'How did we get to this point?' Severus thought with irritation.
He shifted his pelvis an inch back from Hermione, maintaining all their current contact, while ensuring that his body's response to her would not be noticed. He had hidden his traitorous body's response to her on more occasions than he cared to remember. He looked at Hermione taking in their position this morning. They lay on their sides facing each other. His arms were around her, and she had snuggled into his chest with her arms fast around his waist. Her leg was nested between his knees and curled around his calf holding him near. Severus' mind wandered again to a puzzle he'd been pondering for some time now. 'How,' he wondered, 'is it that I can sleep peacefully with her in my arms; when I have not slept peacefully in years?'
Hermione sighed and smiled.
'Was that a sigh of contentment?' Severus asked himself. 'By now she must be accustomed to my touch, as I should be to hers. Yet, somehow it never fails to amaze me. Casual touch seems to be the norm for her. When we walk she holds on to me, at night we always wind up entangled together in this small space. For reasons unknown she is always touching my hair, smoothing it out of my face as if it blinds me. Yes, there are very few moments when she isn't touching me for some reason or another. Even when we are just sitting, she sits against me. We are in almost constant physical contact. It means nothing to her. Then again, the simplest touch from her never fails to affect me deeply, to - No! I should be angry at this. I am angry at this. People do not want to touch me, and I most certainly do not touch others. I should put a stop to this madness. I should have stopped it from the beginning.' He fixed his eyes on Hermione and he glared. 'There is something insidious about her,' he thought resentfully.
He cast his thoughts back to their first night in the tiny shared tent. He had planned to leave it to her and remain outside, but she would have none of that.
'She really is quite adept at blackmail,' he thought, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a brief complimentary moment.
He had allowed her attempted blackmail on that first night to be effective because she was injured. Even he was not enough of a bastard to deny the injured witch comfort. Once she had blackmailed him into the tent, her demands had increased.
She had claimed that she could not sleep in restrictive clothing. Then she announced that she would not remove some of her outer clothes to allow her to sleep, if he did not remove some of his. 'And anyway,' she had gone on to declare, 'you will never get any sleep trussed up in all those layers.' So to allow the frustrating, injured witch restful sleep, he found himself barefoot and removing his robe and frock coat. He conceded to her yet again, and unbuttoned his shirt at the wrists, and part way down the chest. All because she had said she would never sleep if she had to remain buttoned up to the neck and wrists, and she wasn't going to unbutton if he wouldn't. He had justified it to himself by arguing that she needed sleep. Who was he to deny her such a simple request, if it helped her to sleep in this unfortunate situation? When she suggested that perhaps they would be more comfortable without pants, he flatly refused.
He woke before her that first morning in the tent. Upon waking he had found that they had wrapped themselves up with each other in the night. Their bodily entanglement was such that he could not pull away from Hermione without waking her. He remembered waiting patiently for her to rouse and proceed to slap and hex him, for their intimate position. To his dismay when she did wake up that first morning, no slap came. Instead she had smiled sweetly into his eyes, and asked him if he slept well. In his confusion and disbelief at her acceptance of the way in which they had ended up sleeping, all he could do was nod. Then they went about their day as if it were natural for the know-it-all and the Potions Master to wake up in each others arms.
He would have spent that day contemplating the meaning of her ease with him, but he found himself completely distracted by her Muggle gadgets. The first being her compass. He was relieved to find that there was a way to determine their progress through the forest without wands, or a clear view of the sky. He was pleased that they would not walk around in aimless circles. They walked for days, and as they walked they talked. They spoke in depth of potions. He had always known she displayed a talent for his specialty, but in talking they discovered they shared the same passion for the art. They discussed magical theories. They extrapolated on the Ministry's incompetence. They spoke of The Order, and the war. They discussed The Dark Lord, his plans, and chances of success. When the mood got too dark, they would talk about literature, and their personal likes and dislikes. Oddly enough they found that they agreed on most things. When they didn't, they would engage in lively and invigorating intellectual arguments. Surprisingly they all ended amicably. If they weren't under a time limit, and if their captors could have been positively identified as Aurors, Severus might have have been tempted to admit to himself that there had been moments with Hermione that were not wholly unpleasant.
From that first night on they shared the tent, unbuttoned and relaxed; as per Hermione's requirements. They awoke each morning in some sort of close bodily entanglement. 'Yes,' Severus thought, 'there were far worse things then waking up with your arms around an intelligent, competent, lovely,' he inhaled deeply, 'sweet smelling witch.'
At that disquieting thought Severus looked again at Hermione's face. She gave no impression of wanting to move from their current position, so he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall back to sleep. All the while unconsciously stroking her back. The last thing Severus thought before he gave in to sleep was, 'There is definitely something wrong with me.'
Hermione came slowly to wakefulness and took in her surroundings. She knew that in their situation she should be afraid, or at least concerned. She found these feelings impossible in the reality of waking in Severus' arms. All she could feel was safe and protected. She snuggled deeper into Severus, more happy to be right where she was then anywhere else in the world. 'Danger be damned,' she thought with a smile. She sighed in contentment as she listened to the steady beat of Severus' heart beneath her ear. Her mind drifted and she found herself imagining waking up every morning for the rest of her life in this intelligent, powerful wizard's arms. She shivered with desire as she thought of how they could spend every night together in heated passion, his hands, his lips, his body on hers. She smiled as she imagined spending every day with him in challenging research; his lightening sharp mind, and forward thinking blending so well with hers. Her smile grew larger as she thought of all they could learn and actualise together. She saw a toddler with lots of bushy brown hair, rather large teeth, very pale skin, and deep beetle-black eyes. Suddenly she knew what had been wrong with her. Somewhere, sometime, she had given her heart and soul to Severus Snape. Hermione's eyes flew open and she bolted upright, waking Severus.
"Hermione!" he sprang up ready to defend them, "what's wrong?"
"Na, nothing," she stammered. "I was just, uh, startled."
He visibly relaxed and in an uncharacteristic move he ran a hand through his hair. "We seem to have overslept." He scowled.
Hermione smiled at him. "Good morning," she greeted as she scooted back close to him. She placed her lips on his cheek in a morning salutation. She left them there longer than chastely necessary, and when she drew them off, it was with a lingering caress.
He suppressed an inhalation of delight at the feel of her moist soft lips on his skin. Shortly followed by a suppressed moan of regret at the loss of contact when she moved away.
"Sorry I woke you," she offered, as she turned and leaned into him.
He brushed her upper arm with the back of his fingers, and allowed his lips to briefly fall on the top of her head. "Think nothing of it. However, we should be going. I had wanted to stop early this evening."
"Why?" she asked looking up at him from his chest.
She felt him stiffen as he answered, "Because tonight is a full moon."
"How does that - "
"We can not be sure that werewolves do not inhabit these woods," was his terse reply.
His tone and demeanor told her that there was more to this then that simple statement. By his body language Hermione decided that this must be very important to him. She stilled to consider what his words were not telling her. Casting her mind back she remembered the incident with Remus Lupin's werewolf self in her third year. No, that could not be responsible for Severus' reaction. Then she remembered Harry telling her about the trauma in Severus' childhood, when Sirius Black set Severus up to be killed by that same werewolf.
'Oh no,' she thought to herself, 'the dear man must be terrified, lost in the woods with no wand, under a full moon.'
That very same werewolf had declared Hermione to be 'the cleverest witch of her age that he had met.' This declaration was not unfounded. She thought fast. Knowing that Severus was not one who would ask for any concessions for himself, nor would he even admit his fear; she took the only action she could think of that would allow him to feel safe, while not embarrassing him.
"A full moon, tonight Severus?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound frightened and shaky.
Some of the stiffness seemed to leave his body when he perceived the fear with which she had infused her question. "Yes, does that worry you?" he asked.
"Se - Severus, we don't have wands. What if... what if there is a werewolf?" she asked, seeming to try to hide terror. "We are virtually unprotected except for the charms you put on the tent. What if we drop the tent down a ravine while we hike today? What if we are hurt today and can't put the tent up tonight? What if - "
"Hermione, it will be fine. There is no need for alarm," he told her.
"We'd be completely exposed!" she continued, putting a note of panic in her tone.
"Hermione," he tilted her chin so that she was looking in his eyes, "I will not allow any harm to come to you."
"Severus," she intoned wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. It took all the willpower she could muster not to kiss that neck, to taste behind his ear...
Severus put his arms around her and drew her into a comforting embrace. "We can stay here safe in the tent until the full moon passes. Continuing would be of no benefit with you in such a state."
"I know you think I'm silly," she mumbled into his neck. He tried to concentrate on her words rather than the delicious feel of her warm breath by his ear. "I'm sorry Severus. It's just, werewolves are a fear, almost a phobia." As she exhaled on the last word Severus could not contain a delightful shiver that passed through his body.
Irreverently Severus thought, 'I might just learn to like werewolves.'
'He's so frightened he's shivering,' she thought. She pressed herself deeper into him in an attempt to comfort him, disguising this move as her own need for comfort.
Severus felt her try to get even closer to him and he tightened his hold on her. Trying to offer more comfort to the terrified witch. He leaned his head on hers and her name escaped his lips in a soft sigh, "Hermione."
She lifted her head, her face was scant inches from his. He was drawn to her by an unseen force. Without conscious thought his lips descended towards hers... Then his mind caught on to what his body was doing. He abruptly set her away from him, and stated somewhat breathlessly "I will retrieve water for tea." With that he was gone.
"Uh uh! Shoes, coat, sleeves and neck, we're on tent rules here," Hermione teased, as Severus entered the tent behind her, after they had finished their tea.
"Why you insufferable - "
"Yes, yes. Please Severus, if we have to sit here all day and wait for who knows what to pounce on us, we don't need to be all trussed up. That will only add to the nervousness," she reasoned.
"Very well." He sneered.
As soon as Severus was situated, Hermione spoke, "You know what these woods need? A good library."
"Indeed," he concurred.
"Tell me about your childhood," Hermione bravely asked.
He stiffened and hissed in his most disdainful tone, "The impertinence of that - "
"Fine. I'll tell you about mine. You've met my parents and been to their home, so you know a little about them. I grew up in that house, until my Hogwart's letter came. You would think Muggles would be skeptical or terrified to receive such news, but not my parents. No, they were thrilled and excited. In retrospect it was really quite funny. Until then we were pretty much a typical Muggle family. I didn't have many friends. Okay, I really didn't have any friends when I was little. I guess it was because I was always so far ahead of the other kids. Not just academically either. My dad always said I was born middle aged. It's funny now, but it was sad when I was little. I wanted someone to talk to, you know? But, the other children, they just didn't understand me. My parents, however, were wonderful, they spent countless hours talking to me and encouraging me. I did very well in my studies, and parents were very vocal about their pride in my accomplishments. They did everything they could, and then some. But, it was a little lonely, I think that's why I was so excited to get to Hogwarts. I just knew everything would be different in a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I had convinced myself that was why I never fit in before, because I was a witch. Only when I got to Hogwarts I still didn't fit in."
"You, not fit in? Constantly with the illustrious Potter and Weasley? Not to mention the other Gryffindors," he interjected sarcastically.
"No, I didn't. They hated me at first. It was Ron who commented early on that I was so horrible that it was no wonder I didn't have any friends. Actually that comment of his was not so unfounded. I was a know-it-all. True it was what my parents had always been so very proud of, but mostly it was because I really loved to learn. I still do. I just want to share that enthusiasm for learning with others. Unfortunately most people - " she fell silent as she thought for a minute, "all people really, hate it rather than share it. I'm the odd one out you see. Great for a study partner, or to get notes or tutoring from. For that I'm popular. Anything else, well, no one wants a bookworm. At this point Ron and Harry put up with the rest. But that's what it is, them putting up with it. Books don't mind me though." She smiled.
"You are wrong. There is someone who understands. I understand your enthusiasm for learning. I am the same way myself. Never have I known someone who could even begin to understand. The Headmaster will nod and smile absently. He will encourage me because whatever I am on about will surly benefit The Order somehow. That however, is not the same as talking with you. You understand."
"Severus, that is how I feel about you. I never imagined! How long have you felt this way?" she breathed.
"Since you were able to raise valid points, and give fascinating commentary on the article about use of potions combined with charms, while you were inebriated. If you could engage in stimulating intellectual conversation while drunk - "
"I wasn't drunk," she protested.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Well maybe I was a little drunk, but I knew what I was saying," she agreed smiling.
"Exactly," he returned her smile.
His genuine smile took her breath away.
He broke the ensuing silence by addressing her earlier question, "To answer your question,my childhood was rather unpleasant. Instead of speaking of that, perhaps - "
"Tell me."
"I wouldn't know where to begin," he answered scathingly.
"Tell me about your mother Severus."
Somewhat against his will and most certainly against his better judgment, he did. "My mother?" Severus paused in memory, when he spoke his voice was devoid of all emotion. "She was..." he paused, "...from Romania. I remember that she had all this lovely long raven coloured hair, and the deepest darkest eyes that simply sparkled with life. She always wore lace, and she smelt of roses. Her voice was like music. She would read aloud to me for hours on end. I would never tire of hearing her. She was gentle and kind, she always put the needs of others first. She listened, she cared. She could heal any wound with a kiss, she could cheer away any sadness with her brilliant smile, she could chase away any fear. She was all that was good. She did not deserve - "
Hermione reached out and took Severus' hand in hers. He did not seem to notice.
"My mother did not deserve to have her spirit broken. However, it was crushed, by my father. It began when I was three. I know now that she lost an unborn child then, and he discovered she could give him no more children. I was a disappointment to him, he wanted a child he could be proud of."
"How could you be a disappointment, you were only three?" Hermione broke in.
"I was a disappointment to him since the day I was born. His mistreatment of my mother increased exponentially as the years went on. In the end she was an empty shell. Her body was there, but her Light was gone. I had a childish hope that she had found a safe place to go inside herself when he..." Severus glared into space. "I used to think that in her mind she was in the courtyard of a beautiful castle by the sea, in a rose garden, singing in the sunlight and salt air. So she could not see him, could not feel what he did to her. Then when I was older I realised that was a silly idea. She had not escaped to a safe place in her mind where she waited to reemerge, she was just gone."
Severus spoke into the silence that had fallen between them. His voice now dripping with self loathing, "Enough." His tone hardened and he continued, "It happens all the time. A sweet witches' life ruined by a - " At this he looked at his hand in hers, and he snatched it back as if burned.
"Severus - "
He did not give her a chance to speak, "If I am correct, one more full day of hiking and we should clear this forest.
"That's... that's..." Hermione's voice wavered, "wonderful?"
"Is it not?" Severus snapped. "I am sure Albus will consider your orientation complete and you will be able to go back to - "
"Complete?" she asked.
"Yes. Is that a problem?" he probed in genuine confusion.
"I don't want this to end," she blurted. Then she blushed furiously.
"You enjoy not having a wand? You relish the lack of a proper - "
"No! I hate all of that," she replied.
"Well then surely you will be pleased to see your orientation end?" he pressed. He steadfastly refused to acknowledge the fledgling flutter of hope in his chest, subconsciously changing it to derision.
"What I enjoy is being here with you Severus. What I enjoy is you," she said shyly. "As much as I despise waiting, I even enjoyed our time together before we were abducted. I never knew..." she trailed off and silence fell between them.
Severus finally spoke asking sardonically, "You never knew what?"
"I never knew you," she said simply.
"And you think you know me now?" he asked with challenging derision.
Hermione reached out and took his hand again. "I've no doubt that you can't wait to be rid of this insufferable Gryffindor witch, but I've no desire to be rid of you Severus. You may hate me for it, but while I still have a chance I need to tell you some things." Hermione took a deep breath, and grabbed her Gryffindor courage by the mane. She looked into Severus' eyes and began, "No one engages my mind as you do, no one ever has. No one makes me feel appreciated like you do. Oh, not with praise." She laughed. "I've been praised all my life. With you it's that you actually listen to me, that's not uncomprehending praise, that's real. I have never felt content to be with anyone, like I am with you. You ask if I am eager to end this. No, I am not. I have absolutely no desire to end this. I, I - " Hermione looked down and squeezed Severus' hand convulsively, she swallowed hard. She was terrified to speak, she was terrified of his reaction. Yet, she knew she would probably never have another chance. After a minute she steeled herself and returned her eyes to his, prepared for rejection. "Severus, I want to be with you," she admitted.
"Hermione - "
"No. Please, let me finish. Then you can call me a foolish witch. I just... I just have to tell you this or I will spend my life wishing I had." She stared intently at her lap. "Even though I know you will loathe me for it, I need to tell you what I feel. I..." she paused for just a second and sidestepped the blunt statement she had been about to make. She raised her eyes to his. "Do you remember the first day of my orientation? We were in the kitchen at headquarters. We reached for the tea pot at the same time, and I touched your hand. Words can't describe how that felt for me. I know it meant nothing to you. But I have never before been moved by a simple touch in the way that I am by your touch. It is true that I was not as popular as rumour suggested, but I've been touched by many boys, and a more then a few men. No one's deliberate attempt at seductive touch has ever made me feel the way you make me feel with a mere innocent touch." She looked down at the hand she held. "The amount of time we have spent together, twenty-four hours a day for almost four months. That's quite a trial by fire don't you think? If we were dating the amount of time we have spent together would constitute a relationship of well over three years I'd estimate. And in all this intense time together, I have only grown to desire your company more." She felt his thumb slowly, deliberately. She experienced his skin, she felt the shape of his bones, and she counted on his thumb, "One, I am not your student." She moved on to the next finger on his hand and gave it the same attention, "Two, I am a legal adult in both the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds." When she began to feel of his middle finger she paid special attention to his writing callous, "Three," she continued to count, "an age difference like ours is of no consequence to witches and wizards." She skipped his ring finger and went on to his last finger forgetting to count, "Over all this time I have gotten to know you, and you have come to know me. Very well, I would say." When she released that finger she massaged his palm. "No one's opinion matters except ours. You and me Severus, us, we are the only ones whose opinion matters. It's not up to Albus, or my friends. They will have to accept whatever we do. The Dark Lord is not a concern in this, we can find a way to use anything against him." She kissed the inside of his wrist. "Can you Severus? Can you desire me, in all the ways that I desire you?" she asked, between the now open mouthed kisses she was bestowing on the inside of his sensitive wrist.