Chapter Text
"Open it carefully; it's the only one I have," Snape said.
Hermione stood at the table in his private laboratory and gently raised the bell jar. Under it were several bright green spindly leaves. "Artemisia Absinthium," she said. "Are you making a healing potion?"
"No," he said, with no elaboration. "We will need one leaf, then replace the bell quickly."
The wizard was moving behind her, rubbing a small copper cauldron with a handful of seeds. He had brought her here, and Hermione wasn't sure if she was disappointed or not. This wasn't exactly what she'd thought, but it was distracting enough, and he seemed to value her help in brewing. She'd no idea what they were working on, and he refused to tell her. The possibilities ran through her mind.
Sphinx claw, henbane, and honey had been set out, and a small, rough chunk of something Hermione thought was amber.
"Wait, the wormwood leaf wouldn't be - so you've kept it in stasis. But why not use fresh from the greenhouses?" Hermione asked.
Snape turned to look at her with a small smile of approbation. "It's kept back from last summer."
"Oh. So it has to be a summer leaf." But she turned to see three other bell jars of wormwood, and the leaves in each were different. One had small immature leaves, one had drying leaves, and one had shriveled, dead brown leaves. "No, you must need different leaves at different times," she thought aloud.
The wizard was still watching her, waiting for her to continue.
"So are we going to use each kind of leaf in the brewing, or will we only use this one?" she asked, pointing to her summer wormwood leaf.
A nod. "Only that one."
This didn't fit with any potion in any of her textbooks, but she liked that. A new riddle. "Okay, right. Then you wanted a leaf from next season, but you had to preserve it. It's spring now, and you wanted a summer leaf this time, but not always. And wormwood has a reputation as a hallucinogen, used in absinthe - and then there's the bitterness, and then sphinx claw, which is fierce and deadly and clever." She leaned against the laboratory bench and thought.
"Henbane. That could be a narcotic, or - hang on, are you making drugs? Am I making drugs?" Hermione straightened and frowned at Professor Snape.
"Would I induce a student to do something so illicit?" he responded.
Hermione raised a brow in imitation of his own, and he turned back to the cauldron.
She came to stand next to him, and he dumped the seeds he'd been using out of the cauldron, then washed his hands. "Rye infected with ergot. The minced gnome pineal gland is the last ingredient."
"Pineal gland, something to do with sleep. Or not - perhaps with … and the ergot is obviously…" she trailed off. "It is! You're making a hallucinogen, aren't you?"
Professor Snape tilted his head at her. "You sound almost thrilled, Miss Granger. Naughty girl." He placed a hand over the base of her spine, and she smiled up at him warmly.
"It's a potion called Portents' Pretense. When warmed, its fumes show future events."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "So, it's a Divination tool. But why haven't I heard of it? I'm pants at Divination and I looked into some way to improve, but I never came across this."
"It is a bit more complex than that," Professor Snape rumbled, igniting the flame under the cauldron and adding the honey and whole wormwood leaf. "The fumes curl into the shapes of future events, but the potion can be used only in concert with a group of witches and wizards, not alone. And while there is a message for each of you, there is no telling which is for which witch, so to speak."
Hermione considered. "So it's almost useless. It's just as fuzzy as any other Divination method."
"Perhaps, if one wanted one's own future. But imagine if one wanted to see one's rival's future, or one's child's, or a lover's. Might you be able to lure her into using the potion together?
"Then, there is also the other of the potion's effects. While you all see the visions in the fumes, one of you will have what is colloquially known as 'a bad trip', so bad as to cause madness in some."
Hermione was shocked. "So… if you tried to get - because you'd want fewer people there so that you could narrow down the visions, but if you did, you'd have a much higher chance of being the one who undergoes the … thing. And you'd know, going into it, that you were condemning someone to … then, this is a Dark potion."
She looked expectantly at Professor Snape. He barely cocked his head at her.
"A Pepper-Up could be a Dark potion if you gave it to a mass murderer so that he could get back to his murdering faster," he said unconcernedly. "And this one sells better than Pepper-Up."
"I can't believe people want this. It doesn't seem worth it."
"I understand it to be quite the experience," Severus said. He was sprinkling the sphinx claw onto the surface of the honey in an exacting pattern.
"So you've never tried it?" Hermione asked.
"Have you ever known me to be an idiot?" he asked.
"I wouldn't leave that door swinging open if I were you," Hermione answered dryly. Before he could retort, she asked, "Is it legal?"
"Certainly."
"Why are you showing me this?"
The tall wizard dumped the small dish of minced organ into the brew and turned off the heat. Smiling slightly, he asked, "Have you wished to be someone else in the past twenty minutes?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, not at all."
"Because you had been able to stop thinking, yes?"
"I - no, of course - " Hermione stopped. "I was thinking about the potion."
"And yet, you told me that I should make your brain 'stop'," he said, turning his body to her.
"Yes, because otherwise I thought - "
"It seems to me," he drawled, "that is exactly what drove you to me. Your previous experiences with sex that was so boring that it made your brain stop."
His eyes now fixed on her, certain of her attention, he continued.
"Shall I fetch you a double Firewhisky? That would give you respite from your intense cognition. Dull your senses, is that what you need?"
How could she have been so mistaken?
Snape threaded a hand through her hair, slowly and loosely. "What you need is something that does use your brain, in a different way. I've seen you - you like advanced sex, the kind that keeps your mind as busy as your body."
Hermione was surprised by the tender treatment, because he was looking at her head as though it contained some great treasure. His eyes were searching her hairline as though he could see into her skull if he tried hard enough. His hand swept over her neck to grab her chin and tilt her face up to his.
Severus continued. "I've no doubt you like to let go and be told what to do sometimes. But who was in control when you tripped down the steps and into my office wearing your Order of Merlin?"
Hermione let her eyes relax. "I was."
He bent his head down to speak into her ear. "The sex you like makes me work for it. But there's nothing better than watching you want it, witch."
At this, he let go of her chin. "Now. What do you need?"
Damn. "Well, I actually came down here because I was upset. Ron and Harry were - it's not important. But I knew that you couldn't give me what I wanted, and so I thought I'd come down here and see if you'd take my mind off of it."
Hermione watched the usual cocksure set of her teacher's brows as his arrogance drained. "And exactly what is it that I am so handicapped as to be unable to do for you?"
"Sorry, maybe not 'unable', but 'unwilling.' I wanted a hug, and maybe a bit of a - I wanted things that you don't want. I understand," she added.
Snape's frown was back in place, and he turned away from her to watch the Portents' Pretense. "You are attempting to manipulate me by tricking me into begging you to tell me what you want."
She burst into a laugh. "Oh, I wish I had thought that far ahead! No, I wasn't trying to - whatever you said," the witch chortled. "But it's okay, I know this isn't your thing."
Severus turned away from the potion and looked at her. It took Hermione a moment to place his expression. He twitched. "You think that I am devoid of human emotion, unable to relate."
"I think that you're reluctant, not unable."
At this, Hermione took a step forward, her eyes daring him to match her. He raised his chin and stepped close to her, wrapping one arm around her waist. The other hand eased up her back and into her hair, bringing her head to rest against his neck. He breathed, and her arms flung around him. She bit her lip to hold in a sigh, but she couldn't resist a kiss on his jaw.
"Is this what you needed?" he asked her curls.
She nodded, her cheek rubbing his jaw. "Thank you."
"Very well. Next time, we could skip the bath and wine, then."
Hermione leaned away from him, but she relished the way he left his hand on her waist. "I don't think so. They had some distinct possibilities, if you ask me."
"No one ever does ask you, and yet," he said acerbically.
"I should go. I really do need to rest, even if I'm not getting much out of the revision at this point."
The wizard turned her around to face away from him, then placed his hands on her shoulders and began to push his thumbs into her tense muscles. She groaned.
"This is what my hands can do to you," Snape said. "No matter where I touch you, I can rule you with pleasure."
Shots of pain spread to her head and neck, then faded as he rubbed away the tension. He continued, "Do not impose your own limits on me again."
For all that it was a rite of passage that she'd anticipated for seven years, Hermione's N.E.W.T.s flew by. No sooner had she put quill to parchment in Charms than she was demonstrating a series of wards in her Defence practical and handing in her annotated timeline for History of Magic (an exam she had taken largely out of completionism).
Gryffindor Tower was awash in White Rat whisky and butterbeer, and the Weird Sisters' latest was playing so loudly that Hermione almost missed a yell in her direction.
"Come on, play Truth or Dare with us, Hermione! Might be your last chance," Ron cajoled.
"Wizarding rules?" she asked.
"Are there any others?" Ginny asked, grinning at her.
"Er - better not," Hermione demurred.
"She doesn't want to tell us who she's shagging," Ron said.
"That's her right," asserted Harry sanctimoniously. "If she wants to be a wet blanket, and miss out on the last event of the year, so that she can go off with whoever it is she can't tell her best friends about, then we'll have to let her."
Hermione rolled her eyes, grabbed a cup of whatever swill was in the firkin, and sat down. "I'm watching, not playing," she insisted as a cheer went up from her friends.
"Right, Granger, truth or dare?" asked Seamus.
"What have I just now said?" she replied.
"Truth it is," Seamus answered. "Did you ever sleep with Potter or Weasley?"
"Which Weasley?" Hermione quipped, slinging an arm around Ginny.
The boys erupted in whistles and encouragement.
Hermione found that this part of her life wasn't as embarrassing as she'd thought. "Ron and I did have our moment, but he's with Lavender now." The couple smiled at each other. "And Harry - er, no, Harry and I are not a match. Though he's lovely. I - "
"What Hermione means is," interrupted Harry, pushing his hair out of his face and reddening, "she's not my type. Because - girls aren't my type."
The group by the fire stilled momentarily. Then Neville leaned toward Harry.
"I think everyone already knows, mate."
Harry looked around the circle of friends, most of whom were shrugging and nodding.
"Well, but we didn't know it was okay to tell other people," Lavender said.
"And sure that's kept you quiet, Brown," Seamus pointed out sarcastically.
Harry was shoving his glasses up on his nose and looking uncertain. "And I'm sort of seeing Draco. Malfoy," he added, as though the Gryffindors might not be sure which Draco Harry was seeing.
"Bit of an anticlimax, Harry," Ron said. "Couldn't you have been secretly controlling a giant snake in the dungeons and setting it loose on your friends or something? Now that'd be news."
Eyes flicked to Ginny to see if this joke would fly, but she added, "Yeah, or maybe you could be, like, spreading false rumours of Voldemort's return in an bid to overthrow the Ministry!"
Harry could no longer control his grin as he was enfolded by his friends. Only Seamus looked the slightest bit uneasy, and he shook it off.
Hermione piped up, "And it wasn't even your turn, Harry. Honestly. You have to wait until someone asks you 'Truth or Dare' before you can spill your guts."
Harry Potter wiped the grin off his face and nodded seriously at Hermione. "I'll do better, Miss, I promise."
Ron accepted a dare to let Lavender use her favourite eye products on him, and he dared Ginny to taste-test the newest Weasley product (her arms turned into octopus tentacles for several minutes, which resulted in spilt punch and several pornographic jokes). Ginny turned to Hermione.
"I know you won't answer if I ask who you're seeing. So instead, I want to know: is it serious?"
Hermione felt as though a Disillusionment Charm had been cast. The chill started at her hairline and seeped down her face.
"I - er - no. Well, yes, a bit. Maybe. It's - it's more serious than I thought."
Everyone was watching her with more or less confusion, and Hermione was quick to dare Seamus to chat up the portrait of Wendelin the Weird on the common room wall. The atmosphere resumed its former jollity, and Hermione was free to think.
Was it serious?
The lower years still had lessons and exams, and most of the fifth-years had final assignments to submit, so only the seventh-years were at loose ends. Hermione had realised that her access to the Hogwarts library was coming to an end, and she was doing her best to borrow anything she thought was rare or expensive and read it quickly.
But even an original copy of Kitab al-Azif couldn't hold her interest forever, and Hermione had arranged to visit the sixth-years' Potions lesson to fulfill the promise she had given.
"Students, we are in rarified company today, as Miss Granger has decided to grace us with her presence for a remedial assignment," Professor Snape intoned as Hermione entered. "Miss Granger, I will be in to check on you and if I find a single Fanged Geranium out of place, I will feed your cat to it."
Hermione stood at the back of the classroom, out of view of the students, and cheekily blew a kiss toward the professor, then went to the store cupboard. Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile as she passed.
Inside the storeroom, another note, pinned to the shelf: Do as I say this time.
She disrobed from the waist up, as he'd told her before, and Transfigured her cardigan into a pillow for her knees, then knelt.
Facing the door was frightening. She was half-nude, and anyone could open the door, at any moment. But she tried to reassure herself: he wouldn't let someone else in, he'd be in much deeper trouble than she would, right?
If he wanted one thing, then she could expand on it. She reached under her skirt and pulled her knickers down, then took them off and placed them atop her shirt and tie.
Her abdomen clenched, and she shuddered. Her body was preparing for him.
"Keep the chaos to a minimum, if you please, whilst I ensure that Miss Granger is capable of remembering the alphabet," she heard him instruct, just outside the door.
Hermione's heart was tight with anticipation.
The door opened and Professor Snape slipped through, keeping his body between her and the classroom. She looked up to see a hint of a smile.
"How in Avalon's name did you get so filthy, girl?" he asked, full volume so that the class could hear, then closed the door behind him.
Hermione smiled, then offered her breasts to him.
Instead, Snape parted his robes and brought out his swollen penis. He wordlessly grabbed her head and she opened her lips to him. He whispered, "Muffliato" and then said, "Lovely. Suck me, Head Girl, with your friends only feet away."
She shivered and began to wrap a hand around him.
"No hands."
This forced her to work her face around his flesh, but it did feel good. She licked from his balls up the underside of the shaft, but it felt rather like bobbing for apples, because he kept moving. The length was hard and hot, but it bounced in reaction to her attentions.
He held his robes back, eyes half-closed, and he watched her with a slight smile.
"Hold that thing still; you're going to put my eye out," she hissed at him, and instead he moved his hips so that his cock slapped her nose.
"Suck it, and you won't have to worry. This is your own fault for being so tempting," he replied.
At that, she tucked a hand under her skirt to the part of her body that had been aching for days. Her vulva was already receptive, her clitoris turgid, and she sighed around his cock as he placed a hand on her head in guidance.
"Good girl. Suck it down, let me hear how well you like it," he coaxed. The whimpers that left her could not be her fault.
He braced himself against the door as she worked both of them. But then, he pulled out of her mouth. "You first; I want to watch," he said with a smirk.
But this wasn't as easy as she'd thought. She spread her knees a bit, then used one hand to open her labia, and it felt really good, of course, but…
She was quite close, and not getting any closer. Her eyes rose to him. It didn't make sense; she had everything she wanted, and now she could focus on herself instead of his pleasure. And it gave her lips a minute to relax.
Let go, let your impulse take over.
Another piece of carapace fell away, taking with it the need to present her body perfectly to her partner. She let her belly relax and her hips began to sway instinctively, dancing over her hands. The feeling caused her eyes to drift closed, but she still wanted - something -
Hermione leaned forward, extending her neck towards Severus, until she found what she wanted. The fevered skin of his penis stroked her cheek, and she began a sort of dance with it, never letting herself lose contact with him.
She felt like a cat, rubbing her face and head on sex organs, marking him as hers. His scent in her nose. Her hips waving, a touch of liquid on her lip, then his cock in her hair, and her pleasure rose. Almost enough, close, but not -
The witch opened her eyes to see Severus Snape's mouth open in surprise.
His hands were balled at his waist, tightly holding himself back, but his shoulders were rolled forward, as though he could barely keep himself from moving toward her.
Snape closed his mouth as soon as she saw him, but the look he'd given her was pure hunger. She parted her lips over his glans and took him in, down to the root, eliciting an almost broken moan from her teacher.
The look of vulnerability as his eyes rolled back shook her, and something in her abdomen dropped, allowing her the bliss that comes just before the peak.
And then, he looked down at her and guided her head over him, saying, "Mine."
It was enough for both of them.
He sat on the floor of the store cupboard, back against the door. Hermione felt wrung out and tingly, ready for rest. She didn't even consider her actions before she crawled between his legs and rested her bare side against his chest, cuddled into his neck. His arms wrapped around her, bringing his robes over her shoulder.
Severus cancelled the Muffling Charm and waved his wand over her head. Above them, the ingredients and vials began to shuffle and dance into perfect alignment, and the dust siphoned off of them into the tip of the Potions master's wand.
Hermione turned so that she could watch them shine. "You've a spell for that?" she whispered.
"It takes days to teach each one its place, but once the bottle knows, all you need do is refill it. Which is why it is such a loss when the bottle is broken," he murmured into her hair. "Or misappropriated."
Hermione remembered contaminating the Mooncalf hair so many months ago. It felt like she'd been a different person. She'd wanted different things. Lesser things.
He clearly knew about the stolen Polyjuice ingredients. This wizard had watched her grow up, knew her better than most, knew her secrets and her most embarrassing moments.
"Up," Severus muttered after a minute. "Some of us have got a load of reprobates who've been left alone for more than five minutes and are probably fomenting disorder as we speak."
The stone floor was hard under Hermione's hip anyway, and she leaned up and began to dress. When she'd finished, she stood, dodging the still-floating ingredient bottles, and Snape pointed his wand at her. A puff of dust shot onto her robes, and he smoothed her hair as well as he could.
"Do try to look as though you haven't been snogging in the storeroom," he whispered. "Your lips are puffy."
"I haven't been snogging in the storeroom," Hermione whispered back indignantly. "I've been performing fellatio in the storeroom, thank you very much!"
His mouth twitched, and suddenly they were holding each other, Hermione laughing into her teacher's neck, trying desperately to keep quiet. Hermione enjoyed the warmth of a shared secret, and then she stepped away. The bottles around them were settled now, and she looked up at her teacher.
"I - "
He cut her off. "I'm sure I'll see you again soon enough," he said. "Stay back a bit."
With a sweep of black robes that brushed her legs, he opened the door. "I do hope none of you has done anything as unspeakably stupid as to confuse beetle eyes with poppy seeds," he announced to the class, then glanced back through the door. "Continue the way I showed you, Miss Granger, and be grateful you're not starting over."
Hermione rolled her eyes with good humour and decided to examine some of the rarer ingredients. If he were going to be rude, she might as well enjoy her remaining time.
A/N: White Rat whisky bottles adorn the shelves behind the bar at the Hog's Head at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I can't remember it from the novels. If you can place it, please do comment and let me know. In my mind, it's rather like the rotgut in plastic bottles at the off-licence, boasting evocative notes of sawdust and adhesive.
Kitab al-Azif is one of the names for the Necronomicon in Lovecraft's work. Don't worry; HG knows better than to muck about with the Old Ones (crossover fic idea?).
For all of you angry with Snape for being a git towards the end of the scene, please address your irritation to my husband. I told him that I wasn't sure if Snape was about to be a git or not, and he told me to do it. Which is how you know you've married the right man.