Severus strode into the Great Hall, sneer in place. Harry stopped him just as he was headed towards the Faculty Table.
"Severus, Hermione is…"
"Don't mention her name, Potter. Not if you want to turn into a ferret."
The boy merely shrugged and continued, "She still loves you."
The words caught him off guard, and Harry slipped away into the crowd. The words rang in his ears, and he sat, dazed, into the plush chairs prepared by Dumbledore.
"My boy, I'm glad you graced us with your presence."
He merely nodded, and stared into his champagne. Even Dumbledore noticed that the usual snarkiness of the man was gone, and replaced by a melancholic demeanor. And at that moment, he remembered what happened at the other year's ball.
The crowd chose that particular moment to fall silent. Hermione Granger had arrived, and clearly, she was looking more beautiful than ever. Severus raised his eyes to look at her, and their gazes locked. He paled and dropped his glass in alarm.
She headed towards his table and the conversations started again. He gulped as he stared at the woman in front of him. Had it really been a year? Those curves, those tantalizing lips. His trousers felt uncommonly tight, and he resisted the urge to ravish her there and then.
"Severus, I missed you."
"Hermione."
She took a seat next to him, and downed a shot of whisky. "Is that the way you treat your guest?"
"My guest? I did not invite you here. You came on your own accord."
"Yes. But don't you know why?"
"Listen, I am not the kind of person who would love to hear you narrate your tales of pleasure to other men."
Her eyes blazed warningly and she replied in a clipped tone, "For your information, I did not sleep, flirt, cavort or love any other man."
"Interesting."
"Is that all you have to say?!"
"I think you have forgotten that I am neither your teacher nor your parent. Why should I have anything else to say?"
He instantly regretted the words that came out of his mouth. She stood up rather stiffly and went to Potter's table. He slumped on the table, and fisted his hands in his hair. Rely on him to destroy everything. Dumbledore, ever the meddlesome old man, observed the tension and served the food as an ever present diversion.
Hermione stared at Severus across the room. She sadly wiped tears from her eyes, and turned back to examining her wine glass, while couples danced around her.
Severus had noticed the longing stare of the woman he drove away. He scolded himself inwardly, and prayed to the gods that his plan would work. If only his woman was a sentimental creature who would accept a simple gesture of love.
Wait, love? His woman? Where did those come from?