It may not be good but was fun to write!
Hermione was standing on a doorstep at 10 o'clock at night wondering what the hell she was doing. She wasn't known for impulsive actions, but she couldn't have this unresolved issue clawing at her mind.
After graduating from Hogwarts she had been at a loss as to what to do with herself. After much deliberation and numerous discussions with Professor McGonagall, she decided an apprenticeship was to way to go. But Professor McGonagall suggesting an apprenticeship with Professor Snape had her stumped. Of course potions was a fascinating subject and required skill, research and experimentation, but the thought of working with someone so coarse, sarcastic and to be frank, unpleasant, left her with feelings of deep unease. Still, she had faced such evil as Voldemort alongside Harry and Ron. She could handle and mean snarky potions professor, right?
The first few weeks had certainly been awkward. He made it rather clear on several occasions he'd rather she wasn't around, and critised her whenever he saw an opportunity. But eventually this started to pass, and there developed a mutual appreciation and understanding of each others opinions and talents. They danced around each other whilst brewing as if sensing the others requirements. After a few months to came to appreciate his dark humour and eventually she noticed an odd reaction to being in his presence. Her stomach would harbour an odd fluttery feeling, her palms would sweat and her cheeks would flush. It took her a while to realise what all of this meant - she had feelings for her Professor. She remembered her first reaction being panic. What would he think of her if he noticed? In his mind - she was sure - she was still the buck-toothed, bushy haired know-it-all. But no - he hadn't behaved any differently to her. If he had any inkling surely he'd have seized the opportunity to embarrass her in some way.
She decided the best course of action would be to ignore these new and confusing feelings. Easier said than done.
It seemed the less she thought about it during the day the more he seemed to materialise in her dreams at night - and it was driving her mad - and it did start to eventually affect her work. He seemed to be reprimanding her more than ever and she knew it was only a matter of time before he started asking questions. So, her always rational mind brought up two choices 1) continue the way she was until he dragged the reason for her behaviour out of her or 2) confront him on her own terms and deal with the ensueing consequences. She opted for number two - so here she was.
She didn't know how long she'd been standing there, but she was now soaked to the skin, hair plastered to her face, shivering slightly. After a few deep breaths, she raised a fist and knocked firmly on the door. It was nearly a full minute before he answered, during which time she fought the urge to leg it. When the door swung open she raised her head and looked into the face that had been haunting her dreams. He looked down at his apprentice - who at the moment in time closely resembled a drowned rat - and quirked an eyebrow in surprise. Although she knew where he lived, she'd never visited his house before.
'Miss Granger? What can I do for you?' After months of working along side each other the formalities were still in place. She longed for him to say her name.
'I had to see you on...on a matter of some importance.' 'Well duh,' she thought to herself, 'why else would I be on his doorstep at this time of night?'
He stood aside, allowing her entrance and indicated to a doorway to the left. Upon entry she took in the comfort of her surroundings. The snug - what she would have called it - was dark but not depressing, with a comfortable looking suite and a roaring fire which she automatically went to stand in front of. She was too preoccupied observing the room to notice him impatiently waiting for an explanation of her presence.
Eventually he bitingly asked, 'So Miss Granger, you turn up on my doorstep at this late hour, invade my privacy, disturb my peace...I'm waiting for an explanation. He looked her up and down, taking in her appearance. True she was dripping wet, but backlit by the fire she looked almost angelic. The rain on her face gave the illusion she was glowing. He wondered briefly why she hadn't just spelled herself dry. Well, he certainly wasn't going to ruin the image in front of him.
The fact that she was sopping hadn't really registered in Hermione's mind. She was too focused on what she was trying to say - and how she should go about saying it 'Well, Professor, we've been working together for a while now, and I'd like to think we've developed an understanding - a sort of friendship if you will - and I do hope that you feel at least some of that.'
'Miss Granger, is this conversation going somewhere?'
She bit down on her lip, 'I need to know what you think of me.'
Sighing slightly, he answered, 'I must admit that having you work for me hasn't been entirely disagreeable - but why such concern over this?'
She took a few deep breaths. 'Because I l-love you.' And here she stood stock still, waiting for the explosion, but he didn't move, his eyes just bored into her and long seconds passed before he threw out his response. 'Very funny Miss Granger, really witty. How long did it take for you to think or this little joke?'
She stared at him in shock. He was angry, yes, but not for the reason she expected. He believed she was trying to make a fool of him. 'I've never been more serious in my life.'
His brow furrowed as he registered the sincerity in her voice, her face, her eyes, now glistening with unshed tears, and his breath caught at the sight.
'I need to know...do you feel anything for me of that inclination?'
He turned away from her towards a table, on which sat a decanter of whiskey, and pouring himself a glass he answered, 'Of course I don't, that's ridiculous.' He didn't realise that she had noticed his hitch of breath.
'Alright, now try looking me in the face as you say it.' He stopped pouring the whiskey, placed down the decanter and turned around to find her her stood right in front of him. 'How did she move so quietly?'
She took the glass from his hand and placed it back on the table. She was so close he could smell her, the scent was of strawberries. He fleetingly wondered if her lips would taste of the same.
'Tell me.'
He cleared his throat and said 'Even if I did feel the way in which you seem to desire me too, it is of no consequence. I am more than twice your age and you are still, technically, my student.
'I couldn't care less.' And with her growing confidence, she moved even closer, and when his mouth opened for some clever retort, she seized the opportunity to plant her lips on his. He couldn't react, not at first, but although his mind was screaming that this was VERY inappropriate his arms snaked around her waist pulling her tighter to him. She whimpered into his mouth, she was tingling all over and her brain had imploded. They didn't end the kiss until oxygen was becoming a serious issue. She shyly smiled up at him and said, 'You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that.'
Actually I do. You, my little lioness have been driving me near madness for weeks.' A single happy tear ran down her cheek which is wiped away with the pad of his thumb. It was then he realised his robes were damp, and she was dripping water puddles on his floor. 'We need to get out of these clothes.'
She raised and eyebrow.
'I didn't mean that quite the way it sounded.'
She giggled, before pulling him down for another kiss. A very, very, very long and thorough kiss. And yes - she did taste like strawberries.
Well there you have it. I wrote this in the waiting room at the hospital. Yes, it was a long wait. Press the purple button and leave a review!