Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Hermione Granger
Genres:
Drama Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 03/19/2002
Updated: 09/01/2005
Words: 220,150
Chapters: 28
Hits: 163,807

Falling Further In

KazVL

Story Summary:
The story begins in the summer holidays before the sixth year. After her parents are murdered by Voldemort Hogwarts becomes Hermione's home. She joins the staff in the fight against Voldemort and learns more of the man behind the dark sarcasms of the classroom. Will *eventually* be Snape/Hermione. Lupin is again the Professor teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and has a black dog who lives with him - Sirius Black in his animagus form.

Chapter 15

Chapter Summary:
Hermione learns more about the man behind the dark sarcasms of the classroom
Posted:
05/02/2002
Hits:
4,595

FIFTEEN

At her first delicate inhalation Snape let his eyes fall shut, willing himself not to react to the stimuli assaulting his senses: the heady scent of her; the warmth of her body; the hand resting on his shoulder; and the tendril of hair tickling his cheek. She snuffled along the nape of his neck, raising his plait as she did so and a crop of goosebumps shivered down his body, tightening belly and balls in quick succession.

As he felt her move he reopened his eyes; more of her body was back in his line of vision. She was wearing a well-cut, close-fitting dress of pale apricot; the fabric looked as if it would be soft to the touch and clung lovingly to her ribcage, jut of hipbone and the faint curve of her belly. It would be so deliciously easy to settle his hand in the small of her back, to slide his palm down the delicious curve of her bottom while he teased the curl of her navel with his -

"Miss Granger!" he snapped, furious with himself.

Hermione jumped, looked self-conscious, then scowled and stepped away from him, her arms defensively folded to hide nipples which seemed determined to form a mountain range of their own. Her eyes were all velvety pupil but Snape refused to deal with the implications of that and her heightened scent.

Disconcerted by her overwhelming physical reaction to such simple contact Hermione tried to compose herself by drinking her long-cold tea. It was the first time in her life she'd ever had such a strong reaction just to... Not that she'd ever gone round sniffing people - men - before. Damn him, she was slick and slippery and shaking with desire. Hormones had a lot to answer for, she thought bitterly, resenting her over-responsive body and the aching need that wasn't going to be filled, leaving her feeling as hollow as a vibrating drum. Her hand was still unsteady as she poured herself some more tea.

"Miss Granger, surely you've had a chance to decide what I..." Trailing into silence, Snape completed the sentence with an irritable gesture, half-afraid of what she might say because he could trust her to tell the truth. He knew - thought - he couldn't smell that terrible or Phryne would never have... On the other hand... He discovered he was grinding his teeth with impatience.

Because he was looking far too smug, and because she couldn't trust herself not to succumb to the longing to taste the skin she had been inhaling, Hermione dredged her back brain for some means of shaking his irritating certainty.

"Your personal scent? Of course," she said blandly. "'Slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails,'."

Taken aback, Snape blinked. "I beg your pardon?" He looked faintly, gratifyingly appalled.

"It's a Muggle nursery rhyme," explained Hermione. "Girls smell of 'Sugar and spice and all that's nice,'."

"Wishful thinking costs nothing," said Snape disagreeably.

Hermione grinned. "Nauseating, isn't it. Whoever wrote it had obviously never been stuck in a confined space with Quidditch players after a match. I'm sure there must be more insulting rhymes but I'd need to raid your library to find them. I've never seen so many poetry books in one place. All Muggle," she added.

"No one in their right minds could stomach wizard verse. Though I doubt if you've had a chance to come across much as yet."

"Only at the House of Mirth. A Pilgrim of Love wrote a sonnet to my - It doesn't matter what. It was very...florid."

Snape snorted. "I can imagine." Despite himself his gaze flicked to her breasts, then resolutely back to her face.

Hermione looked rueful. "I think I ruined the moment when I started to laugh. I hadn't realised he was serious."

Snape's lips twitched. "He has my sympathies."

"Yes, but you'd have had the sense not to lie there spouting really bad poetry, wouldn't you."

"Ah, much as I'm enjoying this literary debate," began Dumbledore delicately, his eyes twinkling when they both jumped, obviously having forgotten his presence. Snape scowled, while Hermione looked self-conscious, then gave him a warm smile.

"Sorry. We seem to have got sidetracked. It's my fault, I know. I think it must be relief. At not being mad after all. I keep wanting to talk."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "In my experience you never want to stop."

"I enjoy learning. And if you don't ask you don't learn. I know it irritates you."

"Which, no doubt, explains why you've perfected your technique over the years," he said, but there was no bite in his voice. He had been guilty of yet another teaching misjudgement with her, assuming her enthusiasm stemmed from a desire to impress and show-off when that had only played a tiny part, even in her first term. "'The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be lighted.'"

Arrested, Hermione stared at him, absorbing what she was sure was a quotation. "You really do like teaching, don't you? I wondered because our discussions in the library were so different from your Potions... That is - um..." To her relief, even Snape looked amused.

"You may - I stress may - begin to notice a small improvement in my patience this academic year. The more gifted students amongst you will be invited to sit a Salamander Level, which affords the option of taking up a Pupillage or apprenticeship in a chosen field when you leave Hogwarts."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "I'd forgotten about that. How many are we allowed to take?"

"Just one. The workload is considerable - and you'll all be sitting your N.E.W.T.s."

"Just one? But how to choose?"

Dumbledore gave a gentle cough. "It has been our experience that the subject often selects the wizard - or witch, although often not until the last moment."

"It should also be added that in the majority of cases it's enough of a struggle getting enough information into pupils to get them through their N.E.W.T.s," said Snape. "Unless, of course, you find yourself being drawn to Divination at the last moment."

"That's not funny," she told him severely. "If Fate has a sense of humour anything like the headmaster's that could happen."

"No, I assure you," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Before you lose yourself to visions of what subject to grace with your genius," said Snape unpleasantly, "may I add something. In view of your recent anxiety about your mental stability, next time you are concerned about something that serious perhaps you'll have the common sense to speak with Minerva. Or Albus."

Hermione looked self-conscious. "I didn't like to bother them."

"Then why not approach Poppy? She is your guardian."

"I thought that was just a matter of form."

Snape studied her with interest. "I can only marvel at the thought processes which assumes that a wizarding contract so powerful that Voldemort himself can't break it is just a matter of form. You really should talk to Poppy."

"I think she's been a little...hurt that you haven't done so," added Dumbledore. "While, of necessity, you are all expected to mature earlier than might be usual amongst Muggle children, you are not expected to bear burdens beyond your strength alone. Something you might care to remind Harry about. Now, as Fawkes and I would like to get to bed some time before dawn, perhaps you could put me out of my misery. Does Severus really smell of slugs and snails?"

"Fortunately not. He uses the same hair conditioner as me," Hermione added absently.

"A bonding experience I'm sure," drawled Snape, trying not to wonder what colour her nipples might be.

"Your clothing is rinsed in rosemary-scented water."

"Yes?"

"But you smell of that sharp, green scent of rain-wet cypress. And man, of course. Clean, healthy man." And so inviting she'd been hard-pressed not to suck and nip the tender white skin behind one neat-set ear. His skin wasn't olive at all - when he had removed the Appearance Detracting Charm he'd had the beginnings of a tan, which had deepened in the weeks since.

"Indeed? How dull. I was hoping for something exotic," said Dumbledore when Snape just sat studying his hands, as if he had feared.... Who knew what Severus had expected? Unless he was simply bracing himself for the most difficult moment of all? "Severus, if you would be kind enough to roll up your shirt sleeve so Miss Granger can check the site of the Dark Mark."

His expression bleak, Snape looked up.

"I've never done this before," blurted out Hermione, nervous at the thought of such an intimacy in front of Dumbledore's all-seeing gaze. "I've never even thought of myself as having a particularly good sense of smell."

"So when you assist Longbottom you can't tell when that dunderhead has compromised yet another potion?" said Snape abruptly.

"Well, yes. Usually. But it isn't a conscious thing."

"Then it's time it was. You should work with Sirius - or Remus - to hone the ability."

"But you - "

"Have better things to do with my time," said Snape crushingly. "Remus' sense of smell is the most acute I've ever encountered," he added a heartbeat later. "Perhaps he would be the more appropriate person to test the Dark Mark." Offering up his arm to her was an intimacy he could do without. It was a wonder she hadn't already detected the hormonal changes indicating his arousal. "And given that I already feel as if I've sold tickets..."

Taking that for tacit agreement, Dumbledore went to the fireplace.



When Lupin arrived, it was obvious from his dishevelled appearance that he had been asleep - or otherwise engaged. From Black's irritable expression and air of frustration Hermione was prepared to take an educated guess which. So, she gathered, from the almost imperceptible twitch of his lips, was Severus. She was careful not to concentrate too deeply on their scent. It belatedly occurred to her that she could do with some help if she wasn't to lose herself to the myriad scents of communal life with so many people just before she wondered if that was what Snape had had in mind.

Once he understood what was being proposed Black opened his mouth, found Lupin, Dumbledore and Hermione all glaring at him and held his tongue. He was almost glad of the fact when he took in the defensive posture Snape had adopted where he stood by the window, wearing an expression that would have soured milk at three paces.

When Lupin took a light but firm hold of his bared arm at the elbow and wrist, Snape stared fixedly out into the night, as if trying to disassociate himself from what was happening.

"I believe I already have your scent fixed, but it's as well to check," said Lupin, before he began to check Snape's arm. "Shame, humiliation, anger, regret, resentment, lust, ar - " Belatedly appreciating what he was saying, he stopped.

"Thank you, Remus. Be sure to strip me of every privacy," said Snape, his voice barely carrying to where Hermione stood. He sounded quietly and completely furious.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking," Lupin murmured. "It's just that strong emotions and hormonal... They always register first. Stay still, I'll just be a moment more."

True to his word, he straightened, releasing his hold of Snape's arm. "I'd know you anywhere. More to the point, I could track you."

"Oh joy." His back achingly straight, Snape was still avoiding everyone's eyes, although he could feel their stares stabbing him.

"I just have to check the Dark Mark," added Lupin quietly.

"Can you offer a description of Severus' scent we can relate to - say like lemons, or marmalade?" asked Dumbledore.

Hermione was too busy giving Snape a glare of pure resentment to pay much attention. Typical man, with his mind constantly on sex. The list of his partners was obviously a lengthy one - although she couldn't fault his taste in lovers. She'd always liked Professor Lupin. But what Mr Black was going to think of this development she didn't want to contemplate. She was surprised to see him quietly drinking tea while absently rubbing the back of Fawkes' head rather than plotting ways of murdering Snape for lusting after his lover.

"I'm afraid not, Headmaster," said Lupin absently. "It doesn't work like that for me. Sirius' response to scent is different again - as I suspect Minerva's would be. Miss Granger, please move away. Your scent is compromising the results I'm getting from Severus."

"Sorry," she said, automatically doing as she had been asked without realising what he had just said.

"Now this is interesting," said Lupin, a little time later, having mapped out the Dark Mark on the unblemished skin by scent alone. "Sirius, come and smell this and tell me what you think."

"I think that if anyone ever finds out I've spent the evening sniffing Severus' forearm... "

While his arm was extended, Snape seemed to have divorced himself from what was happening. Except for the sound of light snuffling the room was quiet for some time.

"Nothing. The area of the Dark Mark has no smell at all," said Black as he straightened.

"Like Voldemort," said Snape bleakly, his muscles of his face set. It was even worse than he had feared; there really was no way out.

"You're nothing like him," said Hermione briskly. "That's just his equivalent of a stamp of ownership on your arm. Nothing to do with you."

Busy rolling down his shirt sleeve as fast as he could without being obvious about it, Snape turned to her. "Don't deceive yourself, Miss Granger." He had yet to regain the weight he had lost during his days in the cell and the bones of his face seemed suddenly even more prominent.

Wishing fiercely that she had the right to offer comfort, she hoped that someone could see what this news had done to him. She flinched when she saw Snape looking at her, an expression she wasn't sure how to interpret on his face.

"Don't waste your pity," he said in a harsh undertone.

"I was just wondering how such an intelligent man could be so stupid at times," she snapped, before her expression grew intent.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" asked Lupin, his watchful gaze moving from Snape to her and back again.

"Does anyone know what Harry's scar smells of?" Hermione muttered. "It always hurts him when Voldemort is near. A lot. To the point where he can hardly think."

"As does Severus' Dark Mark," said Dumbledore quietly.

Snape's head rose. "You know about that? It never used to. Or only for a moment or so. When he would summon the Death Eaters. When I failed to obey the pain would fade to a background burning - similar to sunburn. But since I returned to him..." Shrugging, he fell silent, although he was unconsciously rubbing his forearm.

Dumbledore's gaze grew more intent. "It changed then?"

Snape nodded.

"What did he do to link you?"

His defences down, Snape was caught unawares, the humiliation on his face betraying him.

Beside her, Hermione felt Lupin tense, saw Black open his mouth and scrunched her eyes shut, willing him to remain silent. If he forced the subject into the open Snape would kill him.

"The mark, what did he do to the mark?" she asked feverishly. "It must have been more than the Cruciatus, because you'd suffered that before. And surely physical torture wouldn't be enough - it would take magic." She could feel herself running out of breath but the dangerous moment seemed to have passed. Standing close together, as if for support - or their mutual comfort - Lupin and Black were carefully not looking at Snape, although she could have sworn Black's hands were shaking until he stuffed them into his pockets, out of sight.

Snape blinked, the dangerous look leaving his face. "Yes. I'd forgotten. I was too bloody terrified," he added sourly.

"I'm not surprised," said Black brusquely. "I would have been pissing myself. Sorry, Miss Granger. Go on, Severus."

His eyes narrowed, Snape was too busy concentrating on something only he could see to be aware of support from such an unlikely quarter. "He traced the Dark Mark with a finger. His nail cut an outline and as the blood hit the mark the pain... I lost consciousness for a short time. When I came round he was laughing with Wormtail, saying he'd never lose track of me again. Until Albus did...whatever he did a few weeks ago I was never without pain. It just got worse when Voldemort summoned me."

Her head propped in her hands, Hermione massaged her temples with her thumbs as she pulled a face to stop the stupid tears that would embarrass everyone. No wonder he'd been such a bastard in class. But she hated the deadened note that had entered his voice, as if he had abandoned hope of ever being free. And yet still he worked for Dumbledore...

Saint Severus rides again. Not. It was probably just because he was bloody-minded enough to resent losing control of his life. Russia had been described as a riddle wrapped in an enigma, which just about summed up Severus. Maybe he had Russian blood somewhere down the family tree. Or maybe he was just an English puzzle she was going to do her damnedest to solve.

"Headmaster, Voldemort's link with Harry wasn't voluntary, was it?" she asked into the silence which had fallen.

"I very much doubt it. He came close to dying in that first encounter."

Raising her head Hermione stared at Snape until he sensed her surveillance and looked around.

"Miss Granger?"

"Does Voldemort have any mark on him?"

"None that I'm aware of."

"Damn," she muttered without heat. "Another theory down the... We need to know if Harry's scar has a scent."

"Well, I could just go up to him in Potions and sniff his forehead," said Snape disagreeably.

"I'll do it," said Black.

"When?" asked Lupin practically. "You're never alone with him during term time."

"I could do it," said Hermione without enthusiasm.

"No," said Snape flatly, unconscious of the glances the other men gave him.

Hermione nodded. "You're probably right. Mr Black would be best."

"I shall have to make a point of patrolling at night with my dog," said Lupin. "Sirius is our best hope of checking for other Dark Marks."

"We don't know that it's the same for others," pointed out Snape, unconsciously rubbing his arm. "I'll have to pay more attention."

"Tricky while screaming your head off under the Cruciatus, I would have thought," said Hermione. "But at least we have a starting place, thanks to you." It was only then that she realised just how tired she was. "I'm dreadfully sorry. But I think I need to sleep."

"Oh, good," said Dumbledore. "At the risk of sounding inhospitable I'm hoping everyone feels the same way."

"Never let it be said we couldn't take a hint," said Black, leading the way to the door. "Severus? Remus and I need someone to protect us from Miss Granger."

"Actually, I'd like a word with him," she said, as they went down the stairs after bidding Dumbledore good night.

"Run for your lives," said Snape. Beneath the resignation she was willing to swear she could hear amusement.

"Definitely," said Black, once they were in the corridor. "Potions class tomorrow?"

"If you wish."

"Yes. We'll be there. 'Night."

Lupin smiled, nodded and followed Black, leaving Hermione and Snape following in their wake at a far slower pace.

"What do you wish to know?" asked Snape two long corridors later, when Hermione had made no attempt to break the silence. Swallowing a yawn, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You aren't planning anything stupid like finding out if Voldemort does have a mark, are you?" she asked, blunt because she had been able to think of no tactful way of framing the question.

"You're being impertinent," he said sharply, his stride lengthening.

Hermione discovered she was virtually trotting to keep up with him. "No. Just practical. We don't know what advantage the knowledge will be until we've checked out Harry's scar. And even then... It's not worth it."

He gave her an irritable glare. "It's no concern of... Rest assured, should I require your guidance on how to conduct my life I'll be certain to ask."

Having got off lighter than she had expected, Hermione nodded. "Yes, professor."

Boot heels scraped stone as Snape came to an abrupt halt. "Are you humouring me?" The outrage in his voice made her want to giggle, although she suspected that might have as much to do with the fact she was so tired she could hardly think straight.

"No, just worrying about you. It's late, I'm tired, and this is the corridor to my chambers. Good night. Oh, professor."

"No," he said.

"You didn't even wait to hear what I was going to ask."

Amused by her would-be ferocity, only the gleam in his eyes betrayed him. "That's because I don't need to. Come." He walked her to the door to her chamber. "There."

"You don't have to sound quite so relieved to be getting rid of me," she said crossly.

"You were going to ask if you could attend the Potions class I'm holding with Remus, Sirius and Poppy. The answer is no, you can't."

Her face fell. "Oh." Unconsciously pleating a portion of fabric between her fingers, she looked down. "I thought I was... You said I was adequate at Potions."

"At the risk of paraphrasing you, not everything is about you, Miss Granger."

"I don't understand." She gave him a blank look.

The smallest of smiles twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"That wasn't what I meant. And you know it," she added with spirit. "Though if Professor Lupin and Mr Black are going to be there it can't be a master class, so it must be for Madam Pomfrey." She gave him a speculative look.

"Yes," he confirmed, irritable when, despite himself, he reacted to the approval in her smile. "Good night."

Six strides down the corridor he paused, then turned to see she was still standing where he had left her. "What?" he demanded, returning to her side. "What is it you really wanted to ask me?" he added, impatient when she continued to stare at him.

"How did you know?"

"Intuition," he said dryly, before he grimaced and opted for the truth. "I've been teaching for seventeen years. In the process I've learnt a few things myself. Whatever it is, ask so we can get some sleep."

"What do I smell of?" she blurted out. Mortified by her gauche behaviour she glared fiercely at him. "Quid pro quo, Professor."

"A point best made while you still have information with which to bargain, Miss Granger," he pointed out, amused. He smiled when her glare intensified. "There's more truth to that rhyme than you suppose."

"I do not smell of slugs," she said, outraged.

"Sugar and spice, Miss Granger. Sugar and spice. Or in your case ripe figs and honey." Her mouth parted in a way he found highly distracting.

"Oh," she said faintly before she made a typical recovery. "Isn't that rather cloying?"

The charm in his grin rocked her where she stood. "Not where you're concerned. Did I forget to mention the vinegar?"

"You made that up," she said, her eyes narrowing.

His hands parted. "I'm a Slytherin. Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night." It was a moment more before she thought to go inside, and a moment more before she closed her door, still smiling.


AUTHOR'S NOTE



The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be lighted.

- Plutarch



Slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails - Hermione misquotes the most familiar form of the nursery rhyme 'What are little boys made of?' The line should read 'Snips and snails and puppy-dog tails,'.

It's lucky she hadn't come across a verse added by Rimbaud: 'What are young men made of?

Sighs and leers and crocodile tears...'



'Russia had been described as a riddle wrapped in an enigma'

Hermione mis-remembers the quotation.

I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

Broadcast talk 1940: Winston Churchill



Quid pro quo - something for something