Severus trudged wearily through the Entrance Hall, trying desperately to avoid the slew of students who were chattering without care or notice of anyone around them.
"Oh, honestly, Cho… I think that eyeliner looks just perfect on you! The black would be far too much with your eyes. The dark blue looks much better, really!" Marietta Edgecombe giggled a bit as she brushed quickly past Severus, who let out a disgruntled sigh and glided farther away.
"Well, good," Cho Chang giggled nervously. "I hope you're right. Mandy Brocklehurst told me that it looked rather desperate."
"Mandy Brocklehurst is a twit," Marietta Edgecombe said snidely, "and she can shove that Wizarding Almanac she's been carrying round like a lovey straight up her cunny."
"Miss Edgecombe," Severus intoned dully, and Marietta whirled around with eyes round as saucers. Cho Chang's cheeks colored with embarrassment, and the two girls looked positively terrified as Severus continued, "ten points from Ravenclaw for your cat-like gossip and crass word choice, Miss Edgecombe. And the both of you have today's visit to Hogsmeade revoked. Back to Ravenclaw Tower at once, if you please."
"But, sir -" Cho Chang started to protest, and Severus knew it was because she hadn't been the one to name-call Mandy Brocklehurst. But he scowled cruelly down at the black-haired girl and sneered,
"Shall I make that a twenty-point deduction for insubordination, Miss Chang?"
"No, sir. Of course not."
The two girls pouted and flounced back into the castle, looking disappointed and angry, and Severus tried not to shrug as he approached the doorway where Argus Filch was checking departing students off of a list.
"Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones. Go on. Colin Creevey... Leave. Eleanor Branstone, Laura Madley… go on, get out of here, then."
The wizened old squib was ticking names off with his quill one by one, looking cross and harried as Severus approached him.
"Argus," he acknowledged, his voice sounding bored to his own ears.
"Professor. Off to the Three Broomsticks, are we? Professors McGonagall and Flitwick have gone already; they'll be a few butterbeers ahead of you." Filch licked the nib of his quill and scratched a line on his parchment, squinting down at the paper with his pale eyes.
"In fact, I am committed to help supervise the additional Apparition lessons taking place in the village today," Severus sighed regretfully. He had been quite hesitant when Albus Dumbledore had requested he chaperone the practice, for Draco Malfoy was not old enough to test for Apparition at the end of April and would therefore not be attending the session. How was Severus to keep his Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy if he could not properly supervise Draco?
"Ah, yes. Heard old Scrivenshaft had cleared out his shop today for the students," Filch nodded. "Brought your essence of dittany, have you? Bet you'll be clearing up one or two splinchings, then."
"Indeed." Severus frowned and nodded curtly. "Good day to you."
He breezed past the old caretaker and glided out of the castle, his dragon hide boots soundless on the stones as he made his way across the front yard and down the path that led off Hogwarts grounds and toward Hogsmeade village. There were small clumps of students that had been allowed their weekend trip, and Severus found himself searching the clusters for a particular frizzy head.
There she was, many yards ahead of him, with the ginger-headed Weasley on one side of her (who had Lavender Brown linked in his arm, thankfully) and Potter on her other. It looked as though Neville Longbottom was with them, and Luna Lovegood as well as Ginevra Weasley and Dean Thomas.
Hermione might have been lost in the gaggle of black robes, but Severus knew her caramel-colored hair well, and he recognized the way she was anxiously tossing her hands around as she spoke to the group surrounding her.
He felt his chest crumple a bit as he saw her walking with her young friends, realizing that the sight made him feel quite old… and unwanted. He should leave her be, he thought. Not just today, but all the time. The way he saw her now - surrounded by teenaged halfwits with hormone-fueled, immature, melodramatic existences - was perhaps the way she was meant to live. Severus could pretend all he wanted that she would be happier with him, that she was not like the rest of them… and, yet, there she was. Walking with them, talking with them. She was one of them, whether he wished to admit it or not.
Though spring had solidly arrived according to the calendar, no one had seemed to inform the glen surrounding Hogwarts. The air was cool and a constant mist descended from the heavens, cloaking the hills in a gray gloom. The group in which Hermione walked was far enough ahead of Severus that they disappeared into the fog before him.
Precisely how delusional are you, Severus Snape?
What exactly did he expect, anyway? That someday he'd walk into Hogsmeade with her on his arm, sit down in Madam Puddifoot's and discuss the Potions segment of the Daily Prophet over a shared pot of strong black tea? Nonsense.
No one could ever know that he'd ravished her in his private quarters, that he'd given her a glass of elf-made wine and stared at her naked body and let her whisper his first name while he spilled himself inside of her. No one could ever know that, because he would be sacked, and she would be ridiculed. Worse than that… when the time came for him to kill Dumbledore, her life would be in jeopardy if anyone knew what she meant to him.
They would kill her, and in doing that they may as well kill him, too. Severus kicked at a small stone as he walked and furrowed his eyebrows. He abruptly found himself wishing very much that he did not care whether Hermione Granger was alive or dead. But he did care.
The village of Hogsmeade finally appeared through the mist, its High Street winding haphazardly around a bend down which Severus ambled to make his way to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. He pushed open the little grey door of the shop and found it bustling with sixth-year Apparition candidates, the floor space having been cleared out to make room for the lessons.
Mr. Pero Scrivenshaft leaned against his sales counter, watching the students curiously as he sipped at an old teacup. The old wizard was so tall he was hunched at the waist to lean on his own counter, and so thin his bones jutted out of his wrists almost grotesquely. His angular face was kept kindly by the presence of a thick, bushy white mustache and by the glitter in his teal eyes. He wore dusty-looking robes in a faded coral color, with a stamped gold feather pattern and a brocade trim.
Severus nodded politely at the store's proprietor and tried to manage a little smile of thanks when the man raised his hand in greeting. His expression probably looked more like a grimace, Severus thought, but he'd made an effort. He cast his eyes over the room and let his gaze settle on the other supervisor present - Wilkie Twycross, the Ministry instructor sent to teach the Hogwarts students Apparition.
"All right, there, Severus?" Twycross said, his voice reedy and thin. Severus frowned a bit at the man, who looked far older than Severus knew him to be. His hair was such a pale blonde it looked white, falling to his shoulders in thin, wispy curls that looked as though they might just dissolve into the air at any moment. His skin seemed thin as paper, and his eyes were so pale they almost looked transparent. The man was unnerving, even to Severus, who was regularly forced to endure the visual spectacle of the Dark Lord's new corporeal form.
"Good afternoon, Wilkie," Severus greeted the man in a low voice, trying to keep his distance.
"Well, I believe we are right on schedule," Twycross said. "Shall we begin, then? Students? Students!"
The sixth-years were completely ignoring him, chatting among themselves in small groups. No one broke from their conversations except for Hermione and Neville Longbottom, who dutifully turned to Twycross. Severus scowled.
"You will all either pay attention to your Ministry instructor," he barked loudly, and the room fell silent at once, "or none of you shall be proctored your Apparition exams. Pay attention, all of you."
Severus' authoritative bellow had rendered every student completely submissive, so Wilkie Twycross nervously cleared his throat and nodded. "Thank you, Professor Snape. Yes… I realize we are in rather tight quarters here today, so we shall be taking it in turns. We shall begin with the ladies, as is chivalrous and customary. Three goes in one place, my dears. Apparate anywhere you please within Hogsmeade - though, do try not to go anywhere you might land on someone, or any such inconvenience. Then come straight back here. Do your best not to splinch, though of course Professor Snape and I are prepared for emergencies! Gentlemen, to the outside of the room, if you please, and I shall notify you when we are switching turns. Remember the three D's - Destination, Determination, and Deliberation! You may commence!"
The boys in the room grumbled as they made their way to the perimeter to wait their turns, whilst the girls tried to keep a safe distance from one another inside the open space. Black robes started swishing as the female students made concerted efforts to move in place and Apparate, but no one disappeared.
Severus watched Hermione settle into her spot. He reached into his trousers pocket and felt the bit of folded parchment there, sighing a bit to himself and wondering whether or not he should pull the paper out. Finally, he did, fingering the parchment nervously and tucking it into his palm.
He nonchalantly wandered the room, listening as Wilkie Twycross repeated his 'Three D's' over and over to the students who were desperately trying to vanish from the quill shop. Finally, with a small crack, Daphne Greengrass Disapparated, and there was an audible, jealous gasp from the other girls. Severus cocked an eyebrow, more than a little proud that the first sixth-year to successfully leave the room had been a Slytherin. Even more happily, Daphne reappeared moments later, her face triumphant.
"Well done, Miss Greengrass," said Wilkie Twycross, who rushed over to pat Daphne upon her shoulder.
Severus took advantage of the subsequent small commotion to approach Hermione and surreptitiously slip her the bit of folded parchment.
"Go there," he murmured softly, "and you will find a letter in a windowsill. Read it and come back here."
He flicked the scrap of parchment out to her, holding it between his forefinger and middle finger, and she snatched it from him, looking around quickly to make sure no one was watching them. Severus walked off, barking sharply at Hannah Abbott to close her eyes and focus on her destination.
When he managed to steal a glance back at Hermione, she was staring down at the little bit of paper. Then he saw her stuff it into the pocket of her black robes and shut her eyes tightly, balling her fists at her sides. She rotated a bit to her right, and with a resounding crack, she disappeared into thin air.
"Oh, well, it looks as though Miss Granger has successfully Disapparated, as well!" Wilkie Twycross exclaimed in his breathy, reedy voice. "Wonder where she's gone off to, then, eh? Madam Puddifoot's, perhaps? Tomes and Scrolls, more likely?"
Severus knew Hermione was nowhere near the tea shop. Nor was she in a bookshop. If she had gone where the little scrap of parchment had bade her, then she was on a dreary old street in Cokeworth, beside a filthy half-dried river… a forsaken little street called Spinner's End.
Hermione was whirling, spinning, flying through the air, faster than she could control herself. Her eyes were being squished her her ears were screaming like a freight train. Her organs felt contracted and her muscles felt horribly twisted. Then, with a sickening sort of crunch, it was over, and she landed in a crumpled heap upon her knees. She was suddenly overwhelmed with nausea, feeling quite as though she were going to heave up the contents of her stomach.
For a long moment, she did not even register that rain was falling upon her, nor that she was kneeling in the middle of a road. All she could focus on was the twirling in her head and the flip-flops in her stomach. At last, the queasiness subsided enough for her to rise shakily to her feet, and she stared around herself in a bit of alarm.
Wherever she was, it was darker than it had been in Hogsmeade. This was Cokeworth? This was unpleasant, is what it was. The houses were all lined up in a seemingly endless row of melancholy sameness. Bland brown brick rowhouses, one after the other, indistinguishable and dull, went on as far as Hermione could see. They stood two storeys tall with little garret windows sticking out of their rain-slicked slanted roofs. They were sad little houses with no visible decorations.
The street smelled like mud, like rubbish and smoke, and through an alley between two houses Hermione could see a dirty river streaming by with bits of garbage strewn in it. The only living things in sight were the few sparse weeds springing up in the cracks on the sidewalks, around which muddly black streams of rainwater flowed. Hermione sighed and pulled the little scrap of parchment from her black school robe again, checking the address, and walked past a broken street lamp in search of house. Finally, she found it, sitting there among its identical neighbors. She stood in front of it for a long while, getting thoroughly soaked by the rain.
She knew at once why Severus had sent her here. This was where he lived. And if this was where he lived, then this was where he had grown up, for no adult in his right mind would choose a home somewhere such as this - not even a man as dour as Severus Snape. Hermione frowned at the notion of a childhood spent somewhere so depressing as she pushed aside the creaky wrought-iron gate in front of the house and stepped through the empty front garden up to the doorway.
In the windowsill, there was a small envelope, miraculously dry despite the rain. She knew he must have charmed it to stay dry, and she yanked it out of the window frame and noted the script 'HG' upon the outside with a little smirk.
Knowing full well that everyone was expecting her back in Hogsmeade, Hermione hurried to open the letter and saw a blank sheet of paper. She scowled deeply and pulled out her wand, glancing furtively around to make sure no one was watching her. There were too many windows; anyone could see her. She turned her back to the other houses, facing the door, and tried to hide her wand, whispering,
"Aparecium."
Nothing happened. Hermione felt her heart race with anxiety. Think, Hermione, she scolded herself. What other Revealing Charms did she know? She pointed her wand once more at the paper and rattled off all of them she could think of.
"Ostensum! Probo scriptura. Visibilium! Intenebris… Oh, for crying out loud... Nuncatramentum!"
The last charm, an old incantation Hermione remembered reading in an out-of-print spellbook, suddenly made ink appear on the page as if it were seeping directly out of the parchment. The black handwriting, spindly and neat, was visible at last.
"Hermione,
If you are reading this, then I am very glad you remember reading Levina Monkstanley's Charms For Challenging Circumstances , which has been out-of-print since 1779 and thus exists in a single weathered copy somewhere in a back corner of the Hogwarts library.
In any case, I want you to know that this bleak place is safer than it seems. Plots are in motion even now that will serve to make the world an exceedingly dangerous place for you. Places that once seemed havens of friendship and shelters of alliance will now become targets for violence.
You as an individual will be sought out for registration, wand confiscation, and soon enough far worse than that. I tell you this because I wish for none of this to befall you. As we have discussed, I am beholden to promises and pacts that will paint me as a villain. But even after the world has cast me as wicked, I wish for you to know three things.
First - You must know that anything and everything I do is done with the end goal of goodness. I am aware that such a word - 'goodness' - may sound trite and shallow from a man such as myself. But I do not wish evil on anyone, least of all you. No matter what any of it looks like, no matter how any of it seems, I am on your side.
Second - I wish for you to know that the home before you is mine, and that you may always come here if you feel unsafe. Attached to this letter is a list of spells that will deactivate the house wards and allow you entry. When the world starts to close in around you, when hate and villainy leave you nowhere else to go… please know that I shall do anything in my power to keep you safe. Even if I am not here, there will be strategies in place to protect you.
Finally, know that at the end of all of this, no matter what comes of it, there was a man called Severus Snape who cared very deeply for you. Whether any of us are alive or dead, in Azkaban or together or thousands of miles apart, whether you despise me forever or never see me again, I suppose it does not matter. And, truly, I hardly care what the world thinks of me after all is said and done.
All that I wish very much for you to remember of me is this: that I was a cold, dark man with a cold, black heart that was somehow warmed by the sight of your eyes and the sound of your voice… that I found myself amazed by your intelligence and baffled by your magnetism.
And, when someday you're living happily on after this disgraceful war has ended, I only hope you shall think back upon one thing. I hope you shall know that I loved someone, once very long ago, and I thought that I could never love anyone again. I was wrong. Remember, Hermione Jean Granger, after all of this dreadfulness is done, that a man called Severus Snape loved you.
Now close your eyes, and think very hard of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Remember your Three D's.
Hermione folded up the parchment, roughly swiping at her eyes as she turned away from the doorway. She stared into the window on the upper level of the shabby home, wondering if that was the bedroom where Severus had spent his childhood. But she had no more time to linger. She whimpered quietly and shut her eyes hard, concentrating on the quill shop in Hogsmeade. Then she was whirling and squeezing and buzzing again, and the dirty little street in the midlands was gone.
"Difficult one there, eh?"
Hermione jumped at Harry's words and turned to him with wide eyes. "I'm sorry?" she whispered in response, dropping her quill. Harry looked alarmed at her response.
"Erm… it's just that you've been staring at that problem for quite a long time," he mumbled, gesturing down to her parchment, where a half-finished arithmancy problem was waiting. "I just thought perhaps it was a particularly difficult set of numbers is all."
"Oh… yes, so it is." Hermione scrambled for her quill, feeling her cheeks color. She set to finishing the equation, trying to shove aside the thoughts that had been bothering her since returning from Hogsmeade that afternoon. She and Harry had settled into a small table in the Gryffindor common room as the sun was going down, and Hermione had sprawled her arithmancy homework out and tried to focus on the numbers in front of her. But her mind had returned again and again to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.
She had Disapparated from Spinner's End and landed hard on her knees in the middle of the floor in the quill shop, to the sound of alarmed gasps from her fellow sixth-year girls.
"There you are, Hermione!" Parvati Patil had exclaimed, coming over and fretting over Hermione as she helped her fellow Gryffindor off the ground. "We were worried sick when you were gone for so long. Padma was just about to go and start looking for you, but Professor Snape said -"
"I insisted that if you had managed to Disapparate without splinching any of yourself behind, then you were probably quite fine wherever you were," Hermione had heard Severus say. She'd looked up to see him standing with his wand clenched tightly in his hand, between Wilkie Twycross and Pero Scrivenshaft. Severus looked far calmer than the elder wizards, who each looked as alarmed as the students at Hermione's extended absence.
"Oh… I'm very sorry," Hermione had murmured. "I Apparated to… erm… to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. And I had difficulty coming back. But I made it!" She'd grinned triumphantly and held her hands up as if to invite praise, and Parvati Patil had sighed with relief. Some of the tension had gone from the room then, and Hermione had tried to avoid Severus' black eyes for the rest of the lesson.
She'd walked back to Hogwarts with Ron, and they'd met up with Harry, who had spent the afternoon walking about with Ginny, apparently. Now, Hermione tried desperately to focus on her homework, but found herself entirely unable. All she could think about was Severus.
He loved her.
That was what the note had said, wasn't it?
'Remember, Hermione Jean Granger, after all of this dreadfulness is done, that a man called Severus Snape loved you.'
Her heart had ached after reading that. If Hermione was honest with herself, the feeling in her chest had skipped heartache and had gone straight to a terrible, raw sort of pain that ripped and seared its way straight through her. There was to be disaster, he was saying, for himself and for her and for all of wizardkind. Moreover, he believed that his actions would be wicked enough to make her hate him.
But he loved her. For whatever reason, right now to Hermione none of the rest mattered.
You as an individual will be sought out for registration, wand confiscation, and soon enough far worse than that. He had warned her that doom was headed straight for her like a tempest on a sea. But she could scarcely force her heart to be afraid, for he had confessed to her at the end of the letter that he loved her.
What could he possibly do that would make her hate him? He could kill Harry. She might try to hate him for that. But why would he do such a thing? Beyond being undeniably evil, it would be unequivocally counterproductive for the cause of good. And he had argued vehemently that he was on the side of good, no matter what. He might torture her, under orders from Voldemort. That would be difficult to endure, and difficult to forgive.
There were all sorts of people Severus might have to blot out on the path to righteousness, Hermione thought. But, then, terrible things happened to very good people in times such as these. Whether or not a person had volunteered for martyrdom ultimately did not matter; war only agreed to so many rules at its core.
No, she told herself firmly. I could never hate him. There is nothing he could do - no one he could destroy - that could paint him over so blackly in my mind.
He had made himself a home in her heart, and it was his forever, no matter how his actions chipped away at it.
Did she love him back? She had absolutely no idea. She had less of an idea about that than she'd ever had about anything. No library in the world contained enough research to inform her heart on how she felt about Severus Snape.
"Merlin! Thought I'd never get away!" Ron Weasley collapsed into the chair beside Harry and plunked his Potions textbook down upon the table with an obnoxious sigh.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, frowning at his ginger friend. Hermione cocked an eyebrow, trying to look concerned. Ron sighed again, rather melodramatically. He glanced about the Gryffindor furtively and leaned forward before murmuring,
"It's Lavender! I've had enough, I'm telling you! She's snogged my face properly off. You know me, 'Mione; I'm not exactly one to fixate on homework. But I've got to get this Potions essay written for Slughorn or I'm not going to pass the class, eh? All she wanted to do the entire rest of the night was kiss my lips until they were dead chapped. I finally got away from her when she made a move for the placket of my trousers."
"Ronald! That is entirely too much information!" Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust whilst Harry chuckled immaturely beside Ron. The red-haired boy's cheeks colored, embarrassed, and he opened his Potions text and began flipping through it.
"I suppose you've finished your essay, then," he grumbled at Hermione. She frowned deeply and turned her attention back to her Arithmancy problem.
"Of course I have," she said firmly. "I wrote it days ago."
"'Course you did," Ron clipped. "And you, Harry?"
"Erm… haven't started it yet," Harry admitted, and he reached in his rucksack for the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potions-Making. Hermione scowled as the boys started searching through the text. It thoroughly irritated her that they were able to obtain cheats and easy answers rather than having to work at Slughorn's subject material this entire year, and she narrowed her eyes in anger.
"Look. Here it is," Ron pointed to a margin, making Harry stop flipping pages. "Pepperup Potion. 'Invented in 1807 by famed Potions Master Glover Hipworth, Pepperup Potion works by activating the immune system and elevating body temperature to rapidly accelerate the body's ability to fight the common cold. The potion utilizes bicorn horn, mandrake root, peppermint leaves, black elder flowers, rosemary, ground ginger, lemon juice, white vinegar, and unicorn blood. The potion may be strengthened to create Grand Pepperup Potion (for use with much stronger infections) by the addition of Octopus Powder. The most well-known side-effect of Pepperup Potion is the emission of steam from the ears for several hours after administration.' All right, then, Harry; what's the assignment?"
"Slughorn wants us to write a paragraph on how to counteract the steam-from-the-ears issue," Harry told Ron. "If you look here, in the margins, the Half-Blood Prince has scrawled a few things of note…"
Hermione began to feel outraged. She'd done thorough research for her own essay on the matter, having perused spellbooks and determined that the best way to counteract Pepperup Potion steam was by casting a Vapor-Dispelling Charm upon the patient. The potion administrator would simply have to wave his or her wand in a figure-eight pattern and mutter, 'fumusvale,' and for several hours any steam or smoke in the vicinity of the patient would dissipate comfortably. However, Hermione had had to dig up this spell from an old, dusty charms book in the library. Here were Harry and Ron mindlessly reading the musings of the Half-Blood Prince.
"So, he says that one must simply add twice as much peppermint and a gram of camphor to the potion. This will have a cooling effect on the potion itself whilst maintaining the healing effect upon the patient. No steam!" Harry started scratching upon his parchment with his quill as Ron beamed impishly up at the irate Hermione.
"Give that damned book this instant!" she growled, reaching across the table and snatching the Potions text from the boys. She scanned her eyes quickly over the margins, angry that they could so quickly find a workaround when she had had to research for hours to write her own paragraph. Then, just as suddenly as she'd grown angry, she felt her heart leap in her chest and her breath hitch in her throat. Her grip loosened upon the spine of the textbook and she nearly dropped it, and she gasped with a little whimper of distress.
"What is it?" Ron actually sounded worried, and Harry looked up from his parchment.
Hermione flew up from her chair, clutching the textbook tightly to her chest, and began backing away from her friends. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and curled up her lip.
"Do not follow me," she said softly to them. "Just stay here. I… I shall speak to you both tomorrow."
"What the devil is going on, Hermione?" Harry started to stand, holding his hands up and looking almost frightened, whilst Ron furrowed his eyebrows in abject confusion where he sat. Hermione continued backing away toward the portrait hole, and she actually found herself pointing her wand at Harry.
"Do not follow me, Harry," she said again. "I do not want to hex you. Just stay here with Ron. I will… I will explain everything once I understand it for myself. Use Ron's book for the essay, won't you? Oh… erm… a Vapor-Dispelling Charm. 'Fumusvale.' That would stop the Pepperup steam. Just write that, all right?"
She turned and started walking briskly toward the portrait hole, still clutching the Potions book, ignoring Ron Weasley as he meekly said behind her,
"You've left all your Arithmancy work here, 'Mione."
Severus rather despised office hours, particularly on weekends. They seemed to be an excuse for poor students to receive extra assistance on assignments they ought to be capable of completing on their own. If a student was unable to write an essay without the help of a book, the librarian, elder students, or Severus himself during school hours… then it probably wasn't going to be a good essay no matter what.
But he was required to hold office hours by Hogwarts school policy, and so he had done so every Sunday evening from seven-thirty to nine o'clock for the past fifteen years. There had been rare interruptions to this schedule, but students could could fairly reliably on finding Professor Severus Snape in his office in the dungeons on a Sunday evening, waiting and (at least pretending to be) willing to answer questions about assignments.
In between students, he graded papers, read the Daily Prophet or a good book, or listened to old music on the wizarding wireless. Sometimes he sat at his desk with his hands folded calmly upon the smooth wood and stared at the door for an hour while nobody came, and then rose with a bored sigh and made his way silently back into his private quarters.
Tonight, he'd been bothered with a personal dispute between two fourth-year Slytherin females who were unable to resolve their differences in the dormitory. One girl snored loudly, apparently, and the other was a very light sleeper. Severus had listened to their inane, cattish bickering for a solid four minutes in his office before finally cutting them off.
"Miss Greengrass, you shall cast a Restfulness charm around your own bed. Requies should do the trick," he insisted, glaring sharply at Astoria Greengrass, the one who'd been complaining that she was a light sleeper. The wispy little girl had nodded haughtily, especially when Severus had turned to the rather pig-faced girl beside her, Agnes Ronca, and said harshly,
"Miss Ronca, I suggest taking two drops of this before bed nightly. In perpetuity." He reached for his wand and wordlessly Summoned an anti-snoring potion from the shelves in his office, sliding it across his desk at the red-cheeked, stout girl, who frowned at the vial. "Now, if that is all, ladies?"
They'd left after that, thankfully, though Severus had then been pestered by a first-year Hufflepuff who'd shoved a dreadful half-finished essay (due two days later) toward him. She'd nearly sobbed as she complained that she was at her wit's end with finding research sources on cursed socks and shoes. Severus had rolled his eyes and managed to stop ticking off grammatical errors in the essay with his quill long enough to jot down a recommended book list and send the idiotic girl on her way to the library.
He put his hands and flicked his wand toward the wizarding radio, relishing the relaxing sounds of violins and piano as they fizzed through the speaker. It was five minutes to nine; surely no more students would be coming by tonight. Severus began gathering up the loose parchments and quills upon his desk and preparing to tuck in for the night. The long walk to and from Hogsmeade in the cool mist had set his bones to creaking; he wanted a hot shower before bed tonight.
Before he could ward the door from his office to the Potions Corridor and escape to his private quarters, Severus was shocked by the office door flying open and the sight of Hermione Granger storming unannounced into the room.
"Good evening, Miss Granger…" Severus glanced furtively beyond her breathless, pink-cheeked form, trying to see if anyone was with her.
"Oh, don't 'Miss Granger' me!" she exclaimed, slamming the door shut behind her and huffing as she anxiously stood beside Severus' desk.
He furrowed his eyebrows at her, concerned now and trying to figure out what exactly he had down to make her so angry with him. Had she not seen his note for her in Spinner's End, he wondered? The one where he'd told her that his home would be available for her to keep her safe? The one where he told her that he loved her?
Or perhaps that was precisely the problem, Severus thought with a sudden pang of worry. Perhaps she was irate with him for using that word. It would scarcely be the first time a woman in his life had spurned his advances. Severus swallowed heavily and took a little step away from her, flicking his wand delicately toward the radio to silence it and then pointing it at the door. He locked and warded it silently and then murmured,
"Muffliato."
"Ah, yes!" Hermione shouted at him, pointing her finger in an accusatory manner. Severus scowled, confused, but Hermione continued, "I knew I'd seen that spell somewhere before when I last heard you cast it. I'd only seen it once. Here."
She suddenly tossed the book she'd been clutching to her chest down upon his desk. Severus stared for a long moment at the weathered copy of Advanced Potions-Making - his own copy, he recognized at once.
He was able to keep his face relatively still and emotionless, a skill that had served him well for many years, for some time. Then Hermione reached into the pocket of her black school robe and tore forth a folded bit of parchment - the letter from Spinner's End. She threw the parchment down beside the book and then set about unfolding it roughly, so hastily that Severus absently worried she would tear the paper. She patted the paper to flatten it, and Severus saw a few of his own scrawled words pop out in dark black ink.
'I am very glad you remember reading Levina Monkstanley's -'
'such a word - 'goodness' - may sound trite and shallow from -'
'I was a cold, dark man with a cold, black heart -'
'a man called Severus Snape loved you.'
He felt a sickening twist in his stomach as he realized she had been carrying that letter around all afternoon, a parchment full of his maudlin emotional diatribe. He blinked hard as acid humiliation welled up in his throat, and Hermione flung open the worn cover of the Potions textbook to a random page full of marginal notations. She jabbed her finger from the textbook to the letter and back again, glaring up at Severus.
"Would you care to explain to me," she hissed, "how it is that the script in your letter is identical to the script in the textbook Harry has been using to cheat all year in Potions class?"
Severus frowned and huffed out a bit of air. "Potter has been cheating in Potions using my textbook?" he blurted, quickly realizing what a mistake he'd made. Hermione's eyes went wide at once, and Severus pinched his lips.
"You… you're the Half-Blood Prince?" Hermione whispered, suddenly taking a step away from him. "All the changes to the potions… the made-up spells… hexes, curses? Prince? What is that?"
She had gone from irate to curious in a moment flat, so Severus sighed patiently and explained, "My mother was called Eileen Prince. My father was a Muggle, so I nicknamed myself the 'Half-Blood Prince.' It is an easy thing to do, perhaps, when one is constantly tormented by classmates, to assign oneself a rather heroic moniker and cloak oneself with mythical glory and honor."
"So this… this was your Potions textbook?" Hermione was breathless now, and she took a few steps back to the desk and began running her fingertips over the pages of the book. She was breathing rather heavily through her nostrils, but she still looked angry.
"Yes, it was. It was my mother's first, actually, when she was a student here. She handed it down to me, so it was old even when it was mine. I made annotations where I saw fit, and wrote in some spells I made up as a student. I kept the book after I graduated and stored it here when I was hired as a teacher. Once Horace Slughorn took over for me, I suppose I left it in a cabinet in the Potions room. I had no idea Potter had nicked it for his own, though I suppose I should hardly be surprised that the spawn of James Potter somehow found a way to deceive others into being convinced of his academic brilliance."
"Well, it's been right infuriating!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in anger. "All bloody year he's been Slughorn's pet creature, making everything straight from your notes, and Slughorn keeps going on about how Harry must have inherited his mother's brilliance for the subject."
"Hm. Yes, well… Lily Evans was quite a good hand at Potions," Severus said brusquely, feeling rather uncomfortable discussing Lily to any capacity in Hermione's presence. He felt guilty for some reason as Lily's red-haired face pushed her way into his head, and she shut his eyes for a moment, apologizing to the ghost of Lily's memory as he shunned her away. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "Harry Potter is not a gifted Potioneer, and if Horace Slughorn had spent the past six years instructing him, he would have become suspicious by the boy's very sudden genius in the classroom."
He paused and stared at Hermione. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was gazing down at the book and the letter, and in her chestnut eyes Severus could see a deeply disturbed expression.
"Well, now you know," he mumbled awkwardly. "Potter stole my textbook. What of it, then?"
"And… and what of the letter?" she asked quietly, still staring down at the paper. Severus felt himself shrug, forcing nonchalance, and shook his head.
"What of the letter?" he repeated.
"What did you mean, exactly?" she demanded, and Severus suddenly felt rather frustrated with her. He thought he had been anything but brief in the the letter. He had been more emotional than he was wont to be, and he did not particularly care to elaborate more than he'd done. There had been a reason he'd expressed himself in the written word.
"I had been led to belief you were a literate witch, Hermione," Severus said sharply, with perhaps more barb than he had intended. When she glared up at him, brow crumpled with hurt, he found himself carrying on, "You managed to reveal the ink; did you manage to read the words or I shall I read them aloud for you?"
"You needn't be cruel," Hermione whispered to him, snatching the letter from the desk and folding it up quickly before stuffing it into her robe. She sniffed a little and lowered her eyes to the floor. "I have no idea who you plan on hurting, Severus Snape, or what terrible things people are going to make you do. But I have conjured up just about every hideous scenario that my mind can imagine, and every single one ends with me terribly loyal to you, no matter how hard I try to hate you."
Severus felt an odd knot in his throat suddenly, found himself abruptly short of breath, and leaned on his desk for a bit of support. "I…" he began, but could not finish. Hermione shook her head a little and continued,
"You say you will try to keep me safe no matter what 'they' do to me. I only know who some of 'them' are, and I know 'them' to be very terrifying indeed. So I know I should be afraid. But I also know that you are a very powerful wizard, and if you trying even a little bit to protect me, then I shall probably be just fine. And so I find myself rather foolishly fearless."
He stepped toward her, reaching to cup her jaw in his slender hand. She shut her eyes against his touch.
"Look at me, Hermione," he murmured, and she did, her eyelids fluttering open. He spoke again, whispering, "I meant every word in that letter. Every word."
His lips were trailing fire over her skin as he pressed her body against the cold stone wall. Hermione didn't even register the hard discomfort of the bricks behind her, for his calloused lips were so delicious as they dragged down her neck that she wanted nothing more in all the world than for him to keep going, keep kissing, and she groaned softly as her fingers frantically worked at the buttons on his frock coat. She felt clumsy and inept, like the buttons were fighting back, but soon enough she was pushing the coat off of his shoulders and it landed with a soft flutter on the cobblestone floor.
She ripped at the tails of his shirt, urging them out of his trousers, and desperately tried to get the placket there undone as his hands sailed around her chest and his lips worked their way back to meet her mouth. He tasted like cinnamon, like honey and peppermint, and she greedily kissed him back, dragging her tongue over the roof of his mouth and moaning wantonly into his throat.
She needed him, now, with an urgency her body had never known before, and before she knew what was happening his hand was pressed against her lower abdomen and she could hear him whispering, "Breviter sterilitatem," and she shivered with desire as she realized he intended to take her right here up against the wall. She anxiously kicked off her flat black shoes and shoved her thumbs under the waistline of her panties, urging them over her lean thighs and down her legs until she could kick them away. She still had on her skirt and jumper and even her robe, but she didn't care. He could enter her and kiss her and touch her, and that was all that mattered right now.
Hermione shut her eyes, dizzy and drunk from her want of him, and whispered his name over and over as he pawed at her waist and breast and kissed her neck.
Then she heard him murmur against her skin, "I meant it, Hermione. That time when I told you that you are beautiful… I meant it then, because it is true. You are beautiful."
She distantly remembered him telling her that - the first time he'd taken her, in his soft bed. Just through that door over there, she thought rather bitterly, as she finally registered how uncomfortable the stone wall was.
Severus shifted his kiss to the other side of her neck and continued murmuring, his breath hot as it sent a rush of moisture straight between Hermione's legs,
"And I meant it when I said I wanted you to stay alive… when I said I would keep you safe."
Then he raised his face to stare Hermione straight in the eye, his raven gaze boring directly into her soul as his strong hands wrapped around her waist and gripped her tightly. She gasped a bit as he hoisted her up and urged her to wrap her legs around his waist, and he grunted as he arranged her thighs to grip his hips tightly. Then he hissed through his teeth as he guided his member from his opened trousers and aligned it with her sopping entrance. He raised his heavily-lidded black eyes to Hermione again and sank his teeth into his bottom lip before he drawled,
"I meant it when I said I loved you. I do. I love you."
He pushed into her then, and Hermione cried out in a mix of agony and delight, her hands grabbing frantically at Severus' shoulders for support. She drove her head back painfully against the stone wall, her hair grinding against the grit of the bricks, and wrenched her eyes shut. Her fingers dug into the thin white material of Severus' dress shirt, and a breathy keen leaked through her clenched teeth as she felt the walls of her womanhood tense, still unused to the invasion of his girth.
His mouth was warm by her ear as she heard his whisper. "You are infuriating, and I meant it just as much when I told you those years ago that you were an insufferable know-it-all. You were then. You still are." He kissed the skin just below her ear delicately, and Hermione felt the corners of her lips turn up into a wicked little grin at his words. He kept mumbling at her in his silky voice, even as he pulled his cock out and pushed it back in roughly, over and over again, like a fiery piston. "You drive me mad with your incessant regurgitation of facts, with your insistence on answering every damned question ever posed, even if it was not even remotely asked of you."
She smirked as he drove into her, feeling his strong hands grasp her waist tightly as his length pounded her hard against the stone wall. She would be very sore from all of this, she knew, but she did not remotely care.
"And, yet," Severus continued relentlessly, "I find myself absolutely enamored with your mind, Hermione Jean Granger. You are far and away the cleverest human being I have ever encountered, and that is very beautiful indeed. And your eyes…"
He pulled his face away from her neck so that he could stare at her again with his own eyes, black as coal, and he whispered, "If I were to become forever lost in your eyes, I would not mind one bit, for I would have become eternally lost in paradise."
Hermione felt herself melt against the wall, unable to speak as he ground his hips up against her and pushed her closer to her edge. She was gasping, mewling, and all she knew in that moment was a deep and relentless passion for him.
"Severus," she managed to croak, just before tumbling into the abyss of pleasure, but she did not hear if he answered her. She collapsed against him, feeling her walls clenching tightly and erratically around him, hearing her ears ringing loudly, feeling heat flush through her like a wildfire. There was a flash of black before her, and she heard her voice cry out as if coming from somewhere else.
"Good girl…" she heard him whisper into her ear, prolonging her ecstasy, and then there were a few quick bucks of his hips into her before he spilled himself and found his own zenith.
Five minutes later, she'd been magically siphoned of his fluids and had relocated her panties. She watched as Severus picked his frock coat up off of the floor and half-expected him to fling it over his shoulders and start buttoning it up. She expected awkwardness, like there always was between them after something like this. There was always passion, and beautiful speech, and then the inevitable breakdown of whatever-we-fooled-ourselves-into-believing-we-are and the terrible return to the status quo.
But tonight was different. Severus did not stiffen and cast a severe shadow over his face as he normally did after being physical with her. He did not brusquely bid her farewell, nor demand an explanation. Instead, he glanced at the clock upon his desk and said rather gently,
"It is only a quarter past nine. Will you stay with me a while and visit? Have some tea?" He jerked his head toward the door that led to his private quarters, and Hermione felt a happy little smile come over her face.
She had no notion whatsoever of how long it would be before Severus would be forced away from her by circumstance. But with whatever time she had left with him… "Tea would be grand."
Severus was late. Very late. His Dark Mark had been on fire for over an hour now, but since it had been in the middle of breakfast when the burning had begun, Severus had found himself quite unable to escape from the Great Hall inconspicuously.
He had attempted, for some time, to appear nonchalant as he spooned porridge into his mouth. But after a while, the searing heat on his arm started to make his hands shake, and the spoon was visibly quivering as he steered it toward his lips. So he simply sat at the staff table in anxious silence, grateful that he did not have any morning lessons to teach this morning. He yanked out his pocket-watch and examined it. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes until they'd all file out of here and wander off to wherever they were going, and then Severus could make his way to the Apparition Point.
A half hour later, he was rushing through the front gates of Malfoy Manor, wondering what would prompt a Summons in the middle of the morning. He dashed silently up the marble staircase, hearing the low murmur of voices in the meeting room above, and paused at the top of the stairs when he saw that the dining room table was already full of seated figures.
Most were cloaked in dark fabric, but one stood out like a sore thumb. She wore a suit of salmon-colored raw silk, and her hair was coiffed into a stiff mushroom cap.
"Hem-hem." Dolores Umbridge coughed in a shrill little falsetto, interrupting the low murmur of Yaxley, who had been speaking quietly to the group. Everyone turned at the sound of her cough, and subsequent jerk of her toad-like face, toward where Severus stood.
Lord Voldemort's reptilian face curled over his bony shoulder from where he sat at the head of the table, and he glared at Severus.
"How good of you to join us, Severus," Voldemort said coolly. Severus narrowed his eyes toward Dolores Umbridge, extremely confused by the woman's presence, and then flicked his gaze back to Voldemort, feigning reverence and sorrow.
"My sincere apologies, My Lord," he intoned, inclining his head as he stepped carefully into the room. "It can be very difficult to make an unobtrusive exit from Hogwarts at this time of day."
"I see," Voldemort said smoothly. "Please. Sit."
He gestured slickly toward the only empty chair at the table, which was - conveniently - beside Umbridge. Severus sank into the chair with a sinking feeling of dread, trying hard not to sneer at the pink-swathed demon woman beside him. He stayed silent, feeling relatively confident that Umbridge's odd presence at a Death Eater meeting would be explained to him.
"I suppose you are wondering why it is that Madam Umbridge has joined us here today," Lord Voldemort began, addressing Severus' unasked question and almost certainly those of the others around the table.
Indeed, when Severus looked around, he noticed that everyone else was regarding Dolores Umbridge with looks ranging from distrust to outright discomfort. Bellatrix Lestrange was twirling her crooked wand in her fingers and looked bored, while Crabbe was eyeing the Pink Woman with a certain degree of fear. Umbridge looked completely unfazed, sitting with her hands primly folded upon the dining room table and gazing with overdone politeness at Voldemort.
"As all of you know, plans are already in motion to overthrow the Ministry of Magic," Voldemort continued, and no one flinched, since this was not news. "When this comes to be, the first order of business shall be the creation of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, whose purpose, of course, will be the detection of and proper… processing… of all Muggle-borns and blood traitors."
Severus felt a strong clench of discomfort in his gut as he was acutely reminded of the ultimate goal of all of this, especially since his mind raced immediately to Hermione. He shut his eyes for a moment and tried not to think of her, lest the Dark Lord suddenly invade his consciousness.
"To that end," he heard Voldemort saying, "Dolores Umbridge will be installed as the Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. There, she will oversee the handling of the Mudbloods. Dolores has demonstrated remarkable acumen when it comes to… ah, ruthlessness when it comes to matters such as these. You can surely speak to that, eh, Severus?"
Severus resisted the urge to visibly cringe as he vividly remembered being taunted by Dolores Umbridge during her tenure as Hogwarts Headmistress. He cleared his throat rather delicately and said, without looking at the woman, "I'm certain she will be quite thorough in handling the Muggle-born population to your satisfaction, My Lord."
There was absolutely nothing untrue in those words, Severus considered.
"If I may," Umbridge suddenly simpered, holding up a single finger in the air and grinning cloyingly around the table, "I wish to extend a most heartfelt thanks to all of you for inviting me today."
No one sitting around the table, save for Lord Voldemort, had invited Dolores Umbridge, Severus thought. But she continued talking just the same, in her disgusting little whimper.
"As you all know, there is no greater threat to the Magical community than the presence of Mudbloods! Indeed, these Thieves of Magic have so thoroughly infiltrated us that we must eradicate them for the plague they are. We must find them all, pluck them out like the most vile of weeds. We shall find suitable replacements for those who have managed to weasel their way into the Ministry of Magic or into our market economy. We shall confiscate and snap their wands, rendering the Mudbloods back to their original forms - without magic."
Severus felt his ears grow hot at Umbridge's words. Muggle-borns had no inherent magic, eh? Then how exactly was it that Hermione Granger was able to summon all her magic into a core of power and fire off spells with neither incantation nor wand? Severus silently ground his teeth and listened as Dolores Umbridge continued to drone on in her high-pitched, simpering voice.
"Our very first steps shall involve the publication of brochures and pamphlets to encourage the pureblood and half-blood community to hand over any known Mudbloods to the Ministry of Magic for registry, branding, and wand confiscation. Eventually, as you all know, the plans are for Mudblood enslavement, sterilization, and culling at the discovery of Magic Theft."
Severus felt ill, genuinely ill, as though he would be sick upon the dining room table. He could not keep the horrid visions of Hermione's arm, branded and scarred, from his mind. He could not keep the thoughts of her body, tortured by Bellatrix's dirt-extracting spell, out of his head. Nor could he cast aside terrible images of her face criss-crossed with black-stained veins. They would make her a slave, destroy her body, and then kill her when they tired of her.
No. No, they wouldn't, for Severus had trained her to protect herself. She would run away, somewhere far where they could never catch her, but first she would hurl hexes at them and leave them all baffled by her power. Wouldn't she? She would be safe… wouldn't she?
"Severus?"
He hadn't realized that Dolores Umbridge had asked him a question.
"I'm sorry?" He clasped his hands together upon the table top and glanced sideways at the pouting, toad-faced woman, who was scowling at him along with Voldemort.
"I said, Severus, I have heard that you have caused the Mudblood Granger girl to ingratiate herself to you in order to gain information. I shall require her after the overthrow of the Ministry, of course… it would be enormously helpful if you assisted in handing her over. I anticipate she would make it otherwise… difficult… to properly handle her case. She was always rather a problem for me, eh?"
"Of course," Severus nodded.
"Yes, Severus…" Voldemort cocked an eyebrow at Severus and smirked. "Are you having fun with your little Mudblood toy?"
"As much as one might enjoy himself with a young woman as… bookish and dry… as Hermione Granger," Severus heard his voice say, and he clenched his hands more tightly together. To his right, Yaxley chuckled under his breath, and Severus felt another surge of nausea. The Dark Lord wanted filthy details, here, in front of everyone. He licked his bottom lip and lowered his eyes before muttering, "She is adequately satisfying, My Lord, given her youth and eagerness. I have recently learnt from her that Potter has Hogwarts house-elves trailing Draco Malfoy. Potter suspects that Draco is up to something, though he has no specific idea of what, precisely. Certainly he does not know that Draco is plotting the death of Albus Dumbledore, and the house-elves are unable to divulge many details. Nonetheless, Potter is manipulating the elves in an attempt to spy on Draco."
"And the Mudblood girl told you this in the throes of passion, did she?" Yaxley asked with a low laugh. Several other Death-Eaters gave rumbling chuckles around the table, and Severus felt his cheeks color. Beside him, Dolores Umbridge looked happy as ever.
"The girl's words flow far more freely after some elf-made wine and a bit of physical attention, My Lord," Severus said firmly. He cocked his head toward Umbridge. "Naturally, I shall hand her over whenever you ask it, but for the time being, she is proving herself a valuable source of information given her proximity to Potter."
"Well, as long as Potter lives, then you can keep your little Mudblood slut," Voldemort said with a mocking sneer, dragging his long fingernails around the smooth dining room table in a swirl, "but at the moment she can no longer provide useful information, give her to Dolores and she shall be processed with the rest of the Mudbloods."
"Of course, My Lord."
"That will be all for you today, Severus. Go and teach your pupils how to defend themselves against the Dark Arts, won't you?" Voldemort smiled wickedly at Severus and flicked his hand dismissively. Severus nodded and rose slowly from his chair, leaving the dining room, and Dolores Umbridge, behind.
"Blimey! Sorry, Hermione!"
Hermione huffed rather angrily as two Hufflepuff girls plowed headlong into her in the corridor. They'd not been watching where they were going, too engrossed in their conversation with one another, and though Hermione had tried to dodge them, the impact had been like walking into a wall. Hermione's arm load of books had tumbled to the ground, along with ten or so sheets of loose parchment and a handful of quills. Hermione sighed anxiously. She was already running late today; this would only make it worse.
The resulting clean-up job meant that Hermione found herself somewhat dashing down the staircase and through the corridor to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. She was going to be the last student through the doors; she might even be properly tardy. Severus would be irate. He did not tolerate tardiness.
But what did that matter? After all, did he love her, or not? Just five days previously, he'd sat for hours with her in his room, each of them sipping on warm black tea as they talked about the coming darkness. Then, when the melancholy of that conversation became too much, they started talking about themselves.
Hermione had asked Severus about who he was, for she often felt as though she had little idea at all. He'd been hesitant to say much of anything.
"You saw where I grew up," he'd told her, flicking his eyes toward the fireplace and taking a slow sip from his teacup. "You can guess what sort of childhood I had. Tobias Snape was no father. He was a tyrant, both to my mother and to myself. Coming to Hogwarts felt properly as though I were being granted admission to Heaven, or at least as though I were being freed from Hell."
Hermione had not forced him to dwell too much on his past. She knew enough - he'd been a Death Eater, and then he hadn't. He'd been bullied, and then he had been a bully. Why rehash it all?
She'd told him a little about her life before Hogwarts, though there wasn't much to tell. Her parents were dentists (he'd known that). She'd taken many holidays with them (not very interesting). She had no siblings (that much was obvious, he'd said).
Somehow they'd started talking about the harvesting of lacewing flies. It had come up when he'd accused her of stealing Polyjuice Potion ingredients in her second year, something she'd admitted to after a while. The discussion eventually turned to how the flies were being farmed, but that this variety produced a lesser magical effect. The intellectual conversation had been so stimulating that a ghastly amount of time had passed, and soon enough the clock on the mantle struck eleven and Hermione realized she needed to make her way back up to Gryffindor Tower. She'd kissed Severus goodnight, rather passionately, and felt a physical ache with every step she took away from his door.
So even though she was running far more late today than usual, Hermione had no reason to suspect that he was going to scold her angrily for her tardiness. Thus, she was unpleasantly surprised to see him scowl so fiercely at her when she quietly opened the classroom door and tried to unobtrusively make her way to the empty desk at the rear of the room.
Severus was up in front of the group, droning on about the legend of Raczidian. He paused mid-sentence and flicked his long, flowing black robe over his shoulders, sniffing quietly as he glared at Hermione. She swallowed heavily and frowned at him.
"Miss Granger," Severus said in his soft, oily voice he reserved for ill-behaved students, "would you care to explain to all of us what was more important than punctuality to today's lessons?"
Hermione pursed her lips, trying not to look obviously petulant as the rest of the class whirled over their shoulders and ogled her.
"I'm very sorry, sir," she said. "I dropped my books in the corridor."
"You dropped your books." Severus cocked an eyebrow. Hermione just nodded. Severus smirked. "And it took you… nine minutes… to pick up your books?"
He was goading her, Hermione realized, so she simply ground her teeth and squared her jaw. "I'm very sorry for my tardiness, Professor."
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Severus drawled, and Hermione felt her mouth drop open in genuine outrage as he nonchalantly continued talking about bloody Raczidian. "Only the 'pure of heart' may cast a Patronus, so when Raczidian attempted the spell, he produced only maggots and was consumed alive by his own wicked intentions…"
The entire rest of the lesson, Hermione fumed. She did not raise her hand to answer a single question. She did not read along with the passages in the textbook. She did not scrawl a single line of notes. She just sat and was angry. How could he deduct actual points from her actual House for her being late? If he loved her, truly loved her, as he said he did, then how could he take teasing her to the point of punishing the rest of her classmates?
Then Hermione realized she was being awfully Gryffindor about all of this, and perhaps she needed to look at it through a bit more of a Slytherin lens, the way Severus saw things. He probably thought it was a way for him to cover his tracks and ensure that no one suspected the two of them of 'inappropriate relations.' If she had waltzed into the lessons ten minutes late and Severus hadn't batted an eye, it would have seemed awfully odd.
Hermione's anger dissipated a tiny bit toward the end of lessons, but she still found herself lingering as the others made their way from the classroom. She took much longer than she needed to to put her books into her messenger bag, and she flicked her eyes up surreptitiously to see that Severus had settled into his chair at his desk and had begun marking papers with a brown quill.
Hermione waited for Seamus and Dean to amble from the classroom before she glanced back at the door to the corridor. She picked up her wand and aimed it at the door, but before she could mumble a spell, she heard it click and felt the thrum of wards being cast over it. Puzzled, she turned back toward the desk at the front of the room at saw that Severus was pointing his own wand at the door.
"Come here," he said darkly to her, without any pretense, and she set her messenger bag down and walked quickly up to where he sat.
Severus put down his quill and turned his body in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and staring up at Hermione thoughtfully. She looked down at him, trying to take him all in and attempting to discern whether or not she was actually angry with him for taking Gryffindor points from her.
She wasn't, she decided. He was only trying to protect her - to protect them both. She decided not to confront him about it, choosing instead to scan her eyes silently over his body.
He was studying her, his onyx eyes glittering with curiosity and the slightest bit of visible want. His nose, prominent and a tiny bit crooked, cut down his chiseled pale face and led to his solemn-looking mouth. Hermione found her gaze lingering a bit on his lips - a Cupid's bow on top and a thin arc below - and she wanted very much to taste his familiar warm, spicy flavor.
Her hands reached out vaguely and found his, lacing their fingers together as his cold, dark eyes blinked slowly. She saw him swallow heavily, as if he were concerned about something, so she whispered,
"Why don't you just come out and say it, then?"
"Say what?" he intoned immediately, a little sigh slipping through his nostrils. His eyes blanked a bit; she knew he was a master of cloaking his emotions on command. Hermione rolled her own eyes in frustration and shifted her weight.
"I can tell very well that something is bothering you. I could tell it at breakfast this morning… was it your Mark? It seems odd that you would have been…"
She trailed off when she saw him square his jaw, and she knew she'd hit a nerve. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, squeezing his hands a bit, and waited. Severus frowned and said,
"Dolores Umbridge has plans for people like you. Sooner rather than later."
"People like me?" Hermione heard herself repeat indignantly. Then, wrinkling her nose in disgust, she spat, "Dolores Umbridge?"
Severus nodded solemnly. "There are terrible things in motion, Hermione. If I could tell you everything, I would, if only to keep you safe. You know that I am going to have to -"
"Yes, yes, I know," Hermione clipped impatiently. "You're going to have to commit some dastardly deed for which I shall despise you forever. And?"
She watched as he licked his lips carefully. "And after that… it will be obvious to you when that is… you will need to flee, quickly and as far away as you can go. Your life depends upon it."
Hermione felt her throat grow tight with fear at the solemnity of his words, the flash of alarm that crossed his jet eyes. "Where shall I go?" she croaked quietly. "What about my family? What about Harry, and Ron, and everyone here?"
"I only care about you," Severus insisted, and Hermione suddenly felt angry with him.
"Well, I don't!" she said, and she pulled her hands out of his. Severus crumpled his eyebrows and his eyes flashed. Hermione continued crossly, "I have friends, and parents, many other people whom I can not simply abandon, Severus! What precisely do you expect me to do… run away to some foreign country and hide alone because I am Muggle-born? Meanwhile, my Muggle family, my 'blood traitor' friends and allies, and everyone else… you most of all… are here, left to die? Is that what you expect me to do?"
"I expect you to survive," Severus pronounced one word at a time, sitting up straight in his chair and glaring directly at Hermione. "You needn't be such a stereotypical Gryffindor about this."
"And you needn't be such a typical Slytherin!" Hermione exclaimed, nearly stomping her food like a small child as she felt frustration bubble in her chest. She scoffed, "I am not going anywhere! I shall simply wait and see what it is you've been ordered to do, Severus, and you shall have to observe my actions thereafter!"
Suddenly he rose from his chair, towering authoritatively above her and staring down at her with a cold, black fire in his eyes. His slender hands reached to clutch at her shoulders, and Hermione abruptly felt a bit afraid of him. Severus breathed quickly through his nose as he shook his head angrily down at her, and then he murmured,
"Do you not realize what a little fool you are being? I am trying to protect you! I am trying to keep you safe. The only way I can keep you safe is to send you away."
"I'm not yours to keep safe!" Hermione cried indignantly, and she took a step back from him. Severus followed her, his own step larger than hers so that now he was closer than ever. Hermione felt her heart pound inside her chest as he loomed above her, his breath hot and quick on her cheekbones.
"I need you to be mine," he hissed. "Don't you understand? I need you to stay alive, Hermione, and I need for all of this wickedness to dissolve into non-being… so that you can be mine."
Suddenly his mouth was crushing hers, almost painfully, and he was drawing her shoulders tightly against his chest. Hermione squealed against his mouth, feeling dizzy with confused want.
His hands left her shoulders and gripped her robes tightly as they worked their way down her torso to her waist, pulling her flush against his body until she could feel the burgeoning hardness inside his trousers. He ground her abdomen against him, and she felt a sudden flush of moisture shock straight between her thighs. He captured her moan with his tongue and nibbled at her bottom lip as she gasped desperately. Her knees buckled beneath her, but his strong hands held her firmly.
At last he pulled away from her, and Hermione tried to catch her breath for a moment while she leaned against him. But then she felt herself being guided by her waist to his desk, and she shut her eyes, dizzy and aroused. Her hands reached aimlessly for the buttons on his frock coat, but he pulled her fingers away and murmured,
"I've got third-years coming in twenty minutes."
"Mmm," Hermione nodded sadly, moving her hands instead to tangle themselves in his hair. It was silky and smooth, she thought, not as greasy as everyone always said. She gripped him tightly as he hauled her by her waist on his desk, and as she cracked open her eyes she saw him reach to unbutton the placket of his trousers.
Was this what people meant when they referenced a 'quickie,' Hermione wondered? Rushed, frenzied sex with no regard for foreplay and little thought for romance? This was very different from the time in his office, when he'd murmured continuously in her ear about how much he loved her, and more different still than when he'd lavished soft touches upon her in his bed. This was downright hedonistic, Hermione thought, glancing down to see that he'd shoved aside several stacks of parchments so that she could sit upon the wooden desk.
He'd freed himself from his trousers while she thought, and when she glanced back to him, Severus was stroking his hardened length with his right hand, his palm coursing smoothly over his engorged tip while his left hand coursed slowly up Hermione's thigh. She shuddered at the touch, gripping the edge of the desk tightly so she didn't fall off.
It tickled and burned and tingled, the way his hand trailed slowly up toward her wet entrance. When at last he reached the damp crotch of her panties, he yanked them roughly aside and fiddled at her sex with his calloused fingertips. Hermione bucked her pelvis up against him and moaned a bit, wrenching her eyes shut and then holding her breath.
She could hear him panting through his nose, could hear the low little grunts he let out every now and then, as he used his thumb to circle hard around Hermione's clit while two lithe fingers curled inside of her. She forced her eyes open and watch him slowly stroking himself, delighting in the sight of his own slender hand gliding expertly around his cock in a swirling motion.
"Please, Severus…" she heard herself whisper.
"Please what?" he demanded, his fingers going still against her body as he took a half step closer to her. He lowered his face so that his lips hovered a half inch from hers, and Hermione whimpered desperately.
"Ungh…" She reached in frustration for his wrist, trying to get him to keep working his fingers on her. She'd been moments away from a climax, and now he was teasing her. "Please… Severus…"
"Please what?" he purred again, pulsing his rough fingers inside of her a few times, tortuously slowly, until a deep keen worked its way out of Hermione's throat.
"I need you inside of me now!" Hermione begged. "Please take me now, Severus!"
"Oh, I suppose so…" he drawled lazily, flashing her a crooked little smirk. Hermione felt a gurgle of anger at him, the same kind she'd felt earlier when he'd taken House points from her for being tardy. But now that anger manifested itself as an intense arousal, and she reached between them to clutch his cock in her hand, eliciting a low groan from him. She guided him between her legs and bucked her hips against him, forcing him an inch inside of her body.
His body stilled for a moment and he reached shakily for his wand off the desk, pointing it at her lower abdomen and casting a nonverbal spell before tossing the wand aside and staring up at her. His black eyes glittered with lust and something far more real than that as he moved his hands back to her waist. He leaned his forehead against hers and stared into Hermione's eyes as he drove hard into her body, pulling her hips roughly against his own.
She yelped, feeling suddenly impaled and stuffed as a searing heat ripped through her core. Then the burning gave way to delicious pleasure as he steadily rocked her against him, his lips meeting hers in an urgent kiss. When he pulled away, Hermione whispered something she hadn't planned on saying, but meant very much nonetheless.
"I love you, Severus."
He didn't answer her. Instead, he stared at her for a long moment, and Hermione saw a glint flash through his dark eyes. He gently brushed his lips around her face - her cheekbones, her nose, her forehead - and then urged her to lay her face against him. She did, nuzzling in between his neck and shoulder. She breathed in, smelling herbs and spices and leather and wood. Her fingers grasped at the heavy black material of his robes, and her eyes shut happily.
Then, soon enough, he yanked her waist hard against his own body and groaned, and Hermione felt the hot volleys of his seed filling her core. She whimpered contentedly on his shoulder and pulled away to look at him, watching with wonder as he recovered.
A few moments and a rushed tergeo later, Hermione had put her knickers to rights and Severus had tucked himself back into his trousers. They both, admittedly, looked quite rumpled, but there was only so much to be done about that.
"Go," Severus ordered. "You'll be late for Arithmancy, if you're not already."
"Oh… erm… I shall need a note for Professor Vector again." Hermione felt her cheeks color. "I'm likely going to be tardy."
He smirked at her and shook his head mockingly, sitting down at his desk and feigning great inconvenience as he extracted a scrap of parchment and a quill. Hermione watched him write some made-up excuse for her. Hermione sarcastically wondered if it said something like, 'Dear Professor Vector, Please excuse Miss Granger's tardiness. It took me a few minutes longer to shag her than I had planned.'
Hermione studied Severus' unconventionally handsome face and form. He may not have been everyone's cup of tea, she thought, but he was her cup of tea. And so few had any idea what he was enduring, what he was sacrificing… what he knew.
How much longer did she have with him? How much longer until she never, ever saw his face again? How many more kisses did she have, how many more times of looking him square in the eyes? She'd meant it, she realized, when she'd impulsively told him she loved him. There was a painful ache in her chest now that she realized the gravity of that - of being in love in wartime.
And he loved her, too. She knew that. But what of it? What sort of future was there for a schoolgirl and a spy, a Mudblood and a turncloak? What sort of happily-ever-after could possibly exist for them? None that Hermione could see. Every kiss she gave him could be - and was actually very likely to be - the last they ever shared.
Knowing this, Hermione leaned down as she took the note he'd written for her to take to Arithmancy. She kissed him square on the mouth, lingering upon his lips for a sweet moment. Then she pulled away, brushing her fingertips along his jaw. She rose and started to walk back to her desk to fetch her messenger bag.
"Hermione," he called calmly after her, and she turned round to face him once more. He stared at her for a moment and then flashed her a sad little smile before simply nodding. She blew him a cheeky kiss and approached the door to the corridor, feeling the thrum of the wards against her body.
"You'd best unward the doors," she laughed at him, raising her eyebrows, "before the third-years wonder why they've been locked out of lessons."
He did, with a little flick of his wand, and Hermione smiled as she stepped out into the corridor. She climbed the four flights of stairs to reach the Arithmancy classroom, and sure enough was the last one there.
She rushed to the front of the classroom and handed the surprised-looking Professor Vector her excuse note. It said something about reviewing a graded essay… didn't sound very plausible to Hermione, but Professor Vector simply glanced at it and nodded curtly, turning back to the complicated equation she was showing the class.
Hermione settled into her seat, pulling out her notes and quill and jotting down the numbers before her. As she did, she could not help but replay the passionate, almost angry words Severus had spoken to her before crushing her mouth with a fiery kiss.
'I need you to be mine,' he had said. "Don't you understand? I need you to stay alive, Hermione, and I need for all of this wickedness to dissolve into non-being… so that you can be mine.'
As soon as the happy surprise of seeing Katie Bell had worn off, Hermione excused herself from the Gryffindor Common Room and made her way briskly down the many levels of staircases that led to the Potions corridor in the dungeons. Severus had a free period that overlapped with her own, she knew, and he was likely to be lurking in his office.
This morning in Charms, Harry had told Ron and Hermione everything. It had been a revelation, truly, in many ways. There was a path now, a real and determined path, to destroy Voldemort. Unhappily, however, that path was complicated and dangerous and involved the darkest of magic. The Horcruxes into which Voldemort had split his soul would need to be found and destroyed, and Hermione had a feeling that considerable bloodshed would happen before that was all said and done.
Hermione felt compelled to tell Severus what she knew. After all, he'd informed her about quite a bit… not everything, of course. He'd made it quite plain that there was much he could not tell her. Why, exactly, there was so much that had to remain confidential to her, Hermione did not know, but she trusted Severus. She could still see his words in black ink on the letter from Spinner's End -
No matter what any of it looks like, no matter how any of it seems, I am on your side.
He was a dark soul, and he was a complicated man, but Hermione knew that, ultimately, Severus was an ally to everyone she counted as a friend. So when Harry told Ron and her everything he and Dumbledore had discovered, she knew she'd be making a trip to the dungeons.
She walked rather nervously down the Potions corridor, startling a bit when the old grandfather clock noisily clanged out two. She paused outside Severus' office and shifted a bit upon her feet, raising her hand to knock. She sighed and swallowed, wondering what it was that had caused her to fall in love with him in the first place.
He was not a happy creature, and he hardly went about his life aiming to make others happy. But he did, in a way, make Hermione happy, even if he did not intend to do so. Their labyrinthine conversations about manticores and burn hazel left her feeling downright excited. She enjoyed bantering with him about whether or not Gertie Keddle bore any historical significance. She loved hearing him drone on endlessly about Herbicide Potion and Sleeping Draught and even about the troublesome second-year Hufflepuff idiots he dealt with.
His kisses seared across her lips and flesh and his spicy aroma left her wanting nothing more than to be near him. His smirk, the same one he'd been flashing for the past six years, was suddenly erotic. And he cared about her welfare, genuinely and completely, and took a wholehearted interest in her pursuit of self-defense.
So as Hermione stood outside Severus' office, her hand hovering over the wood of his door, she realized it had been quite a few things that had led her to get a twist in her stomach when she thought of him. It didn't really matter, she decided, why she loved Severus Snape. But she did; she loved him.
She knocked, a series of four firm raps, and then she heard his low voice say smoothly, "Enter."
Hermione pulled the door open and stepped into his office, feeling a wave of relieved glee wash over her when she saw him hunched over a thick book at his desk. He looked up and his face visibly relaxed from its pinched, severe expression.
"Good afternoon," he said mildly, as Hermione shut the door behind her. He flicked his wand and it clicked shut, and then there was a little vibration as he warded the room. "Do you not have lessons?"
"Free period," Hermione explained, and Severus shut his book and sat back a bit, nodding. Hermione helped herself to sit in the chair opposite him, and picked absently at her lip as she stared at Severus' onyx eyes. Then she said, "Harry had some very interesting information for Ron and me in Charms lessons this morning… concerning Voldemort. He got that memory from Professor Slughorn, the one that Professor Dumbledore wanted him to get. Anyway, there's a very clear sense now of how Voldemort can be defeated, only it shall be difficult and complicated. As it turns out, Voldemort has split his -"
Severus surprised Hermione by abruptly leaning forward and holding his palm up to her to silence her. "Stop," he said briskly, and Hermione shut her mouth, furrowing her brows in surprise. Severus continued, "If Albus Dumbledore intended for me to know any of this, he would tell me, you understand? You need to stop talking about it to me, right now."
He seemed very serious, and Hermione was confused for the briefest of moments, until she realized what Severus' worry was. "Legilimency…" she whispered, nodding.
"Even the most skilled Occlumens can only put up walls so high, Hermione," Severus clipped, folding his arms over his chest and frowning deeply. "The Dark Lord is exceptionally skilled at searching minds. If there is anything he should not know, then it should not be inside my head. Say no more of this here."
Hermione nodded quickly, suddenly feeling rather foolish. She should have thought of this, of course, but . Severus cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows. Then, in an obvious attempt to change the subject, he asked,
"You got your Apparition license, then?"
"Yes. Well, I passed the test yesterday," Hermione said, her cheeks still colored from embarrassment. She sighed a bit and tried to smile shrewdly at him. "I simply can't wait to go home for the summer holidays and show my parents how I can pop from the upstairs to the downstairs and back again." She quirked a crooked smirk and admitted, "Truly, though… since we can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, and I'm Muggle-born… I'm not sure what use I'll have for it any time soon."
She was saying all of this, really, because in her mind she wanted to pretend that everything was going to be fine. Her gut told her that soon enough they'd all be Apparating about during wartime, that there would be no sense of normalcy at all, and that she'd be very grateful for every last bit of Magical training she had. But Hermione just kept flashing her crooked little smirk at Severus, who frowned back at her.
"Yes, well… to that end," he mumbled, and he pulled out his pocket-watch and set it gently upon the desk, "I want you to take this."
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "Your pocket-watch?" She thought back to another time in this office, when he'd Transfigured the watch into a goblet for her and she'd touched his hand awkwardly. She slid the watch across the desk and wrapped her hand around it, pouting a bit at it and then up at Severus. "Erm… thank you?"
Severus rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently. "It isn't a gift, you mawkish little witch," he huffed, and Hermione scowled indignantly. But Severus carried on, "I've enchanted it."
"Oh." Hermione examined the pocket-watch, flicking open the tarnished brass and studying the Roman numerals and slowly moving gears visible inside. "What… erm… what have you done to it?"
Severus cleared his throat softly. "It's a device of my own creation. Called an Oraverit. It is somewhat like a Portkey, but it works with Apparition and is linked with another similarly-enchanted object in a two-way connection. The link allows you to Apparate directly to the location of the other Oraverit, which will be in my possession at all times. Thus, I will always be able to find you, and you me… though, of course, it will likely be very dangerous for you where I am. In any case, all you must do is hold the pocket-watch tightly in your palm and incant 'oraverit' before Apparating. You will then be transported directly to my location, or, more precisely, to the location of my own device."
Hermione felt her mouth drop open in wonder. She stared down at the brass pocket-watch, her eyes going wide, and then back up at Severus. She felt grateful tears well in her eyes, and tried to whisper her thanks, but her words got caught in her throat. He licked his lip carefully and said,
"You should never come looking for me, Hermione… I made these so that I can come get you if I need to. They're a fail-safe, you understand?"
Hermione nodded silently, flicking shut the cover of the pocket-watch and tucking it safely into her robe. Severus reached his slender fingers beneath the tight collar of his frock coat and pulled something out from under his white dress shirt. Hermione frowned curiously as she watched him gently pull out a dull silver chain, at the end of which was a forged iron pendant. She recognized the Futhark rune laguz stamped into the little iron tablet. Water… the element of House Slytherin. Fitting, she thought, as she wondered why he was wearing the rather plain piece of ancient-looking jewelry.
"This is my own Oraverit," Severus explained. "I shall wear it always, and thus I shall be able to find you. Do not come searching for me," he repeated, "once things have become obviously dangerous. I shall not be sitting about in happy, safe places. These are tools I have created so that I might have a chance at keeping you alive."
Hermione swallowed thickly, trying to keep the hot tears in her eyes from boiling over onto her cheeks. She blinked rapidly and nodded. "Do… do they work everywhere?" she asked timidly.
Severus nodded. "They are impervious to anti-Apparition charms," he affirmed. "I have tested them myself. They work well, even in places with heavy jinxes in place like Hogwarts."
He tucked his dull iron necklace back into his shirt and fixed his collar, and Hermione felt her fingers drift anxiously to the small pocket inside her robes, where the hard lump of his pocket-watch felt like both a token of love and a weapon.
"You should go," Severus said absently. "If I keep writing your teachers notes explaining away tardiness… people will talk."
Hermione nodded with regret and rose, leaning over his desk and planting a single, soft kiss upon his thin lips before plodding wordlessly from his office.
Sometimes Severus despised Harry Potter - truly despised him. Tonight was one of those times.
He'd been walking with a purpose down the sixth-floor corridor when an odd feeling of doom had crashed over him. Then, out of nowhere, a shrill shriek had begun to resound from the stone walls.
"Murder! Murder in the bathroom! Murder!"
Severus had followed the horrible sound, which he recognized at once to be the voice of Moaning Myrtle, and had burst through the door of the bathroom to see Draco Malfoy convulsing in a bloody puddle of water, his torso criss-crossed with deep slashes. Immediately, Severus could see that Draco had been hit with the Sectumsempra curse that Severus had created as a student. Kneeling beside him, heaving with terrified sobs, was the son of James Potter.
Severus had shoved Harry Potter aside and pulled his wand from his frock coat, painting the air with its tip as he knitted together Draco's wounds and thrice incanted the counter-curse to his own made-up spell.
"Vulnera sanentur," he hummed, his words like a song. He wished very much that Potter had never found his Potions textbook. "Vulnera sanentur… vulnera sanentur."
He'd guided the limping Draco Malfoy up to Poppy Pomfrey and interrogated Harry Potter before assigning indefinite detentions to the Boy Who Went About Casting Unknown And Potentially Lethal Spells.
Then Severus had made his way to the Headmaster's Office and tried to explain the incident. Albus Dumbledore had calmly listened while Severus ranted, and then had offered the younger man a piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. This had infuriated Severus even more, and he'd been tempted to storm out of Dumbledore's office. The meeting had ended when Albus had said to Severus,
"I think that tonight's events are actually quite happy. You got Draco to Poppy in time to get some dittany on his wounds and prevent scarring. Lucky you were in the corridor and heard Myrtle shrieking that Draco had been injured. The boy has been asked to kill me, or he himself shall be killed. I've asked you to kill me, Severus. And, ultimately, we all seek to kill Voldemort. With all that talk of murder, I find it difficult to perseverate over a bit of duelling in the bathroom."
At dinner, everyone seemed quite cross with Harry Potter, which made Severus feel slightly better. Even Minerva McGonagall was angry with her star Gryffindor. Severus had paid a visit to Draco in the hospital wing after dinner; the boy had been properly cross but had been unwilling to admit any wrongdoing. Severus was certain it hadn't been a one-way attack by Potter, but did nothing to punish Draco's tight-lipped attitude. He'd made his way to the Slytherin dungeons, where Pansy Parkinson was making a point of lecturing her House-mates about Draco's dire condition, having visited him herself. Severus had reassured the younger Slytherins that Draco would indeed live, and had then graded some papers at his desk for a few hours before retiring for the night.
He drew a searingly hot bath and sank into it with a hiss, relishing the way the hot water made his skin feel clean from the terrible day. He could have sworn at some point that heard an odd little sound from outside the bathroom, but he ignored it, and stayed in the delightful bath for so long he grew drowsy and the water grew tepid. Finally, he relented to the hour and drained the water, patting himself dry and tugging back on his black boxer-briefs before making his way quietly back out into his bedchamber.
There was someone there - a moving, breathing lump in his bed.
He moved smoothly and silently until he stood beside her, hovering above her and watching her sleep curled up beneath his heavy brocade blanket. Hermione's caramel curls were sprawled messily upon the pillow, hiding most of her face, but Severus could see that her full lips was parted peacefully as she dreamed. She was wearing a loose gray t-shirt on her thin frame and had pulled herself into a little ball, her hands fisted on the duvet, and her skin glowed warmly in the firelight. Beside her, upon the mattress, was Severus' brass pocket-watch.
Severus stalked around his bed like a predator trying not to frighten its prey, and then crawled noiselessly up to kneel on the mattress. Hermione stirred but did not wake, whimpering a bit as she shifted onto her back. Severus coursed his fingers through his black hair, sighing as he stared down at her. He fingered the iron pendant at his throat, realizing that he was very glad she had been able to make use of the Oraverit. First of all, it meant that the connection between the objects he'd enchanted was sound and strong, and would help protect her once the world became truly dangerous. And, besides… he quite liked the sight of her here.
Damned brilliant, beautiful little witch, he thought sourly, rather wishing he weren't in love with her.
Severus leaned down and touched his lips softly against Hermione's, as if he were waking the perpetually-comatose princess from the Muggle fairy tale. Just like in the story, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled meekly. She instinctively reached beside her and clutched his pocket-watch in her hand protectively. Severus chuckled. Good girl, he thought. Keep that close.
"You know," he muttered to her in a low growl, trying to sound authoritative even as he pulled her knuckles up to kiss them, "This is not the intended use your Oraverit… did it occur to you before you Apparated into my private chambers that you must somehow surreptitiously make your way back to Gryffindor Tower before anyone notices you're gone?"
Hermione sheepishly shook her head against his pillow. "Not really," she admitted.
"No, I had thought not," Severus cocked an eyebrow at her and smirked. He petted her hair with one hand and stifled a swell of want when he felt her chestnut eyes coursing over his mostly-naked body.
"It was rather intolerable around my House-mates this evening," Hermione explained, "after what happened between Harry and Draco."
"Was it?" Severus asked distractedly. He pulled her fingers up to his lips again and dragged her knuckles over his dry lips, knowing what she was going to ask him next. He was right.
"You made that spell?" Hermione whispered with disbelief in her voice. "Sectumsempra? You made it up? Why?"
"I had many enemies, and I felt the need to protect myself," Severus said simply. It was the truth. "I still have many enemies, and I still feel the need to protect myself. And you. That's why you've got that watch, and that's why I've got this." He gestured aimlessly to his neck, to the iron rune that hung there. "That's why I've taught you how to hex people into oblivion without using a wand, Hermione. Don't you dare get self-righteous with me just because I managed a way to curse the people who made my everyday existence rather intolerable."
She was silent then, and stared at the ceiling for a long while. She didn't look at him as she pulled her hand from his lips and let it drift down over his Adam's Apple, past his sternum and around his abdomen. Severus shivered at the light, dancing touch of her fingers, feeling his cock go hard in his thin underwear. He grunted softly, and she looked at him with a crooked smile. Severus scowled at her with feigned austerity.
"What do you expect, little witch?" he asked bitterly. "That now you've got that watch, you can just pop right down into my bed and spend every night with me?"
"No…" Hermione shook her head and let her hand drift lower until it rested upon the bulge in Severus' lap, and he gasped a bit. "But may I stay tonight?"
Severus shut his eyes and hissed through his teeth. A moment later he was hovering above her, and as he lowered his face to kiss her neck, he murmured in a deep growl, "Yes… you can stay tonight."
