuck in her blouse and pull down her jumper at the same time. Ron swore under his breath for a second time as Professor Snape entered the third floor alcove.
He stood in the darkness, looking down on them for a moment as if considering his options. “Your cloaking charm on this alcove was… almost efficient. Had I not been patrolling these hallways for years, I might have walked by. It was yours, was it not, Miss Granger?” Snape asked in a low tone.
When she nodded, he snapped out, “Speak aloud, you silly girl. I do not want to hear your head rattle!”
“Yes, Sir,” she muttered, looking down at her scuffed shoes. “It was mine.”
“Much better, Miss Granger,” he replied smoothly, his voice dropping. “Mr. Weasley, for your future reference, rather than trying to frighten a woman into your bed, you might want to impress her instead with your heroics.” At Ron’s blank look, Snape sneered.
“I should have known you lacked the intellectual capabilities to understand that.” Snape stood in front of Ron. “Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley.”
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Snape barked at him, “Leave now or I will make it forty!” he spat out. “And if you were in Slytherin, I would make it fifty for such a clumsy, heavy-handed seduction attempt.”
“Hermione?” Ron questioned as he took a step to the hallway.
“Oh, Miss Granger is staying,” Snape’s voice caressed the dark night. “I have a few words for our… Head Girl.”
The derision forced into those two words caused Hermione’s cheeks to grow hot with embarrassment. Why did I agree to meet Ron tonight? she wondered. Will I lose my apprenticeship? Will I have to give up my Head Girl badge? Surely they can’t expel me? Then she realized, with Professor Snape, expulsion was still a possibility. What would happen then?
“Take this,” he said in a low voice, close enough she could feel his breath on her cheek. A piece of linen was pressed into her hand and she realized it was a handkerchief.
Is he going to make me cry? she speculated.
“Wipe your neck, Miss Granger,” he hissed. “The boy… drooled all over it. Just like he has been drooling over you for weeks.”
“Oh,” she said weakly, having a strange feeling of unreality about this entire scenario. She blotted her nape while waiting for his diatribe to begin.
“Lumos,” he murmured and held it close to her shoulder, before snorting in derision. “And he has called me a vampire bat,” he muttered as he bent down to inspect her neck. “Perhaps someone should inform Mr. Weasley that the presence of teeth marks in a ‘love bite’ are not required.”
He looked up into her eyes and she was suddenly very much aware of him, not as a professor, but as a man. “Unless you… enjoy pain, Miss Granger?” he suggested icily.
“No,” she muttered, feeling more ashamed and closer to tears than before. “I just wanted…” she broke off realizing she, for once, had no words to describe what she wanted. So she stood in embarrassed silence as he stood again to full height.
Reaching into a pocket of his voluminous robes, he withdrew a jar of salve, still managing to keep his wand raised to the level of her shoulder. Holding both the wand and jar in his right hand, he took his left hand and gently brushed her hair away from the nape. His fingers barely brushing the delicate skin, but she felt electricity down to her toes and her breath caught in her throat. Luckily, Professor Snape didn’t seem to catch that reaction.
“This will not hurt,” he informed her as he took the lid off the jar. She held out her hand to hold it for him. It was surely her imagination that his long fingers caressed her hand for a moment as he deposited the lid into her open palm.
“You should consider this, Miss Granger,” he murmured, bending back down, level with her face. “That we are doing our best to keep you safe, so you will not fall into the hands of the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord.” She gasped as the cold gel touched her skin. His fingers rubbed it in lightly.
“Should our endeavors fail,” he continued in his low voice as he placed his fingers back into the jar, slowly coating the pads of his index and middle finger with more balm. “We shall strive to rescue you as quickly as possible.”
She nodded as she nervously bit her lip. “I know… I know that, Sir. I have faith in you.”
The light from his wand was dim, but she thought he gave a small, mocking smile as he paused. “You do not believe I am working for my own ends then?” he questioned, silkily.
“No, Professor Snape,” she replied and placed her hand over his wrist. “I trust you.”
“Indeed,” he murmured and moved his hand to re-apply another coating of healing unguent on her throat. “The lid, please?”
Hermione handed it back to him. “I know you would do your best to protect me.” Then, giving a rueful smile, she added, “You always have. Even when we didn’t know you were doing it.”
Slipping the jar back into his pocked, he gave her a long look. “As embarrassing as this question is to ask and to have answered, is Mr. Weasley correct in assuming you are a virgin?”
A verbal response surely isn’t necessary, Hermione thought as she blushed deeply and looked at the floor, but she spoke it in a whisper anyway, “Yes, Sir. I am.”
Professor Snape put his hand to her chin and tilted her head up, but instead of looking into her eyes, he stared at her neck again and moved his wand up to it and began murmuring a healing spell. When he finished, he looked into her eyes and in the darkness of the alcove, she couldn’t distinguish his pupils from his irises… both were totally black and unfathomable.
“Miss Granger,” he said in a low, deep voice. “You are adult enough that I am sure you have heard what goes on at the Dark Revels.” Apparently, he took the look in her eyes as an answer.
“Virgin blood is especially precious. You realize what potions utilize it.” She tried to nod, but his fingers were still on her chin. “As the Dark Lord’s most trusted and skilled Potions master, I am in charge of making sure all the Dark Rituals are met in… harvesting this ingredient.”
Hermione gasped.
“If you are ever captured, your virginity may save you,” he informed her. “It will at least put you closer to me, so that I may save you. Do you understand?” His hand gently caressed her chin before he removed it.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“I would advise you to leave boys like Mr. Weasley alone for now,” Snape responded. “A man who would use fear to coerce you is not a man at all. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then return my handkerchief and return to your dormitory,” he replied in his usual icy manner. When she hesitated, he asked irritably, “What now, Miss Granger?”
She placed his handkerchief in his hand. “Thank you, Professor Snape,” she said, a trifle breathlessly. “But aren’t you going to take points off me?”
“I believe the teeth marks in your neck were sufficient punishment for now,” Snape replied stiffly. “But if you are really asking about the apprenticeship, you should realize I cannot go against a direct order from the Headmaster.”
Hermione squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Sir. For everything. It’s easier knowing you‘re protecting me.”
He listened to her heels echoing down the hallway until he could hear them no more. Her skin had been cool when he touched it, he thought as he squeezed the handkerchief in his hand. The handkerchief containing the saliva of one Ronald Weasley. It would work better in the small charms he had been casting on Miss Granger.
Small charms. Not really Dark Magic. Just small repulsion charms to keep her disinterested in Mr. Weasley.
Whether or not she came to their future marriage bed a virgin, was immaterial to him. In fact, it might be better if she wasn’t one. He had no experience with virgins, but from what he had heard, the first time for a woman was rarely enjoyable for either partner. But he would be damned before she gave it up to either Mr. Weasley or Mr. Potter.
After all, he was protecting her. Just like she said.
Author’s Note Merlin says: “Great magic is performed by those who read; but greater magic is performed by those who read and rate.” If this isn’t your favorite cauldron of potion, then review somewhere else.