Hermione and Severus had gone their separate ways after lunch at the Three
Broomsticks by unspoken and mutual agreement. They both felt the need for a
little breathing space, to consider whether they wanted to draw back from
the precipice which they seemed to be hurtling inexorably towards.
Hermione sat at the desk in her room and toyed with her quill. In times of uncertainty she would fall into the comfortable habits of her youth: define the problem, select possible solutions, analyse the alternatives, and then come to a conclusion. They boys had sneered at her for applying these techniques in such a way; they thought that feelings couldn't be dissected and laid open like that, you either felt something or you didn't.
They were right, to an extent. You couldn't draw up a list with the pros and cons of pursuing Severus - or standing still while he pursued her - tot up each column and announce that the pros had won. Or cons, as the case may be. It did help to clarify the issues, though, to pin down precisely what worried her.
So, she liked Severus as a companion, she certainly didn't object to the prospect of sharing a bed with him, her only concern was exactly how serious he was about this.
She couldn't be sure, but she thought that the fact he wasn't trying to seduce her was encouraging. Perhaps it meant that he was taking her seriously; it could equally well mean that he thought her out of bounds because she wasn't 'that' kind of witch.
What this boiled down to was that the ball was firmly in his court. It was up to him to make the first move, at least for now, although there was nothing to stop her changing her mind later. If the worst came to the worst she could simply get him into bed and keep him there until he gave in to her.
She was tempted to try that anyway - it sounded like fun.
She moved to lie on the bed and ran through several seduction scenarios in her head. She was a girl who liked to plan ahead. She had the tactical advantage that she was obliged to snog him on a regular basis, and that they were already 'sleeping' together.
As far as she could see it was only a matter of time before he caved in.
Her musings were disturbed by a knock. She opened the door, feeling a little annoyed that someone should have interrupted her train of thought when it was just getting interesting, to be confronted by the boys. It did nothing to improve her mood. She was strongly tempted to tell them to bugger off; she had more important things to deal with - like what she was going to wear tonight to knock Severus's socks off.
The boys didn't seem to notice that she wasn't pleased to see her, or perhaps they simply didn't care. They barely waited for an invitation before coming in to the room.
"Make yourselves at home," she said pointedly, as Ron sat on the edge of her bed and Harry took the only chair in the room.
"Thanks Hermione," said Ron simply, although it wouldn't do to take that at face value. Ronald Weasley might be able to fool the average witch but she was made of sterner stuff. He'd cultivated that slightly dim exterior as protective colouring to survive in his large and boisterous family, and then found it worked to get him out of all sorts of situations in the real world. 'Oh sorry I dropped this plate, perhaps you ought to do the washing up charm, I don't seem to be very good at it.'
Well, that applied in the days when he bothered having girlfriends anyway. Nowadays he just relied on his facile charm to get into someone's bed, and then left them as soon as they got 'clingy' as he put it; or treated as anything other than a mattress as she put it.
Sometimes she wondered if she had ever really liked Harry and Ron or whether circumstances had thrown them together so that they had no choice to get along. She wondered if there had been some secret part of the prophecy - and a bushy haired girl will do all of the Hero's thinking for him, get none of the credit, and can be discarded once she ceases to be useful. To be fair the rest of the world had given her credit for her work in defeating Voldemort. It was the boys who hadn't thought her contribution was important or worthwhile: an inconvenience they had had to protect and worry about was the way they looked at it.
Hermione's silence was unnerving the boys; they found the quiet oppressive. Neither of them was given to reflection or contemplation, and spent most of their lives generating as much bustle and hubbub as possible.
"We haven't seen you around much lately," said Harry abruptly.
"No," she replied. "I rather got the impression that you didn't want to have anything to do with a, how was it you put it Harry, an 'uptight bookworm who was just jealous because she wasn't getting any herself', that was it."
The boys looked uneasy, not expecting such a cold reception.
"You shouldn't have taken it to heart, Hermione. We all say things in the heat of the moment that we don't mean," said Ron, trying to smile at her.
"It seemed heartfelt at the time," she countered. "And if you didn't mean it, I would certainly have expected an apology."
There was a pause, whilst the boys looked at each other, trying to communicate with each other by means of mind reading. Which would have been more successful if mind reading existed, or either of them had a brain to read.
Hermione had a sudden image of Severus rummaging around in Harry's head and extracting various thoughts for inspection. She could see the sneer on his face as he discarded first one then another. "Just as I thought. Quidditch. Girls. Quidditch. Girls. Quidditch. Utterly devoid of interest."
The faint smile on her face encouraged Ron to think she was warming to them, that the old habits of friendship would override the pain of their last meeting.
"Well, of course we're sorry," said Harry easily, "that goes without saying."
"Does it?" she said dryly, but the comment went over their heads.
There was a pause whilst Ron mentally reviewed his repertoire of techniques for 'handling the ladies' to find the one most suitable for smoothing Hermione's feathers. He essayed a weak grin, coupled with puppy dog eyes, which had melted many a heart before Hermione's, but failed to have any effect on her. She had seen it all before.
"So," began Harry with the air of mentioning something almost too inconsequential to bother with, in the way someone asks for a pay rise or a promotion, "I hear that you're seeing Snape."
"You saw that for yourself in Hogsmeade, and what you didn't see, no doubt Ginny told you."
"Damn it, Hermione, we were worried about you," Ron blurted out. "I know we said you should get yourself a man in your life but I mean, Snape of all people."
"I like Severus," she said, laying careful emphasis on his first name, "so I suggest you stop before you say something I'll make you regret."
The boys exchanged amused glances, which quickly faded under Hermione's glare.
"What on earth can you see in him?" said Harry. "He' so ugly and nasty. He made our lives hell at school."
"Actually, Harry he made your life a hell at school, not mine, and I find him to be a pleasant and interesting companion and the best lover I've ever had."
Both boys flinched at that. In a spirit of mischief she continued, "He's so attentive and experienced, why only last night.."
"Hermione!" they chorused plaintively.
"I don't want to hear the details, please stop," begged Ron.
Again an attempt at non-verbal communication, and a sudden change in tack.
You know we both just want you to be happy," said Harry softly, as if he were talking to a wild animal that needed to be soothed.
"But are you sure that Snape is the one to make you happy?"
That had been precisely the thing she had been turning over in her mind before the boys had interrupted her calm; it was, very much the question in point. She stood in the middle of the room, flanked on either side by her oldest friends watching her with worried expressions, and she realised that the answer was very much 'yes'.
The broad smile that spread over her face was all the answer the boys got, but it was all the answer they needed.
"Well," said Ron heavily, "just don't come crying to us when it all goes wrong."
"Don't be like that Ron," chided Harry, "I'm sure Hermione and Severus will be very happy together."
Hermione was so distracted by her rosy dreams of a future with Severus which, to be honest, hadn't proceeded much further than that evening and her planned seduction, that she didn't notice the 'later' Harry mouthed in response to Ron's look of shock.
"We can see you've got things to do," said Harry easily, "so we'll leave you to it. We'll catch you later, perhaps this evening?"
"What? Oh, yes: this evening. Perhaps." Hermione was wondering whether she should wear the pink or the gold dress, and barely noticed them leave. It was several minutes after they had gone before she suddenly realised that that had been far too easy.
What were they up to?
Hermione sat at the desk in her room and toyed with her quill. In times of uncertainty she would fall into the comfortable habits of her youth: define the problem, select possible solutions, analyse the alternatives, and then come to a conclusion. They boys had sneered at her for applying these techniques in such a way; they thought that feelings couldn't be dissected and laid open like that, you either felt something or you didn't.
They were right, to an extent. You couldn't draw up a list with the pros and cons of pursuing Severus - or standing still while he pursued her - tot up each column and announce that the pros had won. Or cons, as the case may be. It did help to clarify the issues, though, to pin down precisely what worried her.
So, she liked Severus as a companion, she certainly didn't object to the prospect of sharing a bed with him, her only concern was exactly how serious he was about this.
She couldn't be sure, but she thought that the fact he wasn't trying to seduce her was encouraging. Perhaps it meant that he was taking her seriously; it could equally well mean that he thought her out of bounds because she wasn't 'that' kind of witch.
What this boiled down to was that the ball was firmly in his court. It was up to him to make the first move, at least for now, although there was nothing to stop her changing her mind later. If the worst came to the worst she could simply get him into bed and keep him there until he gave in to her.
She was tempted to try that anyway - it sounded like fun.
She moved to lie on the bed and ran through several seduction scenarios in her head. She was a girl who liked to plan ahead. She had the tactical advantage that she was obliged to snog him on a regular basis, and that they were already 'sleeping' together.
As far as she could see it was only a matter of time before he caved in.
Her musings were disturbed by a knock. She opened the door, feeling a little annoyed that someone should have interrupted her train of thought when it was just getting interesting, to be confronted by the boys. It did nothing to improve her mood. She was strongly tempted to tell them to bugger off; she had more important things to deal with - like what she was going to wear tonight to knock Severus's socks off.
The boys didn't seem to notice that she wasn't pleased to see her, or perhaps they simply didn't care. They barely waited for an invitation before coming in to the room.
"Make yourselves at home," she said pointedly, as Ron sat on the edge of her bed and Harry took the only chair in the room.
"Thanks Hermione," said Ron simply, although it wouldn't do to take that at face value. Ronald Weasley might be able to fool the average witch but she was made of sterner stuff. He'd cultivated that slightly dim exterior as protective colouring to survive in his large and boisterous family, and then found it worked to get him out of all sorts of situations in the real world. 'Oh sorry I dropped this plate, perhaps you ought to do the washing up charm, I don't seem to be very good at it.'
Well, that applied in the days when he bothered having girlfriends anyway. Nowadays he just relied on his facile charm to get into someone's bed, and then left them as soon as they got 'clingy' as he put it; or treated as anything other than a mattress as she put it.
Sometimes she wondered if she had ever really liked Harry and Ron or whether circumstances had thrown them together so that they had no choice to get along. She wondered if there had been some secret part of the prophecy - and a bushy haired girl will do all of the Hero's thinking for him, get none of the credit, and can be discarded once she ceases to be useful. To be fair the rest of the world had given her credit for her work in defeating Voldemort. It was the boys who hadn't thought her contribution was important or worthwhile: an inconvenience they had had to protect and worry about was the way they looked at it.
Hermione's silence was unnerving the boys; they found the quiet oppressive. Neither of them was given to reflection or contemplation, and spent most of their lives generating as much bustle and hubbub as possible.
"We haven't seen you around much lately," said Harry abruptly.
"No," she replied. "I rather got the impression that you didn't want to have anything to do with a, how was it you put it Harry, an 'uptight bookworm who was just jealous because she wasn't getting any herself', that was it."
The boys looked uneasy, not expecting such a cold reception.
"You shouldn't have taken it to heart, Hermione. We all say things in the heat of the moment that we don't mean," said Ron, trying to smile at her.
"It seemed heartfelt at the time," she countered. "And if you didn't mean it, I would certainly have expected an apology."
There was a pause, whilst the boys looked at each other, trying to communicate with each other by means of mind reading. Which would have been more successful if mind reading existed, or either of them had a brain to read.
Hermione had a sudden image of Severus rummaging around in Harry's head and extracting various thoughts for inspection. She could see the sneer on his face as he discarded first one then another. "Just as I thought. Quidditch. Girls. Quidditch. Girls. Quidditch. Utterly devoid of interest."
The faint smile on her face encouraged Ron to think she was warming to them, that the old habits of friendship would override the pain of their last meeting.
"Well, of course we're sorry," said Harry easily, "that goes without saying."
"Does it?" she said dryly, but the comment went over their heads.
There was a pause whilst Ron mentally reviewed his repertoire of techniques for 'handling the ladies' to find the one most suitable for smoothing Hermione's feathers. He essayed a weak grin, coupled with puppy dog eyes, which had melted many a heart before Hermione's, but failed to have any effect on her. She had seen it all before.
"So," began Harry with the air of mentioning something almost too inconsequential to bother with, in the way someone asks for a pay rise or a promotion, "I hear that you're seeing Snape."
"You saw that for yourself in Hogsmeade, and what you didn't see, no doubt Ginny told you."
"Damn it, Hermione, we were worried about you," Ron blurted out. "I know we said you should get yourself a man in your life but I mean, Snape of all people."
"I like Severus," she said, laying careful emphasis on his first name, "so I suggest you stop before you say something I'll make you regret."
The boys exchanged amused glances, which quickly faded under Hermione's glare.
"What on earth can you see in him?" said Harry. "He' so ugly and nasty. He made our lives hell at school."
"Actually, Harry he made your life a hell at school, not mine, and I find him to be a pleasant and interesting companion and the best lover I've ever had."
Both boys flinched at that. In a spirit of mischief she continued, "He's so attentive and experienced, why only last night.."
"Hermione!" they chorused plaintively.
"I don't want to hear the details, please stop," begged Ron.
Again an attempt at non-verbal communication, and a sudden change in tack.
You know we both just want you to be happy," said Harry softly, as if he were talking to a wild animal that needed to be soothed.
"But are you sure that Snape is the one to make you happy?"
That had been precisely the thing she had been turning over in her mind before the boys had interrupted her calm; it was, very much the question in point. She stood in the middle of the room, flanked on either side by her oldest friends watching her with worried expressions, and she realised that the answer was very much 'yes'.
The broad smile that spread over her face was all the answer the boys got, but it was all the answer they needed.
"Well," said Ron heavily, "just don't come crying to us when it all goes wrong."
"Don't be like that Ron," chided Harry, "I'm sure Hermione and Severus will be very happy together."
Hermione was so distracted by her rosy dreams of a future with Severus which, to be honest, hadn't proceeded much further than that evening and her planned seduction, that she didn't notice the 'later' Harry mouthed in response to Ron's look of shock.
"We can see you've got things to do," said Harry easily, "so we'll leave you to it. We'll catch you later, perhaps this evening?"
"What? Oh, yes: this evening. Perhaps." Hermione was wondering whether she should wear the pink or the gold dress, and barely noticed them leave. It was several minutes after they had gone before she suddenly realised that that had been far too easy.
What were they up to?