AN: Thank you to Hebe GB, Whitehound and especially Dressagegrrrl, for cheerleading, Britpicking and overtime in The Department of Comma Corrections. She says I'm getting better, but we all know that is a shameless lie. PaddieW, finish your drink. Now.
"Granger!" Nothing. "Granger! Wake up!"
"Hrmph?"
"Wake up, woman. I can't carry you. My back won't do it."
"S'vrus?"
"Yes, it's me. Come on, little girl. There's a bed waiting for you, but you have to walk on your own."
Snape held his breath as she stretched and opened her eyes. He prayed to any god that might be listening that she'd been too asleep to hear what had fallen out of his mouth. He was tired. Why else would he be calling her names that might be considered endearments if you looked at them from a certain direction? He helped her up and got her moving in the right direction. She was practically sleepwalking.
The poor woman had been through hell. She'd been stolen from her rooms five days before. Held captive by people she'd thought were Death Eaters come back to terrorize the world once again. And then she'd been dragged cross-country in fuzzy slippers over rocky hills and wooded valleys, through three rain-swollen streams and across uncounted miles of moorland. She'd complained about any number of things in that time, but she'd never actually complained about the trek. No wonder she had passed out on the cold ground.
He got her into the house and headed to the most recent addition. It was the only part that had plumbing.
"Granger."
"Hmm?"
"I found some clothes you might fit. Do you want to take a bath before you sleep?"
"Oh, Merciful Mother, yes. Is there shampoo?"
"I guess so. There's soap."
She opened her eyes fully and looked at him frankly. Then her eyes slid up to his hair and back down. "Severus, do you use bar soap on your hair?"
"Just get in there and bathe, Granger. And try not to use all the cold water."
"Cold?"
"That's all there is."
"Oh, hell. Is there electricity?"
"Yes, but I would prefer not to use it; neighbors might spot something. From what I could figure out, this house is in probate, and all the neighbors are relatives. We have it to ourselves, but if we tip anyone off, we'll have a crowd."
"How long ago did the owner die?"
"Four months ago."
"Did they die in bed?"
"How the hell should I know, Granger? I just read the mail. Here." He picked up a wad of clothes and shoved them at her, pushing her into the bathroom.
Actually, he did know, but he would be taking that room. He'd also found the poor old woman's medications and several that said 'Take as needed for pain.' Now he was waiting for the medicine to kick in. He was in agony. The muscles in his back were screaming. His head was throbbing. His feet were sore and blistered from walking so far in wet boots. He was bruised from one end of his body to the other from his landing. He was a skinny man with a fat man's allotment of pain, as his father used to say.
He heard the bath run and slipped back outside to see if it could be heard from outside the house. And if he accidentally got a glimpse of anything through a window, that would be bonus too.
Snape skulked around outside and was reasonably sure one couldn't hear anything unless one was close to the bathroom window. Quite close. But the moon's reflection kept one from seeing in without being seen in return. More's the pity. He was infinitely curious to see what else Granger had been hiding under that enormous nightgown since he'd gotten a glimpse of her dark triangle of hair and dusky nipples through the fabric. She obviously wasn't wearing knickers. Even as uninterested as his body was from the pain, his brain had held on to that image like a dog with a bone.
And then…she'd told him her secret. A fact that both titillated and terrified. He wanted her. With a sudden, stabbing clarity, he'd realized he wanted her. He was honest enough with himself to know that he wanted any woman, but there was something about her strength, harnessed firmly to her utter vulnerability, that intrigued him beyond his own understanding. It must be the head injury. How could he possibly want the Know-it-All?
He'd never been with a virgin before. He had only a vague idea what one was supposed to do differently. He knew you were supposed to go slow and easy and be gentle, but none of those things were in his repertoire. As much as he found the girl intriguing, he was sure he would make the experience a traumatic horror show that would put her off sex for life. After all, it had been a while since he'd rolled in the sack with anyone. Now was not the time to be gently breaking in virgins. Well, now wasn't the time to be doing anything in the condition he was in. Not unless she climbed on top and did all the work. That is, if she could get a rise out of him while he was in pain. He thought of her heavy- looking breasts pressed against the wet fabric and felt a stirring. He also felt when it shrugged and went back to sleep.
Surely, she must be done by now. Maybe she'd come out in just a towel. He scurried quickly back inside.
He walked past the open door to the bathroom and called softly, "Granger?"
"In here," she answered.
He found her in the old woman's room. He started to tell her she was in the wrong room, but his voice fluttered away with a nervous crackle, She was standing by the window, facing mostly away from him. She bent over slightly to comb out her tangle of curls in long strokes that reached her waist. She was wearing the loose- fitting dress he had grabbed for her out of the closet: the moonlight streaming in the window went right through it and outlined her perfect curves in silhouette. Severus felt his mouth go dry. Very dry. Like his tongue was too big and had absorbed all the moisture. He suddenly felt awkward and clumsy.
"Severus? Are you alright?" she asked, as she flipped her hair onto her back and set the comb down. She looked at him with concern as she came around the bed.
"Am gon' bath," he informed her and then wobbled away.
He was pretty sure the medicine had kicked in. He'd been scornful of the efficaciousness of Muggle medicines, remembering the hidious tabs of asprin his father used to force on him as a child, but it seems they'd made improvements since he was eleven. All his aches and pains were suddenly gone. They were not without side effects, however. Apparently, they took his coordination with them. He headed into the bathroom and ran the tub.
He'd just finished undressing when there was a knock on the door. He had enough time to grab a towel and hold it in place before the door opened and she stuck her head through. She stared at him and squeaked when she saw him. He watched her take what he'd come to term "a Gryffindor Breath" when he'd been a teacher, and then with the obligatory squaring of the shouders, she barged into the room.
With the lighter tile reflecting more of the moonlight he could see her even more clearly, and it occurred to him for the first time that she was actually beautiful. Especially with her hair playing around her face like that. Perhaps a compliment was in order. Something subtle that could either be abandoned later when his mind cleared, or perhaps built on further if there was cause.
"Yer beuful," he said. He parsed his own words and found them curiously lacking anything that smacked of subtlety.
"Why, thank you, Severus." She smiled at him in surprise, but then her face crinkled with concern. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Yup."
She held up several medicine bottles. "Did you take any of these for your pain?"
He nodded emphatically and then got dizzy. He grabbed onto the sink with the hand holding the towel. He realized his mistake, and then stepped closer to the sink and used his other hand to lift a corner to try and hide himself. "Wazzere anything elth? I need a baf." His tongue seemed to have gotten even thicker. He turned to the mirror and stuck it out, but could see no physical difference.
She came into the room juggling all the bottles and staring at his freshly bleeding shoulder. The skin had stuck to his shirt when he'd pulled it off.
"Which one did you take? Can you show me?"
He narrowed his eyes to focus on them and pointed.
"Thisun, thisun, thisun, two of those, they'r small, an'…oh, there waz anuvver but I ate the last one. Waz pink."
"Holy shit!" She yelled, startling him by dropping all the medications into the sink.
She lunged at him.
"No! Yer a version, I cud hurtchu!" He was fairly confused when she grabbed him in a headlock. "Silly bint. Tha's not how s'done!" He was even more upset when she started to stick her fingers into his mouth. "Gah! Gaaaah!" He started to fight back, but she seemed to be a lot stronger than him. "GAAAurck!" He vomited all over both of them. "Whufuk!" She did it again. "Donwanna!" And again. She continued to make him vomit until he damned near soiled himself. He did pass wind, but he figured they were even on that score.
They had both slipped in the sick and landed hard on their knees. At that point, Granger had leaned over and vomited as well. She made it into the toilet.
Miss Priss.
He noticed that she wasn't trying to maul him anymore, and he risked a glance at her from behind his hair. She was poking her fingers through the sick and counting the bits of pills while gagging.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked in a small voice. He didn't want her to be mad.
"No, Severus. But you scared me very badly. You could have died."
"Noooo, they were jus' small little things." He waved a hand at the mess on the floor thinking to apologize but was distracted by the sparkly colors his arm left behind. "Ooo, very lovely." He swirled his arm around and made more colors. "Know what, Grange?
"Do tell."
"I think I'm high."
"I bet you are."
He looked over at her and smiled. "Yer very beuful when you have that," he waved a hand at her hair, "that stuff all over like that."
"What, vomit?"
"No, don' be silly. Hair. S'lovely."
"Thank you, Severus. Now, let's get cleaned up."
She helped him to stand and then helped him into the tub. The water was cool, but not freezing. She pulled the plug and bailed water over him as the tub drained out.
"Am I hurting you?" she asked solicitously.
"No. Why? Do you want to?" he responded lasciviously. He chuckled at her flustered reaction. "S'why are you a version, Grange?"
"Because no one noticed me, and I was too scared to make them."
"I noticed you."
"Yes, you did. You were the first one in these five years to do so. Not that I'm complaining, mind. I'm used to being alone now."
"But why?"
"I don't know. Why is anyone ever alone?"
He thought about that for a minute and got very sad. "I'm alone."
She smiled at him. "No you're not. I'm right here with you."
He smiled sadly. "When I put th' princess back in th' tower, I'll be alone again. In that fucking house. I shu' burn it. And Albus. Th' bastard."
"Burn Albus?"
"Especially Albus. 'E's evil. He knew my secret and used it to hurt me."
"The one I found out today?"
He nodded his head but she was shampooing it so it was a little difficult. The shampoo was heavily floral-scented. "Ugh, I'm going to smell like an arse."
"Only for a little while. Tell me, how did Albus hurt you because you thought you were a coward?"
He looked at her to answer, but saw she had sick in her hair, so he grabbed it and wet it and gathered some lather from his own head and started to rub it in. She froze.
"Come in here Grange, I wanna wash you, too." She backed away and stared at him. He thought she was about to leave. He counted to three in his head before he saw the Gryffindor Breath, and he smiled like a little kid as she peeled out of her disgusting dress and climbed in. "I knew you were beuful. I saw you through your clothes. Come here." He sat up and backed to the end of the tub, and she settled between his legs. He grabbed the flannel from the soap dish and wet it under the tap and started to clean the sick off her. "Lovely tits, Grange. I do like them just like that."
"Really?" she asked. Her voice was small. He looked at her eyes, worried about her tone.
"Of course. Ther pefec" He concentrated on moving his mouth. "Perfect." He smiled at her, happy he'd said it correctly. "Watch. Go like this." He thrust his own shoulders back. She did the same and his eyes bugged out. "Fuckin 'ell, Granger. Your tits are amazing. They'll make a lucky bloke very happy some day."
"Not you?"
"Well, they make me happy right now. But I'm a little under the weather, if you get my meaning." He looked down at his useless widge. "The old boy's not been heard from since yesterday afternoon. He's probably having a sulk. He's had a bit of time, lately." He looked back up at her and smiled sheepishly.
"If he was up for it, would you be my lucky bloke?" she asked shyly.
He looked at her and understood what she was asking, but couldn't seem to get his mind in the right place to answer the way she needed.
"You need a better bloke," he said, gently.
"I'm pretty sure you're the bloke I want."
"Ah, Grange. You're too good for me. I always go fer th' broken ones that I have a ghost of a chance with."
"If I promise you have a chance with me, will you? I don't want to be a 'version' anymore."
He swallowed around the lump in his sore throat.
"I promise," he said, solemnly. "Now, give me your brown. That stuff. Hair. Lemme wash yer hair."
He spent a happy twenty minutes as they lathered each other up, but nearly drowned when it came time to rinse his hair. He rinsed hers without a problem. He couldn't remember a time he was so happy to be naked with a woman and not have sex. She didn't seem to mind his cuts, scars and bruises. Or the faded mark on his arm. She didn't comment on how boney he was. She called him 'well built.' He caught her sneaking shy glances between his legs, but he didn't comment either. Virgins were always shy, weren't they? At least the cool water added a shrinkage factor. He didn't want to scare her off. He was pretty sure she was a precious commodity. She was the only person who knew his secret and didn't seem to care. Minerva had been that way once. Not that they had ever been naked in a tub together. He gagged a little at the thought. However, even Minerva had broken down during the last battle and thrown it in his face, just like everyone. He assumed that someday Granger would as well.
Finally it was time to get out of the tub. He gallantly offered her his towel, but then saw it had been spattered in the struggle. He grabbed a fresh one from the linen cupboard and held it open.
"Mind where you step," he said and then yawned.
She placed a dainty foot on a clean patch of floor and followed it by another. Then she crossed over to him with mincing little steps that he found adorable. He wrapped her in the towel and then kissed her on her wet shoulder. She froze, and he looked at her to see if he'd done something wrong. The sight of her enormous, golden-brown eyes looking at him with such hope constricted his throat. He leaned in, stopped, and when she didn't back away, he leaned in some more until their lips met. He kissed her softly, and she made the sweetest little mewling noise he'd ever heard. He broke the kiss and looked into her amazing eyes again.
"Beautiful," he said with careful enunciation.
"So are you," she replied. "Very beautiful."
He felt himself blush and looked down at the floor.
"Well," he said. He enjoyed their moment, but was having too much trouble concentrating to drag it out any longer. "Why don't you go get some rest, and I'll clean this mess up," he said.
"I was going to go look for some kitchen paper," she said.
"Nonsense. My head doesn't hurt at the moment. And my speech is improvered. Getting better. I should be able to manage a little wandless-"
"Severus-!"
Too late. He had, indeed, managed wandless magic. He'd vanished the floor. They were now standing on bare earth.
"Right. Tha's done. I'm very sleepy now."
He turned and walked out of the room naked and dripping, stepping up into the hallway.
Snape woke up to a dreadful headache, memories of bizarre dreams, and an awful thirst. He couldn't remember how he'd managed to get to bed. He closed his eyes again and went over what he did remember. His eyes flew back open, and he sat up fast.
"Good morning." He turned his head too fast-the pain shooting up his back told him that was a bad idea-and saw Granger dressed and sitting in a chair next to the bed looking breathtakingly beautiful and...guilty. He frowned, feeling like a complete arse..
"Granger-"
"Don't. Last night was scary and thrilling and sweet and marvelous. Please don't ruin it for me by being a bastard about it this morning. Here, drink some water. You probably need it." She handed him a tall glass, and he drank his fill in the uncomfortable silence. "I also have more pain medication, but I will dispense it only in the proper dose and after you eat some of the canned soup I found in the cupboard. I'm sorry, it's cold. But if you trust my opinion, it will taste like heaven." She handed him a large mug and he took it without fuss.
"No more Muggle medicine," he said. "Can't trust the stuff." He sipped at the soup and found she was quite correct. It was the best meal he'd ever had. He gulped down the rest of it.
"Now comes the part where I confess I did something stupid," she said. He pulled the nearly empty mug away from his mouth and licked his lip. He saw her eyes track it and lifted his knees up under the blankets to hide his obviously back-to-normal reaction.
"What have you done?"
"I washed your clothes."
"You washed my clothes." She nodded, and no small amount on fear stole across her features. "My wool clothes." She nodded again. "In a Muggle appliance." More nodding, and this time a trace of tears. "Am I to assume I will be traveling the rest of the way across country in an elderly woman's dress?"
"Well, your shirt is close to fine. And your vest and pants as well. And I did find these dungarees in a drawer. I cut them about the knee because they were too short for you. They'll look like regular Muggle shorts. And I found you new socks."
He closed his eyes, but his mind filled with visions of breasts. He opened them again and stared at the wall trying to figure out how to navigate this situation.
"You did well, Miss Granger."
"No!" He looked over at her startled. "Don't 'Miss Granger' me! You don't get to almost kill yourself and then throw up all over me and then drag me into your bath and tell me I have nice tits and kiss me sweetly and then regret it all in the morning!" She stood up and faced him. Her hair was combed into a braid that hung over one shoulder and the morning sun glinted in her eyes. "I'm not completely stupid, Snape. I know you didn't mean any of it. I understand you were out of your skull. I won't hold you to any promises you made last night. I know full well you wouldn't have done anything in the cruel light of day. Just, please, don't make the day any crueler!" She threw a hand over her mouth and then ran out of the room. He stared at the place she had been for a few moments trying to figure out how he could ruin things that fast. It seemed to be a hidden talent.
"Excellent job, Snape. What do you do for an encore? Kick babies?" He dropped his head back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. Then he opened them and lifted the blankets up high enough to see his still-raging erection. "And you can sod off as well!"
Hermione was packing cans of soup into an old, cloth shopping bag she'd found. She had already packed the medicine and washed out and refilled the canteen. She was doing her level best to regain her poise after her outburst and had come around to Snape's way of thinking. Perhaps it would be better to just pretend nothing had happened. Of course, it would have been better if she'd agreed with that thinking before she'd made an arse of herself with her outburst. Perhaps if she simply ignored everything, vomit, nudity, kisses and emotional outbursts, he would catch on and graciously do the same.
She heard the sound of the toilet flush-quiet the balancing act without a floor under it- and then his heavy tread as he came down the hall. She looked up, ready with a cheerful smile to explain what preparations she'd already accomplished. Her words stuck in her throat when she saw him.
He was walking straight for her with his hair flying wild and his dreadfully wrinkled shirt unbuttoned and his vest clinging to his flat stomach. Both items used to be white but after she'd had her way with them they were a leperous, mottled grey. His belt rode low on his hips where it cinched the too large khaki trousers that were cropped short and folded up just below the knee. His legs were a mass of scrapes and bruises covered by silky black hairs. His boots were laced up tight and rang loudly off the wooden floor as he bore down on her. Purple and green bruises stained whatever patch of skin was visible. He looked like sex on a stick. She closed her mouth with a click and tried to look competent as she grabbed up a shopping bag. He reached out, took it out of her hand, and placed it back on the counter as he came to a stop nearly on top of her.
She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he kissed her before she could. It was by far the most passionate kiss she had ever experienced.
Her kiss with Viktor had been sweet.
Her kiss with Ron had been life-affirming and joyous.
Last night's kiss with Severus had been downright adorable.
But this?
This kiss scrambled her brain. Lowered her intelligence. Her inner dialogue was reduced to single repeated words like: yesyesyes, and mineminemine with the occasional ohgodohgodohgod. He swept his arms around her and pulled her in close as his tongue swept in and made her belly flip and her thighs turn to jelly. She heard herself make little tiny noises and tried to stop, hoping she wasn't embarrassing herself. He didn't really seem to mind. He just kissed her deeper. He backed her against the kitchen worktop and pressed himself into her, and she felt it. He was aroused. Very aroused. She froze briefly, then smiled against his lips and started to push back against him. He tore his mouth away and looked down on her, panting.
"I keep my promises, Granger. I just don't always keep them well. Remember that." He backed away from her and her legs sagged before she managed to recover herself. "And the next time we do that, there will be toothpaste involved in the preamble. It's time to go. Do you have that strip of metal we saved from the barn?" She pointed at one of the bags she'd repacked. He dug through it and pulled out the long, flat, metal bar. He shouldered several of the bags and then gestured to the rest and said, "Come."
She followed him out of a side door into a garage. He slipped the flat bar against the window of the MGB Roadster that was parked there. Hermione started to say something, but Snape pulled up on his bar with a jerk and she heard a distinctive click. He wiggled the bar and pulled it out before opening the door and tossing his bags into the back. He dropped down onto the seat and wiggled his head under the steering wheel, as Hermione finally managed to get herself moving. She heard him curse several times, but then the engine roared to life. She stood on the other side, shaking, until his long arm opened her door, and she threw her bags into the back and scrambled in.
"Buckle up. We're going to move fast." He got out of the car and walked back to open the garage door. Then he came running back and jumped into the car, buckled in, and threw it in reverse. His face looked grim as he shot backwards out of the garage and spun in a circle as soon as he was clear. He shifted and shot off down the drive. Hermione looked wildly around the landscape, but without her glasses, she couldn't make anything out.
Snape drove like a demon.
He drove like the experienced car thief he obviously was.
Hermione stared at him in shock for fifteen straight minutes as he took off north, before circling back south, and finally west. Then she started to giggle. Then she started to laugh. Snape looked like he was worried about her sanity, but then he smiled as well.
"Is this one of your 'hidden reserves?'" she asked with merriment.
"Just one of many," he replied with a wicked smile that curled her belly. He cut the wheel and then turned onto a mainroad. She could make out buildings up ahead. "Welcome to Padfield, Professor," he said. "We're only half an hour from Manchester, but we'll need to make a few stops, so it will be a bit longer than that."
"Good. That leaves us time to talk about things."
"Such as?"
"Such as: why do you think you're a coward when you're obviously not?"
Snape looked at her, and his face reflected several things at once: discomfort, fear, anger, a bit of betrayal, and just the tiniest bit of hope, noticeable because it was so much brighter than its fellow feelings.
AN: Second fav chap. Yup.
Review! Review, I say!
