The owners were indeed in favor of closing the deal that afternoon. Jim drove Hermione and Snape back downtown where they met again with Jeanine at Second Federal to verify their identities and to get a cashier's check for the amount of the house.
Hermione did not want to know the price of the house, she told Snape. He just gave her another of his half-smiles and she immediately decided her new life goal was to make him smile at every given opportunity.
Then the world came rushing around her, making her ears ring.
Harry is dead.
It seemed that they were under a dense fog, her words and her actions did not seem her own, suddenly. She signed her name, Nichola Ravensdale, three dozen times all the while noticing that it did not feel like she was in control of her own arm.
Was this the Imperius?
Thankfully, Snape had noticed the signs of Hermione's impending panic attack. They finished and shook hands, Hermione smiling oddly. Severus said good-bye and thank you to the realtor before putting his arm around Hermione and guiding her away from the conference room and to the door.
Harry is dead.
Hermione stared at the carpet, Snape's guiding arm holding her steady. Berber, she thought, and ugly too. Worn gray with random bits of red, yellow and blue confetti. She could see the paths were people walked most frequently. They were dingy.
Her pulse began to quicken and her breathing became shallow and rapid.
Harry is dead.
"Breathe," Snape whispered into her ear, his head bent low to her's. "You'll be fine..."
A freezing gust of air hit Hermione as they opened the door into the street. She gasped, almost as if the cold air was not oxygen, but instead some foreign gas that was unbreathable.
Harry is dead.
"Breathe," reinforced Snape. She took a deep fortifying breath. "We're only two blocks from the hotel. You'll be safe in our room."
Hermione nodded, watching the sidewalk below her as Snape fairly drug her along, his arm around her shoulders. "We're only a block from the hotel. You'll be safe in our room."
They walked even faster now that the door was in sight. By the time they were three doors down, Hermione and Snape were nearly running. The doorman opened the door for them quizzically, staring at the couple.
"Into the elevator," Snape murmured. "You're doing so good, Pearl."
Instead of comforting her like Snape had meant, this only tightened the bands restricting Hermione's chest. As the doors slid shut, Hermione's first sob rang out.
Harry is dead.
She buried her face in her Professor's overcoat and let herself remember. She could not force Harry's death back and longer- they were safe, now, in America, and Harry was dead.
Severus pushed open their room door with his foot and guided Hermione to her bed, freshly made by the housekeepers. He gently pushed her to sit on it and he removed her shoes and her coat. Hermione bawled openly, letting Snape do as he wished.
After casting a drying spell on the hems of Hermione's trousers, he nudged her under the covers. She laid her head back and let her tears come as they would.
A quarter of an hour later, they had slowed enough that Snape got up from the desk chair that he had pulled to the bedside and retrieved tissues and a bottle of water.
"Thanks," Hermione said blearily, her voice scratchy and low. He inclined his head.
"Would you like to tell me what spurred that?" Severus asked, staring at his folded hands.
She looked out the window, away from him. "Harry's dead."
Snape remained silent.
"He's really dead," she whispered again.
"You're able to process it now," replied Severus. "You don't have to run around being the doer and the achiever right now. You don't have to be in charge. You don't have to shoulder the burden of our fate at this very moment."
Hermione closed her eyes, pinching them shut as she collapsed back against the pillows.
"We have to do something different," Hermione proclaimed.
"Longbottom," replied Snape.
Hermione shook her head fiercely. "No, there's more."
He was silent, waiting her explanation.
Letting out a frustrated growl, she slammed her fisted hands down on the mattress. "It's so close to the front of my brain, I know that there's something else we need to do, but what is it?
Severus thought that something was a strong relaxation charm and a tiny dose of dreamless sleep.
When she awoke later that evening, Snape was reading a book at the desk.
"How are you?" he asked, tucking a sheet of hotel stationary into the pages of his book.
Hermione nodded. "I'm all right, I think." She stretched, the crusty feeling in her eyes and head disappearing.
He nodded. "The phone rang while you were asleep."
Steeling herself, she closed her eyes and gestured for him to continue.
"We got Pettigrew and Travers," Severus said quietly.
Hermione shot back- "Who did we loose?"
Severus was quiet, looking down at his hands in an unfamiliar gesture of timidity.
She raged, throwing back the covers and coming to stand over Snape's chair, shouting. "Who did we loose?"
He moved quickly, standing to over-power and grabbed her by the shoulders and shaking. She fought back, though, with a preternatural speed- ducking her head into his chest and wrenching her arms upward out of his grasp.
"Who is it, Snape?" she shouted once she was free.
His face was red and his nostrils flared with barely contained rage. Quiet, you stupid witch!"
"Tell me," she said, her chest heaving.
"Moody," he replied. "Hestia and Creevey."
Her head fell. "Damn," she whispered. "I want them out of there. Give me the phone."
Severus complied and she dialed. "Garnet, Pearl here."
She babbled into the phone, the Weasley girl obviously noting that Hermione was in charge now, after Harry's fall. "I want Jade, Amethyst, Morganite and Aquamarine here as soon as possible. As soon as Amethyst can be ready to ship."
"Right," Hermione continued. "We've got the storage place ready...this afternoon...Could you get some of the dollhouse furniture ready to send with the shipment? And have you taken care of that problem with the Moonstone? Excellent. I really appreciate your effort. And the Opals were not much trouble?"
Hermione chuckled. "Good. Thanks, and I'll see you soon."
The phone clicked shut audibly and Hermione turned reconcilitorally towards Snape. "Let's get some dinner."
He did not look up from his book.
"My treat?" she asked, her voice high and hopeful. It wasn't even their money- it was the Order's money. He looked up, scowling. "Your choice and my treat?"
"Fine," he relented grudgingly. "I want Italian."
Hermione flashed a glimpse of her white, even (normal sized) teeth and replied. "Let me freshen up and change clothes and we'll ask the concierge where an Italian restaurant would be."
As the door to the bathroom closed, Hermione saw Snape release a tiny smile. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth slowly several times. This was all right. She was an adult. This war was the most important thing to her, but life must continue- even in hiding.
She thought of Ron, and how he'd fallen in love with Padma Patil only the year before, and of Tonks and Lupin- they got married in the middle of the whole thing. And George Weasley and Katie Bell. George didn't even have an ear when he and Katie started going together. Of course there was Harry and Ginny- poor Ginny, loosing the man she loved like that.
She probably didn't think that there was time anymore for love in war.
But Hermione knew she was wrong. There always had to be time for love, because, hey, it was the power the Dark Lord knew not.
She finished dressing and washing her teeth and face and went back to the bedroom to retrieve Snape. He seemed in a better mood, now, and was putting on his over-coat.
"I called the concierge," he said. "There is a lovely place just around the block. Rave reviews, he said."
"I don't have to transfigure anything, do I?" Hermione asked, chewing her lip and glancing at her worn denims and chunky sweater.
He opened his own coat to reveal a nicely pressed (wizards had all the fun!) button up shirt in a deep claret and a waistcoat.
"You did goth before there was ever a word for it," Hermione muttered, going to her suitcase and retrieving her black trousers and a plum colored jumper. She changed quickly, patting her strangely short hair and coming out.
"Better," she smiled, putting on her own coat
Severus opened the door to the hallway and set out the 'do not disturb' sign. "What is goth?" he asked.
"It's a sort of underground culture that dresses as you do," Hermione explained, hitting the down button.
"Why would they do that?"
Hermione smiled, "Most of today's youth wears bright colors and clothing that doesn't cover anything at all. The goth movement, I've been told, is about being more somber and demure."
"I do not know if I would call myself demure," he replied, holding the elevator door for her. "but I would agree that there is a fair degree of gravity in my dressage."
They went down, the bell ringing at every floor they passed. "The world we come from is so old-fashioned that most wizards get taken for goths anyway."
"Have you?" he asked.
Walking into the chill air, Hermione replied. "No, not really. I tend to go towards muggle fashion. I find it far less cumbersome. Especially during wand-work or duelling."
He offered Hermione his arm and she took it with little hesitation, her gloved fingers resting in the crook of his elbow comfortably. They walked comfortably, although Hermione's mind was reeling faster than she could keep up with.
Severus was placid, she noted. He did not seem to have the same myriad of thoughts running through his head about 'the situation' between them.
They made it to the restaurant.
Thankfully.
Severus requested a table, and although it was a Friday night, they were shown directly to a table up a wide set of stairs onto the mezzanine level.
Their waiter arrived, a skinny college kid with a scraggly black goatee. "Can I offer you a glass of wine or a mixed drink?"
Hermione glanced at Severus, who had been reading the wine list. "The Rupestro Sangiovese," he said to the waiter and then looked at Hermione. "You did enjoy the sangiovese we had last night, correct?"
She nodded, not exactly sure what to say. It seemed to be an innuendo, but they had only slept- or possibly an invitation. Tension this thick shouldn't be allowed by law.
"The Sangiovese," Severus told the waiter, "and two waters."
Hermione scanned her menu, not really taking anything in. How could he be so confident when she felt so hesitant. It wasn't like she was a blushing virgin- quite the opposite.
He laid his menu aside. Looking up, Hermione asked, "What're you getting?"
"The pork saltimboca."
Hermione scoffed. "That's not Italian."
He ignored her. "And you will have?"
"The salmon."
Frowning, he called the waiter back to their table. When he arrived, Severus said, "My companion has decided on the salmon. Do you have an alternate recommendation as the red I chose will not do for fish."
Hermione stammered, "I can get something else-"
But neither men seemed to hear her. They decided on a Passerina before Hermione could enter again.
"And for you, sir?" the waiter asked.
He answered, "The Saltimboca, please."
"Right away," replied the waiter. "And I'll have your Passerina right out."
Hermione was left dumbfounded, but was saved from having to comment by the persistent ringing of the Order phone.
"Hello?" she said into the phone. "In my hair. Who did you have a secret crush on your fourth year?
She laughed. "Right-o. What's going on?"
Severus looked intently at her from across the table. "How soon?" she continued. "Great. They'll have to use a different excuse at the reception desk than I did- the other hotel lost our reservation. Maybe they're just stopping in Cincinnati for the night."
The conversation continued for several more moments, while the wine and bread was delivered. "Well, I'm wearing my onyx and pearl bracelet to dinner right now. It looks lovely. I'll be back at the stead in a while- we've gotten wine."
Hermione snorted. "Garnet- seriously. Head out of the- yes. I mean, yeah. No! I've got to go. I'm looking forward to your shipment."
She snapped the phone shut, a wry smile still on her face.
"Might I inquire as to what you find so amusing?" Severus asked, tearing off a bit of foccacia bread and dipping it in oil.
"Garnet was just being cheeky- about us eating dinner together."
He frowned, chewed, swallowed. "I suppose we could have gotten room service."
"She meant that we were eating dinner together." Hermione replied, taking a chunk of bread as well.
"I do not understand your inflection, Miss Granger."
She blushed brightly, which really did bring a certain sparkle to her eyes. "She meant that we were going to sleep together."
Tearing off another piece of bread, he dipped it in the oil and vinegar and then salted it. "Of course we are." he said. "Try it this way."
He reached across the table, his shirt cuff falling back slightly to reveal the vulnerable surface of his inner wrist, blossoming with blue veins under the nearly translucent skin, and presented the bread centimetres away from Hermione's lips. The edge brushed against her lower lip and she found herself opening her mouth in hopefully wasn't an idiotic way, and letting him deposit the foccacia behind her teeth.
"We are sharing a hotel room," he said, sitting back in his chair, satisfied looking.
Hermione glared good-naturedly. "I don't have to explain her real meaning, I presume."
He smiled another half-smirk, but was cut off by the waiter presenting their salads. Hermione's heart pounded as she ate her salad, not tasting the fabulous hand-crafted caesar dressing or the perfectly crunchy croutons.
Severus looked almost predatory in this low light, his dark eyes searching out hers like heat seeking missiles, and locking on. He was always the one to look away first- not because he was uneasy, but because Hermione was the one who craved the gaze.
She put the cool glass of her wine goblet up to her lips and held it there for a moment before drinking. This time it was his eyes that followed her movement.
The pork and the salmon came, but the event was nearly missed by both Hermione and Severus- who were locked in their conversation without words. Hermione picked up her fork and knife, preparing to cut into the pink salmon, put them down with vaguely shaking hands and took her wine glass up instead.
As she rested it back on the tablecloth, Severus reached out, lightning fast, but Hermione was not afraid. He grasped her smaller hand and pulled it toward him, making her reach slightly over the table.
"I cannot provide you with a relationship or with silly dreams or promises of love everlasting," he murmured, so low that Hermione had to lean her ear closer to him.
She struggled with her breath and wet her dry lips. "I know," she replied.
He released her hand only to grasp her wrist and turn her palm upward and press his mouth to it.
