Sigh, is it Monday again? Here is another chapter to help you get through the week!
Chapter 9: Winter is Coming
Hermione awoke to light streaming into the room, sighing contentedly as she felt an arm wrapped around her waist.
She gently attempted to move the arm so that she could rise and put on clothes, when a murmur sounded from the mass of blankets at her left.
"It will be odd seeing your younger self in the hallways today and in class on Monday."
"Oh is it a Friday?" Hermione responded. I could have sworn it was a Saturday, she thought. "Does this mean you have to teach shortly?" she looked over at the blankets disappointedly.
"It's starting to get cold outside, I'll need to encase my chambers in a warming spell presently," the blankets mumbled back irrelevantly.
God, this was domestic, she thought. Who knew Snape was so reluctant to get out of bed in the mornings?
She drew back the blankets, revealing the side of his face, and purred, "I can think of many ways to warm you up without the use of spells." She bent closer and trailed a line of kisses down his sharp jawline. She started to roam her hands down his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles under her fingers.
Her hands were quickly stilled though, as he raised his head and smirked at her, saying, "Someone has a lot of ideas this morning."
She blushed as he continued on with a note of regret, "Unfortunately, I must get ready for my morning class." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, facing away from her, and grabbed his wand from the bedside table.
She stared for a moment at the marks marring his back, shocked by the crisscrossing lines that marked his flesh. Hermione unconsciously traced the raised scar along her own neck, and was about to ask him about his scars, but within seconds, he had waved his wand and was dressed in his robes. He headed to the bathroom, presumably to brush his teeth as the door to the bathroom was left open. She had missed her moment, but hoped that there would be more moments to ask him about his past. She felt eager to know everything about Severus Snape, as if he was an unread book and she could not wait to delve into its depths. She cautioned herself internally, Don't get attached, this could mean nothing to him. We have lived together for a while – by circumstances - and while there was clearly already a mutual attraction, this is sex, nothing more.
Might as well enjoy myself though, she thought, rising from bed as well and putting on her strewn-about clothes the Muggle way. She followed him into the bathroom, where he was just finishing drying his hands with a washcloth.
"Before you leave…" she trailed off, as she sat up on the counter in front of him and pulled him close, kissing him squarely on the lips. He was momentarily surprised, before quickly kissing her back as her hands wrapped around his neck. He has really released the vixen inside of me, Hermione thought, I can't get enough of him.
He shortly pulled back from her, with a reluctant sigh and a "Hermione, I am going to be late. I will be back for supper." Moments later, he was gone and she was alone in his chambers.
She tried to busy herself doing useful things for her mission, but found herself entirely distracted by everything that had transpired.
The more she thought about their night together, the more she started to think that she had been a little hasty. Her happy mood quickly dipped as she began to feel – well, a little bit like a kept whore, she though dolefully. Admittedly, she had jumped into bed with him just as quickly as he had jumped into bed with her. And they had made no promises to each other, but still, it stung a little to know that he thought she was just waiting out the war in his chambers. Does he believe we are just using each other as playthings until his inevitable end? she contemplated miserably.
Worried she was about to talk herself into a state of complete crisis, she left his chambers to take a walk. Outside, the chilly November air warned of impending snow as Hermione attempted to tread as carefully as possible – walking on wet leaves rather than crisp ones. She did not wish to alarm the many students enjoying their Fridays outside with the indeterminate noises of crunching leaves.
The walk seemed to clear the fog that had settled over her. Maybe I don't have to figure it all out now, she mused, that must be why I have another year and a half to convince the stubborn fool to live. In the meantime, why not enjoy each other's company? she concluded. Realizing she had arrived at a similar conclusion that morning, and had thus just been going in circles inside her head all day, she decided to do something more useful with her time. The time-turner was designed to bring me back to the exact day it did – save for the slight mishap in going back an extra year – and Dumbledore must have accounted for how long it would take me to complete my mission. I need to stop questioning everything.
Her confidence buoyed, she returned to Snape's chambers and occupied herself with trivialities of the season.
~o-o-o-o-o~
When Snape returned later that evening, he opened the door to a very different looking main room than when he had left earlier that day. The pillows and throws of the library area had been turned red and green, and an assortment of snowflake-esque decorations hung from the ceiling and walls around his chambers.
"Uh, Hermione?" he questioned the girl standing in the doorway to his room.
"I thought I would decorate in the spirit of the season," she responded cheerfully.
"My room has been spared, I hope," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
"I think it looks lovely," she retorted, before continuing, "But yes, your room has been spared."
"It looks… nice," he said begrudgingly, "Well-timed with this blasted invite I just got to one of Horace's parties – a holiday party this time," he continued, saying the word holiday as if it displeased him. He went on, "It's still November, I don't see why people have to get all enthusiastic about Christmas this early."
"Don't be a Grinch," she responded, failing to realize the reference would likely be lost on Snape. "There are some perks to the season," she said coyly, raising her wand in the direction of the ceiling above them.
A small green plant appeared on the ceiling in between the two of them, suspended by a red ribbon.
"Drat, I was going for mistletoe, but I think it's just a common weed," Hermione said, quite dismayed as she walked towards Snape.
He looked at her with crinkled eyes as he laughed – a rich, deep laugh that warmed Hermione and she found herself wishing he would laugh more.
He approached her as she stood under the weed, staring at the plant sadly, and said, "I didn't think I needed an excuse to kiss you…" trailing off as his lips met hers.
They kissed for a while under the random plant, until Hermione pulled back to ask, "Shall we summon Winky to bring us dinner?"
"I actually stopped back to say that I should have supper in the Great Hall. Between my recent teaching absence due to the poisoning incident and my frequent absences from supper, I do not want to set off too much suspicion. No doubt you and your meddling friends are highly suspicious of me at the moment," Snape replied. "However, it would be my pleasure to have a butterbeer with you when I return from supper, if you would like… and provided you can assure me that you will only have one," he said, in reference to her mild alcoholism a few days prior.
"I… I'm not… yes, one is perfectly fine," Hermione responded, about to retort that she was perfectly capable of handling her alcohol but acknowledging that her track record had not been the best.
With that, Snape departed for dinner at the Great Hall and Hermione summoned Winky to bring her dinner and two butterbeers for later.
~o-o-o-o-o~
When Snape returned from dinner, Hermione was relaxing on the window seat, reading a book on potion-making.
She handed him one of the butterbeers resting on the table beside her, taking the other for herself.
"How was dinner?" she asked.
"Dull, as usual," he replied, "But everyone does seem to be excited for the holidays, everything has become remarkably festive around the castle."
Hermione smiled, as Christmas was by far her favorite holiday. "Speaking of the holidays, what do I do with myself?" she asked suddenly, wondering where she would be in four weeks when everyone else invariably went home.
Snape looked at her regretfully, taking another sip of his butterbeer. "I'm afraid my holidays belong to Voldemort – I have numerous Death Eater-related engagements. I believe the Malfoys are hosting Christmas this year," he replied.
"Oh, well, I can just stay at Hogwarts?" she asked with a touch of dismay that her favorite holiday would be spent alone.
"You are welcome to stay here," Snape responded sincerely. Hermione was abruptly struck by how natural their conversations felt and how warm he was towards her – despite loathing the younger her, even at the present. Will I ever understand him? she wondered as she sipped her butterbeer.
"Why do you not like the holidays?" she blurted out, before realizing her question must seem highly random and personal.
He looked at her with an expression of annoyance for a second, before quickly replacing his expression with a playful one, "Well, they were always right before my birthday and so as a child, I didn't enjoy having to wait through them to complete another year." While his expression seemed sincere and joking, she could sense that he was not being completely truthful about his childhood.
She decided to change the subject, asking, "What day is your birthday?"
"January 9th," he responded, "On which day I will be more than double your age," he groaned. "You'll need to keep me young, witch."
"Don't worry," Hermione responded laughing, "My birthday is a few weeks later, and I will be nineteen which will make you less than double my age at that time. It's nice how doubling things works out, isn't it?"
He looked at her oddly, before asking, "Your birthday is in February?"
"February 5th this time around," she responded.
"What do you mean 'this time around'?" he asked, "Do I get the pleasure of choosing the date of my birthday 'this time around' as well? If so, I would like to postpone mine as long as possible," he said.
"Severus, this isn't my time," she said as if it should be obvious, "I left my time on May 5th, and arrived here on a Monday in September. The 21st if I am not mistaken. My birthday has been shifted a little over four months, putting it in early February."
"Ah, of course," he said, his face suddenly taking on a peculiar look. He instantly continued on, "Hermione, I have been meaning to talk to you."
Oh no, her face fell as she wondered what he was about to say.
"I have been so preoccupied with other matters –" Like helping Draco kill Dumbledore, Hermione thought. "- that I had not quite realized the immodesty of our situation. I… I enjoy having you here and I enjoy your company, but if at a certain time you decide that you do not enjoy mine, I do not want the constraints of the war or your supposed mission to beholden you to stay here."
Hermione nodded her understanding of what he was saying, having expected a similar sort of speech.
"I also know that you have been preparing my defense despite my expressed wishes to the contrary. You are free to do as you please, and you have not bothered me with your own activities, but I remain unwilling to be 'saved' as you call it. Is that perfectly clear?" he stressed, his voice taking on a firm tone that would brook no argument.
Hermione's heart sunk – and her pride also smarted at the acknowledgement that she had not been as sneaky as she had presumed. I should have expected no less, he is a spy and hiding my intentions has never been one of my strong suits. Remembering her resolve from earlier in the day to remain patient and let things run their course, she looked Snape squarely in the eyes, and responded, "Perfectly clear, sir," as she licked the foam from her butterbeer off her lips.
Snape seemed to register her acknowledgement but then appeared distracted by her tongue that had darted out. Hermione, noticing the darkening of his eyes, took another sip of her butterbeer and allowed a generous layer of foam to coat her upper lip.
"Would you like to do the honors?" she asked mischievously. Not needing to be asked twice, Snape took the butterbeer from her hand and placed it down on the table next to his. He leaned across the window seat, dwarfing her with his body as she lay back on the red and green pillows. He slowly lowered his face to hers, teasing her upper lip with his tongue before finally melding his mouth with hers. He tasted of tanginess mixed with butterbeer and Hermione was intoxicated by his kiss – and the lingering effects of the butterbeer – as she ground her body up against his.
He raised his wand to efficiently remove their clothing – the warm lights flickering around them as their rhythmic bodies became one.
