It was with her heart in her throat that Hermione stood with her hand poised to knock outside of what she knew to be the door to Professor Snape's personal chambers. She'd walked away, and then back several times, posed as if she was going to knock, then dropped her hand and walked halfway down the hall.
From there she would turn on her heel, stride up to the door and raise her hand, then, her bravado would fall and she would stand there for a moment with wide eyes and turn back and walk away again.
After she'd repeated the process what had to be fifteen times her knuckles finally touched the wood of the door. Unfortunately, they made not a sound she tapped against it so lightly and she turned to walk away again, hand in her hair.
Hermione sucked a deep breath, screwed down her courage and turned to walk back one more time she was just raising her hand when the door opened and she was met with a black clad chest, silver and black buttons running up to a cravat covered neck. She looked up to meet his black gaze, eyebrow raised as if to ask what she thought she was doing.
She noticed her hand still raised and lowered it with an embarrassed little smile.
"Miss Granger? To what do I owe the pleasure?" His voice was a bland drawl but still that deep tenor shot gooseflesh across her arms and all she could think about were those lips on hers. How she disturbingly thought she wanted them there again.
"You said that, if I umm, if I ever needed an escort down here to find you, it is late and I was going up to the lake, I was hoping you could take me as far as the main floor?" She for some reason could not hold his gaze and found herself staring down at her fingers. It had seemed like a clever excuse, a good reason to spend time with him alone, and he had told her to find him. Though if the pensive look on his face told her anything it was that he hadn't expected her to actually do it.
He watched her for a few unnerving minutes before finally his head tipped up and down in the most minute of nods.
"One moment, I shall grab my cloak and join you. Perhaps you would like another story?" He couldn't pass up the opportunity she was presenting him with, more time spent with her would only further his cause. Yes, he would take any opportunity she gave him. His eyes locked on the hourglass on his table and narrowed on the black sand.
He only had so much time and he was not only desperate to live, he was desperate to live with the little witch.
She took a deep breath, eyes sparkled as he began to turn from her to get his cloak.
"I would love that." She grinned, hoping she didn't seem to desperate and he gave a little nod, she could see just the smallest tip of a smile on his lips.
She hoped someday she could see him smile for real.
Maybe she could even put it there?
Wishful thinking.
"Ready, Miss Granger?" He questioned and snapped her from her thoughts, his eyebrow raised as he stared down at her ever reddening face. He quite liked the little flush that took her sometimes.
"Can you, I mean, if it is okay, can you call me Hermione? Outside of class of course!" She held up her hands in a sign of surrender and he smirked, he'd not expected the request but he was certainly not opposed to it.
"Only if you will call me Severus, outside of class of course." His tone was husky, teasing, and almost playful. Hermione's eyes widened and she gave him the broadest grin yet.
"I'd really like that, Severus." She tested the name out. His jaw clenched, oh, if he made children with this woman he could not wait to hear her scream it.
"Marvelous, Hermione." She stared up at him with wide eyes and stepped back so he could pull the door to his dungeon chambers closed. Soon they were off and walked side by side in silence for a few moments.
"Is there anything you would particularly enjoy a story about?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and she was looking at him, her face so open he could read the shock there.
Every time his smooth voice drifted over her without annoyance it was like a new shock.
Every. Single. Time.
"I would very much like a happier story than last time." She looked pensive for a moment, he found it particularly attractive when her tongue flicked out to wet her lips as she thought.
"Tell me anything, any story you think I will enjoy." She glanced up at him openly and he raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicked to hers.
"Perhaps the story of Madame LaDamme?"
"Oh? Who is she?" He had her attention as they mounted the first set of staircases, he was attempting to draw this out, to keep her company for as long as possible. He enjoyed the way she swayed as she walked, her hand, arm, or shoulder bumping against his.
In fact, he found there was very little he did not enjoy about the witch as of late. An odd occurrence for him but a welcome one.
He smirked. "She was the grand and illustrious Lady of this castle once, long ago." She seemed to enjoy history and so he would stick with that until he sussed out her other preferences.
"She had a taste for the finest things in life, foods, jewels, silks. This Lady however was incredibly unhappy with her marriage, the Lord of the castle, Master LaDamme was a cruel man, cold and conceited. He wanted a child, had threatened her life many times if she did not soon provide him a son."
Hermione's lips pursed and she stopped walking, he knew he'd drawn her in at the look on her face. They stood at the entrance doors, her eyes locked on his face.
"I suppose, perhaps I can finish my story next time." He glanced out the doors and moved back as if to leave.
A bolt of electric pleasure shot through him when she caught his hand by the tips of her fingers and held it, her eyes wide on him.
"Can't you just, stay?" She paused, blinked, and looked terribly embarrassed. "I mean, to finish the story, of course."
He smirked. "Of course."
She didn't release his hand as they began to walk again and it took her a full fifteen steps or so before she realized and dropped it. He tried not to give a frustrated groan and just continue the story.
"Madame LaDamme was frightened of her husband, frightened of what he may do to her if she failed to produce an heir. What she'd never told her husband, what her family had never told her husband was the dire fact that, from her father's side of the family there was a genetic disorder, one that stopped the women producing children. If often skipped generations, would affect one sister but not the other, did not affect the sons at all. She was afraid she was afflicted with this familial defect, considered a curse by the women who bore it."
"That poor woman." Hermione gasped, they'd come to the lake and they stood facing one another again, Hermione had put her fingers to her mouth.
"I swear to you, her story is a happy one, shall I continue?" His fingers caressed her cheekbone gently and fell back to his side. Hermione sat and motioned for him to do the same, he did so with little complaint and they fell into a small silence as each stared out over the lake.
"Go on." Hermione breathed. She sat dangerously close to him and he wanted to close the distance, fit her body against his.
Not yet, in due time.
He hoped.
"The Madame was stricken, always weighed down by fear and soon, the man who tended her gardens began to notice. He'd sit with the Lady in the afternoons, drink water with her and listen to her woes. He developedā¦feelings for the young Madame and with every meeting these feelings grew. She was lovely, with long ebony hair and deep midnight eyes. He wrote poems about her, for her, loved her with every ounce of his being." Hermione gasped, surprised by the turn of events, she'd been convinced he was going to spin a sad yarn.
Somehow her head had ended up on his shoulder but he said nothing, and so she did not move, instead, she simply enjoyed the feeling of being close to another person. A person she was quite certain no one else got so close to.
"Finally, one December morning he confessed his love to the Lady, poured his heart to her and begged her to run away with him. She wanted to, for she'd fallen in love with him as well, but, she was so attached to the finer things. She begged him, pleaded with him to give her an hour's time to decide, told him if her answer was yes she would meet him amongst the flowers in an hour. It was hard for her, grappling with her decision but before she could make it for herself, her husband made up her mind. She'd gone to speak with him, attempt to reconcile her feelings and for reasons she never shared with her lover he struck her. Her decision was made with this action and she ran to join her lover in the garden. She warned him, she may not be able to bear children, she had not for this long. He confessed his true desire for children but told her that she was enough. He did not need children when he had her. The pair ran away together, both sacrificing something they cared so much for, for the love they shared with one another."
Suddenly, he noticed he felt even breaths caress his neck and glanced to the side, Hermione had fallen asleep, on his shoulder. He smirked, unsure how much of his story she had heard but pleased that she was comfortable enough with him to fall asleep on him.
He managed to pull his cloak around her chilled body as well and sat there, staring at the lake for the longest time. He didn't want to wake the witch, he just wanted to enjoy her for a while longer.
