Dirty, Pretty Things

Chapter 5

Hermione was currently sitting on her new bed in her new room at Hogwarts. It was actually a guest room that connected to Snape's chambers, but that didn't really bother her. Snape's chambers, the sitting room, anyway, were now also her chambers. Her room was already decorated, but she was planning on making some adjustments. After all, the last thing she wanted to see hanging on the walls, covering the floor, and making up her bed were Gryffindor colours. It wasn't that there were too many memories tied to them; she could live with that. It was the fact that it wasn't her anymore. That was a different part of her life, and one that she had left behind a long time ago. Working some transfiguration spells throughout the room, she eventually sat on a plain white, cotton comforter. On the walls hung tapestries of Monet and Degas, two of her favorite impressionists. She left the hardwood floors bare, preferring to walk around in slippers when it got cold. A large tapestry against the opposite wall she had turned into a window, enchanted to show the current weather. The rug that had previously been resting upon the floor was now a pair of flowing, sheer taffeta curtains. The only things she didn't change were the furniture; she was actually rather fond of the simple cherry pieces. She had already unpacked all of her belongings, leaving the room nearly as bare as when she had arrived. All of her clothes as well as her bag were now in the armoire, and the only thing that was different in the room was a CD player and a few CDs accompanying it on her night table. She realized suddenly that she had nothing to do. It was summer vacation, meaning there were no classes to prepare for, no work to do, nothing. So she just sat there on the bed, leaning back against the pillows and staring into the colourful swarms of flowers on the tapestries. Her eyes blurred and she closed them for a moment, only to be greeted by the vivid pictures of memories...

"Will you two knock it off! I'm going to be sick if I have to see you two sucking face anymore!" Hermione laughed as she scolded her two friends, not really meaning it. Ron and Harry were actually really sweet together. It was one of the only bright things in their dismal lives. Hermione had been working as a hooker for a year now, as had Harry. Ron, however, ever mindful of his damnable Gryffindor pride, had taken a job as a hit man. He managed, for the most part, to avoid killing anyone. He just hurt them severely. None of them ever talked about work, except for how much they made that day. In the small, white house they could just be themselves, leave all their other troubles outside. Ron and Harry had become very close after Ginny's death, despite Ron's harsh words. They had been dating casually, but in secret, before that, though. Hermione, who had always seen Harry and Ron as her brothers, saw them in a bit of a different light now that they were together, but she still loved them. Hermione had never trusted anyone besides them after the last battle, and she wasn't about to start. She was fine not being in a relationship; at least she had her best friends.

Harry kissed Ron lightly and stood up, looking at Hermione. "You ready to go, 'Mione?"

Time for work again. After all, it was 11:00. "Yeah, sure. See you later, Ron."

"Later, Herm. See you in the morning, love," Ron said as he clasped Harry's hand in his, giving it a slight squeeze.

"You bet."

Of course, Harry never did return that morning, and it wasn't until that afternoon when he was discovered by Ron, who had been working across the hall. When his job was done, he heard voices across the hall and walked over to see a group of wizards crowded around something on the bed. Murmurs of "too bad", "damn sluts", and "got what he deserved" floated into Ron's ears. He suddenly ran into the room, fearing the worse. His fears were confirmed by a mediwizard; it was Harry, and he had been murdered by one of his customers. Ron had come home that evening and told Hermione what had happened. She remembered how solemn his face was; almost blank. Knowing that she needed the money, even if she wished she could stay with Ron at the time, she went to work that night. When she returned the next morning, she found Ron dead in his and Harry's bedroom. He had killed himself with a poison, the empty bottle resting in his hand. Flashes of Ron's dead body and her own interpretations of what may have happened to Harry went through her mind and she screamed aloud before she realized it. She curled herself up into a tight ball, her knees to her chest, and sobbed hard, tears running down her cheeks rapidly. Her door flung open and Severus stepped inside, not even bothering to notice the new state of the room. He rushed to Hermione and sat down on the bed beside her, resting his hand lightly on her elbow so as not to startle her. His approach was the correct one, because she didn't scream or flinch away. She, in fact, launched herself at him, balling the front of his cloak in her fists as she sobbed into his chest.

Snape had never really been in this sort of situation before; having to comfort someone who was crying. So, he gently rubbed his hand in slow circles across her back, his other hand gently stroking her hair as he murmured soft words of assurance to her. When she finally calmed down, she wiped her eyes and adjusted her hair properly before sitting back and leaning once more against the pillows. She sniffled softly and laughed a bit, the smile not reaching her eyes.

"I'm sorry; I got your robes all wet."

Snape looked down and saw that, indeed, the front of his robes were now nearly soaked. He just shrugged and performed a drying charm. "I'm more worried about you than this sodding pair of robes. What happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath and looked deep in thought for a moment, as if debating what to tell him. "I was just remembering some things...about Ron and Harry."

Severus didn't want to push her, so he just nodded slightly and sat back to watch and listen to what she had to say. After a few moments of silence, he urged her to continue.

"I was thinking about...when they died. It was just so...it shouldn't have ended like that. I never got to see what happened to Harry. But I was the one that found Ron, you know? And he was just lying there, on the bed. He looked asleep. With the bottle in his hand, I thought he had tried to drown his grief for Harry with alcohol and just passed out, but when I got closer..."

"Poison." Snape said it as a statement rather than a question. He hadn't known what had become of Harry and Ron, but knew that it couldn't have been good. So Weasley had killed himself after Potter died. He wondered how the raven haired boy's life had managed to end.

Hermione nodded weakly. "Before Ron...he told me what he had seen. Of Harry, you know? I guess his client got a bit out of hand and...and there was so much blood. On the bed, the floor, everywhere. A knife, they said it looked like. I should have known the guy was no good. I should have warned Harry. But he seemed so normal, in his suit."

"It's not your fault, Hermione. There's nothing you could have done to stop it from happening."

"Maybe, maybe not," she said quietly, looking so sad it hurt Severus to face her. But she suddenly turned bitter. "What is it with fucking knives, huh? Why can't they use guns, or curses, or, hell, even potions. Always fucking knives..."

"Because they scar."

Hermione looked at him, seeing the same kind of reminiscent sadness that was often on her face when she looked in the mirror.

"Even if they don't kill you, you'll be marked forever. You'll always know what happened. It's not like your mind, where you can just erase an event. It's your flesh, where nothing's forgotten."

Hermione looked at her old professor, seeing the haunted look in his eyes. "Severus..."

"I haven't ever been in your position, exactly. But working as a spy for Dumbledore under Voldemort came with a price. Needless to say, I think I paid it in full."

Hermione reached her hand out, hesitantly, and took Severus' hand in her own. "At least you don't have to hide your face."

Snape looked up at her and squeezed her hand lightly. Hermione suddenly smirked a bit.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Snape looked a bit shocked for a moment, then smiled sadly at the mention of the childhood game every kid has played. He convinced himself that it was for Hermione that he was doing this, pushing away the thought in his mind telling him that he needed to heal as well. He nodded, albeit hesitantly, and looked up at her again. She gently pulled her hair back to reveal a long, relatively thick scar traveling from her eyebrow to the middle of her cheek. She had closed her eyes, not wanting to see Snape's reaction, and was slightly shocked when she felt a hand trace the pale mark. Her eyes opened to see Severus actually smiling.

"You're still a beautiful woman, Hermione. Scar or not."

Hermione blushed a bit and felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She couldn't remember the last time someone had called her beautiful. It must have been by Ron or Harry, but she couldn't even remember the occasion anymore. She sniffled again and wiped her eyes. "Alright, your turn."

Snape just sat on the bed for a moment, unsure about what he was about to do. No one had seen his scars with the exception of Poppy and Albus. And, of course, the people who had graced him with them. At Hermione's gentle squeeze on his arm, he stood up and unbuttoned his robes, revealing a plain, black dress shirt and slacks underneath. He turned away from Hermione as he unbuttoned his shirt and, hesitating just slightly while it rested on his shoulders, pulled it off.

Hermione refrained from gasping at the long gashes that had long ago healed across his back. There must have been two dozen of them, and each one looked to be deep and painful. She stood up and walked silently up to him, tracing the lines with her fingertips, light as feathers. Snape shivered involuntarily at the sensation. He knew it was wrong, to become aroused by something so small as a few touches, especially from Hermione, knowing what she had been through. But his mind wasn't what was controlling his dick at the moment. He swallowed hard and walked forwards a few steps, away from Hermione. He couldn't let her see the effect she was having on him, but if he turned around it would be all too apparent. He had closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths and calm himself down, or at least his groin.

"Severus...this may be way out of line, but...I don't think you're ugly or damaged. I think you're amazing." She had stepped towards him again and laid a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face her. He backed up against the wall, which was just a few inches away, but she just stepped forward again, allowing herself to press against him.

"You're right," he said softly and without harshness. "You are out of line. But I think I'm even more so, and if you don't step away, I might..."

Hermione brought her face closer to his, their lips just a few inches apart. "Might what?"

Severus had begun inching towards Hermione as she spoke, and their lips were now just barely touching. "Kiss you."

And he did.