Title: The Absinthe of Reason
Author: Mundungus42
Rating: R, though this chapter sits solidly in the PG-13 category. More fluff to come if I can justify it to my perfectionist muse.
Disclaimer: I have a pronounced fear of litigation and the brown dye they use on the bottoms of Twinkies to make it look like they were baked, so have no fear that I will claim ownership of anything Potter-related, attempt to profit from it, or serve Twinkies at my next soiree.
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It was nearing four-thirty in the morning when Severus twitched into wakefulness. The girl nestled next to him was still fast asleep. The lights in the room were still lit- neither of them had had the presence of mind nor inclination to extinguish them when they had fallen from their final round of enthusiastic lovemaking into sleep's embrace. Taking care not to wake her, he slid carefully from the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door.
The lights in the room were unlit, but a soft light suffused the room, softening the stark white ceramic to a golden beige. He might have noticed this earlier had his bladder not been quite so full. When he went to wash his hands, the sight of his reflection in the mirror over the sink caused him to stop short.
He was glowing. A steady golden light shone from his skin, forming a hazy aureole around his body. He raised a shaking hand to his face. His skin felt normal, but it was undoubtedly emitting light. The omnipresent shadows under his eyes were gone, gone the way of the exhausted creases at the corners of his mouth and the deep lines between his eyebrows. Hardly daring to believe what he saw in the mirror, he flung open the door to examine Hermione. She was still sleeping, and though the lit lamps disguised it upon first glance, she was glowing, too. She even shone faintly through the bed sheet, and between her fan of curls and dark lashes against her golden skin, she could have been the subject of a Klimt painting.
As he allowed himself to drink in the woman in his bed, an odd sensation, like a lingering shiver, ran through him. He remembered the last time the sight of a sleeping woman had affected him so deeply, and cut off that line of thought with a forceful shake of his head. It was no use to dwell upon that particular part of the past.
But the shivering sensation wouldn't go away- the longer he gazed, the more it grew in intensity until it was nearly painful. What was wrong with him?
Unless... but that was impossible.
Severus snatched his robe from where it had fallen on the floor of the room and fled into the bathroom. Whispering the password, a hidden door in the back of the linen cupboard opened to a narrow spiral staircase hewn from bedrock.
His bare feet slipped once or twice on the increasingly damp stone as he tore downwards, but he didn't slow down. When he reached the bottom at last, he found himself in the Chamber of Secrets. Having been cleared of the basilisk carcass, Dumbledore had been quite delighted to find a new and larger storeroom for many of Hogwart's treasures and old furniture. Salazar Slytherin's enormous statue was now obscured by numerous tapestries, giving the awesome figure the suggestion of being dressed in a patchwork quilt. Severus wasn't positive who had put the sunglasses and bandana on the statue, but the ensemble had Filius Flitwick written all over it.
He ran through the boxes and crates of bric-a-brac that made the terrifying Chamber resemble nothing so much as a giant flea market. He pushed aside a tapestry at the statue's feet and gasped out another password.
The hidden door paid no heed to his urgent tone and slid aside with agonising slowness. Severus suspected it had never forgiven him for changing the password from Parseltongue to English.
When the door had opened enough to allow him entrance, he lit the lamps with a frantic wave of his wand, and he began to search.
Potter hadn't just discovered the Chamber of Secrets five years ago. He'd also inadvertently discovered Salazar Slytherin's long-lost private quarters. While Godric Gryffindor chose to make his home in the tallest liveable tower in the school, Slytherin had made his in the deepest dungeon. Whe he began teaching at Hogwarts, it was somewhat galling that the fellow heads of house had the option of living in their founders' luxurious quarters. I the situation was mildly improved by the fact that Minerva couldn't live in Gryffindor's either, since Albus refused to quit it when he was promoted to Headmaster. Still, visiting Filius's book-filled blue velveted pararise directly over the library's restricted section filled him with envy. He could have passed on Hufflepuff's bizarre mix of the bellicose and the twee in Sprout's armory-cum-cottage just off the entrance hall.
When he had explored Slytherin's rooms shortly after they had been discovered, he found them too decadent and reptilian, even for his taste. They were also inconvenient to reach for someone who wasn't a parseltongue, even with the staircase Dumbledore had installed for his use and the password problem.
After clearing one of the snake-adorned bookshelves, he climbed up on top and began searching among the hundreds of plaques, awards, and garish self- portraits that covered the walls. In case one hadn't figured it from the enormous statue, Salazar Slytherin had been a bit of an egotist - in the sense that Bellatrix Lestrange had been a bit mad.
As the walls emptied and the piles of discarded plaques on the floor grew, Severus felt his frustration mounting. It had to be here! The memory of Gryffindor Stud plaque lurking in a corner of Albus's office still gave him pause. And the willies. "Really, Albus. George Honeyduke?" "Well Severus, you always knew I had a sweet tooth."
Shaking that memory vigorously out of his head, he began searching even more wildly. And sure enough, a few minutes later, he saw it high over his head. He hadn't been quite sure what it would look like, but he knew instantly when he had found it. He could only read the lowest lines, but he knew that Lucius Malfoy's name had no business on any other plaque in Slytherin's private chambers.
He summoned it quickly and clambered down to the floor. Once there, he cast a quick scourgify to rid it of all the tarnish. There, on a plate with the year 1979 engraved at the top were the following names:
Rodolphus Lestrange – Narcissa Black
Lucius Malfoy - Bellatrix Black
Evan Rosier - Gideon Prewett
Severus Snape - Hermione Granger
Impossible.
He had been so proud to have been included in the Slytherin Sybarite race. Up until the werewolf incident, he'd never had much prestige among his housemates. But getting Lupin and Black stripped of their Prefect privileges and Potter removed as Head Boy had raised his status significantly with Malfoy and the other popular boys.
Rodolphus and Lucius had always had an unhealthy obsession with the Black sisters, and Severus didn't even want to know how they had later decided on their respective brides. He privately entertained thoughts of the two boys cutting cards for Bellatrix, vivacious and witty as she had been. Odd to think of Narcissa as a consolation prize, but in terms of pureblooded progeny, Lucius had certainly gotten the better half of the bargain.
None of them had ever really been sure if Rosier had chosen Gideon Prewett because of his impressive bloodlines, his terrifying skill at arcane branches of magic, or because he was easily the best-looking boy at Hogwarts, but it proved very awkward later when Evan joined the Death Eaters and Gideon joined the Order of the Phoenix.
Severus had chosen his intended mostly because he wanted to see the look on James Potter's face when word reached him of Severus's success. Lucius had called him a heartless bastard in tones that clearly indicated he wished he'd claimed he'd rather deflower a Mudblood over a girl he really liked.
He'd had the perfect plan, too. After the werewolf incident, Potter's invisibility cloak had been entrusted to Filch, and Filch worshipped the ground Severus walked on for putting the Marauders at his mercy, detention- wise. It was only a matter of asking with the right degree of grovelling that secured him the cloak for the evening.
Severus had followed her into the Head Girl's chambers, which were just off the Gryffindor common room and watched her prepare for bed. He had planned to surprise her by whispering to her just as she was beginning to drift off, then set his seduction into motion. She'd never be quite sure if it was a dream, and he would join the ranks of the Slytherin Sybarite. That's how it was supposed to happen. Lily Evans spoiled it by sitting up a moment after turning off the light and looking approximately in his directions
"Well, are you going to just watch me sleep, or had you planned to do anything?" she asked.
He froze.
"I can hear your heart beating," she continued. "From how fast it's going, I should think you wanted to do a bit more than watch. So go on. Show yourself, and maybe you'll get what you want."
He stifled a chuckle and modulated his tone to an unrecognisable whisper. "And maybe I'll get what I deserve."
"Perceptive of you," she said tartly. "So take that dratted thing off, James. It's really very disconcerting to talk to the air."
"I can't do that."
"Why?"
"Because I'd rather we didn't talk."
She rolled her eyes. "Isn't that just typical. James Potter, if you think for an instant that I'd let you-"she cut off abruptly as Severus impulsively stepped forward and stroked her cheek.
She leaned into his caress at first, but let out a cry of triumph and seized his wrist. "Well," she said in satisfied tones, "what are you going to do now?"
"I'll consider the evening a success. You're touching me of your own free will."
"Pretty words."
"I'd follow them up with pretty actions, but you've got my wrist and I could get slapped."
She smiled, pulling the invisibility cloak back to reveal his hand. Severus gulped as she ran her fingers over the palm.
"So why did you sneak into my room?"
What would Potter say? Probably something flippant and charming. "There's such a lovely view."
In a flash, she had bent his index finger back nearly to the point of dislocation.
"Not funny," she growled. "Give me a real answer or you'll never catch another snitch."
"I wanted to kiss you goodnight," he gasped.
She released his finger, but not his wrist. "Is that all?"
"Well, no," he admitted, "but I'd rather be able to write my NEWTs without the use of a dictoquill than elaborate. And I do want to kiss you goodnight." He slid his other hand from inside the cloak and covered hers with it. Her skin was cool and soft.
"Go on," she said, looking directly into the space where his face should have been. "What did you really want to do tonight? What did you want to do once I'd fallen asleep?"
He considered another light response, but thought better of it, since her tone was still dangerous. "I just wanted to see you sleep."
Her eyebrows drew together. "Never heard that one before."
His fingers were irresistibly drawn to her proud chin. "It'd be the first time I've seen you with your guard down, Evans."
She allowed his fingers to remain. "So it has to do with having my guard down, and not my knickers?"
"Don't be an idiot," he said, stroking her cheek. "If I'd been after that I would have left after you got your nightgown on."
"Pig," she said, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand. Her face was caught in a shaft of moonlight, and her pale red lashes shone gold.
"C'mon, Evans," he said in what he hoped was a fair approximation of Potter's jovial, be-a-sport, tone. "Just one kiss and then I'll leave. Promise!"
She opened her eyes to give him a withering look. "I'd rather you just watched me go to sleep."
"Fair enough."
"And then you promise to leave?"
"I promise." She released his hand and began to slip under the blankets. He sat down on the side of the bed, but made no other move toward her.
"If you dare try anything while I'm asleep, you'll regret it."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
With one last suspicious look, she lay down on her side and closed her eyes. "You're really weird, you know that?"
"Yes."
"Just as long as you know." She rolled over on the other side, sighed, and lay still. Severus listened as her breathing slowed. She was really falling asleep next to him! And she was supposed to be smart. Still, the trust was unusual, to say the least. And almost any girl would look as lovely in the moonlight that illuminated her features, even turning her freckles silver.
"Hey, Potter." She was nearly asleep; her voice had a tiny, singsong quality that was a bit disconcerting.
"What?"
"It feels safe to sleep near you."
His impulse to laugh derisively was cut off by curiosity. "It does?"
"Mmmm. A comforting presence. You can give me a goodnight kiss if you want."
He leaned forward and chastely kissed her cheek. And on an impulse, he stroked the soft, fine hair at her temples.
"Again." She did not ask.
The second kiss lingered- he gave his lips the opportunity to savour the soft skin of her cheek.
"Again." She turned over to face him and opened her eyes.
All thoughts of seduction and the competition flew from his mind and gravity took over. All that existed was her warm mouth, her arm snaking its way around his invisible body, and her other hand disappeared into the cloak's hood to stroke his invisible face.
She stiffened, and he pulled back.
"What's wrong?"
"You're not wearing glasses."
Idiot!
"I- er-"
"Sirius?"
"Of course not!" he spat.
She laughed at his vehemence, and with relief. "Thank God. But then- oh don't tell me. I really don't want to know." She flopped back down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. "I think you should leave now"
Severus opened and closed the door without a word, but stood and watched.
Lily sat up in bed, cocking an ear toward the door. "Are you really gone?"
He made no reply.
She lay back in bed with an irritated noise. "Just like him to show up with no glasses- so sure he'll be invited to stay the night!" She put her fingers to her lips. "Arrogant, fatheaded idiot," she muttered, and nestled her head into the pillow with a small smile.
He stood stock still, hardly daring to breathe as she dozed off.
She wasn't lovely when she slept. She tossed and turned, her hair a dark red squirrel's nest before long, and she ground her teeth. But that night, watching her sleep, something stirred deeply in Severus Snape. It wasn't love, but it was something.
And that nighttime vigil had been the end of it. His Slytherin Sybarite efforts were interrupted by Potter and Evans's whirlwind romance and engagement, the NEWTs, his initiation into the Death Eaters, the Potters' wedding, and ultimately by Voldemort's visit to their home.
He had never told the others that he had failed to fulfil his quest. True, he hadn't told them he had succeeded. They had drawn their own conclusions from the circumstantial evidence that Severus had tossed their way. In retrospect, he suspected that this dishonesty had brought the curse down upon him in full force.
From what Dumbledore had told him about the Gryffindor Stud competition, it differed from the Slytherin incarnation in two key respects. First off, there could be as many Sybarites as entrants and only one Stud. The other difference was the curse. It was not dissimilar to an alcohol-bound oath like Hermione's, only more devious and subtle in nature. It didn't end or destroy a person's life; it just made things unpleasant.
Severus wasn't sure if his string of bad fortune started the night he had misled his housemates or on the day that his intended died for her infant son, but he felt its presence constantly over the years, as though it were a vulture sitting on his shoulder. The subtle nature of the curse was such that he could never be sure exactly how much of his unhappiness and bad luck could be attributed to his own decisions, and how much could be blamed on the curse. He did come to realize that the curse had a very dark sense of humour.
He wasn't surprised that Lucius, Rodolphus, or Evan had let slip to Voldemort, who was Slytherin's heir, after all, that they had all participated in a Slytherin Sybarite competition. He was, however, taken aback when Voldemort honoured him especially for such a precocious act against a Mudblood. If that weren't ironic enough, the "special honour" granted by the Dark Lord was to be at his side during that evening's attack on the Potters.
In his moments of black humour, it pleased him to think that Voldemort's first downfall been caused, in part, by the Slytherin curse. Had Voldemort simply incapacitated Lily instead of killing her, not only would Voldemort have succeeded in his attempt to kill Potter the Younger, Severus still would have had a chance to fulfil his oath. However, the dark parts of his conscience nagged him that if he had fulfilled his promise to begin with instead of lying about it, many things in his life might have been quite different.
It was the same little voice that pointed out the internal logic problems with Voldemort and the Death Eaters shortly after he joined; the voice that prodded him to apply futilely for the Defence post; the voice that made him dissatisfied with his place the world and his fortunes, but unable to do a thing about them.
And so he had resigned himself to his lot, bound to unfulfillment with a heavy-handed sense of irony, having failed in his vow to make love to an intelligent, ambitious Gryffindor.
Until tonight, when Hermione Granger had somehow taken Lily's place.
Severus sank down on the floor, half gazing at the name on the plaque, and half gazing at his glowing face reflected in the silver plaque.
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End Notes: My dear readers, please accept my deepest apologies for allowing so much time to elapse between postings. Suffice it to say, this chapter was giving me quite a bit of trouble. Several reviewers had asked for some of Snape's point of view, and darn it, they're right. To continue from Hermione's perspective would leave out an important aspect of this story, namely "what is Snape's deal?" Besides, I had this great (or so I modestly thought) back story that I wanted to share. Implausible it may be, though I would argue no more so than the original challenge. Extended denoument in the next (and final) chapter.
Huge thanks to those kind enough to write me with the gentle nudges requisite to getting this chapter polished, buffed, and posted, and also to Dana my gamma-beta reader who provided less gentle nudges :) Hugs to my beloved grammarian and alpha-beta reader Jeff.
Author: Mundungus42
Rating: R, though this chapter sits solidly in the PG-13 category. More fluff to come if I can justify it to my perfectionist muse.
Disclaimer: I have a pronounced fear of litigation and the brown dye they use on the bottoms of Twinkies to make it look like they were baked, so have no fear that I will claim ownership of anything Potter-related, attempt to profit from it, or serve Twinkies at my next soiree.
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It was nearing four-thirty in the morning when Severus twitched into wakefulness. The girl nestled next to him was still fast asleep. The lights in the room were still lit- neither of them had had the presence of mind nor inclination to extinguish them when they had fallen from their final round of enthusiastic lovemaking into sleep's embrace. Taking care not to wake her, he slid carefully from the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door.
The lights in the room were unlit, but a soft light suffused the room, softening the stark white ceramic to a golden beige. He might have noticed this earlier had his bladder not been quite so full. When he went to wash his hands, the sight of his reflection in the mirror over the sink caused him to stop short.
He was glowing. A steady golden light shone from his skin, forming a hazy aureole around his body. He raised a shaking hand to his face. His skin felt normal, but it was undoubtedly emitting light. The omnipresent shadows under his eyes were gone, gone the way of the exhausted creases at the corners of his mouth and the deep lines between his eyebrows. Hardly daring to believe what he saw in the mirror, he flung open the door to examine Hermione. She was still sleeping, and though the lit lamps disguised it upon first glance, she was glowing, too. She even shone faintly through the bed sheet, and between her fan of curls and dark lashes against her golden skin, she could have been the subject of a Klimt painting.
As he allowed himself to drink in the woman in his bed, an odd sensation, like a lingering shiver, ran through him. He remembered the last time the sight of a sleeping woman had affected him so deeply, and cut off that line of thought with a forceful shake of his head. It was no use to dwell upon that particular part of the past.
But the shivering sensation wouldn't go away- the longer he gazed, the more it grew in intensity until it was nearly painful. What was wrong with him?
Unless... but that was impossible.
Severus snatched his robe from where it had fallen on the floor of the room and fled into the bathroom. Whispering the password, a hidden door in the back of the linen cupboard opened to a narrow spiral staircase hewn from bedrock.
His bare feet slipped once or twice on the increasingly damp stone as he tore downwards, but he didn't slow down. When he reached the bottom at last, he found himself in the Chamber of Secrets. Having been cleared of the basilisk carcass, Dumbledore had been quite delighted to find a new and larger storeroom for many of Hogwart's treasures and old furniture. Salazar Slytherin's enormous statue was now obscured by numerous tapestries, giving the awesome figure the suggestion of being dressed in a patchwork quilt. Severus wasn't positive who had put the sunglasses and bandana on the statue, but the ensemble had Filius Flitwick written all over it.
He ran through the boxes and crates of bric-a-brac that made the terrifying Chamber resemble nothing so much as a giant flea market. He pushed aside a tapestry at the statue's feet and gasped out another password.
The hidden door paid no heed to his urgent tone and slid aside with agonising slowness. Severus suspected it had never forgiven him for changing the password from Parseltongue to English.
When the door had opened enough to allow him entrance, he lit the lamps with a frantic wave of his wand, and he began to search.
Potter hadn't just discovered the Chamber of Secrets five years ago. He'd also inadvertently discovered Salazar Slytherin's long-lost private quarters. While Godric Gryffindor chose to make his home in the tallest liveable tower in the school, Slytherin had made his in the deepest dungeon. Whe he began teaching at Hogwarts, it was somewhat galling that the fellow heads of house had the option of living in their founders' luxurious quarters. I the situation was mildly improved by the fact that Minerva couldn't live in Gryffindor's either, since Albus refused to quit it when he was promoted to Headmaster. Still, visiting Filius's book-filled blue velveted pararise directly over the library's restricted section filled him with envy. He could have passed on Hufflepuff's bizarre mix of the bellicose and the twee in Sprout's armory-cum-cottage just off the entrance hall.
When he had explored Slytherin's rooms shortly after they had been discovered, he found them too decadent and reptilian, even for his taste. They were also inconvenient to reach for someone who wasn't a parseltongue, even with the staircase Dumbledore had installed for his use and the password problem.
After clearing one of the snake-adorned bookshelves, he climbed up on top and began searching among the hundreds of plaques, awards, and garish self- portraits that covered the walls. In case one hadn't figured it from the enormous statue, Salazar Slytherin had been a bit of an egotist - in the sense that Bellatrix Lestrange had been a bit mad.
As the walls emptied and the piles of discarded plaques on the floor grew, Severus felt his frustration mounting. It had to be here! The memory of Gryffindor Stud plaque lurking in a corner of Albus's office still gave him pause. And the willies. "Really, Albus. George Honeyduke?" "Well Severus, you always knew I had a sweet tooth."
Shaking that memory vigorously out of his head, he began searching even more wildly. And sure enough, a few minutes later, he saw it high over his head. He hadn't been quite sure what it would look like, but he knew instantly when he had found it. He could only read the lowest lines, but he knew that Lucius Malfoy's name had no business on any other plaque in Slytherin's private chambers.
He summoned it quickly and clambered down to the floor. Once there, he cast a quick scourgify to rid it of all the tarnish. There, on a plate with the year 1979 engraved at the top were the following names:
Rodolphus Lestrange – Narcissa Black
Lucius Malfoy - Bellatrix Black
Evan Rosier - Gideon Prewett
Severus Snape - Hermione Granger
Impossible.
He had been so proud to have been included in the Slytherin Sybarite race. Up until the werewolf incident, he'd never had much prestige among his housemates. But getting Lupin and Black stripped of their Prefect privileges and Potter removed as Head Boy had raised his status significantly with Malfoy and the other popular boys.
Rodolphus and Lucius had always had an unhealthy obsession with the Black sisters, and Severus didn't even want to know how they had later decided on their respective brides. He privately entertained thoughts of the two boys cutting cards for Bellatrix, vivacious and witty as she had been. Odd to think of Narcissa as a consolation prize, but in terms of pureblooded progeny, Lucius had certainly gotten the better half of the bargain.
None of them had ever really been sure if Rosier had chosen Gideon Prewett because of his impressive bloodlines, his terrifying skill at arcane branches of magic, or because he was easily the best-looking boy at Hogwarts, but it proved very awkward later when Evan joined the Death Eaters and Gideon joined the Order of the Phoenix.
Severus had chosen his intended mostly because he wanted to see the look on James Potter's face when word reached him of Severus's success. Lucius had called him a heartless bastard in tones that clearly indicated he wished he'd claimed he'd rather deflower a Mudblood over a girl he really liked.
He'd had the perfect plan, too. After the werewolf incident, Potter's invisibility cloak had been entrusted to Filch, and Filch worshipped the ground Severus walked on for putting the Marauders at his mercy, detention- wise. It was only a matter of asking with the right degree of grovelling that secured him the cloak for the evening.
Severus had followed her into the Head Girl's chambers, which were just off the Gryffindor common room and watched her prepare for bed. He had planned to surprise her by whispering to her just as she was beginning to drift off, then set his seduction into motion. She'd never be quite sure if it was a dream, and he would join the ranks of the Slytherin Sybarite. That's how it was supposed to happen. Lily Evans spoiled it by sitting up a moment after turning off the light and looking approximately in his directions
"Well, are you going to just watch me sleep, or had you planned to do anything?" she asked.
He froze.
"I can hear your heart beating," she continued. "From how fast it's going, I should think you wanted to do a bit more than watch. So go on. Show yourself, and maybe you'll get what you want."
He stifled a chuckle and modulated his tone to an unrecognisable whisper. "And maybe I'll get what I deserve."
"Perceptive of you," she said tartly. "So take that dratted thing off, James. It's really very disconcerting to talk to the air."
"I can't do that."
"Why?"
"Because I'd rather we didn't talk."
She rolled her eyes. "Isn't that just typical. James Potter, if you think for an instant that I'd let you-"she cut off abruptly as Severus impulsively stepped forward and stroked her cheek.
She leaned into his caress at first, but let out a cry of triumph and seized his wrist. "Well," she said in satisfied tones, "what are you going to do now?"
"I'll consider the evening a success. You're touching me of your own free will."
"Pretty words."
"I'd follow them up with pretty actions, but you've got my wrist and I could get slapped."
She smiled, pulling the invisibility cloak back to reveal his hand. Severus gulped as she ran her fingers over the palm.
"So why did you sneak into my room?"
What would Potter say? Probably something flippant and charming. "There's such a lovely view."
In a flash, she had bent his index finger back nearly to the point of dislocation.
"Not funny," she growled. "Give me a real answer or you'll never catch another snitch."
"I wanted to kiss you goodnight," he gasped.
She released his finger, but not his wrist. "Is that all?"
"Well, no," he admitted, "but I'd rather be able to write my NEWTs without the use of a dictoquill than elaborate. And I do want to kiss you goodnight." He slid his other hand from inside the cloak and covered hers with it. Her skin was cool and soft.
"Go on," she said, looking directly into the space where his face should have been. "What did you really want to do tonight? What did you want to do once I'd fallen asleep?"
He considered another light response, but thought better of it, since her tone was still dangerous. "I just wanted to see you sleep."
Her eyebrows drew together. "Never heard that one before."
His fingers were irresistibly drawn to her proud chin. "It'd be the first time I've seen you with your guard down, Evans."
She allowed his fingers to remain. "So it has to do with having my guard down, and not my knickers?"
"Don't be an idiot," he said, stroking her cheek. "If I'd been after that I would have left after you got your nightgown on."
"Pig," she said, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand. Her face was caught in a shaft of moonlight, and her pale red lashes shone gold.
"C'mon, Evans," he said in what he hoped was a fair approximation of Potter's jovial, be-a-sport, tone. "Just one kiss and then I'll leave. Promise!"
She opened her eyes to give him a withering look. "I'd rather you just watched me go to sleep."
"Fair enough."
"And then you promise to leave?"
"I promise." She released his hand and began to slip under the blankets. He sat down on the side of the bed, but made no other move toward her.
"If you dare try anything while I'm asleep, you'll regret it."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
With one last suspicious look, she lay down on her side and closed her eyes. "You're really weird, you know that?"
"Yes."
"Just as long as you know." She rolled over on the other side, sighed, and lay still. Severus listened as her breathing slowed. She was really falling asleep next to him! And she was supposed to be smart. Still, the trust was unusual, to say the least. And almost any girl would look as lovely in the moonlight that illuminated her features, even turning her freckles silver.
"Hey, Potter." She was nearly asleep; her voice had a tiny, singsong quality that was a bit disconcerting.
"What?"
"It feels safe to sleep near you."
His impulse to laugh derisively was cut off by curiosity. "It does?"
"Mmmm. A comforting presence. You can give me a goodnight kiss if you want."
He leaned forward and chastely kissed her cheek. And on an impulse, he stroked the soft, fine hair at her temples.
"Again." She did not ask.
The second kiss lingered- he gave his lips the opportunity to savour the soft skin of her cheek.
"Again." She turned over to face him and opened her eyes.
All thoughts of seduction and the competition flew from his mind and gravity took over. All that existed was her warm mouth, her arm snaking its way around his invisible body, and her other hand disappeared into the cloak's hood to stroke his invisible face.
She stiffened, and he pulled back.
"What's wrong?"
"You're not wearing glasses."
Idiot!
"I- er-"
"Sirius?"
"Of course not!" he spat.
She laughed at his vehemence, and with relief. "Thank God. But then- oh don't tell me. I really don't want to know." She flopped back down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. "I think you should leave now"
Severus opened and closed the door without a word, but stood and watched.
Lily sat up in bed, cocking an ear toward the door. "Are you really gone?"
He made no reply.
She lay back in bed with an irritated noise. "Just like him to show up with no glasses- so sure he'll be invited to stay the night!" She put her fingers to her lips. "Arrogant, fatheaded idiot," she muttered, and nestled her head into the pillow with a small smile.
He stood stock still, hardly daring to breathe as she dozed off.
She wasn't lovely when she slept. She tossed and turned, her hair a dark red squirrel's nest before long, and she ground her teeth. But that night, watching her sleep, something stirred deeply in Severus Snape. It wasn't love, but it was something.
And that nighttime vigil had been the end of it. His Slytherin Sybarite efforts were interrupted by Potter and Evans's whirlwind romance and engagement, the NEWTs, his initiation into the Death Eaters, the Potters' wedding, and ultimately by Voldemort's visit to their home.
He had never told the others that he had failed to fulfil his quest. True, he hadn't told them he had succeeded. They had drawn their own conclusions from the circumstantial evidence that Severus had tossed their way. In retrospect, he suspected that this dishonesty had brought the curse down upon him in full force.
From what Dumbledore had told him about the Gryffindor Stud competition, it differed from the Slytherin incarnation in two key respects. First off, there could be as many Sybarites as entrants and only one Stud. The other difference was the curse. It was not dissimilar to an alcohol-bound oath like Hermione's, only more devious and subtle in nature. It didn't end or destroy a person's life; it just made things unpleasant.
Severus wasn't sure if his string of bad fortune started the night he had misled his housemates or on the day that his intended died for her infant son, but he felt its presence constantly over the years, as though it were a vulture sitting on his shoulder. The subtle nature of the curse was such that he could never be sure exactly how much of his unhappiness and bad luck could be attributed to his own decisions, and how much could be blamed on the curse. He did come to realize that the curse had a very dark sense of humour.
He wasn't surprised that Lucius, Rodolphus, or Evan had let slip to Voldemort, who was Slytherin's heir, after all, that they had all participated in a Slytherin Sybarite competition. He was, however, taken aback when Voldemort honoured him especially for such a precocious act against a Mudblood. If that weren't ironic enough, the "special honour" granted by the Dark Lord was to be at his side during that evening's attack on the Potters.
In his moments of black humour, it pleased him to think that Voldemort's first downfall been caused, in part, by the Slytherin curse. Had Voldemort simply incapacitated Lily instead of killing her, not only would Voldemort have succeeded in his attempt to kill Potter the Younger, Severus still would have had a chance to fulfil his oath. However, the dark parts of his conscience nagged him that if he had fulfilled his promise to begin with instead of lying about it, many things in his life might have been quite different.
It was the same little voice that pointed out the internal logic problems with Voldemort and the Death Eaters shortly after he joined; the voice that prodded him to apply futilely for the Defence post; the voice that made him dissatisfied with his place the world and his fortunes, but unable to do a thing about them.
And so he had resigned himself to his lot, bound to unfulfillment with a heavy-handed sense of irony, having failed in his vow to make love to an intelligent, ambitious Gryffindor.
Until tonight, when Hermione Granger had somehow taken Lily's place.
Severus sank down on the floor, half gazing at the name on the plaque, and half gazing at his glowing face reflected in the silver plaque.
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End Notes: My dear readers, please accept my deepest apologies for allowing so much time to elapse between postings. Suffice it to say, this chapter was giving me quite a bit of trouble. Several reviewers had asked for some of Snape's point of view, and darn it, they're right. To continue from Hermione's perspective would leave out an important aspect of this story, namely "what is Snape's deal?" Besides, I had this great (or so I modestly thought) back story that I wanted to share. Implausible it may be, though I would argue no more so than the original challenge. Extended denoument in the next (and final) chapter.
Huge thanks to those kind enough to write me with the gentle nudges requisite to getting this chapter polished, buffed, and posted, and also to Dana my gamma-beta reader who provided less gentle nudges :) Hugs to my beloved grammarian and alpha-beta reader Jeff.