[The Joys of Camping]
Wafts of pine, alder, and cedar invaded his senses. Already his skin was on fire. He could fell the hives welting as he pondered his current predicament.
And what the bloody hell is that infernal buzzing?
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Well, now that is pleasant. Nice red handprints to match the poison ivied blotchy skin.
"It's the quiet one's you have to watch out for." A sickeningly cheerful voice broke through the still night.
Turning with a start, wand drawn, he sneered and turned back to his misery. It was only her, the chit of a girl who would simply not leave Hogwarts. The girl who was the bane in his existence, thorn in his bruised backside from sitting on the sharp, pokey, brittle, splintering, uncomfortable log. Log, yes, log. In the middle of nowhere.
Actually it wasn't nowhere. He actually knew where he was; stuck in muggle America, New Hampshire to be exact, in a forest, in July, freezing his arse off.
"I can't fathom what your unnecessary ramblings could mean," he toned out in irritated silk.
This must be the gods' idea of a cruel joke, because obviously years of facing the cruciatus just was not enough. No, now he was sentenced to hell on earth in some gods' forsaken forest with only his wand, wit, and gaggle of irritatingly enthusiastic colleagues. One of which was the silly little bint that had the audacity to sit next to him.
"The mosquitoes. The males flit around noisily, warning you of their intentions, while the females silently devour."
He refused to respond, instead he growled as he remembered Albus' words from the previous week.
'A retreat, Severus – to foster goodwill amongst the professors and to welcome Professors Wexler and Granger.'
No amount of refusal, argument, begging, or pleading would change the Headmaster's mind, because he had tried. Impetulently, he had even asked why Binns didn't have to go.
'Be a good sport, Severus, and you know very well, he and Rowena are on their honeymoon.'
He snorted at the thought. Muggleborns, giants, werewolves. Don't forget Death Eaters, Severus. What's next ghost children? Then his life would have really come miserably full circle. He would truly have first years haunting every waking and sleeping moment.
But now sitting in the dark, freezing to death was testament to his failure. And the Granger girl was still sitting next to him.
So, you see this is all her fault. If she would have gone and taken a nice little boring job at the Ministry like a good little witch his arse would not be frostbitten now.
He was jolted from his overly melodramatic thoughts because she was touching him.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, turning towards her sharply.
She looked at him nonplussed and stated simply, "bug."
He sneered, wanting to wipe that smirk off her face, not holding back his acid tongue.
"Yes, you're doing a right good impression of a pest, but would you kindly refrain from pawing at me."
Well that did it. At least that smirk was no longer there, but was replaced by…oh shit, Severus. You pissed her right off. Even in the moonlight he could tell her face was flushed with anger.
"My pleasure," she replied in controlled anger, flicking the night crawler she had extracted from his cloak, hitting him squarely in the nose. She pushed herself up from the makeshift bench and strode away muttering obscenities under her breath.
"I assure you, Professor, I do indeed have a father and he carries no bestial tendencies," Snape yelled out to her lamely, as she was already out of sight.
But not out of mind.
Wearily he picked himself up and made his way back to the, he shuddered, campsite. Every muscle screamed in protest – every muscle.
"Fine time for you to make and appearance," he grumbled.
You never really gave me a reason to.
"Now is not the time and she is most definitely not the woman."
Interesting that you brought her up, as well as me - with the thought of her. Me thinks thou doth protest too much.
"Brilliant. Now you're quoting the Bard. Do shut up."
Not on your life, now that you've awakened me.
"I did no such thing."
If you say so, but I'll be a little teapot if you haven't ravished her by the end of the week.
"Well, tip you over and pour you out."
I do hope so.
Snape released a frustrated growl. It's official. Call St. Mungo's. Have them set aside a nice padded room, because sane people don't have nice long conversations with the throbbing flesh pressing against the constraints of their trousers.
"Severus, are you alright?"
Snape whirled around to the voice of the headmaster, who was wearing a grotesquely warm and fuzzy flannel dressing gown. Must he wear the matching nightcap as well with its fluffy tassel?
"Fine. Remind me to extend my thanks to you for inviting me on this little fete," the potions master hissed.
Dumbledore smiled, "That won't be necessary. Seeing as how I didn't give you much of a choice."
"No, you didn't"
"You were being quite unreasonable, Severus. Short of having Professor Granger place you in one of her expert body binds and a mobilcorpus…" the older wizards words trailed off. "You're here now. That's what is important. I do hope you'll try to enjoy yourself."
There was a long silence.
"Have you seen Ms. Granger by the way?
"No," he answered too quickly.
Dumbledore smiled again. "Extraordinary young woman: brilliant, beautiful, charming. Wouldn't you agree, Severus?"
"Not in the least, Albus."
"I think young Professor Wexler would disagree with you on that. Seems quite taken with her already."
That earned a grunt from the formidable potions master. "Lucky them," he muttered.
Before the headmaster swept off to his tent he turned back to Snape.
"Have a good evening, Severus. I'm sure everything will be better in the morning."
"Not bloody likely."
"You wouldn't want to miss out on a good thing."
"What are you talking about, Albus?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. How was Ms. Granger this evening?"
"You sent her after me," Snape accused.
"Actually, she asked where she might find you, but she mustn't have been successful, since you say you didn't see her."
Snape made a noncommittal sound.
"That's too bad, but there's always tomorrow, right?"
"Humph."
Standing before the tent, well if you can even call it that. He sneered in disgust. It was nothing more than tarp on a pole. Not even a proper wizarding tent with the comforts of home. No, it was muggle all the way. Regimental surplus. Throwback from the muggles' First World War. At least it was green.
He stumbled in the dark and came crashing down on a definitely male body.
"What are you doing in my tent," Snape growled.
"Our tent. I take it that Dumbledore left out that little tidbit."
"Get on you own side, Wexler. I may have to share a tent with you, but I have no intention of cuddling."
"Right-O, Sev."
Severus' stomach roiled.
"My name is Severus, Snape, or Professor. Never Sev," he ground out.
"Sure thing." Awkward silence. "Hermione looked lovely tonight, don't you think? Do you know if she has a beau?"
"Why would I concern myself with Ms. Granger's romantic entanglements?"
"No reason. Thought you might know. You have known her for nearly ten years. Suppose I'll just ask her in the morning."
10 years. Had it really been that long? He added the years quickly in his head. Seven at Hogwarts and two and a half split between university and Vector's apprenticeship. She was but a mere slip of a girl when he'd first set eyes on her, but now. She definitely was not a little girl any more.
"Now that you mention it, I recall Minerva saying she is engaged."
Where the hell did that come from, Severus? Jealous?
"Who?"
Who? Fuck!
"Someone she met at school." Wishful thinking, Sev, ol' boy?
Wexler considered Snape's revelations and rolled over. "Oh well, plenty other pixies in the sky. She is quite the gorgeous creature though. Too bad. Goodnight, Sev…er, Severus."
Severus growled something resembling 'yeah' and rolled over onto his stomach, evidence of Hermione's effect pressing into the hard ground beneath him; idly wondering how it would feel to have her soft, warm body pressing, writhing against his. That's what dreams are for, Severus.
Where were these thoughts coming from? Inappropriate, wrong, and oh so pleasing and delicious to the mind. It is decided he was going mad and Hermione Granger was the catalyst.
Not like she is interested.
She could be. She did come to sit with you tonight.
And I dismissed her like the stupid git that I am. Well done, Severus. Well done indeed.
There's always tomorrow, Severus.
Yes, maybe tomorrow would be better, he thought, and then slipped off to sleep.
He was sitting on the log near the lake. The scent of pine weighing heavily through the night, but it did not seem to bother him. It was relaxing and tranquil watching the rippling water. A sliver of crescent moon swayed amongst a sea of stars. A beautiful night by anyone's standards. Even the chill in the air did not seem so cold.
Absently he swatted his arm and became instantly aware of a rustling of leaves just behind him. He didn't turn; didn't have to. He would know her scent anywhere. It reminded him of the breakfasts his nanny made him as a youth. Sweet, sugary, and soothing. Brown sugar and cinnamon with a hint of vanilla. If he could bottle her aroma he could make a fortune, but he would never do that, because he didn't want to share her with the world, just wanted her all to himself.
He wanted to come home from a particularly difficult day of work and see her laughing eyes looking up from a book in her lap and looking only at him, smiling, just for him – to wash away all his annoyance, because she could do that. Her ability to sway him was an inherent power that she wielded to perfection. She could make him believe love wasn't a crime.
"It's the quiet one's you have to watch out for," she whispered, sitting close beside him.
"Hmm?"
"The mosquitoes. While the males like to make their presence know, like all males like to do," she laughed, "the females attack their victim silently and unseen. Before you know it they're gone and taken a bit of you with them."
"And should I watch out for you?" he queried softly. She'd clearly taken a bit of him already.
Her brown eyes flashed gold, like a cat in the dark. "Oh yes. You definitely should watch out for me, but fair warning, I'm afraid I devour my prey quite vocally."
Her small hand came up and pulled him down to her mouth. Hot, wet, passionate, and desperate kisses warmed their limbs on the cool night. His arms grabbed her waist, pulling her astride his lap. Hard pressure rubbed against her thigh. She cupped his face with her hands, tangling slim fingers into his hair. A soft whimper escapes her mouth only to be absorbed by his own as his tongue wraps around hers.
A faint chirp of crickets could be heard in the background, but all sound and awareness; except for their own was lost. Hurried feet and faster talking of the London Underground wouldn't have been able to distract them. They were transfixed by each other, hopelessly.
"Mmm, Hermione."
"Severus."
"You're so bloody hot, Hermione. You're burning up."
And that was only the truth. She had been enough to melt his icy exterior that most steered clear of. She saw him as a challenge, like the few that endeavored Everest. Few attempted and even fewer succeeded, but she had. With a slight touch of her hand she had thawed the heart he had long forgotten.
"Severus."
"You like that, don't you, Hermione?" He asked, cupping her breasts, rubbing his thumb in pressing circles, as they lay heavy in his hands. You feel so good."
"Don't stop," she cried, arching into his touch. Squeezing her thighs against his hips he hissed as her sweet warmth crashed against his increasingly painful erection.
"Severus."
"Hermione – I love you," he told her with no hesitation. The truth of his words emblazoned in his darkening eyes. They held so much emotion that she had taken for granted before.
"I love you too, Sev."
Sev? She never called him Sev, at least not yet.
Slowly his surroundings started to fade and he desperately tried to hold onto Hermione, pleading with her fruitlessly not to leave. They always left after you told them you loved them.
He opened his eyes and was confronted with reality; one without Hermione nipping at his neck, but one with Jude Wexler hovering over him like an eager vulture, grinning madly like a Cheshire cat.
"Sorry to wake you. Must have been some dream you were having. Pleasant one considering the wicked grin you had playing against you face."
Snape growled. "Then why did you find it necessary to wake me if I was obviously enjoying it."
"Normally I wouldn't have, but you were…er, moaning – rather loudly. And it seemed to be starring a certain colleague of ours. An engaged one.
Snape sneered. He should have under normal circumstances been mortified, but he did not really care. At the moment his only thought in the world was to go back to sleep and hopefully recapture his dream. He could almost imagine Hermione's legs snaking around him and he smiled faintly.
"So, the Potions Master is in love with the Arithmancy Professor."
Snape fixed him with a death glare, but Wexler somehow seemed to be impervious. I must be losing my touch.
"I have said no such thing."
Wexler let out a hearty laugh causing Snape to shudder. "But you did," he laughed, "Repeatedly and quite vocally."
The muggles studies professor straightened up and altered his voice to a low murmur that almost matched Severus' silky drawl. " 'Hermione…you like that, don't you…I love you,'" Wexler mocked.
Snape winced and brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, attempting to banish the forming migraine. He had been so careless during his sleep. Anyone could have heard him. Someone much worse than Wexler. He paled at the thought of Hermione overhearing his exultations. She would run from him as if he carried the plague.
"Do shut up," Snape hissed.
"She's not really engaged, is she?"
"No," he admitted.
"Well, I won't tread on you water, seeing as how you luuuurve her."
Was dueling in a muggle forest a punishable offence?
"How very Gryffindor of you," he derided. If he had to spend a week in the same tent as this man, one of them would not make it back to Hogwarts alive.
Well, maybe I won't have to share a tent with him.
He smiled faintly at the thought.
I just have to be nice to her. That shouldn't be too hard. I can do nice.