FICLET: Digging (Hermione/Snape, Hermione/Ron, R)

[kennahijja]

Omg, I wrote het... ;).

Title: Digging
Author: Hijja
Pairing(s): Hermione/Snape of sorts, Hermione/Ron
Rating: R-ish
Summary: Her post-war relationship leaves Hermione with strange memories and urges...
Note: A missing scene in HBP, written for bethbethbeth's birthday :). Crit is love!

She finds herself kissing him, open-mouthed, his hands in her hair, her nipples aching, until she opens her eyes and wakes with a scream that rouses Ron beside her. While he is murmuring sleepily, nuzzling her hip, she bites the back of her hand until she draws blood.

As the meeting drones on in the dusty chamber on the top floor of the Ministry's Magical Law Enforcement wing, she catches herself winding a green ribbon around her wrist, round and round, pulling tight, knotting, unknotting. She forces her eyes to remain open. She knows that should they drift shut, he'll be there, staring down at her spread out between bedposts, bound and wet and helpless.

Even when she writhes in Ron's arms, crushed by the rousing weight of his body – when has he become such an inspired lover, or she so wanton? – she buries her face against his throat and tastes cloves, stale potion fumes and the musty scent of unwashed hair and should she open her eyes, he'll swallow her up whole.

***
"… he keeps turning up in my dreams in... in sexually charged situations, and I don't think that's normal."

Hermione Granger isn't a woman given to introspection. When she sees a problem, she goes to the source. To her credit, Minerva doesn't smile.

"Are you certain you want me to do this? There are experts in St Mungo's Experimental Spells department..."

"No!" Underneath the professional facade, she blushes. "You knew us both. They don't."

"Hermione..." Minerva whisks off her glasses, gives them a cursory rub, and puts them back on again. "You've only recently entered into an intimate relationship, haven't you? Are you certain it's not hormones playing with your mind?"

"Absolutely," she replies. Hormones never dared to mess with her, not even during puberty. They've certainly never conjured Severus Snape.

"Very well, then," says Minerva and lifts her wand. "Try to relax and empty your mind..."

***
"Miss Granger, stay behind. I'd like to discuss some problems with your essay."

She glares down at the spidery red 'A' on said essay, at the scrawl of 'exceeds length requirements' and nothing else.

'Greasy bastard,' Ron mouths, cheering her a little even though they haven't been speaking for weeks. She waves away Harry who drags his feet to offer support.

Then the Defence classroom is empty.

"Professor," she starts before he can launch his lecture, "I don't think that downgrading-"

"I have no intention of discussing your classwork." He takes a step forward, black robes rippling around him like smooth leather. She feels the hint of an unwanted prickle between her legs and suppresses it with a firm thought of Ron.

"I am certain that your extracurricular studies have taught you about the purpose of an Unbreakable Vow."

She colours. How has Snape managed to find out that Harry has eavesdropped on his conversation with Malfoy?

She decides to play it cool. ""In fact, I have. An Unbreakable Vow is an advanced spell that binds a wizard to-"

"Please spare me the regurgitation of textbook material, Miss Granger," Snape cuts in. "A plain yes or no would have been sufficient." His face darkens; she has to force herself not to step back from the brooding presence. "I expect the same in response to the question I am going to pose to you now."

Instinctively, she wants to speak up, but limits herself to cocking her head in a way that is almost a challenge.

"I want you to make an Unbreakable Vow to me, Miss Granger."

"What?" she gasps, composure forgotten. "Why?"

"Your friend Mr Potter, I'm afraid, will be suffering from a significant lack of supportive environment in the foreseeable future. You seem to be his most reliable and intelligent acquaintance. For reasons that need not concern you, I have an interest in seeing him as well protected as possible."

"Wait... why would Harry have problems?" she sputters while her brain tries to process the compliment wrapped up inside that last sentence.

The sneer deepens. "I told you that I have no interest in answering your questions. You are here to answer mine. Will you take the Unbreakable Oath to aid Potter in any way for him to fulfill his mission – and, if possible, survive?"

She wets her lips nervously. "Behind Harry's back?"

The sardonic look he shoots her makes her squirm. "Not only that, dear girl. I don't have any intention of allowing you to retain the memory of this conversation either."

"You expect me to keep an oath I have no memory of?" This is becoming more surreal by the second. "But I..."

"… could die?" he finishes, looking down at her in a way that could almost be called seductive, if Snape were capable of such. The lure of danger.

"Yes," she admits.

"You are uncertain about the depths of your loyalties?"

She glares, huffs... goes quiet. It's not a question. She isn't. She's never been.

"No," she says softly. Tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then holds out her hand for him to take. "I am not uncertain at all." For Harry, for Ron...? She'd do a lot more.

She expects his palm to be cool, maybe even chilling, but it's warm and a little moist. He can't possibly be nervous about doing this, can he?

The words of the Oath are echoing through her head, at the same time ringing like bells and sounding far off as if coming through a curtain of water.

"Do you, Hermione Granger, swear to do everything in your power to protect Harry Potter?"

"Do you swear to assist him to fulfill his destiny to destroy the Dark Lord?"

"Do you swear not to betray him to his enemies no matter what will happen to you?"

She cannot hear her answers, only feel the firm grip of his hand, the heat of the magical flames as they lick, green and golden, over the skin of their wrists, overlapping, binding her to him.

Memories flicker like fireflies – defending Snape against Harry's and Ron's accusations, sticking with Harry in the woods even after Ron's desertion and her mad fury at that, guilt over breaking Harry's wand by accident eating at her stomach like a cancer. Fighting the sea of agony that was Bellatrix Lestrange's Cruciatus Curse to the breaking point and beyond.

She gasps for air when her mind swims back to the surface of consciousness. The hair on her temples and neck is wet with cold sweat.

"I can't believe he would do that to you!" Minerva hisses once she's put her wand away. She gets up and pours a glass of amber liquid from one of the cabinets in the Headmistress's study. Hermione gulps it down, reveling in its smooth sharpness.

"I don't think he thought he had much of a chance," she says faintly, only too aware that she's still defending Snape.

"To force a responsibility like that on a student... and then Obliviate her!"

Tiredly, Hermione runs a hand through her sweaty hair. "Less responsibility than Headmaster Dumbledore placed on Harry, when he was even younger." She catches the flinch of pain on the older woman's face, and puts a hand over hers. "Thank you, Headmistress. I'm glad I understand now."

Minerva looks up, her eyes sharp. "Do you?"

"Yes." She forces her lips to curve into a smile. "You were right, of course. My brain took the suppressed memories of the Vow, and mixed in my... intimate moments... with Ron. I'll be able to deal with both, now."

She takes her leave, all gratitude to a mentor and affection for a fellow combatant.

And clinging, frantically, to the hope that she's right.

~ finis ~