A/N: In this chapter, Severus will very briefly describe his view of Hermione during her latter school years. I tried to portray his viewpoint without our Potions Master sounding like he was interested in pursuing a student/teacher relationship. He did not want that—nor did he do that—in this particular story. Keep in mind, however, his attitude towards her must fit into the larger story arc. I believe you will find it to be sweet, nothing more.
Thank you for your patience with me as this story is published. I do not write sequentially (yeah, I know it's weird) so I wrote this chapter after completing some of the later ones, which is why it has taken a little longer to get to you. I just follow the Muse, and damn it all, she likes to play hopscotch in my brain.
Well, here goes.
-slbb
Hermione awoke in the comfort of her cot-transfigured chair, covered by the soft blanket Severus conjured for her when she curled up to sleep a few scant hours ago. She smiled: Merlin, last night was so fun. She glanced across to his bed at his relaxed, sleeping face, willing him to wake so she could once again lose herself in the infinite dark of his eyes.
Hermione's heart was light. They had talked almost until sunrise, easily finishing the Firewhisky. Damn, her Potions Master could drink. More than once she thought he might be leaning in to kiss her, but he never did. Even though he hadn't, oh, the things she'd discovered last night about Severus Snape. Delicious things, like that he owns a Muggle motorcycle (she had begged for a ride), and predicable things, like that he knows the name of every plant that grows in Scotland (well, he is a Potions Master). That he met Robert Plant after a Led Zepplin concert (he snuck backstage). That he has an encyclopedic knowledge of Bordeaux and classical music (a renaissance man of sorts). That he abhors…cucumbers and melons..?
And that he thinks the rat's nest of hair on her head is…adorable.
She smiled, thinking back to the night before, when things had gotten a bit…well, sloppy.
As Hermione reached for the Firewhisky bottle, she knocked into the lamp on his nightstand and it fell over with an echoing crash. He frowned at her. "Pomfrey's going to kick you out," he said matter-of-factly.
"Sorry!"
"How about I…?" he said, turning to pick up his wand. It rolled off the table, landing on the floor near the lamp. "Fuck," he muttered, reaching down to the tile. Suddenly he froze.
"Severus?"
"Shhhh! I hear something."
"It's probably Poppy coming to offer you a warm bath and a back rub," she said, giggling.
"Hermione! Be quiet!" he hissed as he tried to reach his wand, almost falling out of bed and onto the floor himself.
She clasped her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter from spilling out. "Can't you just cast a Muffliato or something?" she asked, pulling her hand away for a second to speak.
"That's what I'm trying to do!" he said, exasperated, finally connecting with his wand and righting himself in bed. "Muffliato!"
"I know this Summoning Charm. It's pretty handy. I could teach you…" she said in an exaggerated whisper, leaning towards him and still giggling.
"Very funny."
Smiling devilishly, she said, "I could also offer some one on one instruction on how to grasp your wand…"
"Grasp my wand?" he repeated, lifting his eyebrow.
"Yes. You should wrap your fingers around it firmly. With just the right amount of pressure. I could show you."
"I bet you could," he said with a smirk.
She took a sip of her Firewhisky. "So may I make some more noise now?"
He gifted her a mischievous smile. "As much as you like."
"Hmm…maybe you can help me with that?"
"Trust me, Hermione, I'd be happy to help with that. But not tonight. So please stop teasing me."
"Why?" she whined.
"You know why."
"Pretend I don't know and tell me."
"Fine. It makes things very hard for me."
"What things get hard for you?" she asked innocently.
His eyebrow rose even higher. "You are a very, very bad witch, Hermione."
"Actually, I'm very good at what I do."
"So I hear," he quipped.
"Now that wasn't very nice."
"I never claimed to be nice." He reached for the Firewhisky bottle and knocked Watch Over Me off the side table. "Fuck!"
"Severus, that's no way to ask a lady for a shag."
"Hermione!"
"If Poppy already thinks we're having wild sex in here, thrashing around and breaking her lamps, we might as well. Why disappoint her?"
"I'm not going to shag you in the Hogwarts infirmary!"
She laughed lightheartedly at his frustration. "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying."
He huffed a laugh. "You are going to kill me, witch."
"I sure hope not. I like you far too much."
He gifted her a strange look. "You despised me when you were a student. Admit it," he pressed, pouring himself another Firewhisky.
"For a while, yeah. Not the whole time. At first, I just wanted to impress you," she said, holding out her glass for him to refill.
"And later?" he asked, squinting at her over the rim of his drink.
She stared at him, the Firewhisky bolstering her with enough courage to at least meet his eye. "I can't talk about this."
"Why not?"
"It's too bloody embarrassing," she said before taking a sip. "You know. After Lockhart and all."
He just stared back at her with his jet black eyes, his half-smirk, half-smile hitting her hard in the pit of her belly.
"OK," she conceded. "Maybe I found you…intriguing. That's probably the best word."
"A crush on yet another teacher? Why, Miss Granger. I'm appalled."
"I said that I thought you were intriguing. I didn't say I had a crush on you."
"You didn't have to," he said, with more smirk than smile.
"And you never had a crush on any of your teachers when you were a student?" she countered.
"I didn't say that," he said, fully smirking now.
"Aha! I knew it."
"We were talking about you, Hermione. Not me," he corrected her.
"Yeah, we were. But there was no chance I had a crush on you. I found you intriguing. That's completely different. Besides, you hated me. You called me an insufferable know-it-all. You said I had bad teeth."
"Of course."
"Why?"
"Why do you think?" he countered.
"To keep me at a distance. In order to keep Harry safe."
"It was as much for Potter's safety as for reasons of my own." His last words hung in the air between them.
It took her a moment to understand. "You found me…?" she gasped.
"Now Miss Granger, I would never be intrigued by a mere student," he smirked.
"That is quite unseemly, Professor Snape," she teased in a lofty tone, ignoring his last comment completely.
"More so than having a crush on a teacher?"
"Absolutely." She downed the rest of her drink.
He chuckled. "Fair enough. In my defense, it was only after you had reached of age. It doesn't matter now. You are here. I am here. We are here."
"Drinking," she said raising her glass for him to refill.
"Drinking."
She smiled into the shadows between them as he poured. "And just how many students have caught your eye over the years, Professor Snape? I have to know what I'm dealing with here," she teased.
"Just you," he answered softly.
"And how can I be sure of that?" she asked just as softly.
He paused for a moment, seemly weighing a decision. "Try something with me," he said, an odd note in his voice. She looked at him curiously. "Do you know how to cast a Legilimens?" he asked, his tone becoming serious.
"I believe so."
"Then let me show you…" He pulled her to him, locking his fathomless eyes on hers. "Now."
"Legilimens," she whispered as she pointed her wand at him, trying to conceal her shock that this painfully private man would volunteer to open himself up to her.
Images poured into her mind through the fog of Firewhisky, echoes of her laughing with Harry and Ron in the hallways of Hogwarts…raising an earnest hand in Potions class…evading Cormac at a Slug Club party in that dress she had loved so much. Images of reading her essays in the privacy of his chambers and chuckling good-naturedly at the content. But it hadn't been the perspective that made her dizzy. Instead, it was the overwhelming emotion that permeated the memories…it wasn't lust, it was more like tentative respect coloured with great sorrow; as if he was charmed by her, but recognized that the circumstances—whether it was his position, their respective ages, or the war—made approaching her impossible.
In fact, the circumstances required that he push her away.
And then somehow—she was not sure how—he bound the emotion of all his other teaching years at Hogwarts into a tiny capsule for her to examine and presented it to her. What she found when she opened it was only pain, grief, and an overwhelming loneliness that made her want to weep…but no attraction to anyone. No desire. No love. And then all the emotion had evaporated, as if it were never there.
Even though she had cast the spell, he had broken the connection. "Severus…"
He simply stared at her, as if he were trying to decipher what her reaction might be. "Again," he said determinately.
She obeyed without hesitation. "Legilimens."
The second time, he gifted her images from this summer: the initial surprise when she arrived the first afternoon; a secondary shock when she offered to read to him; astonishment both that she continued to attend him daily, and that he anticipated her visits more and more each day. Impressions of her filtered through the liquor: smiles, laughter, pointed sarcasm and teasing humor, then a stirring jealousy of Ron and a driving need to protect her from him, all permeated with self-doubt. Whenever he saw her, he'd been filled with a warmth that belied all that she once believed about the man sitting next to her. He simply enjoyed being with her. And the growing affection became a much deeper emotion…
Then…nothing. "Not all of it yet, angel," he whispered and waited for her to speak.
"Severus…" she managed, "thank you."
His eyes opened. "Good morning," Severus said, his gravelly voice the only indication they had been awake nearly until dawn. He didn't release her hand.
"Good morning," she said, smiling even broader now. "I had fun last night."
"It was an enjoyable evening."
"We should do that again sometime, Severus."
"I'm certain we will."
It had been several days since sharing the bottle of Firewhisky, and part of her mind was still reeling from the images she had seen when she had cast the Legilimency spell. The rest of her settled in the knowledge that, at the very least, he cared for her. It was enough for now.
"What are you reading, Hermione?" Severus asked, breaking the warm evening's silence and uprooting her from the open story in her hands.
"A Muggle travel journal. Why do you ask?"
"You're smiling."
"Oh!" she said, feeling her face flush. "I guess I was just imagining myself there."
"Where?" Severus asked.
"India."
"Have you been there?"
"No—I've just seen parts of France and Italy. But I would love to travel more. Have you?"
"No. Although traveling is one of my favourite things to do, unfortunately, my….commitments have prevented me from doing much in the last few years," Severus replied, his lips twisting into a wry smile.
"I can imagine," she replied, smiling herself.
"So you've not been to Greece then, Hermione?"
"No."
"It's pleasant. Delicious food. Beaches. Sun. Lovely people."
"That doesn't sound like your kind of place," she teased.
He lifted an imperious eyebrow. "It's almost as charming as Corsica. You should come explore it with me."
"Corsica or Greece?" she said, bewildered.
"Both," he said levelly.
It took her a second to realize that he was serious. "That sounds…lovely, Severus. When?"
"Any time you would like," he said mischievously.
"How about right now? If you distract Poppy…" she said, raising an eyebrow in a mimic of his.
"I can think of thing or two that might distract her," he said with a wicked smile.
"You are an evil man, Severus Snape," Hermione said playfully. "But I like that about you."
"You don't say."
The Following Evening
"You seem…distracted tonight. What's wrong?" Severus asked her softly.
Too heavyhearted to read, Hermione had been staring out the window at the dim Hogwarts grounds under the starless sky. She turned to her Potions Master. "Today was my mum's birthday. We always did something fun together on her birthday, just us two. I miss her," she replied with a sigh.
"I'm sorry, Hermione."
"Truthfully, I miss her all the time, but it's especially hard today. I feel a little lost without her," she admitted. "I try to take comfort in knowing she's alive, even if I can't spend time with her anymore."
"You saved her life. I know for certain that the Dark Lord had targeted your parents to try to ferret out Potter. The Obliviate and the relocation were wise."
She swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened. "I wouldn't change it."
"Given the opportunity, I would have saved my own mother her fate. I adored her."
"Severus…" she asked softly, "what happened to her?"
He hesitated. "I wasn't home. I found her…" he shifted his gaze toward the window near Hermione, as if he were searching to find the right words etched in the glass.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, feeling her eyes lose their battle with her tears.
Severus returned his focus to her, his dark eyes grim. "There are some things one can change, and some things one cannot. Witches and wizards can have a hard time understanding that. Since magic is the essence of who we are, we begin to believe we can change anything because there is so much we can do with our magic. We forget that some things are beyond us."
Severus paused for a moment, then continued. "I had a hard time accepting I couldn't bring her back. That I hadn't been there, that I hadn't known it was going to happen. That there was nothing I could do, and nothing my magic could do to fix what had happened.
"My father was a bitter man. Why he ever married her, I cannot fathom. He forbid her to use magic after they were married. She did so anyway and taught me…regardless of the consequences. He would become…violent when he drank, which was quite often. They would have a row and he would beat her. I suspect the day she died, they were fighting and he pushed her down the stairs. When I found her, she had injuries that could not have come from the fall." His eyes had become unseeing, focused on some long ago memory.
After a moment, his dark eyes sought hers. "My father died in a Muggle jail. I never saw him again."
"When did it happen?"
"The summer between my fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts." He took a drink from the water glass on his night table. "The NSPCC never even knew about me. I simply stayed at Hogwarts over the breaks, and I never went home again. I spent my summer between sixth and seventh year with the Malfoys."
"It must have been so hard for you," she said, not knowing what else to say.
"Forgive me. We were talking about your mother, Hermione. Not mine."
"I'm sorry for your loss, Severus."
"And I am sorry for yours." He reached for her hand. "In the end, it makes little difference how we were orphaned, just that we were."
At that moment, Poppy bustled in the door and looked pointedly at their intertwined hands. She frowned. Hermione released her hold on her Potions Master and looked away. "Severus, are you drinking the amount of water I instructed you to?" the healer demanded briskly.
The mediwitch rounded on Hermione before Severus had a chance to respond. "And Miss Granger. Your presence here is a distraction for my patient. So much so that he neglects a simple direction like drinking water. You may singlehandedly pose the largest threat to his full recovery. Should you wish to remain a welcome—"
"Poppy, the fault is entirely mine," Severus cut across her. "Miss Granger is simply keeping me company, which is at least as vital to my recovery as this liquid." He picked up the water and drank some more, eyeing Poppy over the rim of the glass. "I thank you for the reminder. In the future, I will do my best to follow your instructions more carefully. Now, if you will excuse us…?"
Poppy's lips thinned but she left without further comment, nearly slamming the door behind her.
"That blasted witch never knocks," he said ruefully.
"She despises me."
"She might," he conceded. "I've never seen her quite so…rude. She can be snide, but rude...she reserves that for you," Severus said with a chuckle.
"It's your fault."
"How, pray tell, is it my fault?"
"It's completely your fault. If you weren't so damn attractive, she wouldn't be so jealous of me," she said hotly. "What if I need medical attention if I'm ever at Hogwarts? She'll hex me rather than cure me!"
"'Damn attractive'? Merlin, Hermione, are you saying you find me attractive?" he teased, ignoring the rest of her rant.
"I…eh…" she sputtered. Without the courage of the Firewhisky in her belly, she was unable to prevent all the blood from draining from her face.
He chuckled again. "Let me continue to handle Poppy." He reached for her, entwining his fingers tightly with hers. "And let me continue to hold your hand."
"That's Ron's owl," Hermione said, as Pigwidgeon teetered on the edge of the open infirmary window with a parchment in tow. The tiny owl landed next to Severus and stretched out his leg.
"Apparently," he commented sourly as he untied the small bundle and unrolled it. "It's from Mr. Potter," he said, glancing over at Hermione. She cringed. "Now that was an odd look. Not looking forward to hearing what Mr. Potter has to say?"
"It's not that. It's just whenever I see post from him, I remember how his owl was killed the night we moved Harry from Privet Drive. He loved her. Having to use Ron's must remind him that he lost Hedwig."
"You care for him very much."
"I do. He's my best friend."
"He was fortunate to have you," Severus said and then turned his attention to the parchment.
"What does Harry want?" Hermione asked.
"It's an encouragement for a quick recovery. I suspect Mr. Potter believes he is indebted to me, so he is trying to alleviate his guilt by offering his support now, since he did not in years past."
"You were hard on him at Hogwarts, Severus."
"True. It was easier for Dumbledore's plan. Keeping him at a distance kept him safer. There were a few times when I felt Mr. Potter truly deserved my hatred. I realized, at some point, my attitude towards him was unfair." Hermione looked at him curiously. "A son is not responsible for his father's actions," he said, twisting his lip into a rueful smile.
"No, they're not," Hermione whispered. "Severus…I wish things could have been different."
"It was war, Hermione. We did what we had to do. All of us."
"He hated you."
"I know. It didn't matter. It was more important to keep him as safe as possible."
"Thank you for doing that. For keeping him safe."
He gifted her a smile. "You are compassionate. And loyal. Traits I admire," he said.
She smiled back at him. "And you are brave and trustworthy, strong, noble, and brilliant. Traits I admire," Hermione replied.
They stared at each other for a long moment. His smile became…sly. "You have a couple other traits I admire, as well," he said, his voice dipping into a low growl.
"Oh, do I?" she responded lightly.
"Oh, yes," he breathed.
He reached out to gently trace the outline of her jaw. She closed her eyes, wanting no distractions, wanting only to feel the sensation of the tips of his fingers caressing her skin. She shivered. She felt him draw nearer to her, and ghost a kiss on her lips. Sweet Merlin, please…
He threaded his hands in her hair, angling her face upward and slightly to the side. It was then that he truly kissed her. His lips were soft but firm, and after a moment of languid tenderness, he began to kiss her more deeply. His gentleness gave way to more urgent and insistent exploration as his tongue began driving against hers. She met him with her own need, desperate to communicate her desire for him. By the time he broke off, she was flushed, breathless, and aching.
"You taste…delicious," he whispered.
She wasn't sure she could speak. Instead, she threaded her own fingers through his soft hair, drew him towards her and into a second deep kiss. After a long moment, he broke off and dipped his head, his teeth nipping her neck. "More…" she begged raggedly.
"Soon…" he murmured, smiling around a kiss. "Soon, my angel."
Severus Snape kissed me.
Hermione was curled into a warm ball in her bed at Grimmauld Place, unable to stop a goofy smile from spreading across her face again. Severus Snape kissed me. Just the memory of his kiss made her lightheaded. She hadn't much to compare it to—just the fumblings of a couple of teenage boys—but oh, Sweet Merlin, she didn't need the comparison to know that Severus Snape was one incredible kisser.
She tried not to think about how he had become one.
How she had managed to pull herself away and return to Grimmauld Place was nothing short of a miracle. If her past self hadn't threatened to arrive, Hermione was certain she would still be at the infirmary snogging him senseless. If he kisses like that, what would it be like to…?
Merlin, there wasn't a chance in hell she was going to get any sleep.
A few long hours later, Hermione arrived at the infirmary to find her Potions Master sitting up in bed reading. It was as if he was waiting for her with some burning question on his mind.
"What happened to your other self last night? You wouldn't tell me," he said without preamble when she walked in.
"It's not important," she said, shrugging and placing her rucksack on the floor.
"It's important to me," Severus said.
"I was supposed to go dancing. With my friends. It didn't turn out to be a very pleasant evening, though."
"Come. Let me make it up to you." Severus rose from the bed and clasped her hand in his. "How about your first lesson...?" He aimed his wand at the door and it locked shut. He whispered another spell over his shoulder and the wireless kicked on, the sounds of Blue Danube spilling out into the room. As he pulled her into an embrace, he lifted her right hand upward in his left, and placed his other one around her waist.
"How did you…?"
He ignored her. "The waltz is not difficult to master. Most of the steps are straightforward. As with many things, if you find you have been coupled with a…more experienced partner and allow them to lead…" Severus leaned his head to the side, feathering a path with his lips down her neck. Sweet Merlin, I will not survive this. "The rest is easy. One step leads to the next," he growled softly.
"I can't dance. You're distracting me," she managed.
"That's entirely the point." His lips had reached her shoulder. He used his teeth to move her thin shirt aside, exposing skin. He kissed her there.
She felt like she might melt. "And why would you assume I have less experience than you?" she whispered.
"Because you're standing still. That's not how one…waltzes."
"Is that what we're doing?"
"What else would we be doing?"
"I'm not sure. But then again, I'm really not sure of anything right now…" she said as he whispered more kisses up and down her neck.
"Certainly you must be sure of one or two things," he breathed in her ear.
"Such as?"
"That you've wanted to dance with me for a very, very long time," he said, his voice dangerous.
"True," she replied softly.
"And I am the only partner you will engage in this particular kind of dance with."
"Of course."
"And now that you have completed the…fundamentals, you are ready for more advanced study."
"Please..." The word escaped her in a half breath, half plea.
His lips met hers, gently at first. He let her right hand go and suddenly that hand was in her hair, guiding her gently so that she was in just the right position for him to kiss her thoroughly. He pulled her into him, so that he was pressed up against her; she felt him growl around his kiss and then break off. And then his teeth, Merlin his teeth, started a path down her neck.
She snaked her forefinger under his belt and tugged at his waistband. "Get these off. Now," she demanded.
"Not here…" he murmured.
"Then we need to leave…"
"Not yet," he whispered.
"How many times are you going to refuse me?"
"How many times are you going to ask while I am still here?"
"I can be very persistent."
"It won't be very much longer. And all of this patience…and restraint…will be generously rewarded. I promise," he said as he ran his thumb over her bra where left nipple was.
"I might die of want."
"I've never seen that happen."
"It's because you always give in. Except with me, of course. You like stringing me along."
"I like…that I'm always on your mind."
"I never knew I could want something so much," Hermione admitted.
"Trust me, angel," he murmured. "I know exactly what you mean."
"Tell me something about yourself that you've never told anyone else," Severus said, startling Hermione out of her reverie the following evening.
She glanced at him. "No," she replied flatly and focused her attention back on A Study in Advanced Charms.
"You're in a feisty mood today," he chuckled.
She looked up from the textbook in her lap. "Today was the day that Natasha was here."
Severus raised an imperious eyebrow. "Is that the reason for your mood?"
"I suppose," she managed.
"Hermione…"
"Yes…?"
He stood up. "Walk with me."
"Where?"
"Around the lake," he said.
"It's dark outside."
He didn't answer her. Instead, he stood up from his chair, walked over to her and reached down to close her book. He took her firmly by the hand and led her towards the door. A breeze whispered between them as they reached the path around the lake.
"She was in my chair," Hermione said once they reached the water's edge, finding she had to work very hard not to actually pout.
"Your chair?"
"My chair."
"I had no idea you'd become so possessive of it," he said. The moon's light reflected off the surface of the water allowed her to discern the half-smirk, half-smile on his face.
"Well, it is my bed each night…"
"You don't like to share your bed?" he asked, fully smiling now.
"Depends on who I'm sharing it with," she said, tentatively smiling back at him. She felt her sullenness begin to evaporate into the night air.
"I see. And how is that evaluated?"
"Quite thoroughly. Not everyone has the opportunity."
"Merlin, I hope not."
"There are very strict requirements for applicants," she quipped.
"Really? Do elaborate."
"Applicants are very strictly vetted."
"I like that word…vetted. A decidedly delicious word," he growled wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they continued on the path. "It makes me hungry."
"Yes. Vetted. Rigorously."
"I like rigorously as well," he said, his velvet voice dropping to a low rumble that made her belly flip flop.
"You like far too many things. Perhaps you are not discerning enough to apply," she teased.
"Oh, quite the opposite, angel. Enjoying many things gives one a chance to…sample a variety of…pleasures. I am concerned, however."
"About…?"
"That I need to…apply," he said slowly, pulling her in closer to him.
"You may be…pre-approved," she countered.
"Nothing would please me more."
"Nothing…?" she asked, as playfully as she could manage.
"Perhaps I should rephrase…"
"Please do."
He stopped walking, and turned to kiss her soundly, leaving her dizzy and aching. "Being pre-approved would…please me. But other things…more…enticing things…would please me as well," he whispered as he broke the kiss.
"Merlin, Severus, you must stop doing that."
"Stop doing what?" he said, feigning innocence.
"Kissing me until my brain turns to mush. Not to mention Poppy might see us out the window and hex me into oblivion."
"It's dark. Speaking of which, do you remember teasing me about my nightly visitor? Have you figured out who it was? The one who moves 'your' chair?"
She laughed. "I'm guessing it's not Poppy."
"No," he said, "not even close." And he pulled her to him to kiss her breathless again.
