Where the wizards bite back

Vanity Shattered

Chapter 4: A Temporary Source

“Get up,” Dec seemed to be hissing at her. Hermione blinked in confusion as she floated one of their practice cushions back onto the shelf. What was he talking about? She already was up. “Get up,” he hissed again. Hermione raised her eyebrows, and then suddenly she blinked and the room was flooded with light and she was squinting and frowning unhappily.

“Will you fucking well get up!” a angry growl came from beside her, and instantly, shocked and startled, Hermione leapt out of her bed, a little surprised and confused to find herself in her clothes from the night before and to find someone else speaking beneath the covers of her bed. As her brain caught up with her, she realised that the someone else was Snape—at least there was no one else it could be—but that still didn’t explain why he was in her bed.

“What are you doing?” she screamed angrily at him.

“Close the fucking curtains!” the covers seemed to shake as his deep voice grumbled at her.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, and she leapt anxiously for the one sole window of her flat that was illuminating the room. When she had tugged the windows closed, she groped for her wand on the dresser and cast a charm that more effectively stretched them to cover every inch of the window, ensuring that the only light was a dim and purple-tinted aura.

“Safe?” another growl demanded.

“Yeah, I think so. It should be,” Hermione stuttered. “I’m so sorry, I should have thought. Could you not have hidden in the bathroom or the kitchen? Did you have to get into my bed?” she then demanded, remembering her justifiable annoyance.

The covers were suddenly wrenched down to reveal Snape as she’d never seen him before—looking anxious and with messed-up hair. And he was glaring furiously at her. That was typical.

“I was at the desk, working, and by the time I’d noticed your blunder, it was too late to reach any other safe place!” He shoved the covers off him, getting his legs a little tangled, and then hurried to get off the bed. He stood glaring down at her now, only a few inches away from her.

Immediately, her anger dissolved away to be replaced by an antsy need to be somewhere else. She looked down and shuffled back a few steps before turning and darting to her wardrobe.

“I-I have to go to work.”

“It’s sunrise, Miss Granger,” the deep, rich voice behind her chuckled. “A very bright sunrise, but only just sunrise. I don’t think you have to be at work yet.”

Refusing to turn to him, she riffled through the rack of robes unthinkingly, just to make noise, just to be busy, and replied, “Yes, well… I need to see to… other things first. For you…”

“Ah, yes,” he breathed out, and suddenly his breath was one her neck, not warm but cool, making the hairs on her neck prickle and causing a tingle to run down her spine. “So that I am not forced to drink of you… again,” he purred, and Hermione found it difficult to reconcile the warm richness of his voice with the coolness of his breath. While the latter should repulse her, combined with the former, and the tingle—the scent maybe? Maybe just a sixth sense that it made prickle and take notice—of that old blood in his veins, it somehow made her knees weak. She closed her eyes for a second to try and get her bearings and then suddenly felt the graze of his hair against her upper arm and of sharpness against her soft neck, and she almost leapt away from him.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed out, her heart pounding in her ears as she eyed the tall, dark man who was standing before her, regarding her with some amusement.

“It is an interesting attraction that you seem to feel. I spent my night reading about it.”

“You were supposed to be reading about—”

“A cure?” Snape laughed at her now. “Don’t be so ridiculous!” He took a step toward her, and she took a step back, and he chuckled again in a deep baritone at the dance between them. “Very interesting…” he repeated. Wary now, she didn’t take the bait. Instead, she gestured toward the wardrobe, took a wary step toward him and grabbed the first robes she could lay her hands on, then whipped around him and into the bathroom.

Slamming the door behind her, she leaned against it in exhaustion and relief. She’d escaped. Only temporarily, yes, but it was something. He’d been in her bed. She shuddered to think. How long had he been there? Not long, she supposed, but she could have—Merlin, she could have rolled over, thrown an arm around him—shit, there were so many worse ways that situation could have ended. She took a breath and allowed herself to feel a little relieved. The worst of it was surely over now. She knew what she needed. Get some blood from—somewhere, she hadn’t thought it through yet—remember to close the curtains, get another bed from… somewhere.

Pensively, she locked the door quite thoroughly and turned on the shower for the water to warm up. Looking up at herself in the mirror, she was startled to see how tired and worn out she looked, dark smudges under her eyes, her cheeks a little drawn. For a second, she stared at herself in wonder. He couldn’t—no, how could she even think that he would do that to her? Surely she would have noticed, it would have woken her up if he had—

Hermione turned away from her reflection in self-disgust. She was just tired and over-wrought! Sure, Snape was angry with her right now, but he wasn’t evil. He would never do something like that. To distract herself now, she toyed with the curtain as she waited for the water to warm up just a little more. A cool shower was not what she needed right now after Snape’s chilling whispers over her neck. She needed to warm up.

She normally hated drawing the curtain, but now, when her space had been invaded, even with the door locked, she felt nervous. What was worse? Him barging in or him barging in and seeing her naked? The latter. Definitely. Stripping off perfunctorily, she stepped into the shower and whipped the curtain closed around her, steaming up the small space to create a warm little cocoon for herself.

She sighed as she put her head under the pouring water and just let herself relax. Okay. Everything was going to be okay. When she got back this evening, she’d have things all worked out. Still, even as the warm water pummelled her, matting her curls down over her head, she still felt tense. Edgy. She couldn’t get rid of the thought of him in her bed.

Even in the warmth of her shower, the thought seemed to raise the hairs on her neck and sent a tingle down her spine and straight between her legs, and she cursed herself. That had been a crush. Four years ago. She shook her head, but that vague tingle now wouldn’t go away as she shampooed her hair.

Rinsing her hair out, she gave an exasperated sigh. While she was enjoying what would probably be her only alone time of the day, she may as well… She allowed a hand to run slowly from the back of her neck around, down between her breasts gently. Squeezing rhythmically, she then circled one fingertip in a languid spiral to reach her nipple and tweaked gently. Sighing a little, she repeated the process on her other nipple, then lifted one arm to lean against the shower wall.

Eyes closed, she let her head fall under the stream of hot water and her hand slip down her belly and between her legs. Only a few moments of tweaking and massaging had her moaning in quiet relief, and then she stood up straight and shook the water out of her eyes, feeling more prepared for her morning.

Lathering her body quickly and efficiently now, she rinsed down once more and shut the shower off feeling far more cheerful about everything. Squeezing out the excess water on her hair, she began humming some vague but familiar tune as she reached over and pulled the curtain aside. And screamed.

Severus Snape stood before her, an inscrutable smirk on his lips and a dangerous glitter in his eyes.

“What the—” She reached to the side and grabbed the shower curtain again, pulling it across to cover herself while glaring at him furiously and trying to pretend she wasn’t blushing. “Get out!” she yelled.

Ignoring her shout, he reached behind him and grabbed a towel, but he did not hand it to her, only toyed with it for a moment. “I can smell you,” he said finally in a completely unreadable voice, as if it were a statement of a fact she should have no trouble understanding the importance of. She blushed beneath his gaze, which raked almost playfully over her body, but there was something predatory in it too.

Looking down at herself, Hermione realised that the shower curtain, wet as it was, was clinging to her body and was almost transparent, leaving little to the imagination. She fidgeted, trying to make herself less exposed, and he merely smirked at her efforts, still toying with her towel. “Not just your arousal,” he clarified now, “but the throbbing, pulsing, warm blood in your veins. It takes on a different scent, you know, when you’re excited. It’s a spicy scent. It goes well with the tang of your pussy,” he said as he leaned in closer. As she was in the shower, they were closer in height than usual, and his leaning in caused their lips and eyes to be almost level without him having to leaning down much. For a second, she tried to comprehend what was happening. Was he making a pass at her? Was he about to kiss her? Did she want him to? Then, staring into his black eyes, her rational mind suddenly revolted, and her hand shot out and whipped the towel away from him.

“Get out,” she reiterated now in a low growl, and with a final glance down over her body and a low chuckle, which sent goosebumps down her spine, he complied.

Letting out a gasping sigh, Hermione released her hold on the shower curtain, which she was in danger of pulling down, and slumped to the floor of the bath. She felt like she needed another shower—the heat of her skin, caused by embarrassment or by something else more unthinkable, she didn’t know, made her crave the cool water once again, but she knew that he would hear it and laugh at her for it, for her weakness toward him. What had he said? A fascination? An attraction to his blood…

He was in the kitchen when she emerged fully-clothed and still flushed bright red from the bathroom, and not wanting to speak to him, she forfeited breakfast and hurried to the fireplace. As she stepped into the green flames, she had the eerie and unverifiable feeling that he was watching her, and she somehow wished that she had locked the Floo.

V---V

For once, Hermione was at the office before Dec. With a sour glare, she shot past Elouise, and then she loitered for almost fifteen minutes in the main area of the office, toying with her wand and anxiously waiting for him to arrive.

When he did, he looked much the same as she had that morning—exhausted with bags and his eyes and a tense look on his face.

“Merlin, I’m so glad to see you!” he let out as he entered the office to see her waiting for him, and he rushed to her and enfolded her in a surprising hug.

“What… I’m so sorry about what happened last night,” Hermione sighed as she let herself be squeezed almost breathless.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’m just so glad you’re okay! I didn’t want to leave you, but—”

“Maybe we should take this elsewhere?” Hermione suddenly interrupted, unfolding herself from his embrace and looking anxiously at the door.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Dec assented absently. “Come on; here will do!” he added, pulling her into the first available practice room, which was certainly not the most spacious. Turning on her, even though they were standing on opposite sides of the room, there was only a foot between them, and he reached out and took her hand. “Are you okay? Has he hurt you? You look terrible!”

“Well, thanks,” Hermione bit back, dropping Dec’s hand. “You look pretty awful too! No, he hasn’t hurt me. How could you even think that?” she added in disgust, as if it truly were unthinkable. “I’m just a little freaked out by everything,” she explained. “I was so unprepared! I don’t have anything for him to… drink—”

“He didn’t bite you, did he? If he did, I’ll kill him!” Dec snarled out in a surprisingly vicious voice.

“No, he didn’t,” Hermione insisted. I fed myself to him, that’s all. A little shudder went down her spine as those words echoed in her mind, but she ignored it, just as she ignored the little tacked-on thought of, Oh, and he came to perve on me in the shower, too. “He cleaned out my Potions drawer of dragon’s blood, though,” was one of the few acceptable things she found herself able to say right now. It would be too embarrassing to tell Dec that Snape had seen her naked—and much too embarrassing to repeat what he had said. Embarrassing or… something else. Too personally revealing? She would have to explain how she had responded, what she had been thinking… “And now I’ll have to get some more,” she complained a little more strongly, hoping to nudge Dec, and herself, onto the right track: her current logistical problem, rather than her strange living situation.

“Dragon’s blood?” Dec asked sceptically, as if unable to comprehend what use that had been or why it was being mentioned.

“Well, yes. Not for him though, for my Potions drawer... I mean, getting dragon’s blood is easy compared to getting”—her voice lowered to a hiss here—“human blood for him. If only I had another day or two, but he needs to—”

“Eat?” Dec supplied with a grimace after Hermione had cut herself off and they had stood in silence for a moment. “Well, I won’t let you be a victim to him. I won’t let that happen!” Dec insisted, stepping forward and pulling Hermione into his arms again. As she submitted weakly, she wondered what on earth was wrong with Dec. It wasn’t like she was in any real danger. Severus Snape was angry and mean, but he wasn’t evil. He wasn’t going to attack her. Just mentally torture—And tease?—her until she’d found the cure. And even then, she wasn’t sure he’d be happy.

“We’ll think of something,” Dec reassured her as he released her, but for Hermione his words rang particularly hollow.

“Hmm,” she replied absently and tried to force a bright and reassuring smile. She really wanted to know what that something was.

V---V

“I’ve got it!” Dec exclaimed as he sat down at their table in the Ministry cafeteria with both their lunches on a tray. Somehow, Hermione had managed to begin work and actually distract herself until lunchtime, but now her problems had beset her again.

“Got what?” Hermione almost asked, but then the slightly manic look in his eyes told her exactly what he was talking about, what he too was thinking about. “Do you think we should be talking about this here?” was what she said instead.

“Don’t worry,” Dec hissed back, leaning over the table as he unwrapped his sandwich. “I’ve figured that for tonight, and maybe for tomorrow, until we can find a better source, you can use mine.”

Hermione didn’t like the sound of the ‘we’ in that sentence. Although she knew she should be grateful for Dec’s support and Dec’s help, he seemed a little… unhinged whenever he talked about Snape, and it made her uncomfortable. Perhaps she seemed the same way to him and she merely didn’t realise…

“Dec, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she replied hesitantly, picking up a carrot stick and crunching it in an effort to distract herself.

“Well, have you got a better one?” he demanded, leaning back in his chair with a smug, confident look. The problem was, she didn’t. She’d been racking her brains since lunch had begun, and she’d come up with nothing short of raiding a Muggle hospital for transfusion blood. As easy as that might have been with a few well-placed Confundus Charms, Hermione didn’t like the idea of violating the Code of Secrecy, and she felt even less positive about the actual theft.

“Tomorrow is Saturday. I’ll be able to work something out then. I can buy some more dragon’s blood tonight—”

“Hermione, don’t be silly. Do you know how expensive that is to be feeding to a vampire daily? And they can’t survive long on animal blood, you know… it doesn’t… well, it’s not what they need.” He looked a little shifty now, as if he might have learned this in a way he didn’t want to talk about. Hermione recalled that Russian friend he had spoken about, but she said nothing. There were plenty of things she wasn’t telling him; she supposed he could have a few secrets too.

Then, after a few ruminative bites of her sandwich, she said, almost as if she had herself convinced, “It’s too dangerous to you.”

“No, it’s not!” he retorted hastily, almost too hastily for Hermione’s liking. It was almost as if he wanted to give up his blood. “Look, I’ve got a Blood-Replenishing Potion—I bought it,” he interrupted himself, seeing the look on her face. “It’ll just be one time. I want to… well, I feel a little responsible for this whole mess, and I want to help.” He looked at her with a pleading glint in his eyes that once again made her feel a little uncomfortable, as if there was something off, a subtext she was somehow missing.

Eventually, she couldn’t think of any other reason to refuse, however, and she only said, “One time. And you won’t need the potion”—at this, Dec actually looked a little disappointed, or maybe it was just the angle of the light—“a few drops will be enough.”

For the rest of their lunch, Hermione couldn’t quite bring herself to look Dec in the eyes.

~*~
Chapter five