Disclaimer: Everything recognizable from the Harry Potter universe belongs to J K Rowling, except for the character of Ezra Boon who is my own creation.
Sand, Surf and Snape
There was nothing that Professor Severus Snape despised more than sand. Repulsively soft, fine granules that found their way into everything. Clinging to anything. Nothing being sacred. Shoes. Clothing. Hair. The dark wizard scowled as he held up his glass of ice water. Black eyes followed grains of sand wafting their way down passed the ice cubes settling into a heap at the bottom of the glass.
It was the third distilled water he had ordered. Each arriving with a disgusting piece of shriveled up lemon, a pathetic looking crumpled umbrella, and a…bendy straw. The instant that the umbrella and straw were discarded onto the table Snape blasted them into oblivion with his wand. Childish perhaps, yet none the less it aided him in releasing some of the pent up frustration he was experiencing. He squeezed what little juice there was from the lemon into his water. Then carefully so as not to tip the glass too far forward and alter the location of the sand pile, he took a long unsatisfying drink.
Severus hated outdoor café's. He hated being out in the heat of the afternoon sun, constantly needing to mutter cooling charms and smelling alarmingly enough like coconut. The Professor would have preferred to drink a potion that he had brewed himself to provide protection from the sun's brutal UV rays. Unfortunately nothing seemed to keep his fair skin from burning better than the coconut scented muggle sunscreen which he had purchased and grudgingly slathered all over himself hours earlier. Why in the name of Merlin did the "Shaken, but Not Stirred" Potions Master's Conference have to be held in such an inhospitable place?
Staring languidly out over the bikini-drenched beach Snape suddenly felt very old and very alone. Being stuck in a tropical paradise, a Nirvana filled with half-naked women did nothing to improve his mood only to darken it. He held no illusions that he was deemed unattractive by members of the opposite sex and fully accepted the fact that he was destined to spend his life in solitary confinement. He deserved no less. The grievous error Snape had made in joining the ranks of Voldemort in his youth had guaranteed him a life of isolation. A life void of love and companionship. A life filled only with misery and self-loathing. But it didn't mean he had to like it, and it didn't mean he couldn't wish for the tender embrace of a woman. Someone to share his nights, his days, someone to talk to, but most importantly someone whom he could love and who could love him in return. If only that were possible…which it wasn't.
Snape's lips twisted up in disgust as his eyes landed on Ezra Boon. Boon was a wizard whose knowledge in Potions was unrivalled and unmatched. Snape had no doubt that one day, in the not so distant future, he would surpass Boon's erudition and ability and become the foremost Potions Master in the world. But looking at the organizer of the ludicrously named Potions Master's Conference, proudly parading up the beach with more wrinkled skin sagging off his long angular body than what was covered by his tiny Speedo, all respect Snape once held for the wizard was instantly lost. To make matters worse Boon had two young witches flanking him on either side, both appearing to be – enjoying the hundred and thirty-six-year-old mage's company.
"Oh Gods…don't do it." Snape muttered. He tactfully diverted his eyes as Boon bent over to pick up an inflatable beach ball that had rolled away from a group of giggling girls. This sight gave any unfortunate individual who had not the good sense to look away, a view that was – likely to turn even the most hardened of stomachs. But the fact remained that if that puckered up old prune was able to garner himself with two very attractive women, then why couldn't he even manage just one?
Snape wasn't desperate, but at the same time, he wasn't particular either. As long as she was somewhat attractive – no wait – as long as she was breathing… Snape cursed under his breath, he wasn't thinking straight. He had to get out of the sun. Because to be realistic, Snape knew that the woman he wanted, the woman he needed had to be his equal or near to it in intelligence, she had to have a constant craving for learning and exploring new ideas. She had to love books as much as he did. She needed not to be afraid of his moods – and Merlin knows he was moody. Match his sarcasm and possess the ability to throw it right back at him.
Raking his hand through his lank raven hair Snape glanced back at Boon - who thankfully had returned to an upright position – and watched him as he continued his journey with his entourage along the beach. Snape frowned. This had to be hell. There was no doubt. It contained the same ingredients as hell: unbearable heat, liquid that didn't quench his thirst, and women as far as the eye could see that he was unable to possess.
"Excuse me, Professor Snape?"
A strangely familiar voice brought Snape out of his reverie and he hastily shelved his personal bitter musings for later that evening when he could address his thoughts with a rather large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. Snape found himself face to face with the know-it-all Gryffindor who had plagued his life for seven extremely long and excruciating years. In one predatory glance he noticed quite quickly that the once bushy-haired, gangly teenager had blossomed into a - beautiful - woman. A woman with an air of grace, sleek long brown hair and intense cinnamon eyes. His breath caught in his chest. When had this happened? He certainly hadn't noticed while she was his student, but then Snape wasn't in the habit of looking at his students – in that way - especially ones that were friends of the bloody-boy-who-lived-only-to-torment him. But now it was quite obvious as she stood before him wearing a bikini that she was filled out rather nicely in all the right places. There was no doubt that she had grown up. Snape forced a scowl onto his face. Any thoughts of Hermione Granger being attractive and desirable were forcibly wiped from his mind.
"Miss Granger," he sneered, "you have just confirmed that I am indeed in - hell"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably as a flush joined her already rosy cheeks and confusion over his comment clouded her eyes "Um - may I join you Professor?" she asked nervously.
Snape let out a rather dramatic sigh and waved his hand vaguely towards the vacant chair across from him. Hermione sat down, and looked very uneasy. Snape couldn't blame her, not many people felt comfortable around him, but then she was the one who had invited herself to his table. Intruded into his space. He was not going to play nice and he was not about to coddle an insufferable Gryffindor – no matter how good she looked in a bikini. Severus growled. The heat was certainly making him think strange thoughts.
"I was of the understanding Miss Granger, that you were attending Oxford," he said in a voice as smooth as velvet.
Hermione involuntarily shivered. "Yes, sir. I am."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this isn't Oxford."
"No, it isn't."
He rolled his eyes at her. "Why are you here then?" he asked exasperated. "On a romantic tryst with Potter or perhaps with that wretched side kick of his, Weasley?" Snape cringed inwardly hoping he hadn't sounded – jealous. As if!
"I'm here for the conference," she answered boldly.
Snape's eyes narrowed in on her. "Only Potions Master's and their guests are permitted into the conference." He raised his glass to take a drink.
"I am well aware of that, Professor Snape," Hermione snapped, annoyed by his attitude. "For your information, I am a guest of Professor Reid's."
Snape choked slightly on his water. He wasn't sure if he was surprised more at her tone of voice or over what she had just told him. "Reid? In the name of Merlin, girl! Do you have any idea the kind of reputation Reid has?" He lowered his voice to a cold whisper. "He has seduced more young witches in his three years at Oxford than you have teeth."
It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes at him. "That's probably a slight exaggeration, besides it makes no difference to me whether he has or not." She leaned forward placing her elbows on the table. "This conference is important to me, and I am willing to do what I have to do in order to attend."
"That would be something I would expect from one of my Slytherins not from a Gryffindor," Snape said making it almost sound like a compliment.
"Well if you took the time to look, Professor," she leaned back in her chair, "you'd see that there's more to me than books and cleverness."
And so he did. Snape let his eyes drop and subtly soak her in. There really was more to her than books and cleverness. Hermione suddenly didn't feel as brave as she was pretending to be and wrapped her netted cotton cover up tightly around herself. She met Snape's glittering dark eyes and he smirked at her.
"So why are you telling me all this?" Snape asked crossing his arms. "Are you hoping that out of some sort of misplaced obligation to a former student, that I'll save you from the clutches of that despicable deviant of yours who has gall to call himself a professor?"
"Not in the least." Hermione's sharp intake of air made him see the truth even though she flatly denied it. "You never showed an inkling of kindness towards me during my seven years at Hogwarts, why would I believe that you would start now?"
Before he could answer, a Pina Colada was set down in front of Hermione spilling slightly.
"Sorry about that love," the waitress said as she tugged at the back of the very short grass skirt she was wearing. "This blasted skirt is sharper than it looks. It's poking me in places I never knew I had."
"Why do they make you wear such things?" Hermione asked in disgust. "If I were you I would flatly refuse."
"Last year we got to wear bikinis," she replied as Hermione watched Snape tilt his head in order to get a better look at the area that the waitress was complaining about. "Hell I'd even lower myself to putting on one of those awful tankini's that some of the women are wearing this year. Anything would be better than this wretched thing." Snape jerked up quickly as the waitress turned to him. "See something you like?" she asked with a grin.
Hermione stifled a giggle at the sputtering Potions Master as he opted for a curt shake of his head rather than a vocal response of which he was clearly incapable of making. She'd never seen her former professor at a loss for words. Hermione spoke up taking the waitress' focus off of Snape. "Excuse me, but I didn't order this drink."
"It's from your friend at the hotel, and he wanted me to give you this," she handed Hermione a small envelope, then tugged again at her hula skirt and left.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione studied the envelope for a moment before glancing up at Snape, who even though he was extremely curious, had a look of utter boredom painted on his pale face. Tearing the envelope open, Hermione read over the note then in a fit of disgust she crumpled it up and tossed it angrily onto the table. Catching the glint in Snape's eye, she reached out to retrieve the parchment but Snape was faster. He snatched it up and smoothed it out on his black cotton pants.
"Had a quarrel with your boyfriend, Miss Granger?" he mocked looking down his aquiline nose at her. "Having trouble in – paradise? Hmm?"
Hermione glared at him. "No. It's nothing like that at all. Please," she said pointing to the parchment in his hand, "give that back."
Snape ignored her and read the note over. A solitary eyebrow quirked upwards and when he was finished he slowly folded up the parchment and held it tightly in his hand. "Apparently your Gryffindor values greatly overshadowed any of your Slytherin tactics. Tell me Miss Granger," he asked silkily, "are you planning on spending every night on the beach or was last night an exception?"
Looking away her face flushed in anger. When she finally spoke, Hermione's voice quaked slightly. "When Professor Reid invited me to the conference, he promised me that we would have separate rooms. But when we arrived…"
"Stupid girl," taunted Snape. "How naïve can you be?" Hermione narrowed her eyes viciously at him, which only seemed to encourage him further. "How could you believe that someone like Reid would honestly book two rooms?"
"I had hoped that he was a man with a sense of honor and integrity like – like you," she replied softly.
Snape's eyes widened in surprise. A strange rush of emotions washed over him. Did this know-it-all really think that of him? "Miss Granger, why is this conference so important that you would risk your – reputation to attend?"
Hermione plucked the umbrella out of her drink and played with it between her fingers. "I - I loved your classes, Professor Snape, even if you were a horrible to me most of the time. I looked forward to each lesson knowing that you would teach us something new and exciting."
Snape clenched his jaw. He had behaved horribly towards her, but at the time it was necessary. "You were the brightest student I've every had the pleasure of teaching." Hermione's eyes brightened, and Snape found himself once again noticing how she had changed, how she had grown into a beautiful young woman. Damn the sun … Damn the heat… He needed to find some shade and fast. Still he was unable to pull himself away from her. Snape leaned forward onto the table. "Please understand Hermione that as much as I wanted to, I couldn't openly encourage you. But instead I could challenge you, make you think and try to help you to succeed in other ways."
"You did, Professor. It was you who made me stronger, and I thank you for that. You're the one who gave me the desire to succeed, to push myself beyond my limits. Trust me, I do understand," Hermione smiled placing her hand upon his.
Snape almost stopped breathing. She had willingly touched him, and her hand felt so warm and soft. A strange, yet pleasurable sensation that her touch brought him made him shiver. He allowed himself to smile slightly at her in return.
"There's something about a simmering cauldron that ensnares my senses," she laughed lightly as she took a spin off of his opening speech to first year students. "The first time I made a potion, I knew that it was what I wanted to do. What I was meant to do. That's why I'm going to Oxford. They offer the best potions program available. And the reason I want to attend this conference is because I know I will learn more in these three days than I ever will in year at University."
Snape turned his hand upwards placing her hand inside his and squeezed gently. "Come on Miss Granger, if you're going to be my guest at the conference then we need to get you a room of your own."
Hermione stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then as the realization of what he had said dawned on her, her entire face lit up and she beamed at him. "Thank you, Professor Snape," she grinned.
As they exited the café and neared the hotel pool, Hermione pointed excitedly to an aged wizard teetering on the edge of the diving board. "Isn't that Ezra Boon?"
Snape cringed at the sight, Boon looked more nauseatingly wrinkled the closer he got to him. "Unfortunately it is," Snape scowled. He placed his hand gently at the small of Hermione's back, urging her to move forward more quickly.
"Severus!" Boon shouted from atop his perch. "I want to talk to you -"
Even the sight of Boon's graceless swan dive couldn't dampen Snape's mood. Hermione shrieked as the cold water splashed over her and Snape. She grabbed hold of Snape's arm clinging tightly to him as she laughed.
Perhaps, Snape thought, hell wasn't so bad after all.