Subtle Sciences and Exact Arts: A Severus Snape Kinkuary Collection

Lip Service

Summary:

Hermione is training at St. Mungo's and is shocked to find out she has to treat her old professor who is still in a coma.

Notes:

Kink: Somnophilia
TW: Non-Con elements, don't read if this is a squick

Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger

Hermione sleepily walked through the dimly lit corridor, making her way to the office to see what  her assigned unit for the day would be. She hung up her bag, grabbing her bright white training robes. She quickly put them on, tying her hair back and preparing her mind for her first shift.

It had been a few months since the battle of Hogwarts had been won. The first thing she did was find an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's to become a healer. She had felt so helpless during the final battle, watching as friends died while she was powerless to do anything. She'd never allow that to happen again, not if she could help it.

Her training was still in its infancy, which, unfortunately meant she was responsible for all the grunt work that no one else wanted to do. She groaned when she realized she'd be on the DANGEROUS' DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES.

Fuck. That meant she'd have to deal with... him.

If she were truthful with herself, and she hardly ever was, it was watching her old professor bleed to death on the floor that haunted her the most. Perhaps if she knew just a little bit more, he'd be alive right now.

Well, she supposed he was about half alive. Professor Snape had been placed in some sort of magical coma to allow the healers time to come up with a cure. They had developed some sort of antivenom when Mr Weasley but it wasn't strong enough, not when the venom entered directly though his jugular veins.

Hermione hoped there would be a breakthrough soon. It made her horribly depressed to think about him, lying in a hospital bed, probably shriveled away to nothing by now. She had worked her way down the ward as the day progressed, bathing, changing, and repositioning everyone she could. Some were alert enough for a bit of a walk down the corridor— those patients she liked best. The ones that were able to converse with her.

The young mediwitch-in-training stood outside his door, taking in a large gulp of air and straightening her attire. Not that he could see her, but... she was nervous and wanted to look her best. She hadn't seen her professor yet and was apprehensive to look at him. Butterflies fluttered about in her belly, knees trembling as they carried her forward.

She knocked, force of habit, before pushing the door open with a loud, slow creak. Beams of sunlight cascaded in over his slumbering form, highlighting his features in a way that the dark dungeons never allowed.

Her stomach dropped. He looked exactly the same, like someone had cast a stasis on his body. He had a small shadow of stubble on his cheek she noticed, but likely he was just due for a shave. And, she supposed, the tightly wrapped gauze around his neck looked a bit different than his usual black cravat but... still suited him nonetheless.

Fuck. She'd have to shave him.

...And bathe him.

Double fuck.

Hermione had secretly harbored an intense attraction for the man, ever since he shielded her little teenager self from Professor Lupin when he had forgotten his potion during a full moon.

It was a constant struggle having to sit through double potions with the dour wizard. Every cutting remark with that sharp tongue went straight through to her soul, crushing every ounce of attraction she held for him. But then he'd lecture in that deep, erotic timbre, tongue caressing each syllable as it escaped through his beautiful mouth. Any time he'd lean forward to check her brew, she'd inhale deeply, committing his smoky, herbal scent to memory.