As he stood on the auction block the only thought in his mind was how he let Albus Dumbledore talk him into this. He knew the reason, but it never hurt to brood about it. He could never deny Albus anything. Especially, since it was Albus that had saved him so many years ago. The only consolation at the moment was knowing that this was a small affair. Only the most elite and involved in the potions industry would be attending, so he was at least afforded that he would not run into anyone he knew from Hogwarts.
The evening was going to be a grand one. Following the auction was to be a masquerade ball and only after that would the bidders reveal themselves. He was next in line for the bidding and scowling the entire time. He had no interest in parading his talents for praise. He did not need, nor want false admiration and so when the auctioneer dribbled on about his many accomplishments he loathed every clap from the audience. But something caught his eye. The only person not clapping was a woman in the second row. Although he could not see her face he knew she was paying attention. Her demeanor did not present itself as they she were doing anything other than carefully appraising him.
Something about this woman struck him. Her dress robes were the finest of the room. Black overlaying bordeaux red, hugging close to her curves. There was enough velvety cream skin showing just enough to pique his interest. Scratch that. Even a corpse would show interest in her. Never in his life had he felt so vain. She had a body to die for and all he wanted to do was touch those blood red lips. Suddenly he was jolted from his thoughts when he realized the bidding had begun. He was quite offended that the bidding had started at one hundred galleons, but quickly let that pass as the bids increased. He looked around the room to see who the consistent bidders were. A frumpy looking dame in the third row seemed to be battling with a somewhat pleasant looking lady in the rear of the room, but it all seemed distressing because all he wanted was for the lady in red bid on him.
The thought sounded completely childish as soon as it sounded in his mind. What would a gorgeous creature like that want with an overgrown mongoose like myself. Let the brooding and self-flagellation begin, he thought drearily. He was resigned to the fact that most likely he would be spending the evening with frumpy lady from row three, because the bidding seemed to topple off at 500 galleons. Frumpy was clearly delighted and smiling smugly.
"Going once, going twice…"
"1000 galleons."
Severus' head snapped up from his own misery to see where the voice had come from. When he saw that it in fact had come from his lady in red he felt parched all of the sudden. At the moment he would willingly accept a beverage concocted by Neville Longbottom. A hiss went through the room and all eyes turned to the elegant lady in the second row. What was even more amazing was the fact that she took it all so nonchalantly. The attention she was receiving did not even cause her to flush. But oh how he wanted to be the one to make that white silk flush crimson. The superior air the carried made her even more intriguing. He had to know who she was. The only woman in nearly twenty years that he lusted for.
The auctioneer wasted no time and fiercely pounded the gavel.
"Sold to the lady in the second row."
Severus moved of to the side of the stage and watched as she rose from her seat. He continued to watch her as she paid the cashier and took a roll of parchment in receipt. As she approached, for once in his life words failed him. He had always been know for his unforgiving acid tongue, but now not even a single syllable could make it to his mouth.
There were only a few more bachelors to be auctioned off, so most of the people attending made their way to the ballroom. The enticing lady was just a few feet away when Severus did the only thing Severus Snape knew how to do. He scowled at her. And do you know what she did? She had the nerve to laugh at him. To his face, no less. No one had ever laughed at him before. No one had ever laughed with him before either, which only drove the point home even more. He had lived a miserable life. For which he could blame no one but himself. Her laugh though was intoxicating. Thick as honey and just as sweet. Almost addictive.
He was not about to be played a fool though. Even if the one thing he wanted was standing before him. So, he retreated into his dark, cold Potions Master stance and stared her icily. A move that he had perfected after many years of teaching. No one would ever appreciate his manner of teacher and he never asked to be. Just knowing that he sent them out prepared was all he needed. The only way he knew he could pay for his past sins.
"According to this, Mr. Snape," she said, tapping the scroll lightly with her hand, "you belong to me." She smiled at him in slight satisfaction and he thought he almost saw a glint of something in her closely guarded eyes. "For the night, at least," she added. He wished she had not added the last part. The momentary illusion that he belonged to anyone was comforting to dankness of his chest.
He led her to the ballroom and as soon as they began to dance to the melodies of the music he felt at home in her arms. She smelt of cherries with a hint of spice. Her sway was alluring and the closeness of her body pressed directly against his made that all the more obvious. The spoke very little during the first half of the ball. As he felt the night drawing to an end he never wanted to let her go. She had done something to him he had lectured all first years about at the beginning of each term. She had ensnared his senses and bewitched his mind. Something he thought only a potion could do. She could possibly be the strongest poison to pass ones lips, but he would gladly drink up for just one taste of her ripe lips.
"I seem to be at quite a disadvantage," he proclaimed during another turn around the floor.
"How so?"
"You know almost everything about and I don't even know you name."
"I only know what you show people, but I doubt that is who you really are," she said mysteriously before continuing. "My name. Well, that is not important right now, but if you like I'll answer what ever inquiries you have with in reason."
He pondered quickly. There was so much he wanted to know and so little time to ask it all. So he asked what wizarding school she attended. Simple enough question, but she smiled lightly and shook her head no.
"Did you go to university?"
"Yes."
"May I ask which one?"
"You may. And the answer would be Pemberly University in Scotland."
"That is the finest Potions university in all of Europe. Only a select few are admitted." Brilliant and beautiful, but why would she have wanted to spend the evening with me when she could have her pick of the litter. Even Harry fucking Potter would be groveling at her heels if she requested.
"You went there," she noted with a smile tugging at her lips.
"Many moons ago." He felt so old all of the sudden. Not that he was. He was in his early forties, but she. She could only be no more than twenty-five.
"Not so many," she smiled, softly caressing his shoulder in a reassuring manner. The questions and answers continued with very few hints as to her real identity. He was resigned to the fact that once the night was over she would be gone. She had probably only wrote this off a charitable contribution as it was. The new wing at St. Mungo's was clearly in her debt.
"You love your work, don't you?" He heard her ask as he stared at her defiant chin. It was kind of an odd question. No one had bothered asking him that for sure. The truth was though he did. He would never admit it to anyone, well he might admit it to her for some strange reason, but he did love teaching. And more than teaching he loved spending hours over a spitting cauldron waiting for the moment of the precise synthesis. Watching and waiting for days of work to culminate in a vial of liquid.
Taking a few more spins around she ignored the fact that he never answered her question, because she saw in the gleam of his eyes the answer. Her hand went to the back of his neck and softly her fingers wrapped around his silky black hair. She had always imagined it to be greasy, but it was far from it, just as this man was not nearly as foreboding as he personified. She felt a little guilty for deceiving him. Knowing that he would certainly act different towards her if he knew her identity. Perhaps the only reason she came was because she knew she could hide behind a mask. She would never have the courage to tell him what she had to say without it.
"You're the reason I went to Pemberly. And you are also the reason I have spent the last five years studying advanced potions."
He looked at her somewhat shocked. Was she a student of his? Couldn't be. He would have found out through the Hogwarts rumor mill if a student from there was attending Pemberly. He eyed her curiously.
"What do you mean by that? Do I know you?"
"I only mean that your advancements in potions and their subsequent publishing in various journal tapped into my passion of potion making. Your thirst and drive are truly inspiring."
Oh, he thought glumly. He is merely a mentor. She is just here out of some sense of obligation. Well, she needn't be.
"What is that look on your face. You act as though you would rather be elsewhere," she said hotly and somewhat annoyed. Here she was trying to thank the man that had instilled a drive in her and he being Snape of course. For one night she wished he would be otherwise, but that was asking for too much. He shook his head blandly, which she decided to ignore to peruse other matters. "I never answered your second question."
"No, I suppose you didn't," he replied in his icy, unaffected drawl.
An anger surged through her and manifested quickly into her following words. "I'm no longer one of your students. So, I would appreciate if you did not treat me as such. I'm just trying to have a nice evening with you and your ruining it."
"Sorry to be a burden upon your evening. Maybe you would like to attend to a nice chap. A younger chap. Hell, I'm sure if I pull the right strings I could set you up with Harry fucking Potter. He would probably be more to you liking although his wife might have a slight problem with it."
She bristled at his words. How dare he talk about Harry. But there pain hidden underneath his words. She saw it, but she didn't care, because his words stung more than Harry's actions.
"Wait, what did you say? You're no longer one of my students?"
She shook her head furiously at him. Refusing to let herself cry. She had shed enough tears the last year.
"You're an utter bastard. And for your information, his wife wouldn't care. Seeing as how he's already fucked every whore from Brighton to Puddlemore."
The pain in her eyes and voice was evident. She could no longer control the trembling. Everything around her felt cold and raw. She wanted to run, but she felt trapped. She had come tonight to forget and now everything was vividly on display once again. Without even realizing it his hand was on the ribbon to her mask. With one tug the mask was gone, drifting light an autumn leaf to the ground.
"I meant no offense, Mrs. Potter," he remarked disdainfully. Extra distaste place around Potter.
"Let's get one thing clear Professor Snape. I am NO longer Mrs. Potter. The divorce decree I signed this morning testifies to that. And the only sum of money I took was for your bid, which I see was wasted."
He could no longer pretend he did not long for her. He could no long deny himself the pleasure of touching her cheek. He slowly reached for her chin and turned it to face him. In her eyes was a mixture of hatred and pain. The look alone nearly killed him.
"Hermione, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was careless and cruel." She could tell in his tone that this apology was one of the very few he had given and knew it to be sincere.
"Yes it was. Can we just not talk about Harry anymore?"
"That is one of the easiest promises I will ever have to make."
"Thank you."
She stepped back into his arms and they fell back into the steps of the dance. He had thought that she would recoil from his touch but she did not.
"You're probably wishing you bid on a different fellow about now."
"No. I like you quite fine." She rested her head on his shoulder and let the music control their steps.
They danced for close to another hour before sharing anymore words. But there was a question bothering him that needed to be answered.
"How is it that the staff at Hogwarts didn't know you were attending Pemberly. Being the student you were. I would have thought they would have kept a keen interest in your endeavors."
"They knew."
"I didn't," he said disbelieving.
"I know. I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted you to see what I could become. I wanted you to see what you taught me."
"I always knew what you would become. You always possessed a greater strength than any of your peers."
"Thank you, Professor Snape."
"Please. Severus." She nodded and he waited with baited breath to hear his name roll off of her tongue.
"Severus?" He murmured. That silky voice was slowly drugging her. "What would you say about a proposal of Albus'? Me returning to Hogwarts as a Potions Mistress to split your work load?"
"I'd say I would kiss him for offering and you if you accept."
She did not even need to think about her answer. She knew what her heart was telling. She needed to feel this way again. Important. If anything she needed to just feel again. And Severus was the one she wanted to help her love again.
"Then I accept." He smiled at her. The first smile she had seen grace his face the entire time she knew him. He should smile more often. He looks good when he does. More importantly, she wanted to be the one that made him smile.
Slowly his neck bent towards her. His mouth captured her lips and they were as sweet as he expected. For several minutes everything around them seemed to pause. The world was frozen and it was just the two of them melting their sorrows into each other like a viscous potion. The only thing left behind would be a love they never knew they had for each other, but one they would die to protect.
At the end of the night they apparated to the Snape Manor and never left each other's sight up until the beginning of term. Upon arriving to the school that had been her home for seven years she was filled with a bittersweet happiness. Severus did not even need to ask what the matter was. By now he knew her too well. Her pain was his and the same with him. Every corridor reminded her of happier times she had spent with Ron and Harry. What a bloody fool for letting go of a beautiful creature like Hermione. But no, he would owl Potter this evening and thank him. Thank him for being the prick he was. Because if he wasn't, Severus would not be the happiest man alive now. And that he truly was.
Each day with Hermione was a gift and every day he was thankful for it, because he certainly did not deserve such happiness. He had done things in his life he deemed unforgivable, even if others could. And Hermione was one of them that did. She accepted him for who he was. Even when he strongly chastised the students. The only response he would get from her is a small mischievous glint. Telling him she knew what he was really about. Those times were the hardest because she made him feel as though somebody for once really knew him. That he wasn't just the slimy git every one perceived. That his actions were for a purpose. She understood him and that's all that he ever wanted. Slowly, she was breaking down his walls. Helping him forgive himself, even when everyone else had.
Spring came and their first year together was quickly approaching. On a spur of the moment he coaxed her out of the dungeons to the lake. He paced tensely as she reclined against a tree.
"What is it, Severus?" She asked placing a hand on his arm. He stopped and she saw more love in his eyes than she had seen in her entire life.
"I love you," he practically barked at her. Why is he so nervous, she thought?
"I love you too, Severus."
"No, no, no," he muttered, "this isn't going like I planned at all. Everything was much clearer in my head."
Hermione rubbed his arm affectionately. He was a complete mess of nerves. She'd brew him some chamomile tea tonight.
"Severus, why don't you just say what you want to say."
He looked at her suddenly, almost as if she sprouted two extra heads and was resembling Fluffy now. He paced a few more times and nodded his head emphatically.
"I want you to come home with me."
"Okay."
"No. I don't think you understand. I want you to come home to our home."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm the happiest man on earth when you're laying next to me. I want to hold you in my arms for the rest of my life and never let you go."
She knew this was hard for him. He was never so forthright with his words, even though she knew how he felt without hearing them expressed, but it was nice hearing them.
"Never? Never is a long time. You might get bored with me and find a pretty little seventh year." She was teasing him, but at her words his head jerked towards her. Now she was certain she had three heads. He stalked towards her angrily. She felt like she was a first year all over again as he loomed towards her with a serious expression, but it softened when he clasped her hands in his own.
"Nothing about you could ever bore me," he said earnestly. He was searching her eyes now. Looking for the confidence to do what he had been planning for a month.
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you marry me?"
A short three months later a special edition of the Daily Prophet fluttered into the homes of all the subscribers. And in big bold letters it read:
Elusive Potions Master, Severus Snape Weds Hogwarts Brightest Star, Hermione Granger.
The article continued on to say the small affair occurred on the grounds of Hogwarts and was officiated by Albus Dumbledore. The newlyweds were finishing off the summer with an extended honeymoon touring the Mediterranean and would return to Hogwarts next term as Mr. and Mrs. Severus Snape.
"Severus?"
"Yes, love?"
"Do you think it's to early to buy a set of first year books?"
He looked at his beautiful bride curiously as what she had said dawned on him.
"Are you?"
"Happy Father's Day, Severus."
He bolted out of his chair and pulled her into his eyes, spinning her around. Cautiously he set her back down afraid that maybe he had hurt her, but he could hardly contain his joy.
The nine months of the pregnancy were rough on Hermione, but Severus doted on her lovingly. Anticipating ever want and nearly forbidding her to move about. She would smile at him and he would relax. The day the baby arrived she thought he was going to pass out. Poppy Pomfrey had to give him some Pepper Up potion to keep him on his feet. He held her hand as she pushed, murmuring in her ear as he placed a cool towel on her forehead.
"You have a son, Severus," Poppy said as she handed him the small bundle. He tried to back away from the responsibility. Afraid he did not know how to properly hold the fragile child. But once he was in his arms there was no giving him back. His life had come full circle and at that moment there was nothing in his life he regretted. He had paid for all his sins and now he was receiving a great reward. For once in his life he had a family. A wife that loved him and a son that would depend upon him.
"He has your hair," Hermione whispered.
"But he has your eyes," he said, as the baby gurgled in his arms. If he looked in the Mirror of Erised he would see only himself, because he was truly contented with his life. A life he felt he did not deserve at one point, but a life he was glad to have.
"I love you, Severus." He looked at Hermione as she lay in the hospital bed, even in her current state she was more beautiful than ever. She had given him a child. She had given him her heart and loved him because of his faults.
"I love you, Hermione. More than I could ever put into words."
"You don't have it into words. You're holding our love in your arms."
"What shall we name him?"
"I think it only fitting to name him after the man that brought us together. The man that talked me into going to that auction nearly two years ago."
"The man that brought you into my life for a second time."
"Yes."
"Albus it is then. Are you happy, my love?"
"Nothing could make me any more."
A/N: This was in somewhat of response to the WIKTT challenge, but I am not submitting it and I didn't follow most of the guidelines. Just kind of took the auction idea and ran with it. Vicious little person that I am, I almost had Hermione die during childbirth, but I couldn't do it to poor Severus. He would have been heartbroken and his soul has been tortured enough in so many other stories. He deserves some happiness. Hope you enjoyed.