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Hermione stood nervously at the door of Spinner’s End. It had been six months since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she hadn’t seen Professor Snape since he was lying on the floor nearly dead from Nagini’s bite. Always the Potions Master, he had been saved by his own skill. Harry had told her Snape had been brewing an antidote to Nagini’s venom, taking it prophylactically any time he might be near the serpent. Perhaps none of them should have been surprised. After all, back in her first year he had promised he could teach them how to put a stopper in death. As Harry and Ron began their Auror training, Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that Snape was someone she could still learn from. She’d had enough of fighting. She didn’t want to be chasing criminals for the rest of her life with the boys. She wanted to learn, to contribute to magical knowledge, and how better than by apprenticing under this talented, if prickly, wizard.
“Were you planning to knock?” a familiar voice drawled. “Or were you planning to stand at my door all day?”
She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed when he walked up beside her. Clearly he had been out, and he stood there neatly dressed in the same black robes he had always favored. The scar tissue from Nagini’s bite peeked just above his collar, but was offset by the far healthier color of the rest of his skin. His black hair was tied back, out of his face, and he looked… healthy. Clearly, being out from under his two previous masters made quite the difference.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for. “I came to ask you a favor.”
He raised a brow. Then he waved a hand at his door, using wandless magic to unlock and open it. “Go in Miss Granger. Let’s get this over with so I can refuse you and spend the rest of my day in peace.”
She followed him in while sputtering angrily. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!”
He sat in an old armchair and looked up expectantly. She heard the front door slam shut behind her. “What is it, then? Spit it out, girl.”
“Sir, I have decided I want to pursue a mastery in potions. I would like to apprentice under you.”
“No.”
“But sir—”
“No.”
“We both know you are the best, and—”
He stood and began walking in circles around her. “Why potions? You were always better at charms, as I recall.”
At first she tried to turn to meet his gaze, then gave up and just stood still as he perused her. “You survived.”
“What does that have to do with you?” he hissed.
“Sir, I cannot imagine another witch or wizard that could have survived what you did. I don’t just mean the bite. I mean all of it. Your years as a spy. It seems to me that a knowledge of potions like you have could do a lot of good, and I would like to learn.”
“No.”
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“This is the third time in as many days, Miss Granger. When will you cease?”
Hermione grinned at the dour man. “When you agree to take me as an apprentice.”
He sighed and opened the door further, allowing her into his home again. “Take is such an interesting word,” he drawled. “Have you come up with any reasons yet that I should? How would it benefit me to have an incessant know-it-all pestering me regularly once more?”
“I know you’ve set up a potions business since the war ended. Surely it would be beneficial to have an assistant to help you brew.”
Snape shrugged and retrieved a bottle of Ogden’s from a nearby table. As he carefully poured himself a glass, he looked back over at her. He seemed to consider something, then shook his head. “I don’t spend my day on pepper ups and calming draughts. These are complex specialty potions, serving a select clientele. I am more than capable of keeping up on orders myself. Come up with something better.”
She nibbled on her lower lip, trying to figure out what might tempt him to say yes. “Professor, I just want to train under the best. Tell me what you want.”
“How is your relationship with the Weasley boy?” he inquired.
Hermione blinked, surprised by the question. “Ron and I decided we are better off as friends. If you’re concerned I might be in a relationship that would interfere with my studies, I assure you that is not a problem.”
“Hm… I wonder, Miss Granger, if your Gryffindor mind could handle my terms.”
“Yes, whatever they are. As you can see, I’m quite determined.”
He smirked. “A Slytherin would know better than to agree without knowing what they are.”
Hermione sighed. “Or maybe it reflects how determined I am to apprentice under you.”
“Strip.”
“Excuse me? What—”
“Miss Granger, there are very limited ways in which you could be of any service to me. As I told you, I don’t need an assistant. However, I am a man, and enjoy a certain type of release on occasion. The question is: What are you willing to do to get what you want?”
She was shocked. Sure, there had been moments in his Potions class over the years where it had occurred to her his voice might be considered seductive. Hermione suspected every female student, and a few male, had considered it over the years. But that was not quite the same as wanting to sleep with him. Not that he implied much sleeping would take place. Nor did he promise she would get enjoyment out of the arrangement, though she suspected he could be skilled at anything if he wished to be. He appeared unconcerned as her brain flew through all the possibilities, weighing each potential argument.
“If I do this…” she began finally, “Will it be a one-time thing? Or…”
Snape took his time sipping his firewhiskey before replying. “Today, I would merely test your willingness. But, if I choose to accept you as an apprentice, it would occur whenever I desire. In exchange, you will learn more about potions than any other Potions Master could teach you. The choice is yours.”
It was hard to imagine him as a man that spent almost two decades as a spy because of unrequited love, but Harry swore that was the case. Perhaps, she allowed, unrequited love did not require celibacy, and sex did not require love.
Coming to a decision, Hermione took a deep breath. She grabbed the bottom of her jumper and pulled it over her head, kicking off her trainers as she did so. If Snape was surprised, or aroused, his expression showed nothing. He simply sat there and watched as she neatly placed her folded jumper to the side. She unbuttoned her trousers and wiggled them down over her hips. Then she added her shirt to the pile. She hesitated briefly, wondering how much he had expected her to remove. Deciding it was better to keep going so he couldn’t accuse her of being unwilling, she reached back and unhooked her bra. As that was cast aside as well, Snape stood and set his glass aside. He took a step closer to her, running one long finger up her arm, across her chest, and down to the band of her knickers. She stood still, allowing his touch and wondering what he would do next.
Standing behind her, he placed his hand fully against her abdomen and pulled her back against him. She felt his hard length against her and stifled a gasp. “This is your chance to change your mind, Miss Granger,” he whispered in her ear. Merlin, had she just moaned? She had to admit, the allure of his voice was stronger when used in such close proximity. His hand roamed higher. He groped one breast, then pinched her nipple. His other arm wrapped around her and took her other breast in hand. When she relaxed back against him, one of his hands wandered back down and she realized her knickers had vanished. Long fingers delved between her folds, exploring her. They both hissed in pleasure when one of his fingers entered her. “So wet,” he breathed as he added a second finger. As those fingers curled just right, his thumb brushed back over her clit and she whimpered. He continued to stroke until she felt her walls begin to flutter around his fingers. She was sure this was about to be the best orgasm of her life.
Then he was gone. His fingers withdrawn, his body no longer against her. “You may go,” he said. “Be back on Monday at 8am sharp.”
“But… what… why…”
He smirked. “I told you. Today I was testing your willingness. Now go.”
Stunned, Hermione dressed and went to the door. As she reached for the doorknob, she heard his voice. “And Miss Granger, you will not be needing knickers on Monday.”
She groaned. “Yes, sir,” she said softly, sure that he would hear her. And she left.
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When she arrived back at Spinner’s End on Monday morning, Hermione was all nerves. She had spent all weekend frustrated, her fingers entirely unable to recreate what Snape had nearly brought her to. She arrived in a skirt, no knickers, and sincerely hoped he would take her soon. It wouldn’t have occurred to her a week ago, but now she felt as if her world would not be right until she felt Severus Snape’s cock within her.
The door opened without her needing to knock, and his dark eyes smirked down at her. “In the future, Miss Granger,” he said, “you may enter on your own. I’ve updated my wards to grant you entrance between the hours of 8am and 5pm during the week.”
His hand went to her back, guiding her through his house to the basement lab he used for brewing. She was certain he had been telling her something about the lab, but all she could think about was the hand touching her. He leaned in close. “Ingredients and instructions are on the table. You may begin.”
She groaned, and he chuckled.
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It had been two years and five days. Give or take a few hours. Severus had told her this was the last day of her apprenticeship. He had taught her everything she needed, or so he said. She was working on a batch of his special scar salve, a particularly tricky process that he had only trusted her with for the last month. Glancing over at him as he worked on an experimental potion he’d been developing, Hermione cleared her throat. “Severus, why is it you encouraged me to use this on my arm, but you never use it on your own scars?”
He looked up at her, his eyes considering her words. Over the last two years of working together, Hermione had realized his face showed more emotion than anyone else knew. “I keep my scars because I deserve them,” he said finally. “You did not.”
The day went by too quickly. She kept stealing more looks at him, trying to enjoy her last day of his company. He hadn’t said she wouldn’t see him again after the apprenticeship ended, but he hadn’t said she would either. Looking at the clock, she realized she was running out of time.
“Why have you never touched me again?” she asked. For two years, she’d worn a skirt and no knickers. Granted, after the first month, she had realized he probably wouldn’t do anything, but a girl could hope.
He didn’t look up this time. “It would be inappropriate to sleep with my apprentice,” he said simply.
She snorted. “I didn’t realize you cared that much about propriety, Severus Snape. Do all Potions Masters interview applicants that way?”
“It looks like your salve is complete, Hermione. You may go. I put your certificate in your coat pocket.”
“What is the real reason?” she asked softly. He walked over to her, taking off his brewing apron and setting it to the side. He paused a moment. Leaning over, he placed a chaste kiss to her forehead and walked out the door.
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Hermione sat on the floor of her flat, leaning back against the wall and studying the firewhiskey bottle in her hand. Had she really drunk that much tonight? Yes. Yes, she had. Finishing her apprenticeship should be cause for celebration, but she wasn’t feeling very celebratory. She just couldn’t figure the man out. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like her. He treated her nicer than she’d ever seen him act with anyone else. They worked well together, too. So what had happened?
“Bloody hell,” she muttered to herself as a strange owl rapped on her window. “Who sends owls at one in the morning?” Her eyes went wide as she opened the window and recognized the eagle owl perched there. She had seen it throughout her years at Hogwarts, delivering mail to a particular Slytherin nemesis. The eagle owl eagerly accepted the treat she offered and flew off after gingerly placing a small wooden box in her hand. Opening it, Hermione found a small vial and scrap of parchment.
Granger,
I owe my godfather a debt, and I’m doing this for him.
Seeing the two of you pining for each other is disgusting.
DM
P.S. He is still here.
Hermione took the vial out of the box and smirked. “And Harry thought me ridiculous for buying that pensieve.” A few moments later she was entering the memory, too drunk to even consider whether she should trust Draco Malfoy.
She found herself in a library—study?—with rich mahogany walls glowing with the light of a fireplace in the middle of the room. There were three figures sitting in there, and as the glow of the fire illuminated their faces, Hermione recognized Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, and Severus. Her heart clenched at the sight of him, but she tried to focus on what was being said.
"This is not a good look for you, my friend,” said Lucius Malfoy with his typical aristocratic tone.
“What is going on?” asked Draco. Had he just joined them?
Severus cleared his throat. “Herm—Miss Granger finished her apprenticeship today.”
“Good for her,” Draco said. His tone seemed confused, like he wasn’t figuring out what Severus was upset about.
“Severus seems to prefer loving women from a distance rather than getting them in his bed,” Lucius explained. Hermione walked closer to Severus in the memory, kneeling on the floor beside his chair to watch his expression more closely in the memory. She gasped when the glass tumbler in his hand shattered. He was glaring at Lucius, seemingly oblivious to the blood dripping down his palm.
“Do. Not. Compare. Them,” he hissed. “What I felt for Lily was juvenile. I was attracted to her, but mostly I confused the loss of a friend with something else.”
“And Granger?” asked Draco.
Severus was silent.
“To summarize the last two years of nonsense,” drawled Lucius, “he believes himself too old for her, too damaged for her, and does not believe she has that sort of feelings for him. Am I missing anything?”
“I deserve to be unhappy,” added Severus.
“This isn’t unhappy,” said Lucius. “This is absolute misery, and I’m sick of seeing it. If you won’t pursue Miss Granger, at least find some other woman to warm your bed. Do something to get over her.”
“No,” Snape hissed again. Hermione knew that look. He was debating whether Lucius would see a nasty hex coming.
She heard Draco sigh and his chair made a scraping noise. She didn’t look away from Severus, but as the memory faded she realized Draco must have left the room.
Hermione was a mix of emotions as she left the pensieve, but she didn’t wait to sort through them before acting. The first thing she did was go to her cabinet for a bottle of sober up. She knew that, if she showed up at Malfoy Manor still pissed, Severus would be angry she apparated under the influence. Then she ran to her closet and pulled on some fresh clothes. She had no intention of going there in the pajamas she had donned earlier in the night. Taking one last look in the mirror, Hermione grabbed her wand and ran out the door.
HGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSS
She had told herself she wouldn’t return to Malfoy Manor ever again, but Hermione wasn’t paying attention to the architecture as she waited for someone to answer the door. Honestly, she expected it would be a house-elf, but the door opened to reveal the relieved face of Draco Malfoy.
“Something isn’t right in the world when you look relieved to see me,” she commented dryly.
He ran his fingers through disheveled blonde hair and shrugged. “I’ve never seen him like this. He and father are staring at each other now, not saying a word, and I’m half expecting Severus to draw his wand.”
“Severus wouldn’t need his wand,” she said, “not that it makes you feel better. He has taught me a little with wandless magic, but I’m still a novice compared to him.”
“I thought he was teaching you potions,” said Draco as he led her through the house.
“Well, yes, but I once commented on his wandless ability and he offered to help me.”
Draco shot her a meaningful glance over his shoulder. Then he nodded towards a door and took a step back.
“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked in surprise.
He chuckled. “One, I don’t want to be in there with those two staring daggers at each other. Two, I don’t want to be in the room when he finds out I brought you here. Three, I really don’t want to be in the room when he realizes I sent you that memory.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine, stand back.” She cast a protego just in case, then flicked her wand again and the study door flew open.
“Go away, Draco,” said the two men simultaneously.
She strode forward into the room and closed the door behind her. “I’m not Draco,” she said calmly.
Both men looked up in surprise, but her attention was on Severus. “We need to talk,” she added, not waiting for him to say anything.
“We do not,” he said firmly. “You should be out celebrating with your friends.”
“Oh please,” she said dismissively. She’d put her wand away as soon as he saw her, no longer concerned about stray spells. “I wasn’t out with them to begin with, and I certainly have no intention of it now.” Looking down, she realized he still had done nothing for his bleeding hand. Rolling her eyes, she kneeled beside him and took his hand in hers. It wasn’t lost on her that she had sat the same way while viewing the memory, but he didn’t know that. Reaching into her bag, Hermione took out the dittany she had kept with her ever since the war.
“I don’t need to ask who told you to come,” he ground out.
“Oh good,” she said in fake cheerfulness as she watched the cuts on his hand close. “That saves us one pointless question. Are we going to have this conversation in front of the Malfoys, or somewhere else?”
“We will not be having a conversation, witch. Now go home.”
Hermione gave him a look, and she knew he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Think carefully, Severus. Are you sure you don’t want to leave with me now?”
He stared at her in silence, his jaw clenched.
“Well then,” she said briskly as she stood up. “Fine. I think I’m a bit overdressed for this conversation, so I guess I will work on that.”
She had purposely worn the same outfit she had been wearing the day he agreed to take her as an apprentice. She reached down to her jumper and began pulling it up, exposing the shirt she was wearing underneath.
His eyes widened. “Stop,” he hissed.
“Now this is getting good,” chuckled Lucius from where he sat behind her.
Hermione smirked at Severus, her eyes daring him to stop her. The jumper dropped to the floor as she started on the buttons of her shirt.
“Bloody hell, woman,” he said, his eyes pleading with her. “Stop.”
“Severus, Draco sent me his memory of you and Lucius talking. I know. So again, where will we be discussing this?”
He stood and waved his hand across her chest, re-buttoning her shirt before grabbing a hold of her arm. “Lucius, I suggest you and Draco leave the country for at least the next month. If I so much as see that boy…”
“Leave him be,” said Hermione. “I’m glad he did it.”
Severus sighed. He said nothing to Lucius and continued his silence as he led Hermione out of the manor and to the apparition point. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she felt the tug of apparition.
They landed at Spinner’s End. As soon as they walked in the door he took a seat and buried his face in his hands. “Hermione, you don’t owe me anything. Don’t waste yourself on me.”
She pulled his hands away from his face and helped herself to a spot on his lap. She took his wand out of the holster she knew he kept on his forearm and placed it in his hand. “Legilimens,” she said softly. She was not casting a spell, but encouraging him to.
He shook his head. “I don’t need to look inside your mind.”
“Yes, you do.” Hermione sighed. “I know you, and I know you are going to convince yourself that anything I say is a lie to make you feel better, so look. See for yourself.”
Severus studied her expression for a minute, then nodded. She felt a tickle as he entered her mind, not nearly as harsh a sensation as Harry had described. She merely relaxed and let him look. It occurred to her to push certain memories forward: times she had wanted him to touch her, times she had watched him work and just been content in his presence, or the recent times she had sat and pondered just when it was she had fallen in love with him. She didn’t, though. She knew he needed to find it for himself. He needed to go through whatever memories he thought were important until he realised there really wasn’t anything she wished to hide.
Hermione wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but when she felt him withdraw from her mind she looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes. Something shifted in his expression. A moment later he stood, his hands holding her thighs to keep her from falling. He carried her through the house and into a room she had never been to before. Severus laid her down on a bed—his bed—and then joined her. She half expected him to ask if she was sure, but he had just seen how certain she was. She widened her legs so he could lie between them, and she revelled in the feeling of his weight on top of her.
He propped himself up on one arm and trailed her body with his other hand. The side of her face, over her the curve of her breast, past her hip to pull up the fabric of her skirt. After hiking the garment up to her waist, he looked down at her body and chuckled. “No knickers?”
Hermione grinned up at him. “Severus, I haven’t worn knickers in two years.”
“You will be the death of me, witch.”
“La petite mort?”
He chuckled and claimed her lips in a demanding kiss. She felt his hand twitch and her clothing disappeared. She pulled away long enough to nod towards his clothing. “Yours, too.”
“If I take mine off,” he said as he trailed kisses down the side of her neck, “I will be inside you two seconds later.”
She had to concentrate for a moment, but a second later she removed his clothing, too. “I don’t mind. I’ve been waiting two years.”
“You should mind,” he mumbled as he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. She nearly cried in relief when he entered her with a long finger as he had done once before. It wasn’t enough, but still felt good enough to make her moan.
“I want more, Severus. You can save anything else for later.”
He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “I’m glad you know you aren’t going anywhere after this. If you are determined to have me, then I’m not letting you go.”
Hermione reached down and took hold of his hard length, lining it up with her sex. “I know.”
He thrust. Then he pulled back slightly and thrust again, continuing until he was fully seated within her. The stretch stung at first, but it also felt so good. He rested his forehead against her shoulder as he slowly withdrew, only to thrust quickly back inside a moment later. He had scarcely set the pace before Hermione fell over the edge with a scream.
He growled as he rode out her orgasm. Then he withdrew and flipped her over, positioning her on her knees and elbows before sinking back into her body.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Did you see how many times I wanted you to bend me over in the lab? How much I fantasised about you? Sev…”
He bucked harder against her, and Hermione lost the ability to form coherent sentences. She didn’t even know what she was saying, or if she was forming words at all. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he approached his own climax. After two years of longing, it did not take long. He reached around and flicked her bud a few times as he came, sending her back over the edge with him.
Severus slumped to the side, pulling her with him as he lay down on the bed. In the afterglow, he drew little circles over her hip with his finger and watched her drift off towards sleep. “Hermione,” he said finally.
“Mmm?”
“I love you too.”