r/SSHG

I’m trying to find an old Snamione (Snape/Hermione) fanfic that I originally read on Wattpad years ago, but I’m pretty sure it may have originally been from FFN or another archive. It was completed and post-war.

What I remember:

- Snape survived the war/Nagini

- Hogwarts started an apprenticeship program for former students

- Hermione became Snape’s Potions apprentice

- Neville was the Herbology apprentice

- There were multiple apprentices under different professors

- Snape was VERY hard on Hermione at first, but slowly became protective/caring

- Another female apprentice (possibly Lavender, Pansy, Cho, or another canon girl) constantly sabotaged Hermione

- The sabotage escalated into Hermione getting physically hurt/endangered

- I specifically remember a scene where Hermione burned her hands trying to save important papers/potion work and Snape rushed to help her

- I also remember Snape and Hermione going into the Forbidden Forest for dangerous potion ingredients

- I might remember some kind of spider bite/venom/hallucination or fever scene later in the story, but I’m less certain on that

- The story had a lot of hurt/comfort and “protective Snape” energy

- Hermione may have eventually stayed in Snape’s quarters/lab area

I already checked:

- Lessons in Love

- Pet Project

- For the Potion Master’s Amusement

They have similar vibes, but they are NOT the fic I’m looking for.

Does this sound familiar to anyone??

Ch. 2 is a history of Hermione’s heats so far.

All have been weird. All have involved Snape.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/84228286"

Why is he always there,” Hermione groaned into her butterbeer the next day. A major disadvantage of having two best mates that were both boys was that she ended up talking to them about these things more than she wanted to, and none of them appreciated that.

But she had to complain. She felt like she would explode if she didn’t.

Harry and Ron looked awkward and didn’t say much. She hadn’t gone into detail, just said that she’d gone into heat unexpectedly and Snape had given her potions to stall it off.

“I can help you out again, if you need me to,” Ron offered. Ever the hero. Hermione had spent her last heat with him, and she considered it a disaster. And she hated the idea that Ron liked her better in heat, that he preferred it when she didn’t speak much and just wanted to shag.

Hermione did not consider it a complement.

Going through a heat with Ron had killed her crush on him.

There were certain things that were normal for her and not for him. Ron had a look of panic on his face when she smeared his cum around the bedsheets or rolled it around on her tongue and spread it up and down her body. These were natural instincts to her, but she’d never forget the look on his face when she tried to kiss him with semen smeared on her face.

After a horrible beginning, her heat with Ron had settled into awkward. Nothing to write home about.

Not that she’d yet given her parents a full explanation of the extremities of wizarding biology. She didn’t want them to have simultaneous heart attacks.

Still, this experience with Snape really brought home what a disaster a breakthrough heat could be. The last thing Hermione wanted in the middle of a war was to be forced to take a few days out for biology. Heats were a vulnerable time for both parties in the best of circumstances, and without access to modern protections - safe houses and monitors and potions to manage the whole thing - it could be dangerous.

She needed control.

This whole thing felt like such a curse. Magic had been a gift when she discovered it at 11. Now it felt like a trap, controlling human hormones in this way.

“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione said. “But I’m not in heat now. Snape managed to stop it in its tracks. It’s just very embarrassing that he’s always there when I’m having issues managing the whole” she waved her fork in the air - “Omega thing. He’s always there.”

They both grunted in sympathy, and Harry gave her one of his “I get it looks,” before switching the topic back to quidditch and Draco Malfoy, the only two things ever on Harry’s mind this year.

6the year

The aborted heat at Grimmauld place was Hermione’s fourth heat, and so far, every single one had been a disaster. Everything about her heats felt unplanned and out of her control.

Hermione hated being out of control.

Heat number 1 - Unconscious (with Snape)

She didn’t even remember most of her first heat.

It had triggered after she’d returned from the
Department of Mysteries. She’d been in a coma for a solid week. She was later told that Professor Snape had to intervene in her care, brewing her ten specialized potions a day to counteract Dolohov’s curse. On the fourth day that she lay unconscious, she had gone into her first heat. Her scent changed, her temperature increased rapidly, and she was drenched in slick and sweat. Or so Hermione heard later. Rather horrifying to think of herself in that state while Snape and Pomfrey took turns forcing potions down her throat every two hours. And that was the first time Snape forced suppressants on her, trying to slow down the inferno of her first heat before she even knew what it was.

When she awoke on day 7, she was intensely aroused. She’d experienced what felt like a lifetime of erotic dreams, all of them punctuated by Snape’s voice commanding her to open up, to drink up, to swallow. She came awake when he was propping her up with a potion at her lips. A series of orgasms were wracking her body at the time, which were too intense to feel good. She opened her mouth and absolutely howled in delight and anguish.

Snape used the opportunity to force the potion down, and immediately stood up and away from the bed, watching from above with his dark gaze while her body shuddered. Humiliating. He turned and left the room they’d found to hide her away in, and a little while later Madame Pomfrey returned with a stack of entirely inadequate pamphlets about heats. Hermione had read all of those in 3rd year, and none of them had prepared her for the ache permeating her and the embarrassment of having her first orgasms while her sneering potions professor manhandled her unconscious body.

None of them had prepared her for the reality of the collar, either. It was invisible, but she felt it around her throat. “It’s to prevent unwanted mating bites,” Professor Snape informed her on a later day, while selecting from a series of vials he had brought with him. “Every omega is required to wear one until they are at least 25.”

“Why,” she asked. “What if I want a mating bite?”

“You can make that choice when you are 25 and presumably mature enough to understand the consequences,” Snape snapped. “Or as likely to understand them as you ever will be.” Hermione supposed she could see the reason in it, and it’s not as if she wanted to make any major commitments while she was still so young. “Special dispensation is given to engaged couples,” Snape continued. “If you simply cannot have the patience to wait for a little maturity.”

It was a crash course in a part of wizarding biology she hadn’t thought too much about. She later decided she was grateful to have skipped her first heat, which would have required the awkward and rapid selection of a sexual partner from amongst her older classmates, as her own were all just below the age where they were allowed to participate.

Heat number 2 - Neville (and Snape)

For her next heat, she was better prepared. She’d talked to Neville in advance, and his face had become quite determined when he realized what she was asking, as if she’d set him a quest. He would not fail her, she knew. Sure enough, when the time came, they both may have blushed their way right through the early part of the experience, but he’d managed to give her three days of reprieve from the desperate itchy needy feelings that she’d come to associate with her own sexuality.

This despite the fact that Snape was there, monitoring them. Hermione knew that underage students were monitored by Hogwarts staff, but it was still a shock to see Snape sitting in a chair behind a desk in the corner of the room when they arrived. She and Neville both stopped near the doorway, staring at him. “You don’t expect that Hogwarts would leave underage students in the midst of this type of experience without some guidance, do you?” Snape sneered at them. “I am assigned to help you in case either of you should have any . . . questions.” Neville’s face had turned bright red and Hermione kept her eyes firmly away from the bed in the opposite corner of the room.

“No,” Neville squeaked. “No questions.”

Hermione always had questions.

“How long will this last?” she asked. “And how do we ensure that we’ve satisfied the heat so it will go away?”

“Three days is typical,” said Professor Snape. “But only if the omega orgasms at least three times per day, and received adequate….emissions…. to sate them. So I expect we may be stuck here together for quite some time. Dumbledore may have to find yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to replace me.”

Neville was starting to look mad at that. It was an improvement over looking scared.

“Emissions!” Hermione said.

“Yes,” sneered Snape. “The results of the activities you are about to engage in, one would hope. Don’t they have sexual education in the muggle world, too?”

“Of course they do,” Hermione said, also a curious shade of beet at this point. “And I know what emissions are. I just wonder how it would work if neither participant could produce come,” she said, thinking of several prominent lesbian couples in the wizarding world. “Or if the omega were the male.” There were quite a few possible configurations, now that she thought about it.

“As none of these situations apply here,” Snape said with a slow growl, “kindly get to the business at hand. I am here to answer questions relevant to this situation, not to teach an advanced course in the topic.” The conversation was doing odd things to Hermione, whose heat seemed to be ramping up the longer she stood there listening to Snape growl at them. Perhaps her body still associated that voice with the spectacular and explosive set of orgasms she’d had last summer when she’d woken up to find Professor Snape holding her head still, gripping her hair, pouring liquid down her throat. She shivered.

She had one last question. “Can we put curtains up around the bed?” She stared down Snape’s glare, wincing at the wetness slipping down her thighs.

“I’m certainly not going to be watching you,” he replied. “As I’ll be busy despairing over the future of wizarding Britain as I grade your essays. However, if you can transfigure some curtains, I am certainly not going to stop you.” His tone implied he didn’t think they’d be able to manage such a thing, and Neville probably couldn’t.

But Hermione set up a curtain right down the center of the room quite adeptly. “Adequate,” Snape said. “But it would be preferable if you were on the other side.” And with a flick of his wand, the two of them stumbled back behind the curtain, pushed by an invisible hand.

Somehow, Snape had made the experience feel like a test that they might fail. Hermione could see Neville’s will faltering, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bed, the urgency of the ache building in her abdomen unwilling to tolerate doubt.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll be fine.” And they were, despite occasional mutterings from Snape where he was clearly commenting on the inadequacy of their specific essays - “3 feet, Granger, when I told you no more than 12 inches,” and “an overreliance on Mandrake root, as always,” which she assumed was aimed at Neville, given the look on his face when he heard the words. And occasionally, there were comments on their current activities, such as “Longbottom, put your mouth to work, I cannot tolerate hearing this unsatisfied whining any longer.”

But the heat helped them tune him out, and they did get into the rhythm of things. Food and drinks appeared for them as if they were at their table in the dining hall, and it turned out they did have some questions for Snape, particularly about contraceptives and what to do when Neville passed out at one point.

They made it through, and Neville had clearly felt proud of himself for seeing to Hermione’s needs satisfactorily during the experience. But the friendship between them was much stronger than any attraction, and so Hermione had been almost relieved when he’d started dating Luna.
The experience also convinced her that relying on friends was a bad idea. Much better to find someone she had real chemistry with.

Heat number 3 - Ron (with - somehow - Snape)

She did have chemistry with Ron, at least she had thought so. And so she’d begun the research into how heats were managed by betas.

She couldn’t imagine a worse disaster than the experience with Ron at the end of sixth year, her third heat. But as she’d told Professor Snape, they HAD engaged in the minimum required acts of coitus and she had experienced enough orgasms that it should have sent the damn urge away for another half year at least. Mcgonnagall had been their monitor that time, and while she didn’t frighten either of them, it made the experience less exciting, in Hermione’s mind. Terror or whatever nervous feeling snape inspired could actually be a stimulant, Hermione had discovered.

Though she still felt as if Snape were a part of her third heat, as well. She’d been holding off her heat until Easter hols, only to find it abruptly triggered following a DADA class in which she and Snape had dueled each other.
Snape had stalked through the classroom, snapping corrections to students as he went. Cutting, but he at least knew the subject well, and Hermione knew she and her classmates were making progress through the curriculum. Hermione had felt snappish all day. She growled at Ron when he tried to offer her a tip for casting a shield. She could feel the power behind her hexes as she cast them wildly, one singing Snape in the back as he stood watching a pair of slytherins practice. He waved off the effect with a flick of his wrist and then turned to scowl at her.

His eyes narrowed, his frown deepened, and he prowled toward her. Hermione could almost see him debating which insult to throw at her before he stopped before her. “Miss Granger, a key aspect of dueling is hitting your target, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m so sorry, Professor Snape-,” she tried, but he cut her off.

“In order to practice, you will go work on a training dummy at the back of the class.” He flicked his wrist at her wand. “And to motivate you, every time you miss, the spell will be reflected back on you, instead.” Hermione’s eyebrows shot up, but she knew better than to complain.

“Oh, and 5 points from Gryffindor,” said Snape. “For being a liability in battle.”

The training dummies moved erratically - not quite like people would, and Hermione missed again and again. Hermione tried to switch to a less painful charm, but Snape halted her from across the room.

“We’re practicing stinging hexes today, Miss Granger, not pinching charms. But since you’d rather not do the same lesson as your classmates, you can use a cutting spell, instead. Try SectumMinora.” She gritted her teeth and raised her wand. She was much slower to cast after a few rounds against the training dummy, wanting to be sure of her target before letting loose. “Cast, Granger, you don’t have time in a fight to take all day.”

She cast the spell, and felt shallow cuts along the top of her hand. They weren’t deep enough to bleed much, but felt red and sharp.

By the end of the lesson, her offensive casts were much slower and her shields much faster. She’d been stung or cut all up and down her hands and arms, and a few spots were beginning to well with blood. Her irritableness had grown, and she screamed at Ron when he attempted to heal her.

Snape approached her again. He’d been walking amongst the students as they approached the end of class, rapidly healing those wounds the students could not heal on each other. And he’d stood behind her and cast a healing spell on her, just as she cast her own. And the two healing spells intermingled and sealed her skin up. Then he retreated to the front of the room.

“Weasley,” he called. “And Parkinson. Escort Granger to Pomfrey’s.”

Hermione was startled. She looked back down at her arms. “Professor, I think I can heal the rest on my own. They aren’t too bad.” She looked up at Professor Snape, and realized with surprise that he’d cast a bubblehead charm on himself.

“5 points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn,” Professor Snape said. “And another 5 for contradicting my instructions. Weasley,” he repeated. “And Parkinson. NOW, before the classes change.” Before they could leave, Hermione saw him cast a notice-me-not and a disillusionment at her, at a distance. She’d never seen a disillusionment cast at a distance, but it appeared to work. Her hands blended into the wall behind her like a chameleon. Harry tried to follow them out of the room, as it was near the end of class, and Snape roared at him to sit back down, then sent a stinksnap charm at her back. Pansy and Ron scrambled away from her as the trio walked down the hallway, faces pinched up.

“Mione, cast me a bubblehead, would you?” asked Ron, who’d never mastered that one. She cast them on all three of them, face scowling at the thick pungent odor of the stinksnap stuck with them down the hallway.

“Blimey, Mione, why’d you have to hit him with that hex?” Ron asked.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, obviously,” she said. But she also didn’t think that was why she was going to Madame Pomfrey’s. Now that she was out of the DADA classroom, and wearing the bubblehead charm, her mind was remarkably clear again. Enough for her to suspect why she’d been in a foul mood all period. Had Professor Snape known? How mortifying. But her suppressants must have failed a little early. Was that why he’d drenched her in such a nasty odor?

This time, however, she and Ron had made a plan. She’d approached Ron about it after he and Lavender Brown had last fizzled out - “It’s ony practical, Ron, as Neville’s dating Luna now.” He hadn’t protested too hard at the idea of seeing her through a heat - had seemed quite eager, actually. Hermione had done the research on how a beta could see an omega through a heat, and already had a kit of potions and aids intended to keep the thing functional.

Except she hadn’t counted on starting her heat smelling like a decaying skunk, and no amount of counter charms could get rid of the smell enough to allow the pair of them to take their bubblehead charms off. Ron’s look of distaste when he’d realized her heat was about to commence NOW had been less than flattering, and they were already bickering by the time Pomfrey had assigned them to a seclusion room. It was a less than auspicious experience.

It had been awkward, to say the least. They’d managed to fumble through their first time together, but Ron had to resort to a potion to keep things going after he came far too soon, and the positions their bubbleheads forced them into were uninspiring, to say the least.

By day two, and after about her 10th shower in two days, they were able to proceed without the bubblehead charms, but the mood was already fairly spoiled by that point, and she was ready to kill Professor Snape for ruining this experience for her. Though she had to admit it wasn’t all his fault. Ron simply wasn’t that creative or flexible, and so when things didn’t proceed according to the pace and positions he was comfortable with, he whinged quite a bit about it, which was a massive turn off for Hermione. But they did engage in the requisite amount of coitus - at least three rounds per day, and Hermione had several begrudging, uninspired orgasms throughout.

So yes, she’d gone through her last heat with Ron. And it should have been fine. Wizards had long since figured out how to accommodate all the pairings, how to allow people to choose their mates rather than letting their biology choose for them.

But there was a certain amount of effort required, willingness to work with circumstances. And after this experience, Hermione knew she would not be attempting this with Ron again. Besides, he'd made her feel like she was weird, like she was too much, just for normal omega things, like seeping what felt like gallons of slick

She’d started contemplating Harry. It was a shame that Harry was the alpha, not Ron. But Hermione didn’t want to go down that route with another good friend, especially not when she knew how Ginny felt about him. But bloody hell it would feel good to experience her next heat with an alpha again.

And then her fourth heat had turned into the biggest disaster of them all. She and Professor Snape rutting like animals, like cavemen, but only for a few glorious moments before Snape halted the whole thing in its tracks. Snape may have stopped her heat, and returned their faculties to them both, but he hadn’t left her satisfied. That brief penetration had been more intense than her other three heats combined. And it left her craving more, despite the additional layer of suppressants she was now on.

She wondered if it was the same for him.

Looking for an old wattpad fic!

Lf this smutty fic

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