Right so, this might be the last chapter of this story or it might not be. I'm really not to sure what to do with it. I had so many plans for it before I read the 6th book. But I know that they won't work now, but I don't know if I want to continue a story that doesn't match the books, at all. So, while I'm still in shock over Snape killing Dumbledore, and debating whether or not to continue… I made this chapter extra long for you guys.
Severus had thought she look beautiful in the moonlight, but the picture she made then was nothing compared to what the early morning sunlight did to her.
The hair that had seemed dark brown in the candle light was now punctured with gems of amber, honey, maple and even some red. Her skin which he had thought to be pale last night was practically golden, shining exactly like the metal would have in true light.
He stored that information into the far reaches of his mind, knowing that if he was ever to buy her jewelry it need to be silver, as gold would only serve blend into her skin, leaving the pendant or jewel hanging from it looking as if it was tethered by air alone.
He gently pulled away from her, but kept his arms around her waist.
Wait. His arms around her waist?
When did this happen? How did this happen? Severus thought to himself. Would she ever let me get this close to her if she was awake?
Pushing away all of his questions on how he had gotten into such an intimate position with his beautiful former student, he removed one arm from her waist a moment after he pulled away.
A spot of black on the woman's shoulder he hadn't noticed in the dark last night captured his attention. He took his long hands and began to trace the spot with a delicate finger tip.
He was wrong, the farther he pulled away the larger the 'spot' became. Finally, after have removed himself from her warmth enough, Severus Snape figured out what the spot was.
Hermione Granger, resident know-it-all of Hogwarts for seven years, the smartest witch Hogwarts—hell the world—had ever seen, a former bushy haired child before she became a modest woman, had a tattoo.
And not just any tattoo. One that marked her as a member of the Raven's Guild.
Hermione felt the warmth of the owner of the long arms that wrapped around her pull away slightly, then more so, taking one of the arms with them.
She shivered slightly in the early morning light, realizing that she had no shirt on, like she normally did when she awoke in the morning, and that the blankets were not covering her completely. Even the warmth of the sun's rays that filtered through the parlor's window and rested directly on her face did little to warm her.
But her shiver became a shudder when the arm that had been wrapped around her began to trace her most prized possession with a phantom like caress.
A gentle fingertip lightly brushed over the ink stain on her right shoulder, out lining the image there. The image of a raven on the up-sweep of it's wings holding a bleeding black rose in it's talons. The image that she had gotten when she was inducted into the Raven's Guild, the most secret potions-revolving society in the world.
Severus felt her shiver beneath his touch, but wasn't sure whether or not to take it as a sign of wakefulness or not. He decided he would see if she was truly awake.
"Miss Granger," he began unconsciously in the deadly whisper he used when he was reprimanding the most idiotic of his students.
A small groan escaped her lips and he took it as permission to continue. Wait, since when did he need permission to do anything?
"Where and when did you acquire that inking?" he asked her, not changing his voice.
All tattoo artists in the world had been instructed never put that particular design into anyone's skin. They had been threatened with the pain of death had they ever decided to ignore the instructions. And, just for an extra precautionary measure, there had been a spell placed on the design, making anyone, muggle or magical, who found the design interesting, lose interest in it.
"My initiation," she muttered sleepily before she tried, and failed to suppress a yawn as she turned over to absorb his warmth once more, curling herself into a ball while her head rested gently on his shoulder.
Snape was completely shocked. A) She was a beautiful young woman and was currently cuddling up to him like he was a teddy bear, and B) This chit had been brought into the prominent Raven's Guild? For what?
In order for one to even be contacted by the Raven's Guild you had to have made some larger than life discovery in the field of potions. He had been contacted a few times with some of the different potions he had made himself, but it wasn't until he completed his Wolfsbane potion that he was inducted into the Guild. And that had only been seven years ago! He had been the youngest member ever brought into the Guild and he was 33 at the time, receiving his own tattoo beneath his left hip. This slip of a girl was merely twenty years old and who knew how long she had been a member!
"And when, Miss Granger, was you initiation?" he asked once he had found his voice.
"Six months ago," she told him, pulling her head off of his shoulder and placing it on the pillows next his so they were facing each other.
"And why were you initiated?"
"I figured out a way to make the effects of the Wolfsbane potion permanent."
With a single sentence Severus Snape felt as if his entire world had crashed down around him.
Hermione closed her eyes, marveling at what his voice was doing to her. Like a silky caress it comforted her as well as excited her.
She slowly opened eyes when his voice didn't answer hers.
The sight that met her eyes scared her more than anything ever had. Snape's face was white, she would even go far enough to call it a snow white. His eyes were wide and his breathing shallow.
"Professor?" she asked tentatively, worried. "Are you alright, Professor?"
She was concerned, after all, he had been through an enormous ordeal last night, and had lost a LOT of blood, as her abandoned shirt testified.
Last night.
Last night Snape had cast a charm on the bed that would prevent them from knocking into each other, for both the sake of professionalism and for the fact that Snape's chest and back still needed to be healed. And yet, they had awoken with his arms around her and their legs tangled beneath the sheets.
I'll figure that one out later, Hermione thought to herself, more concerned that Snape looked like death than the fact that his spell hadn't worked properly.
"Please say something, Professor." She almost begged of him as she propped her self up on her arm, leaning over her former teacher. Her eyes quickly searched his entire countenance, searching for some sign that would lead her to discovering exactly what had put him in such a state.
"Why did no one inform me of your initiation?" he ground out through clenched teeth after a few more moments of silence, regaining some of his color due to the anger he felt coursing through his veins; which was also responsible his quick change in demeanor.
Hermione let out a soft sigh upon hearing his statement, her body releasing much of its tension and lowering itself slightly closer to Snape's body that still lay beneath her. He wasn't in pain, just miffed that he hadn't been told something he deemed important. She was slightly flattered that he even cared; of course she had no idea as to his real reason behind the question.
"To be perfectly honest, Sir, no one knows."
"That, Miss Granger, is a lie." He told her simply. Her cries of protest were cut off with a glare from his onyx colored eyes, effectively silencing the barrage of opposing opinions and questions as to what he meant. "Obviously the Grandmaster of the Guild knows, or does he no longer swear his new members in?"
"Well, yes, Sir, but-"
"But what, Miss Granger? Was the entire guild there for your ceremony?"
"Well, yes. All who could attend, some didn't, but all were invited."
Hermione was thoroughly confused now. Firstly, there was the fact that Snape knew about the Raven's Guild.
Oh please you idiot, did you really think that he wasn't a part of it? you do recall all of the advances he has made in Potions over the years. A voice in her head chided her. but there wasn't a moments silence between it and the next voice.
If that's the case, then why did he ask why no one told him?
He is a Potions Master. Is there any reason he wouldn't be included?
Okay, I'll give you that he's a member, I haven't seen him at any of the meetings, but then again, I don't see anyone there. Everyone wears their hoods so damn low!
Giving herself a mental shake to rid herself of her pestering conscience, Hermione pondered what it had said. Her mind going light years per second, she realized that the voices were right. She had absolutely no idea who anyone in the Guild was. No one did, except the Grandmaster.
At every meeting, all members in attendance were robed from head to toe, deep hoods keeping their faces in shadow and hiding all but their lips. They were much like the Death Eaters in that way, granted they didn't always wear black, had no need of masks, and NEVER went on killing sprees. But the robes were thick and made even gender difficult to discern. The only way Hermione could tell some females form the males were their color choices. The robes they had all been issued were theirs to color as they willed.
Though since most involved in Potions were more accustomed to the darkness rather than the light, all choose dark colors to dye their cloth. Hermione's were a deep emerald green, so dark it sometimes seemed to be black, which matched the nail polish that appeared on her fingers when she donned the robe.
So it was completely plausible that she had just never noticed him at the gatherings. But that still didn't explain why he didn't know she was a member of the Guild.
"That is a lie as well, Miss Granger." He answered her quickly, all of her thoughts having taken place in the blink of an eye, a deep, penetrating, black eye.
This time Hermione didn't even bother to question him.
After laying in silence for a few moments she decided to give in.
"How so, Professor?"
"I was not invited."
No, he hadn't been invited. Not to her ceremony or to gods knew how many meetings, and all of it was her fault.
She had taken his potion, his master piece if you will, and tinkered with it. She took his work and turned it into her own, fixing the mistakes he had made when he had devised the potion, his own goal having been to make its effects permanent.
And since the work that allowed him to join the guild had been improved upon, no one in the said guild felt any inclination to keep him there; unless, of course, he came up with something better. That was how it worked.
He was pissed as hell. He hated her. He wanted to hurt her. He was in awe of her. He was in love with her.
He slowly opened his eyes, having closed them after the last thing he told her. The sight that met him made his body tense and his eyes widen.
The girl—no, woman, was almost lying directly on top of him! She was hovering just a few centimeters over his chest, her face so close that he could see every detail in perfect focus. Despite the fact that he just been thrown out of the Raven's Guild because of her, Snape couldn't help but to think of what those lips would feel like covering his own.
Staring into her cinnamon eyes made him forget everything that had just transpired, capturing and holding him there until she decided to let him go. At the moment those eyes held a confused, unfocused look, and Severus could she her mind working behind them. And then that confused gaze was replaced by a determined one, one that Severus knew demanded answers.
Hermione opened her rose petal lips as if to say something, only to be cut off by the sound of metal striking metal; causing both of them to turn their heads towards the door.
The noise brought Hermione back into reality, realizing that the two of them were not the only ones in the house.
How unfortunate.
Shaking her head slightly, she gave the man beneath her a look that told him that she would get her answers later while she covertly memorized the position he was in.
Knowing she would never see Hogwarts's Potions Master beneath her again, Hermione burned the image into her mind.
His silky, not greasy, black hair was strewn all about his head, most of it covering the pillow while a few strands brushed his forehead. His face was pale, as always, but had a healthy glow when seen in the sunlight. His deep onyx eyes shone up at her, expressing fleeting emotions so quickly she couldn't discern exactly what they were. She longed to take her fingertips and trace his overly large nose then trailing them down to his lips.
Seeing him like this made her regret accepting a dinner invitation for that night.
But it was foolishness. She would never get the chance to make her feelings known to the reclusive Potion's Master. He would never give her the chance.
Indulging in a mental sigh since it would seem suspicious if she were to do so aloud, Hermione rolled away of him before she maneuvered herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed; a position from which she could easily reach her wand. Which was exactly what she did. Muttering a small incantation under her breath resulted in an overly large red shirt to appear in her awaiting hands.
"Professor," she began as she stood and turned to him, the shirt still in her hands and not on her body. "Would you like me to get you some breakfast that Molly is undoubtedly cooking at the moment?"
"No, Miss Granger, I am perfectly content with out needing to be poisoned my Mrs. Weasley's atrocious attempt at preparing a meal." He answered her, the sneer heard in his voice but not seen on his face.
"I'm sorry, Professor, I suppose I should not have made that a question," she told him coldly, miffed that her search for new knowledge had been cut short and that fact that he had been so evasive in response to her silent questioning of him.
"I will be getting food for you, and you will eat it. You lost a large amount of blood last night and you, with my help, will do everything within your power to ensure that the blood that is remaining in your body is in the proper condition." She said primly as she fell back into, what he would later call, 'healer mode'.
"Miss Granger, how, pray tell, do you expect to go get anything without a shirt on?" he asked her, trying to lighten her mood as well as acknowledge the point she had made, a very uncharacteristic gesture.
"I have my shirt right here, thank you," she told him stiffly as she tried, and barely succeeded to keep a smile from tugging at the corners of her lips.
"And what good will it do you in your hand when one of your idiotic friends comes through the door in search of you, only to find us both bare chested?" he joked with her, a smile of his own softening his usual hard, cold features.
"Sir, do you honestly believe I don't do every thing for a reason?" she asked him cryptically.
Her only answer was an extremely out of place, slightly confused look on the potions professor's face.
"I chose this room to read in last night because it is almost never used, except by my self. If anyone had been awake last night, they would not have come in here. The fact that people are now awake doesn't change that. Unless someone plans to leave by the means of the front door, there is no real reason anyone would see us. And even then it isn't probable. Most people don't pay that much attention to their surroundings, just the object that has their interest for the moment."
Severus was amazed at her logic, although he realized that he shouldn't have been. After all, he was talking to Hermione Granger.
But the way she had reasoned things out had him agreeing completely.
It was true that the parlor room that they were occupying was rarely, if ever, frequented; he himself had only been in it less than a handful of times. And it was true that since the room was at the front of the house, and since the kitchen was at the back, no one had any business walking past it unless they were heading towards the front door. And it was unusual for anyone to be using the door seeing as most of the wizards and witches occupying the house used the fireplace or Apparition as means of transportation.
"Alright, Miss Granger, I leave you to do with me as you will," he sighed.
And if you want my suggestions on what we should do, I would be glad to offer them. he thought to himself as he watched Hermione pull the large shirt over her head, covering her awe inspiring body.
"Like I needed your permission," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. "I'll do what I want with you when I want to."
He wondered if that held a double meaning.
An hour and a half and very few concerned questions later, Severus and Hermione found themselves on the path leading from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts.
"I honestly don't understand why Dumbledore decided to keep the Floo network at Hogwarts within. I mean, sure, it was for safety and all during the war. It made sense then. But it's almost been four years now! It's just not practical!" Hermione ranted as she lead Severus—who was leaning on her for support—up the dirt road that was normally traversed by carriages.
"Miss Granger, the Headmaster does what he chooses to because he feels like it. No one is expected to, or ever will, understand every little thing the man does," Snape answered her, supporting himself as much as he could.
"Yes well—"
"Well what?"
"Oh, never mind. We're here." She told him shortly, opening to doors to her old school. "Now let's get you up to the Hospital Wing."
Severus sighed.
His healing had gone well, Madam Pomfrey had said that if Hermione had not done such a meticulous job of cleaning his wounds, it would have been much more painful and a much longer process.
As it was, the process took all of ten minutes. Eight of which the hospital's matron spent trying to rid Severus of the bandages Hermione had place on him the night before.
But Hermione had used a spell she had learned amongst her travels, and thus neither the over caring nurse or he himself was able to get the cloth strips to pry themselves from his body.
Finally, Pomfrey called the young woman into the curtained area he had been placed in. And in a voice that excepted no refute, the older woman demanded that the talented witch remove her curse from her patient.
Severus felt the sides of his lips quirk at the memory. Hermione had given him a mischievous smile while the medic had her back turned to the pair, as if to say 'If that's what was taking so long, why the hell didn't you ask for my help sooner?'
He had simply shaken his head, wondering the same thing.
Once the spell had been removed, Madam Pomfrey had taken all of thirty seconds to heal his cuts after examining them for infections and poisons with a wave of her wand. The last sixty seconds of the ten minutes was spent drinking potions to replenish the blood he had lost the night before.
Then the Healer had bustled out of the makeshift room, leaving the two potion masters to them selves.
He had said something beneath his breath, degrading the woman who had just left them and expressing his annoyance at being coo-ed over. And apparently Hermione had caught the comment and found it exceedingly witty.
He couldn't tell you what he had said, but the next few moments he would remember forever.
"Would you be too terribly upset if I was to ruffle your hair, Professor?" she had asked him.
"No, Miss Granger, I would not be 'too terribly upset' as you put it. I would be absolutely livid." He had answered.
She had grinned at him before she reached out and ran her small and delicate hand through his hair.
Growling playfully, Severus had captured the offending hand in his own, much larger one, and brought it to his lips, leaving a light kiss when he pulled away.
She had ruffled his hair, something no one had ever done to him in his entire forty years. And he had not yelled or glared or punished her for it. Instead, he had kissed her. Yes, it was just her hand, but it was still a part of her, and he had as good as told her that he adored her. He was such a fool.
But she had smiled at him, that amazing full and warming smile that made all doubts he held within himself disappear. She had stayed with him after that, just talking of few and random things. Neither brought up the Raven's Guild and neither brought up the war.
They had spent much of the day in that way. Through the late morning and all throughout the afternoon, they had even begun to progress into the evening when she had realized what time it was.
She had to leave, she explained. She had promised a male friend from the university that she would have dinner with him that evening, she explained.
So she had left.
So she had left him.
Severus was reading on the black leather couch he had had positioned in his sitting room, somewhat depressed that Hermione had had to leave, when she knocked hesitantly on his door.
He was only made aware of the fact that he had nothing on but a pair of black silk pajama pants when he opened the said door to admit her. The first thought he had when he saw her was astonishment. When he had seen her last night, he had thought her beautiful. But here, now, she was a vision.
If he was to say that her dress was a simple cut he would have been lying. The black material had no straps to keep it up and clung tightly to the slender woman's frame. Across her stomach were small bunches of fabric, gathered at the side seams of the dress, and showed how thin she really was. In the front it fell to just below her knees, but angled down from there to stop in a point, at her heels in the back. The entire dress had intricate designs picked out in pink sparkles covering it in many different places.
Her hair, which he had admired when it was left to itself, captivated him when she had put some effort into it. All but two of the brown ringlets were pulled back, away from her face, still allowed to fall down her back. The two that had not been secured by a black, pink jeweled clip, fell delicately down both sides of her face, brushing their tendrils against her smooth cheeks.
"Professor?" she asked timidly.
"Miss Granger?" he asked, quite concerned that there were tears running down her face. He impulsively grabbed her arm and pulled her in from the corridor.
"What is it Miss Granger?" he asked his voice not masking the emotions swirling inside of him upon seeing her like this.
"Please, Professor, answer my question, and please do it honestly." She said, her voice betraying her as his had done.
"Miss Granger, when have I ever answered your questions?" he asked her, trying to lift her spirits, and, in turn, his own, as he lead her to the couch he had sat on moments before.
"Please, Professor," she pleaded, her eyes begging him to agree.
"Very well, Miss Granger, ask me what ever you must," he told her as made to move away, but her next words stopped all motion.
"Professor, if you we're to base your opinion of me solely on my looks, what would you're opinion be?" she asked, admitting the reason she was in his private chambers.
"Miss Granger, why is this nessac-" he began, turning back toward her.
"Please, just answer it, sir."
"Very well, Miss Granger," he said, positioning himself so that he was kneeling on the ground directly before her.
Taking her hands in his own, Severus looked directly into her eyes, willing her to see the truth that he was about to infuse into his words.
"You are not a classic beauty, Miss Granger, nor will you ever be. But that doesn't mean you are without beauty." He began, figuring it would be best to tell her exactly what he thought of her. Beginning from the top down.
"Your hair, which used to be so bushy and did not have much appeal, has matured as you have grown older, as has the rest of your person. It no longer seems as if it would scratch anyone daring enough to wrap their arms around you and rest their head on top of your own. No it is not like that at all, now it is quite beautiful, a very complimenting shade to your skin and, I imagine, very silky in texture. It flows magnificently down your back in wonderfully loose curls, that I am sure many a woman would be envious of, as it catches and reflects the light, making it shine ever more.
"Your skin is a golden shade that puts the metal to shame when the sun hits it. It is wonderfully smooth and taught over all areas of your body. It makes many men, who have never been jealous of anything in their lives, wish that they could trade places with it, so that they might feel your every move.
"Your arms are muscled, although not openly like your friends'. From all the books that you carry, it is no small wonder. When you reach for an ingredient it is made obvious that your body is in the best shape it has ever been.
"Your hands are long, graceful and elegant, just as a Potions Mistress's should be. Your fingers are long and thin, perfectly shaped. To watch your hands when you make a potion, it would be indistinguishable from spending time in ones own sweet nirvana.
"Your chest, which has matured considerably since you left school here, has grown to just the size to fit your body. Not overly large, but neither are they too small. They give you quite a curvy figure that, I am sure, has many men, young and old, lusting after you.
"Your stomach, of course, is flat. Unlike many of your peers, you always have, and I assume, will always seemingly be, underweight. That is the illusion that your slight body brings to mind. Too small for her own good. But of course you are not. You are just the perfect weight for yourself. And you never have been one to fall into any one category, so how could anyone judge you?
"It seems as if ones eyes could travel down your legs for days and never reach the ends. They, like your arms, are muscled, but it is not obvious until one sees you run, or jump, or even walk up a flight of stairs.
"Your face is wonderfully shaped, not completely round and not completely oval. It gives you the look of a regal queen, the way you hold your head high.
"Your nose is small, in comparison to some, but suits your face perfectly. It is just the right size to compliment your features in a way no other shape or size would.
"Your lips too, are perfect for your face. Though your lower lip is slightly more full than your upper, they are beautiful in both smiles and frowns. The slight curves of the corners of those lips makes a man willing to give anything to see you smile in full.
"Sinfully long lashes brush your cheeks when you close your amazing eyes. Astonishing in color, a cinnamon brown that is all your own, they give the appearance of innocence, but if one was to look deeper into them, they would find a thirst for knowledge that lays just beneath the surface."
"Perfectly chiseled by a master sculptor, you, Miss Granger, Hermione, are beautiful." He finished, having looked into her eyes throughout his monologue, assuring her that he did not need to look at her now to tell her of her beauty. Making it known that he had looked at her, studied her, many times before.
And Hermione knew, with certainty, that with every example he had given, such as a man wishing to trade places with her skin, he had been talking about himself. About what he wanted.
"Oh Severus," Hermione whispered, burying her face in the crook of his body where his neck met his torso and throwing her arms around him.
Severus sat back on his heels, taking the sobbing Hermione Granger with him, simply holding her in his arms. He stroked her hair, relishing the feel of it beneath his finger tips, as he tried to calm her. He murmured whatever he could think of into her ear, wishing that she would become calm enough to talk to him.
Finally she lifted her head, but did not move it away from his. "Thank you, Severus," she whispered into his left ear, in a voice that he knew she had not tried to make seductive. And yet it was. And what it did to him….
The memories of the night before, and the charm he had placed on their shared bed came back to him. Despite what Hermione had believed upon waking, the spell had worked perfectly, no one else would have been able to touch either of them. But they had been allowed to touch each other because the boundaries of the spell stated that the people involved must love each other.
And Hermione Granger and Severus Snape were soulmates.
And now, they knew it.
"Miss Granger," he began as he stood from the floor, the object of his affections still wrapped within his arms. "Do you feel well enough to make your way home?"
"No, Professor," she told him, her hysterics over and an impish gleam in her eyes. "I don't believe I can make it back."
"Very well then Miss Granger, you must stay here." He told her, his voice stern but his eyes dancing wit an unusual light.
"Very well, Professor," she told him, equally somber—in tone and gaze.
And with that, her arms still wrapped about his neck and his arms supporting her small frame, Severus carried Hermione into his bedroom.
The next morning Hermione awoke to a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist. But this time she knew exactly what the arms were doing there.