Hermione slid back into consciousness and found herself lying in a
comfortable bed, covered warmly by a heavy duvet and still wearing her
clothes. Without opening her eyes, she took several shallow breaths as she
tried to decide what to do. As it was clear that she was in no immediate
danger she had no difficulty in remaining calm, and the hazy light on the
other side of her eyelids at least suggested that it was still night, and
not much time had passed since Snape had knocked her out.
A dart of fierce anger shot through her as she remembered what he had done to her, followed by another, and then another. She remembered his assurances that he could not force her to do anything against her will and was suddenly furious. Snapping her eyes open, she sat up and scanned the room for the nearest exit. It was then that her eyes fell upon the sleeping figure in the wing back chair next to the bed where she lay.
Sleep gave a shockingly vulnerable air to Severus Snape, and Hermione stared at him openly in surprise. His head had fallen back a little in the chair, and his mouth was slightly open, but his whole face was exposed and open beneath her stare. This close, Hermione could see the little shadows his spiky eyelashes left upon his cheeks, and despite what he had done to her, her heart gave a sudden little tug which was quickly replaced with a resurgence of her fury. A book was open face down across his knees and she leaned over cautiously to see what it was. 'Jane Eyre'. Interesting.
Snape gave a sudden little twitch in his sleep which sent the precariously balanced book crashing to the floor, and instantly he was awake, fathomless eyes looking down at her curiously. Hermione would have made the effort to climb out of the bed had his expression not rooted her to the spot. Gathering handfuls of the bed linen, she balled her hands into fists and waited him out. He had apparently decided upon the same course of action because the silence between them deepened and held until she tore her gaze away from his to look down at her lap.
"Why?" One word fell from her lips, and she winced at the hoarseness in her voice. Snape sighed.
"It was . . . necessary," he said quietly. It was Hermione's turn to look up and his to look down.
"But why?"
"You were in danger." He gave a little shrug and she realized that he had discarded his muggle clothing for the severe black robes she remembered of old.
"Am I at Hogwarts?" She said quickly, looking around the room again. It was not familiar to her.
"No."
"NO?" Hermione felt as though she was going to explode. She made an incomprehensible noise of fury and Snape looked a little taken aback.
"You are safe," he said evenly. "But I could not take you back to Hogwarts."
"WHY NOT?"
"Because you are not yet ready to return there."
Another silence, punctuated only by Hermione breathing raggedly through her mouth.
"If I had thought that you would accompany me willingly I would not have subdued you." Snape's face was drawn tight across his cheekbones, and by turns he looked angry and ashamed. "I am sorry."
"I want to go home." She hugged herself defensively. Snape looked at her with pity in his eyes.
"You cannot."
"Then take me to Hogwarts. I want to see Dumbledore."
"No."
"Am I your hostage?"
"No."
"Then I will take myself to Hogwarts."
"You will not!"
Hermione smacked small hands violently into the bed either side of her.
"Where are we?" She demanded.
He hesitated, and breathed deeply for a moment.
"My . . . home." He said carefully, and Hermione's mind reeled. Nothing of the small room suggested to her that she was in the home of a family of Dark Wizards. Reminded of Grimmauld Place, a tiny smile lifted one corner of her lips before she shook her head to clear the memories.
"How can this be safe?" With her mind now fully alert once more, she was afraid.
"This is not my family home," Snape explained. "Only Dumbledore knows that it exists. You are quite safe."
"That," Hermione lifted angry eyes to his, "was what I used to think about my home. How can the same not be true for you?"
"The Death Eaters think that I am dead. They are not looking for me." Another tiny morsel of information was fed to her, and she sighed her frustration.
"I still don't understand why they are looking for me!" Throwing the duvet off her legs, she struggled to her feet. Snape looked at her warily as she looked anxiously around.
"Where is my wand?" She asked.
"The wand you were so determined not to use just hours ago, Hermione?" His voice was sharp. "That wand?"
"If you like," she said defiantly. "But as I am presumably back within the wizarding world it would be a good idea to at least carry it."
"Have it your way," he sighed. "It's over there, on the mantelpiece."
"Thank you." She crossed the room and scooped up her wand, cradling it absently in her palms. In the chair, Snape steepled his fingers, and she went back to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at him expectantly. He pursed his lips, and Hermione's gaze was instantly drawn there. With a flash of humiliation, she remembered the kiss that they had shared and her cheeks were instantly flooded with crimson.
"You kissed me!" She gasped. He gave her a small smile, and inclined his head.
"I was wondering when you were going to remember that," he said softly.
"You . . . I . . . Oh no," she shook her head vigorously. Snape seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in her discomfort.
"And for that, Hermione, I refuse to apologize."
Hermione closed her eyes briefly. An image of herself eagerly returning his kiss danced before her closed eyelids. She opened them again, wincing.
"You can't have kissed many women then," she told him bitterly. He laughed.
"On the contrary," his eyes were dancing. "But you were very sweet."
Leaning over, his face was suddenly very close to hers.
"You're . . . not going to do it again, are you?" Hermione asked him nervously.
"Maybe," he whispered. Hermione found that she couldn't seem to move as he closed the gap between them inch by inch. She didn't move a muscle as he pressed his mouth against hers. "Maybe not." He spoke the words against her lips, ensuring that she could feel as well as hear them and sent a shiver right down her spine. She had lifted her hands with the intention of using them to push him away when they suddenly came to rest on either side of his face. He must have caught her astonished impression because she felt his smile. She felt a hand brush her hair, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Hermione to close her eyes and lean into him.
He kissed her deeply this time, but at a leisurely pace that had been missing before. Clever hands traced her curves whilst his tongue traced her bottom lip, Hermione slid her hands around to the soft hair at he back of his neck, trembling against him as he pressed her gently back into the pillows at the top of the bed.
Lying alongside her, Snape put his arms around her and pulled her close so that their bodies were touching from chest to knee and Hermione was reminded of the incident in the alleyway earlier that day. Pressed right up against him like this, she felt as safe as it was possible to feel, and welcomed the sensation. He continued to kiss her with gentle passion, and she kissed him back without hesitation. Long minutes ebbed away, and Hermione felt herself becoming lost in him and in the feelings he evoked within her. She should have found the situation to be absurd, yet somehow it made perfect sense to her. The schoolgirl Hermione would have been disgusted with such behavior, but the adult Hermione felt very different. She welcomed this new intimacy, and found herself looking up at Snape with surprised eyes when he abruptly broke the kiss.
"I am quite happy to continue kissing you all night, Hermione," he whispered. "But we have a visitor . . . look."
He directed her gaze over to the formerly merrily burning fire in the grate, and what she saw made her gasp out loud. Seven years away had made her forgotten about this.
The head of Albus Dumbledore was sitting patiently in the now green flames, waiting for them to realize that he was there. His benign impression gave no suggestion that he was surprised at what they were doing, and instead he smiled the grandfatherly smile that Hermione remembered so well. Somewhere, in the distance, a clock struck twelve. Dumbledore was nodding contentedly.
"Severus. Hermione, it is wonderful to see you again!" He said happily, and then the tone of his voice and his facial expression suddenly changed. "Merry Christmas to you both. Now, please tell me exactly what is going on. Hermione was supposed to be delivered to Hogwarts hours ago"
Snape and Hermione stared at each other.
It seemed that they both had a lot of explaining to do.
TBC . . .
A dart of fierce anger shot through her as she remembered what he had done to her, followed by another, and then another. She remembered his assurances that he could not force her to do anything against her will and was suddenly furious. Snapping her eyes open, she sat up and scanned the room for the nearest exit. It was then that her eyes fell upon the sleeping figure in the wing back chair next to the bed where she lay.
Sleep gave a shockingly vulnerable air to Severus Snape, and Hermione stared at him openly in surprise. His head had fallen back a little in the chair, and his mouth was slightly open, but his whole face was exposed and open beneath her stare. This close, Hermione could see the little shadows his spiky eyelashes left upon his cheeks, and despite what he had done to her, her heart gave a sudden little tug which was quickly replaced with a resurgence of her fury. A book was open face down across his knees and she leaned over cautiously to see what it was. 'Jane Eyre'. Interesting.
Snape gave a sudden little twitch in his sleep which sent the precariously balanced book crashing to the floor, and instantly he was awake, fathomless eyes looking down at her curiously. Hermione would have made the effort to climb out of the bed had his expression not rooted her to the spot. Gathering handfuls of the bed linen, she balled her hands into fists and waited him out. He had apparently decided upon the same course of action because the silence between them deepened and held until she tore her gaze away from his to look down at her lap.
"Why?" One word fell from her lips, and she winced at the hoarseness in her voice. Snape sighed.
"It was . . . necessary," he said quietly. It was Hermione's turn to look up and his to look down.
"But why?"
"You were in danger." He gave a little shrug and she realized that he had discarded his muggle clothing for the severe black robes she remembered of old.
"Am I at Hogwarts?" She said quickly, looking around the room again. It was not familiar to her.
"No."
"NO?" Hermione felt as though she was going to explode. She made an incomprehensible noise of fury and Snape looked a little taken aback.
"You are safe," he said evenly. "But I could not take you back to Hogwarts."
"WHY NOT?"
"Because you are not yet ready to return there."
Another silence, punctuated only by Hermione breathing raggedly through her mouth.
"If I had thought that you would accompany me willingly I would not have subdued you." Snape's face was drawn tight across his cheekbones, and by turns he looked angry and ashamed. "I am sorry."
"I want to go home." She hugged herself defensively. Snape looked at her with pity in his eyes.
"You cannot."
"Then take me to Hogwarts. I want to see Dumbledore."
"No."
"Am I your hostage?"
"No."
"Then I will take myself to Hogwarts."
"You will not!"
Hermione smacked small hands violently into the bed either side of her.
"Where are we?" She demanded.
He hesitated, and breathed deeply for a moment.
"My . . . home." He said carefully, and Hermione's mind reeled. Nothing of the small room suggested to her that she was in the home of a family of Dark Wizards. Reminded of Grimmauld Place, a tiny smile lifted one corner of her lips before she shook her head to clear the memories.
"How can this be safe?" With her mind now fully alert once more, she was afraid.
"This is not my family home," Snape explained. "Only Dumbledore knows that it exists. You are quite safe."
"That," Hermione lifted angry eyes to his, "was what I used to think about my home. How can the same not be true for you?"
"The Death Eaters think that I am dead. They are not looking for me." Another tiny morsel of information was fed to her, and she sighed her frustration.
"I still don't understand why they are looking for me!" Throwing the duvet off her legs, she struggled to her feet. Snape looked at her warily as she looked anxiously around.
"Where is my wand?" She asked.
"The wand you were so determined not to use just hours ago, Hermione?" His voice was sharp. "That wand?"
"If you like," she said defiantly. "But as I am presumably back within the wizarding world it would be a good idea to at least carry it."
"Have it your way," he sighed. "It's over there, on the mantelpiece."
"Thank you." She crossed the room and scooped up her wand, cradling it absently in her palms. In the chair, Snape steepled his fingers, and she went back to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at him expectantly. He pursed his lips, and Hermione's gaze was instantly drawn there. With a flash of humiliation, she remembered the kiss that they had shared and her cheeks were instantly flooded with crimson.
"You kissed me!" She gasped. He gave her a small smile, and inclined his head.
"I was wondering when you were going to remember that," he said softly.
"You . . . I . . . Oh no," she shook her head vigorously. Snape seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in her discomfort.
"And for that, Hermione, I refuse to apologize."
Hermione closed her eyes briefly. An image of herself eagerly returning his kiss danced before her closed eyelids. She opened them again, wincing.
"You can't have kissed many women then," she told him bitterly. He laughed.
"On the contrary," his eyes were dancing. "But you were very sweet."
Leaning over, his face was suddenly very close to hers.
"You're . . . not going to do it again, are you?" Hermione asked him nervously.
"Maybe," he whispered. Hermione found that she couldn't seem to move as he closed the gap between them inch by inch. She didn't move a muscle as he pressed his mouth against hers. "Maybe not." He spoke the words against her lips, ensuring that she could feel as well as hear them and sent a shiver right down her spine. She had lifted her hands with the intention of using them to push him away when they suddenly came to rest on either side of his face. He must have caught her astonished impression because she felt his smile. She felt a hand brush her hair, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Hermione to close her eyes and lean into him.
He kissed her deeply this time, but at a leisurely pace that had been missing before. Clever hands traced her curves whilst his tongue traced her bottom lip, Hermione slid her hands around to the soft hair at he back of his neck, trembling against him as he pressed her gently back into the pillows at the top of the bed.
Lying alongside her, Snape put his arms around her and pulled her close so that their bodies were touching from chest to knee and Hermione was reminded of the incident in the alleyway earlier that day. Pressed right up against him like this, she felt as safe as it was possible to feel, and welcomed the sensation. He continued to kiss her with gentle passion, and she kissed him back without hesitation. Long minutes ebbed away, and Hermione felt herself becoming lost in him and in the feelings he evoked within her. She should have found the situation to be absurd, yet somehow it made perfect sense to her. The schoolgirl Hermione would have been disgusted with such behavior, but the adult Hermione felt very different. She welcomed this new intimacy, and found herself looking up at Snape with surprised eyes when he abruptly broke the kiss.
"I am quite happy to continue kissing you all night, Hermione," he whispered. "But we have a visitor . . . look."
He directed her gaze over to the formerly merrily burning fire in the grate, and what she saw made her gasp out loud. Seven years away had made her forgotten about this.
The head of Albus Dumbledore was sitting patiently in the now green flames, waiting for them to realize that he was there. His benign impression gave no suggestion that he was surprised at what they were doing, and instead he smiled the grandfatherly smile that Hermione remembered so well. Somewhere, in the distance, a clock struck twelve. Dumbledore was nodding contentedly.
"Severus. Hermione, it is wonderful to see you again!" He said happily, and then the tone of his voice and his facial expression suddenly changed. "Merry Christmas to you both. Now, please tell me exactly what is going on. Hermione was supposed to be delivered to Hogwarts hours ago"
Snape and Hermione stared at each other.
It seemed that they both had a lot of explaining to do.
TBC . . .