AN: Happy New Year! And Happy Severus's Birthday!
I want to start off by saying thank you so much to everyone who Reviewed my last chapter: Hellyb, E, Tu pinshi dios (btw LOL), jl31132, Chloeebeee, Ruby, ACupples, marzipan4, lornabrownie, Redkitsune2016, Snowgoose1070, Ardentlyadmired, , Liesl Snake, OzmaofOz, Angela, Kissel137, kmjb, DragonIris, RhodaBush, Onyx Obsidian, Whack-the-beetle, Mel, sobela, NeoQBirdie, Aisti, ZoeyOlivia, jhsbradford, Jiminie Cricket, Restless Fangirl, Wakefielddickson, Haveyouseenmyprefectbadge, McKenzie Shea, ZaniOne, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, roon0, thepotionsguild, Elliania, Bridget Vo, Calindy, Fantomette34, Ciule, lunarose87, Karli1252, Glass-NotCannon, Amarenimaredwood, Snaperipper, VividVideoGeek and several Guests. Thank you all SOOO much! I can't tell you what it means to me.
There were a lot of positive Reviews, but also a lot of negative reviews and I really appreciate those, as well. I think I've mentioned before that I am an aspiring novelist, so your criticism helps me grow as a writer and that is invaluable to me. That being said, I do want to address the fact that so many people seem to think that I am just trying to drag out the tension here. I know that I started this fic years ago and that many of you are waiting for me to get to the goods, but I promise I'm not trying to tease you. I do have my reasons for the way the last chapter ended and hopefully those will become evident as the story progresses. So, I really hope you continue to read and continue to let me know what you think, good and bad. Thank you so much!
…*~*J*~*...
The wetness between Hermione's legs was what jolted her out of deep sleep in the wee hours of the morning. She was suddenly very aware of how exposed she was in only her tee shirt. Behind her, Severus Snape was snoring contentedly. She cringed. The night before had been so much worse than she ever could have imagined it would be. Shame and humiliation flooded into her from the depths of her memories and tears rose up behind her eyes.
She couldn't be in bed with that man anymore.
Hermione sat up, even more aware now of how wet she was. She felt under her pillow for her wand. "Lumos," she whispered, peeking under the blankets at the mess between her legs. Blood. Of course there was blood. She hadn't even thought about it the night before, having been preoccupied with the shock over what her professor had done. "Tergio," she hissed, thrusting her wand at the sheets. The horrifying patch of red grew smaller and fainter, but didn't disappear. Her eyes went wide. No, no! This could not be happening. She could not leave the sheets in this state for her professor to find. Jabbing her wand at the sheets a few more times, Hermione repeated the Charm until she was nearly whining, her voice cracking on a sob. When it was finally gone, she sat there panting for a moment, relaxing into her relief. Then, running a hand across her face, Hermione scrambled over the covers and out of bed.
The scalding water pounded down upon her as she stood beneath its relentless torrent, scrubbing her skin raw and washing the tears away as quickly as they came. How could he? What an arse! She had been such a fool to hope for romance from that man. He was a cold, unfeeling bastard. He always had been. How could she have forgotten that?
A knot formed in her throat. But he wasn't, she thought. She could still picture him sitting cross-legged on the bed in her Gryffindor pajamas, his mouth slanted in a lazy smirk. She could still feel his fingers applying bruise salve to her face; so gentle; so concerned. She could hear his voice asking her if she wanted to go to Morocco with him one day. Yes, she had wanted to tell him. Without even having to consider, she had known at once that she would love to. But she hadn't told him that. In her amused embarrassment, she hadn't been able to give him a response at all.
Hermione dressed quickly and methodically and slipped out of her professor's chambers without making a sound. Thank Merlin there was homework. She'd just head off to the library for a bit of research before breakfast. That should take her mind off things.
…*~*J*~*...
Reality encroached upon him like an unwelcome visitor, bringing him back down to the world and the memory of what had transpired the night before. Even half asleep, he cringed, curling further into himself and pushing away wakefulness in a vain attempt to lose consciousness again. But the longer he laid there, the more he remembered. Bits and pieces lunged onto the landscape of his mind's eye; flashes of horror in the dark. Her shock when he had asked her to remove her shorts. Her reluctance when he had climbed between her legs. Her shame at the feeling of his cock between her thighs. And then the pain so evident in her beautiful, young face, when all he felt was ecstasy. Oh, but that pain hadn't stopped her from wanting more. No. He could still see those cinnamon eyes, hazy with arousal. She had been so wet; so tight. It had been so clear from her expression that she wanted to continue.
She had been so horrified when he'd told her the truth.
Was that a mistake? He couldn't help but wonder. What had begun as an attempt to minimize shame and humiliation may have amplified them instead. He groaned into the pillow.
Severus finally gave up on getting back to sleep and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. His wife was sitting in her place at the head table and the sight of her there gave him pause. That was ridiculous, of course. He routinely paid visits to Lord Voldemort, himself; dined with death eaters; held his own at Lucius Malfoy's Manor among the elite of the Wizarding World. How could he be nervous about having breakfast with such a petite, bookish chit (and a Gryffindor, at that)? Was he an enamoured youth, all over again? The thought was so ridiculous that he shook his head and brushed it aside as surely as he swept right down the center of the Hall.
When Granger caught sight of him, however, she slammed the book she had been reading closed and jumped up from her seat, leaving a half-eaten plate on the table in favour of fleeing from the Hall. He scowled at his cutlery, determined not to let her sour his mood even as he felt the familiar bristling of annoyance creeping up the back of his neck. He couldn't let her get to him. He had more important things to worry about.
…*~*J*~*...
Draco Malfoy was entering the Great Hall just as Hermione was running out the door. He raised his eyebrows at her, a smirk twisting his pale, haughty lips. "Scared, Granger?" he barked in that annoying way of his. "Must've had quite a detention."
"Oh, shove off, Malfoy," Hermione spat, clenching her fists as she forced herself to go around him.
"I don't blame you," he called out in a teasing voice as she hurried toward the entrance to the dungeons, "having doubts about him."
Hermione stopped short, her curiosity piqued. But she refused to give in to him, choosing instead to continue her march back to the dungeons.
"After all," he called after her, "how can you ever be sure?"
Hermione glared down at her Charms essay. Focus, she told herself, don't even think about it. But that was easier said than done. She had never doubted her professor's loyalty before. After all, Professor Dumbledore trusted him. But then again Dumbledore was seeming more and more human and fallible recently. And her opinion of Professor Snape had definitely slipped down a notch or two. But that doesn't mean he's a traitor.
Another attempt at focus found her contemplating the many weeks to come and whether he would continue to torture her in this humiliating way. She couldn't let that happen. I'll just tell him… what? That he humiliated me? That he made everything worse? That I'd rather have him shag me properly next time? "Oh gods." Hermione buried her face in her hands and groaned.
…*~*J*~*...
Severus spent the day avoiding his wife. He couldn't even work on potions because his lab was attached to their living quarters. He couldn't return to his own bedchamber for a moment alone. He certainly couldn't spend the day in the library, as that was the most likely place in the whole bloody castle to bump into her. So he shut himself away in his office and resigned himself to lesson planning. He was well on his way to having the rest of the bloody year planned out.
Restless and irritable, he did emerge for the midday meal, if only to keep up appearances. He let out a breath of relief when it was clear that Granger would not be joining him, but he couldn't help feeling also a little… disappointed. How quickly he had grown accustomed to having a companion beside him. Fool. He knew not to get attached to the girl. She was only a transient presence in his life, soon to flit on past to the next, better thing.
…*~*J*~*...
Hermione paced the dungeon bedroom. She hadn't decided if she was going to go to supper or not. On the one hand, she didn't want to see her husband any sooner than she had to. On the other, it would be much easier to deal with him in the Great Hall than alone in his chambers, getting ready to climb into bed together once again.
The Great Hall was full and loud with the chatter of students when Hermione arrived. The whispers and snickers of the Slytherins did not escape her notice, but she lifted her chin in the air and marched down the middle of the Hall, straight to the seat beside her husband. He didn't acknowledge her as she took her place, a fact that both relieved and infuriated her. But she could feel a tension in the air between them and she sensed that he was uncomfortable, too. As he should be.
Severus sulked, eating mechanically, unable to enjoy a bite of the meal with his wife there beside him. He could practically feel her annoyance; her judgment. He wanted to disappear. This was made much worse when the supper vanished and the pudding appeared. For in his own portion, a sparkler had been placed, as it had once a year, as long as he had been a teacher here.
He flinched away from the sparking candle, gaping in horror at its sudden appearance. He'd forgotten. Again. "Bloody hell," he murmured, snuffing it out with a wave of his hand and darting anxious glances around the room. No one seemed to have noticed. No one except his wife. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in a little "o" of surprise.
A hand clapped him on the shoulder. "You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you, Severus?" Albus's eyes twinkled. "One of us has to keep track of it, I suppose."
"Oh yes!" said Filius, hopping excitedly atop his stool. "A very happy birthday, Severus! And how old are you this year?"
When the Slytherin didn't respond, Albus piped up for him. "I believe it's 38 this go 'round. Isn't that right, Severus?"
But Severus only banished the dish and lurched out of his chair, sending the two men threatening glares as he swept away.
Of all the ridiculous ends to this ridiculous day!
…*~*J*~*...
Hermione waited an appropriate amount of time before following after her husband. In place of the anger and humiliation she had been nurturing all day, she now felt guilty and contrite. What sort of man forgets his own birthday? And has no one to remind him except his distant and professional colleagues? Whose wife doesn't even know? She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the door to their chambers open carefully.
Severus Snape was standing in the middle of the floor, apparently staring at nothing. He snapped to when she opened the door and gave her a brief glare before sweeping over to the wardrobe and turning his attention to unbuttoning his coat.
"I didn't know it was your birthday," Hermione said in a voice that attempted to be cheerful. He scoffed, but otherwise said nothing. She rubbed her arms, feeling guilty. "I would have gotten you something..."
"Why?" he snapped, spinning around to face her. "Because you're my wife?" He laced the word with such venomous scorn that she winced and dropped her gaze as the room lurched into shocked silence. Apparently emboldened, he crossed toward her like a stalking cat. "You and I are nothing more than professor and student. Any… arrangement… between us is merely a matter of business and strategy. Nymphadora would have known that. She never would have… expected anything more from me. You would do well to remember that this is temporary. And the moment it is over, we will return at once to our separate lives."
At the conclusion of his dramatic, little speech, her professor was standing over her, rather too close for comfort, glaring down at her with something akin to loathing. He didn't give her a chance to respond, but spun back towards the wardrobe, ripping a cloak from its depths before sweeping out of the room. The sound of the door slamming shut reverberated in her ears and she shut her eyes, letting the many varied emotions run their course through her as she stood there, silent and still.
…*~*J*~*...
Throwing on his cloak, Severus stalked through the castle in pursuit of a suitable place to practice his Occlumency. With everything that had happened in his life lately, he needed it more than ever, yet he had neglected the practice. Emotions and worries had built up inside of him so much that he thought he might burst. He was beyond overdue.
The courtyard he selected waited for him, still and dark and empty, with a layer of ice glinting off the stone of a frozen fountain and the benches set here and there among the withered shrubs and leafless trees. Darkness lurked beneath the arches between columns in the cloisters wrapped around three sides, but the moonlit snow that touched the ground and various surfaces in the open space had an eerie sort of glow. The air bit at his face and burned in his lungs, though there was no wind. And snow crunched beneath his feet. It was perfect.
Severus settled down onto one of the frozen benches and closed his eyes, shaking off the trembles of emotion that clung to him like static. He allowed himself one last self-loathing growl, directed toward his feet as angry fingers snared in his oily hair. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he focused.
There was very little sound here. The world was muffled and soft. If he focused his ears, all he could hear was the faint whistling of wind beyond this safe enclosure and the sound of his own breath growing more shallow and slow as he focused more deeply.
He opened his mind; allowed the thoughts to come, and with them the emotions. The anger. The fear, humiliation, frustration. The hurt. But as they arose, one by one, he dismissed them, sending them off into this frosted, white abyss to be captured by the softness of the snow. And after a while, there was only him. And he was here, now, feeling the chill of the air and the weight of his clothes and the stone of the bench beneath his frozen arse. And he was calm.
When at last he climbed into bed beside Granger, she was fast asleep. Not even pretending, this time. He leaned over her, glancing down at her sleeping face. The peaceful vision stirred something deep in his frozen depths, but he ignored it. Turning away from her, he forewent the use of Dreamless Sleep and closed his eyes, letting the stillness of his soul carry him off into restful slumber.
…*~*J*~*...
Hermione spent her morning classes the next day in a state of dull apathy. She didn't have the energy to apply herself any more than she had to, or to think about any of the many things that were oh so wrong right now. She needed a break from it all.
In fact, she didn't say a word to anyone until lunch when her husband awkwardly spoke up to tell her that she shouldn't let her friends know of their plans to show the Slytherins how submissive she'd become. Apparently it would be much more believable if her friends were as shocked and put out as one would expect them to be. She shook her head at that, scoffing beneath her breath, pushing past the fog of self-pity to a sort of dark humour unfamiliar to her until now. "Of course," she told her husband, smirking at her fork, "whatever you say." She sensed some discomfort from him and perhaps even some concern, but at the moment, she just didn't have the energy to care.
Potions that afternoon began exactly as she imagined it would: with taunts from the Slytherins and anger on the part of Harry and Ron. She didn't have to pretend to be broken and dejected. In fact, she probably wouldn't have been able to pretend this level of dissociative apathy on her own.
It was lucky, really, that Severus Snape was such a talented actor. She knew him well enough (or thought she did) to know that he didn't really feel the sadistic pleasure his malicious expression indicated when he asked the class if anyone was planning to speak out of turn this afternoon. Those cruel black eyes landed on Hermione as his Slytherins jeered, but Hermione just turned her eyes down to her parchment and pretended to be writing something down. When, later in the period, their professor asked them questions from the chapter they had read over the weekend, taunting the Gryffindors when not one of them raised their hand, Harry and Ron prodded Hermione, urging her to answer.
"You're not just going to sit there, are you?" accused Ron.
She turned toward him, giving him a flat, impatient look, "If you know the answer, Ronald, why don't you raise your hand?" This thrilled the nearby Slytherins and after that, the boys sat back and said nothing to her.
After class, in that window before dinner, Hermione set up Crookshanks' things in their dungeon chamber and brought him in and sat him on her lap to brush out his fur. When her husband appeared, he was visibly taken aback, but said nothing.
It was after dinner as Hermione left the Great Hall, her face turned down to count the stones, her mind a buzzing numbness, that she heard the sound of footsteps chasing after her. Ginny Weasley appeared, out of breath, and stopped her in her tracks. "Hermione, hey, are you alright?"
"Fine," she answered, shrugging her shoulders as she went around the other girl.
"Yeah? Except you don't look it. And anyway, last time I saw you, you were so excited! So... what happened?"
Hermione let out a short, frustrated laugh. How could she even begin to explain? She shook her head, trying again to go around her friend. "It doesn't matter, Gin."
"Sorry, but it definitely does matter."
Hermione met the other girl's bright blue eyes, intending to convey to her in some way just how definitely she could not tell her what was wrong. But to her dismay, at seeing the concern in the other girl's face, her mind shot back to how excited she'd been and it threw her present state into sharp contrast. A knot formed in her throat and she had to blink back sudden tears. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the emotion that had somehow been released from its cage, as tears escaped and ran away across her cheeks. She tried to smile, tried to say something, but her lip began to quiver and she had to turn away.
"Oh, 'Mione," the other girl whispered, "it's okay. You don't have to be so brave. Come on. Let's go up to the tower, alright?"
Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes at herself. But then she met the eyes of her friend, chewed her lip a moment and nodded. Wiping her tears on the cuffs of her jumper, she allowed Ginny to lead her to her old familiar home.
It felt so good to be back in Gryffindor tower, back in the girls' dormitory with all the fresh white sheets and crimson curtains. She caught a glimpse of her old room as they passed and saw that Parvati and Lavender had begun to use her bed as a sort of storage for their various make-up products. That started the tears all over again.
Ginny shut the two of them away in her own four poster bed and handed Hermione a tissue box. "Alright then," she said. "Let's hear it."
Hermione blotted her face, glancing around for something she could say.
"Come on, Hermione. What did he do to you?"
"No," she choked out. The word was wet and trembly. "No it's not like that. He just… was very… I mean… It's hard to explain."
"Did it hurt?"
"No! Oh, well, yes, but that's not… it wasn't like that." Her breath hitched on a sudden gasping sob. "He just… he… he wants to be… to keep it… just… business." On that word, more tears spilled forth. She knew they would stop if she just gave in to them, but she couldn't seem to let herself.
"What, so no foreplay?" Ginny teased, grinning anxiously in an obvious effort to make her smile.
Hermione shook her head. "And I get it, I really do. I'm… so young. He… likes to be alone. I mean... the man fo-forgot his own birthday, Gin. No one... gave him a present. He… he's constantly wo-working. What right do I have…"
"Oh no, no, Hermione. That's not fair. It was your first time! You're a human being. You deserve respect and consideration! That arsehole!"
"No! No, oh please, Gin. Don't... say anything. I'll... be alright."
Ginny huffed, sitting back and studying her friend. "Alright, well, maybe the next time won't be so bad?"
Hermione's face crumpled and she buried it in the tissues as more tears came.
"It's okay, Hermione. Just let go. Let it all out."
Finally, she did let go, relaxing with her face buried in the tissues. She sobbed for a moment then tried to speak up, her voice muffled. "I knew it would be… hard. But it's just… so… hard!"
"I know, Hermione. But hey, look! I've got an idea. Check this out." Ginny reached through the curtains and rummaged in the drawer of her bedside table for a minute before pulling out a folded magazine.
"Witch Weekly?" Hermione smirked, brushing at her swollen eyes.
"You laugh, but they've got some great advice. Look. This one's got an article called 'Ten Tips for Teasing the Distant Wizard.' That's perfect for you! See, 'Number One: sexy pajamas!'"
"Oh no, Gin, really. I couldn't!" But a grin had appeared on Hermione's face and Ginny continued, encouraged.
"'Number Two: closing the space between you.' Ha! It reads: 'If your man is being distant, close that space! Different people have different personal space bubbles. Next time you're standing next to him, step a little closer! Trust me, he's going to notice, and this trick is bound to turn him on!'"
"What? Just by standing closer to him?" Hermione laughed.
"There's a whole list. Oh, look! I've got one of those subscription cards. Hermione, you should really subscribe. Even if it doesn't help, it's bound to be loads of fun, don't you think?" She ripped the little card out of the middle of the magazine and handed it to her friend.
They spent a while pouring over the "Ten Tips," and laughing at the thought of her doing them to Professor Snape. Most of them were absurd, of course (#6 lounge around in your undergarments and #9 spray a bit of your perfume on his pillow), but some of them sounded like something she might actually try, if for no other reason than to push her boundaries with the impossible man and test her limits in that regard.
Eventually, the laughter subsided. Hermione felt like a burden had been taken off of her. It left her drained and rather sleepy. "Thanks, Gin," she murmured, giving the other girl a little smile. "I do feel better."
When Hermione eventually left Gryffindor tower, she headed straight for the Owlery to send off her request for a subscription. If nothing else, it would be worth it to see the look on her husband's face.
The man in question was sitting up in bed, reading a book, when she arrived. It caught her off guard. Something about the picture didn't quite seem to suit his character. He was wearing his old black trousers and white linen shirt, again, buttoned all the way up to his neck. No wonder he looked so stiff and uncomfortable. She remembered #2 on the list and stepped over to the side of the bed, putting her hands on her hips.
"Didn't you like the other trousers?" she asked.
He glanced up at her in confusion, immediately on his guard.
Hermione took note of this, supposing that perhaps she was feeling a bit bolder than usual. The Slytherin spy was bound to pick up on that. She cleared her throat, unable to keep a little smirk from twisting her lips. "The red and gold ones, I mean."
He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Those are yours."
"Well, yes, but I've got so many and I've already Charmed them to your size. Besides, they've got to be more comfortable than these." She plucked at the fabric of his stiff black trousers (#4 little touches). The gesture made both of them freeze. "Er, well anyway, I'm not going to wear them, so you might as well." He only watched her with confused, suspicious eyes. "Right then," she said, turning away from him and heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Ugh, come on Hermione. Don't be such a twit.
When she emerged, he was closing his book and setting it down on the bedside table. There was a bit of an awkward moment when she tried to climb over his feet, but he pulled them back for her, making to get under the covers.
When she was settled, he glanced toward her, seeming to consider something, and Hermione had the distinct impression that he had something he wanted to say. But then he turned away, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table for his nightly vial of Dreamless Sleep.
"Goodnight," she whispered, wanting, more than anything, to mend their… relationship, whatever it was. Wanting things to be good between them. As best they could be.
"Goodnight, Granger," he replied, downing his potion and stretching out on his back. Soon, he was fast asleep.
Hermione watched his tired visage for a long moment, wondering what she was going to do about him. Severus Snape, the man who forgot his own birthday. She wasn't even angry with him about Saturday anymore. But things were going to be different, she vowed. Ginny was right. She deserved more than what he had offered her so far. And she was determined to fix that.
But more than that. Neither of them had wanted any of this, but maybe… maybe it didn't have to be a bad thing. Maybe… it could even be a good thing. For the first time, she considered the effect she could have on this man's life. One way or another. And she vowed that she would make a difference. For the good.
…*~*J*~*...
I hope you'll continue to Read and Review!
:} llorolalluvia