Chpt28: A Fickle Flower.
~*~*~*~
"He want to be with everything under the sun;
She wants to burn hot like that sun.
And like a Legend that rises and falls, I cannot be his only one.
And like a fickle flower when it first sees the light,
I cannot show just how I fight.
I know you want to drink from the purest wine
but the drink is far more sour than you would ever think."
~*~*~*~
The music was beautiful, the bird's voice soaring through the air, weaving intricate harmonies as it raised its gloriously dark head. The table at its feet was ornately adorned with plain silver dishes and cutlery than somehow seemed to shine more than the plates at any King's table ever could. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, listening calmly, letting her mind paint the colours that Wystetia's voice defined.
Suddenly, her eyes opened. "Stop! Be quiet!" The bird ignored her words, and swiftly flew away as she stepped toward it, never faltering in its song.
"Severus?! Severus, are you here?" she called, moving towards the circular library that branched out from the main room.
It was empty, and still there was no reply. "Severus? Where are you?!"
She was afraid for him - how long had he been in here, would Wystetia's song have affected him already? As she headed to one of the other doors, it opened, and Severus stepped out. His skin was pale, paler than usual, she thought, and he looked so tired.
"Heather, you're here. Forgive me, I had. I had a few things to do and didn't hear you come in." He looked up, towards the bookshelf by the fireplace. "Wystetia," he called, "enough."
Immediately, the singing stopped, and without the melody, the room seemed to darken considerably.
"Doesn't her voice affect you?" she asked incredulously, her eyes registering his eyes, his face, his posture. This was not the Severus Snape that she had become so used to, he had the appearance of someone that had only recently suffered great toil, and his proud shoulders slumped defensively as he went across to the table.
"I had hoped to welcome you in." He shrugged and offered her some wine. "Wystetia is very special. She knows what her voice can do to us - to me, and is silent, but I am not so cruel as to bind her to silence until her life and her nature have withered away into nothingness. She knows when to sing." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I must go to my classroom for a moment, Heather - I do not wish to leave you here alone, and yet, if you would wait, I would be very honoured."
Hermione smiled, he would always be the gallant gentleman. "I wouldn't leave you for the world!" she said, and placed a light kiss on his lips. "Don't worry about me, I'll be okay."
He nodded and slipped out of the third door, one that stood on the wall beside the fireplace.
As he left, Wystetia ruffled her feathers and cooed softly, and when the room was empty, she turned to regard Hermione, her great blue-black eyes staring at her from across the room.
After a while, she ruffled her feathers again and flew down onto the floor, proceeding to hop over to where Hermione sat and gaze up at her again.
"What do you want?" The Fwooper, a bird as she was, was very much like her human owner, and Hermione felt bare beneath its vigil. It cocked its head and cooed again, and Hermione reached down to touch its head. It cooed again and flew up onto her knee.
"Oh, you like me now, is that it?" she laughed, stroking the shimmering feathers. "Well, you know what, I'm glad because I like you too, precious. Ooh, you're lovely aren't you!"
~*~*~*~
This is how Severus found them, twenty minutes later, when he walked back into the room looking much refreshed. "I see that you have been getting to know each other," he commented, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
"Indeed we have, and I think that we're going to be the best of friends, don't you, precious?" Looking away from the bird, she watched Snape's swift graceful stride and quickly dismissed any doubts that she had had before. "All was well, I presume?"
He nodded, waving his wand dramatically to fill the huge platters with enough food to have fed at least seven people. "Are you expecting company?!" she exclaimed, even though the table was set for two.
He smiled. "No. Tonight, I want you to eat and drink to your heart's content, and then, I want you to dance with me."
"You dance, Professor?" she feigned an innocent sort of shock.
"Quite well."
She laughed, "And here I was, about to applaud your modesty at keeping such a talent hidden from the world!"
"Why be modest when one can be direct?" He pulled a chair out for her, saying softly, "join me."
He didn't let her leave the table until he was certain that she could eat no more, and then, he swept her up onto her feet and asked, "does m'lady prefer Classical, Baroque, or Romantic?"
"Oh, what a question, Severus! How could I possibly choose between them? You choose, I'll dance to anything as long as it's with you."
He laughed but was adamant that she choose, "Well, on one hand you have Vivaldi, Bach, Albinoni,"
"Handel," she offered helpfully.
"And Handel; then there's Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven; not forgetting the Romantic composers like Schubert and Chopin." He gestured expressively at their names, emphasising their greatness, and waited eagerly for her to make a choice.
"I love music, Severus, and if you chose to dance to the latest WarlockBoys single I would gladly dance with you all night and develop a permanent urge to get up and jive every time someone so much as mentioned "Sugarquill Charmer" within my hearing range.
"Very well," he replied, and Hermione melted into his smile, forgetting to even notice what music he had chosen and choosing instead to rest her head against him and sway to the nameless melody. She could feel his even, regular breath beneath her cheek, feel the gentle stroke of his thighs against hers as he led the dance. Every inch of Snape seemed to be touching some part of her as they moved, igniting an almost tangible spark of heat in her belly. A spark that spread and filled every nerve in her body until she could think of nothing but the man that was carefully weaving her hair around his fingers, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head.
He held her secure, pinned against his tall, all-male form, every slow, purposeful brush of his body against hers scalding her senses inducing her to burn with the kind of need that only making love could assuage.
The thought frightened her; she had never wanted anyone that much and somehow the fear that he inspired in her also gave comfort and encouragement.
Snape's kiss on her forehead brought her back from her reverie, and she realised that they had stopped moving.
"Okay?" he asked, with the slightest hint of curiosity. His eyes shone in the firelight, his features calm, relaxed, his arms still flush about her.
Her heart grew with the emotions that filled her, and she smiled, replying, "Perfect," and provided him with a soft kiss of reassurance. She felt breathless. Nothing in the world could possibly matter more than this Man standing before her.
Looking into his eyes, she said, "I want to tell you some thing."
~*~*~*~
His expression seemed to stick for a moment, somewhere between surprise, doubt, and the unexpected hint of fondness that often lingered in his gaze. He closed his eyes and took a long, pained breath. "Heather, I don't think- "
She placed her fingers over his lips to silence him. "No," she answered, "I- I think. I want you to know. I want you to. to understand. You don't have to say anything, just believe. That's all I - just believe."
Her hand slid down to the material over his chest, and she clung to it, taking a deep ragged breath.
Uncertainty filled her. Was it too soon? How would her react to her declaration? Would her words change everything that had grown between them? Sweeping the doubts aside, she looked into his eyes and spoke the words.
"I'm in love with you Severus Snape." Each word was like a dagger plunging into her heart, tearing the truth from her very being. "Somehow, in our time together, I found myself falling for you. Falling hard."
Snape opened his mouth to speak, incredulity brimming in his eyes, but Hermione quickly silenced him. "No, don't say anything." The last thing that she wanted was to make him feel obliged to make a similar proclamation. If he ever said. if it ever happened, it would not be because she had cornered him into a sense of duty, or because he felt pity for her foolishness.
Even now, as she saw the shock in his expression, she felt a part of her melt away, feeling stupid for having made such a confession.
Wanting to erase the moment from their current thoughts, she asked, in a voice that masterfully tried to conceal her inner humiliation, "Please, just kiss me?"
~*~*~*~
Snape didn't move, her words still ringing in his ears even as her request was registered by his mind. It couldn't be true. He had imagined it, only a hallucination would echo through his consciousness as though each word was being spoken a million times.
Eager to find something that could be rationalised, he leaned down and slanted careful kisses over her mouth, his lips barely brushing hers as her eyes fluttered shut. He was left to regard this wondrous beauty through still-wide eyes, and to marvel as she let out a soft whimper to rebuke the teasing caresses.
I'm in love with you, Severus Snape.
He kissed her more forcefully, teasing her mouth open with swift strokes of his tongue a little piece of his very own personal Utopia.
Hermione moaned and clung to him, // Don't let me go! // she thought, // Don't let me fall! //
She could feel the tension that had been building within her coil and burn into a steady fire that branded her as Severus Snape's with every fibre of her being. She arched into him, and he groaned, his voice deep and rumbling, his burgeoning erection hot between them.
Hermione could sense her fear growing into a furious desperation to capture the moment, to take what he was willing to give her and to store the memory of it for all eternity. Tugging him through the doorway, she backed down onto the edge of the bed and stared up at the tower of darkness that stood tall above her, the moon shining behind him as his eyes glittered with intent.
Those eyes, she felt, those eyes truly were the doors to the real Severus Snape. The toil of countless years had taught him to mask his true thoughts through his face and body, but she felt as though even if he tried to lie to her, his eyes would show the truth. Would show her who he was. Death Eater. Traitor. Professor. Lover. Man.
Blazing with an inner fire, he stared down at her for a moment, watching as the silver moonlight cast shadows over her features. "What are you thinking?" she asked, feeling suddenly courageous.
He leant over her and left a trail of electricity as he slid his hands over the bare skin of her shoulders and whispered, "I'm thinking how beautiful you look. I'm thinking. how beautiful you'll look when I've removed your dress."
She closed her eyes at that lusty thought but could not shut out the shiver of anticipation that poured down her spine.
I'm in love with you.
The words still echoed in his mind as he undid the delicate clasps of her dress, pausing to shrug off his cloak and the waistcoat that he had worn as part of his disguise in the hall. With a spark of amusement, he noted his partner's apparent horror at the hundreds of tiny white buttons that would need to be undone. He was not surprised, however, to see her expression become one of steely determination as she tugged the shirt out from his trousers and set about the task of undoing them.
Hermione did not allow herself to be set back by what seemed to be millions of buttons, and made to undo each one in turn. She had only managed three before the urgency of her arousal that caused her to fumble with the tiny fastenings forced her to accept that it was an impossible task.
"Dishabillious," Snape murmured the simple word that was a blessing to her eager hands, leaving him bare to her eyes. He chuckled at her squeal of relief, and kissed her thoroughly whilst discarding he garments to the forgotten pile on the floor.
"Green is most definitely your colour," he whispered, noting the delicacy of her paleness against the dark sheets, remembering how she had shone like a queen in the green dress robes. He angled his head down to Hermione's soft mouth with a devastatingly direct hunger that shot down to her toes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the strange mixture of body heat and cool cloth beneath her own excited skin as she melted into Severus' arms, lost in her love for him.
~*~*~*~
She didn't sleep until past midnight. She had spent the time watching the angular planes of his face as they were highlighted, then cast into shadow by the luminous beams of moonlight. She could feel Snape's slow, even breath as she held him close; his features were totally relaxed, his lips curling upwards slightly at the corners.
She'd told him that she loved him, and he hadn't turned her away. He hadn't laughed or scorned her. If she watched him carefully enough, she could almost convince herself that he might care for her a little too. Just a little. Probably just enough not to embarrass her when she was as vulnerable as the declaration had made her.
For now, however, she didn't want to think about what had and had not been said, and sighing contentedly, Hermione rested her head on his chest and finally fell into a deep slumber.
~*~*~*~
"He want to be with everything under the sun;
She wants to burn hot like that sun.
And like a Legend that rises and falls, I cannot be his only one.
And like a fickle flower when it first sees the light,
I cannot show just how I fight.
I know you want to drink from the purest wine
but the drink is far more sour than you would ever think."
~*~*~*~
The music was beautiful, the bird's voice soaring through the air, weaving intricate harmonies as it raised its gloriously dark head. The table at its feet was ornately adorned with plain silver dishes and cutlery than somehow seemed to shine more than the plates at any King's table ever could. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, listening calmly, letting her mind paint the colours that Wystetia's voice defined.
Suddenly, her eyes opened. "Stop! Be quiet!" The bird ignored her words, and swiftly flew away as she stepped toward it, never faltering in its song.
"Severus?! Severus, are you here?" she called, moving towards the circular library that branched out from the main room.
It was empty, and still there was no reply. "Severus? Where are you?!"
She was afraid for him - how long had he been in here, would Wystetia's song have affected him already? As she headed to one of the other doors, it opened, and Severus stepped out. His skin was pale, paler than usual, she thought, and he looked so tired.
"Heather, you're here. Forgive me, I had. I had a few things to do and didn't hear you come in." He looked up, towards the bookshelf by the fireplace. "Wystetia," he called, "enough."
Immediately, the singing stopped, and without the melody, the room seemed to darken considerably.
"Doesn't her voice affect you?" she asked incredulously, her eyes registering his eyes, his face, his posture. This was not the Severus Snape that she had become so used to, he had the appearance of someone that had only recently suffered great toil, and his proud shoulders slumped defensively as he went across to the table.
"I had hoped to welcome you in." He shrugged and offered her some wine. "Wystetia is very special. She knows what her voice can do to us - to me, and is silent, but I am not so cruel as to bind her to silence until her life and her nature have withered away into nothingness. She knows when to sing." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I must go to my classroom for a moment, Heather - I do not wish to leave you here alone, and yet, if you would wait, I would be very honoured."
Hermione smiled, he would always be the gallant gentleman. "I wouldn't leave you for the world!" she said, and placed a light kiss on his lips. "Don't worry about me, I'll be okay."
He nodded and slipped out of the third door, one that stood on the wall beside the fireplace.
As he left, Wystetia ruffled her feathers and cooed softly, and when the room was empty, she turned to regard Hermione, her great blue-black eyes staring at her from across the room.
After a while, she ruffled her feathers again and flew down onto the floor, proceeding to hop over to where Hermione sat and gaze up at her again.
"What do you want?" The Fwooper, a bird as she was, was very much like her human owner, and Hermione felt bare beneath its vigil. It cocked its head and cooed again, and Hermione reached down to touch its head. It cooed again and flew up onto her knee.
"Oh, you like me now, is that it?" she laughed, stroking the shimmering feathers. "Well, you know what, I'm glad because I like you too, precious. Ooh, you're lovely aren't you!"
~*~*~*~
This is how Severus found them, twenty minutes later, when he walked back into the room looking much refreshed. "I see that you have been getting to know each other," he commented, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
"Indeed we have, and I think that we're going to be the best of friends, don't you, precious?" Looking away from the bird, she watched Snape's swift graceful stride and quickly dismissed any doubts that she had had before. "All was well, I presume?"
He nodded, waving his wand dramatically to fill the huge platters with enough food to have fed at least seven people. "Are you expecting company?!" she exclaimed, even though the table was set for two.
He smiled. "No. Tonight, I want you to eat and drink to your heart's content, and then, I want you to dance with me."
"You dance, Professor?" she feigned an innocent sort of shock.
"Quite well."
She laughed, "And here I was, about to applaud your modesty at keeping such a talent hidden from the world!"
"Why be modest when one can be direct?" He pulled a chair out for her, saying softly, "join me."
He didn't let her leave the table until he was certain that she could eat no more, and then, he swept her up onto her feet and asked, "does m'lady prefer Classical, Baroque, or Romantic?"
"Oh, what a question, Severus! How could I possibly choose between them? You choose, I'll dance to anything as long as it's with you."
He laughed but was adamant that she choose, "Well, on one hand you have Vivaldi, Bach, Albinoni,"
"Handel," she offered helpfully.
"And Handel; then there's Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven; not forgetting the Romantic composers like Schubert and Chopin." He gestured expressively at their names, emphasising their greatness, and waited eagerly for her to make a choice.
"I love music, Severus, and if you chose to dance to the latest WarlockBoys single I would gladly dance with you all night and develop a permanent urge to get up and jive every time someone so much as mentioned "Sugarquill Charmer" within my hearing range.
"Very well," he replied, and Hermione melted into his smile, forgetting to even notice what music he had chosen and choosing instead to rest her head against him and sway to the nameless melody. She could feel his even, regular breath beneath her cheek, feel the gentle stroke of his thighs against hers as he led the dance. Every inch of Snape seemed to be touching some part of her as they moved, igniting an almost tangible spark of heat in her belly. A spark that spread and filled every nerve in her body until she could think of nothing but the man that was carefully weaving her hair around his fingers, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head.
He held her secure, pinned against his tall, all-male form, every slow, purposeful brush of his body against hers scalding her senses inducing her to burn with the kind of need that only making love could assuage.
The thought frightened her; she had never wanted anyone that much and somehow the fear that he inspired in her also gave comfort and encouragement.
Snape's kiss on her forehead brought her back from her reverie, and she realised that they had stopped moving.
"Okay?" he asked, with the slightest hint of curiosity. His eyes shone in the firelight, his features calm, relaxed, his arms still flush about her.
Her heart grew with the emotions that filled her, and she smiled, replying, "Perfect," and provided him with a soft kiss of reassurance. She felt breathless. Nothing in the world could possibly matter more than this Man standing before her.
Looking into his eyes, she said, "I want to tell you some thing."
~*~*~*~
His expression seemed to stick for a moment, somewhere between surprise, doubt, and the unexpected hint of fondness that often lingered in his gaze. He closed his eyes and took a long, pained breath. "Heather, I don't think- "
She placed her fingers over his lips to silence him. "No," she answered, "I- I think. I want you to know. I want you to. to understand. You don't have to say anything, just believe. That's all I - just believe."
Her hand slid down to the material over his chest, and she clung to it, taking a deep ragged breath.
Uncertainty filled her. Was it too soon? How would her react to her declaration? Would her words change everything that had grown between them? Sweeping the doubts aside, she looked into his eyes and spoke the words.
"I'm in love with you Severus Snape." Each word was like a dagger plunging into her heart, tearing the truth from her very being. "Somehow, in our time together, I found myself falling for you. Falling hard."
Snape opened his mouth to speak, incredulity brimming in his eyes, but Hermione quickly silenced him. "No, don't say anything." The last thing that she wanted was to make him feel obliged to make a similar proclamation. If he ever said. if it ever happened, it would not be because she had cornered him into a sense of duty, or because he felt pity for her foolishness.
Even now, as she saw the shock in his expression, she felt a part of her melt away, feeling stupid for having made such a confession.
Wanting to erase the moment from their current thoughts, she asked, in a voice that masterfully tried to conceal her inner humiliation, "Please, just kiss me?"
~*~*~*~
Snape didn't move, her words still ringing in his ears even as her request was registered by his mind. It couldn't be true. He had imagined it, only a hallucination would echo through his consciousness as though each word was being spoken a million times.
Eager to find something that could be rationalised, he leaned down and slanted careful kisses over her mouth, his lips barely brushing hers as her eyes fluttered shut. He was left to regard this wondrous beauty through still-wide eyes, and to marvel as she let out a soft whimper to rebuke the teasing caresses.
I'm in love with you, Severus Snape.
He kissed her more forcefully, teasing her mouth open with swift strokes of his tongue a little piece of his very own personal Utopia.
Hermione moaned and clung to him, // Don't let me go! // she thought, // Don't let me fall! //
She could feel the tension that had been building within her coil and burn into a steady fire that branded her as Severus Snape's with every fibre of her being. She arched into him, and he groaned, his voice deep and rumbling, his burgeoning erection hot between them.
Hermione could sense her fear growing into a furious desperation to capture the moment, to take what he was willing to give her and to store the memory of it for all eternity. Tugging him through the doorway, she backed down onto the edge of the bed and stared up at the tower of darkness that stood tall above her, the moon shining behind him as his eyes glittered with intent.
Those eyes, she felt, those eyes truly were the doors to the real Severus Snape. The toil of countless years had taught him to mask his true thoughts through his face and body, but she felt as though even if he tried to lie to her, his eyes would show the truth. Would show her who he was. Death Eater. Traitor. Professor. Lover. Man.
Blazing with an inner fire, he stared down at her for a moment, watching as the silver moonlight cast shadows over her features. "What are you thinking?" she asked, feeling suddenly courageous.
He leant over her and left a trail of electricity as he slid his hands over the bare skin of her shoulders and whispered, "I'm thinking how beautiful you look. I'm thinking. how beautiful you'll look when I've removed your dress."
She closed her eyes at that lusty thought but could not shut out the shiver of anticipation that poured down her spine.
I'm in love with you.
The words still echoed in his mind as he undid the delicate clasps of her dress, pausing to shrug off his cloak and the waistcoat that he had worn as part of his disguise in the hall. With a spark of amusement, he noted his partner's apparent horror at the hundreds of tiny white buttons that would need to be undone. He was not surprised, however, to see her expression become one of steely determination as she tugged the shirt out from his trousers and set about the task of undoing them.
Hermione did not allow herself to be set back by what seemed to be millions of buttons, and made to undo each one in turn. She had only managed three before the urgency of her arousal that caused her to fumble with the tiny fastenings forced her to accept that it was an impossible task.
"Dishabillious," Snape murmured the simple word that was a blessing to her eager hands, leaving him bare to her eyes. He chuckled at her squeal of relief, and kissed her thoroughly whilst discarding he garments to the forgotten pile on the floor.
"Green is most definitely your colour," he whispered, noting the delicacy of her paleness against the dark sheets, remembering how she had shone like a queen in the green dress robes. He angled his head down to Hermione's soft mouth with a devastatingly direct hunger that shot down to her toes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the strange mixture of body heat and cool cloth beneath her own excited skin as she melted into Severus' arms, lost in her love for him.
~*~*~*~
She didn't sleep until past midnight. She had spent the time watching the angular planes of his face as they were highlighted, then cast into shadow by the luminous beams of moonlight. She could feel Snape's slow, even breath as she held him close; his features were totally relaxed, his lips curling upwards slightly at the corners.
She'd told him that she loved him, and he hadn't turned her away. He hadn't laughed or scorned her. If she watched him carefully enough, she could almost convince herself that he might care for her a little too. Just a little. Probably just enough not to embarrass her when she was as vulnerable as the declaration had made her.
For now, however, she didn't want to think about what had and had not been said, and sighing contentedly, Hermione rested her head on his chest and finally fell into a deep slumber.