Title: Tear You Apart
Warnings: Violence, Sexual Situations, Light Bondage, Student/Teacher Relations, Dubious Consent
A/N: This fic was inspired by the song "Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge. If you look close and squint, you might see a lyric or two. (full lyrics available HERE) A very special thank you to my beta eeyore9990 for all her help and friendship. Also thank you to knightmare_shad for the read through.
Disclaimers: JKR owns it all, please don't sue me.
Summary: Snape gives Hermione an object lesson in Dark Magic. (AU, Sixth Year, Snape as DADA Professor)
"Yes, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape spat her name as if it were a bad taste in his mouth.
"Are you suggesting that we familiarize ourselves with the Dark Arts to better protect ourselves from them?" Hermione Granger was standing, her words pushed out in a rush. Her mind was no doubt already anticipating his answer, and readying yet another question. Merlin deliver him from this Gryffindor, and her need to know everything.
"Your grasp of the obvious astounds me,” he sneered at her. He hated her. He hated her incessant questions, her dizzying intellect, and her bossiness. He hated her friends, her House, her bravery. He hated the way the sight of her stirred his blood, and made him lust for violence, or something else…
Either way, he wanted her, and this was bad.
"But sir, isn't that dangerous? What if the temptation to use Dark Magic is too strong?" She was still standing tall under his harsh gaze, daring him to take action.
He stood slowly and stalked to her desk, his robes moving like something alive.
"There is danger inherent in all dealings with magic. I wonder which is greater, Miss Granger; the draw of the Dark Arts or being dead because one went to battle ill prepared?" His voice was a low hiss that skittered through the classroom. She looked at him unflinching, her eyes wide and unblinking.
He read her thoughts without meaning to. Her mind was wide open to him, too easy to reach in and see all her secrets. What he saw there caused his blood to boil and his chest to constrict painfully. He turned away from her, and addressed the class.
“You are to pair off and practice hexing each other. Now!” He heard the scraping of stools on ancient stones as the class stood and moved to duel in pairs.
“Professor?” Her again. He closed his eyes and prayed to Merlin for patience.
“Twenty points from Gryffindor!” He was moving away from her now; safety lay in distance.
He heard her friends whispering to her, begging her to be quiet and not cost them anymore House points. He reached his desk and stopped, waiting, his back to the classroom.
“Professor!” He knew it would not stop. She would not stop until he was driven to madness.
“One hundred points from Gryffindor. Speak again, Miss Granger, and I’ll keep you after class.” He sat behind his desk and waited. Fate would decide this, for good or ill; it was beyond him now.
“Sir?” Her friends had left her alone, not wishing to share in her punishment or his anger.
“You will stay after class. Do not invite more trouble than you can handle.” He pointedly ignored her and began to grade the parchments on his desk.
The hour passed quickly as he slashed red ink across poorly written essays with his quill. Some students were so stupid, it was a wonder they were walking upright. If he wasn’t killed for being a double agent, the dunderheads he was forced to teach would be his undoing. He was sure of it.
“Class dismissed.” He watched as the students gathered their books and moved to the door. “Miss Granger, follow me.” He walked to his private office, not pausing to see if she followed him.
Once there he paced the small room, hoping for the calm that came from being around his favorite books, which lined the shelves. He knew when she darkened the doorway, and spun to face her, his face unmasked.
“I’m supposed to be in Charms.” She was angry now, probably blaming him for the situation she found herself in.
“That is not my problem. Surely Professor Flitwick is well aware of your need to second guess your teachers?” His words were venom, and he waited for them to hit their mark.
“I don’t do that! It was just a question; one that you still haven’t answered!” She clamped her mouth shut quickly. But it was too late; his rage was unleashed.
“The last time I checked, I did not need to answer to a student regarding my teaching methods!” he said quietly. He moved towards her, crowding her against a book-lined wall. He raised his hand and the office door slammed shut, locking them in. “Perhaps a lesson in Dark Magic is in order, Miss Granger?” He continued to move closer to her, invading her personal space.
He had to admire her bravery. Her eyes never left his face as he leaned down and stared directly into her eyes.
“I…I’m...” she stuttered, her throat working as she swallowed and looked away from him. Finally, she realized how precarious her situation had become.
"Do not open your mouth unless you intend to use it for something other than speaking,” he whispered. “Look at me, and pay attention. “ Her eyes met his again, and he leaned in until there was only a hairs breath of space between them.
He lifted his hands and pulled a large book from the shelf above her head. He smirked as she startled at the loud sound it made when he threw at her feet.
“Step up girl.” He watched as she stepped gingerly onto the tome that made her eye level with him. He considered her briefly before he spoke again.
She looked frightened and unsure of herself; it was exactly the encouragement he needed.
“Magic, as you well know, is all around us. The Dark Arts, like all sorcery, is no different. It lies in wait, biding
its time. It is in everything, a part of everyone.”
He ran his hands down her sides and captured her wrists. Lightening fast, he secured them in one palm above her head. She blinked at him, realization dawning too late on her face. With deft fingers, he slowly unbuttoned her robe, revealing her schoolgirl uniform underneath. Tie and sweater, plaid skirt and white socks. He pressed his body against hers, and watched as her expression changed from panic to something else.
“Love,” he sneered into her face, “is the strongest magic. Would you care to guess which is the darkest?” He could hear her breathing, whether from panic or want he didn’t know.
"Lust." It was a whisper from her, nothing more. She closed her eyes, and turned her head.
"You are a bright witch." He grabbed a handful of her curly hair and forced her head back. Then he kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet and young; this he expected. He was not prepared for her mouth to be so hot, enough to warm his, and make his lips burn from the contact. He released her, his wand in his hand before he could think. With a swish and flick, her tie was undone, her shirt unbuttoned, and her knickers disappeared altogether.
He parted her thighs with his knee, rubbing against her core as he bit her neck, marking her. He grazed his teeth down her chest, lathing her skin with his tongue to soothe the sting. He stopped between her breasts and lay his head against her heart, listening to its rapid beat. His free hand lifted her skirt, bunching it at her waist and exposing her nudity to the cold air of the room. He laid his hand flat against her abdomen before lowering his knee.
She remained still, breathing heavily. He kissed her again, slower now. His hand descended to her heat, his fingertips barely grazing her sex. A low moan escaped her throat as she moved against his hand, trying to increase the pressure. His fingers continued to glide over her, seeking her most sensitive spot. She gasped when he brushed across it, and bucked her hips.
“Hold still,” he growled at her. He released her hands and yanked the tie from her throat. The thin scrap of material proved most useful as he bound her hands together and repositioned them above her head. “Where were we?” he hissed.
This time, she was pinned to the wall by his mouth on hers, and his free hand on her hip. His other hand returned to the task at hand: deliberately caressing between her legs. Her tongue danced with his, becoming more frenzied as his fingers continued to explore her. He broke their kiss and touched his forehead to hers. She was doing her best to remain still, but her legs were beginning to quiver. His fingers were slick from her arousal as he pressed against her with his thumb and inserted a long finger inside of her. He watched, impassive, as she came apart in his arms, her knees finally giving way under her weight.
“The little death, tell me if you want to die again-" He covered her mouth with his hand, boring his eyes into hers. "Not with your voice, silly girl. Show me!" She moved against him, and he forced her against the wall again. He didn't care about her comfort, or the bruises that he was causing.
He reached between them and opened his robes, taking a moment to rub his arousal against her wet thigh. With a grunt he thrust into her tight body, his gaze never leaving her face. She bit her lip as her eyes became shiny with unshed tears. He began to move in slow, drawn-out strokes, urging her body to accommodate him. He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around a bra-covered nipple, wetting the material thoroughly, before pulling on the strap and baring her breast to his hungry mouth. She began to keen softly when he bit down, and thrust into her harder.
He groaned as he reached for his own completion, his thrusts becoming erratic. The girl was moaning now, as well. He was dimly aware of her flushed skin and hooded eyes as he climaxed, spilling inside of her. They clung to each other for a moment, their sweat cooling them as their panting slowed. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. She smelled like innocence to him; parchment, soap, and first time sex.
"Today’s lesson is over. Take your new found knowledge and leave." He adjusted his robes and untied her wrists. She didn’t look at him as she drew her own wand out and charmed her clothes to cover her. He turned away from her and listened as the door opened and closed. Once she was gone he returned the gargantuan book to its rightful place on the shelf. He mused over the title,” The Comprehensive List of Gryffindors: Past and Present,” and couldn’t help but smirk at the inscription: 'To Severus Snape, Happy Christmas! Minerva McGonagall.’
He sighed, turning over in his mind the girl’s stolen emotions and memories. Her lessons were far from over.