Chapter 9 – When The Timing Is Just Right
Standing with his forehead against the closed door, Snape willed his heart to stop beating so quickly. Why did she have to turn around, he thought. He was fine until he looked into her face, those eyes--he could feel the movement of her body as she took each breath. So many thoughts had never battled in his mind at once. Should he ask her to stay a while longer? Should he ask if she was free to talk tomorrow night? Should he just let her leave? Should he kiss her? Oh how he wanted to kiss her.
No, he reflected, drawing back his head and letting it thud against the door. You are a fool to think for even one moment that she would want that, Severus. The thoughts would not cease. Besides, she is a student. That was inappropriate. Was a student, he reminded himself. Even so, none of that was relevant because she would never want him, not like that, not ever. She was a beautiful, intelligent young woman. She could have any man she wanted.
Feeling tense and still a little drunk, he returned to his chair by the fire. Collapsing into it, he looked back to the ceiling he had gazed at earlier. It still held no answers to his next move.
He would have scoffed if someone had told him this morning that he would be thinking these thoughts. Especially if they had said those thoughts would be about this woman. Somewhere between answering the door and finding himself there in the chair, he recognized that she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, everything he had ever wanted in a friend. She was everything he had never found in his life and he knew he could never have her. Moreover, she would never have him.
The teakettle on the coffee table reminded him that he needed to use the lavatory. Making his way through the bedroom, he reproached himself for letting her leave. He could have at least offered her one more cup of tea.
Emerging from the bathroom feeling considerably relieved, he collapsed onto the bed, all the things he wished he'd said twisting through his mind.
This was going to be an unusually challenging year if he could not get his feelings in check, but he didn't want to check them. He didn't want to stop feeling this way. He at least had to try.
Feeling stupid for not thinking of it sooner, he pushed himself to his feet and walked decisively to the door. If she could show up uninvited, so could he.
> > > > > > > > > >
Standing again in the icy corridor, heart pounding in her chest, Hermione scolded herself for not asking to use his bathroom. Perhaps it was better this way. The longer she was in that room, the more difficult it was becoming to keep her mind on the conversation, as it were.
She was standing facing her door, not wanting to go inside because that would mean her evening with Snape was over, when she heard a muted thump come from the door behind her. He must have locked his door, she thought. He must not want any more unannounced visitors.
Resigned to her fate, she went back into her room. Remembering why she had wanted to go back in the first place, she hurried to the bathroom.
Feeling much lighter, she went back into the sitting room and settled on the couch next to the still sleeping Crookshanks.
"Why did I leave?" she asked him. He didn't answer. She thought back to standing at his door, felling his warmth, hoping he would kiss her. She let her head fall back against the couch. She'd hoped he would kiss her. How silly was she. He was Snape, her Professor, someone she didn't even care to know yesterday. Now, all she wanted was to know him.
She shook her head. To him, I'm just a little girl. Of course, he would never want her. Of course, she never thought she would want him either, not like this. He was so striking, and funny, and so very intelligent. And well read. Exceptionally well read, that was almost sexier than those pants he was wearing…God! Get a grip Hermione! She jumped to her feet, upsetting Crookshanks who leapt to the floor, shooting her a very disdainful look before stalking off.
How was she supposed to get any sleep if she could not settle her mind? She didn't want to settle her mind. I know what I want, she thought, glancing back at her door.
She would just go see if he was still awake--ask him if he had a blanket that she could borrow. If she could not act on her feelings, at least she could be in his presence for a while longer.
> > > > > > > > > >
Snape opened the door, took two steps into the hall and turned right back around, shutting the door behind him. What am I doing? Leaning with his back against the door, he wondered what had possessed him. What was he going to do, ask her for a cup of sugar? Yes, he could do that. NO, that was ridiculous! He was going to stay put and think about other things--like how soft her skin looked and how flushed the cognac had made her cheeks. Damn it! There was nothing for it. He would ask her if she had a good book to read. That wouldn't sound stupid. Having worked up the nerve, he again opened the door.
> > > > > > > > > >
Hermione had her hand on the doorknob when she paused. A blanket? The best she could come up with was a blanket? The wardrobe in the bedroom was full of them, asking him that would be entirely too transparent and simply make her look lonely. Hand still poised on the knob, she thought. Tea? No, she could summon a house elf for that. A book. That was plausible. She would say she needed a good book to read before bed. Feeling confident with her story, she finally turned the knob and opened the door. A few hurried steps later, she was again standing at Snape's door though she hadn't yet worked up to courage to knock.
> > > > > > > > > >
Thankfully, he looked down before stepping into the hall. He knew she couldn't have been there all along because he had already made one failed attempt to cross the hall.
"How did you know I was at the door?" she asked with puzzlement in her voice.
"Well I…" he stammered.
"The wards," she answered herself.
Grateful for the reprieve he said, "Yes, the wards." He hoped his tone sounded more convincing to her.
"Sorry to bother you again. I was just wondering if you had a book I could borrow," she said awkwardly.
"A book. Yes. Come in." She walked past him, her sweet scent filling his mind and weakening his knees. He composed himself quickly. "What kind of book did you have in mind?"
She had walked over to the couch by the fire. "Well, I was hoping you could recommend something."
"Of course." Good, this was good, he thought. "Do you like poetry Miss Granger?"
She looked surprised, "Yes, very much."
"Have you a favorite?" he asked.
She blushed, "Too many. Could you choose one for me?" She was fidgeting.
He smiled, "Never. There could never be only one. Please sit while I locate a few volumes."
He went to the bookcase by the bureau dedicated exclusively to poetry. He strove to make his choices wisely.
> > > > > > > > > >
Opting for a place in the middle, she took a seat on the couch. For a brief moment, she considered whether she could accidentally fall asleep there. It was unbelievably comfortable, the suede so supple and inviting to her skin.
Turning to see where Snape had gone, she saw him glance at her. He probably can't wait to get rid of me, she thought. She was going to have to avoid him for a week to overcome the shame of this one evening.
Apparently having found what he was looking for, Snape walked to the chair he had occupied earlier. Hermione was surprised that instead of sitting there, he sat down next to her on the couch. He was holding a few large books all bound in worn leather. His arm rubbed lightly against hers as he situated the books, the sensation sending goose bumps up her entire left arm.
"This has always been one of my favorites." The smile he was wearing calmed her.
Using the silk page marker, he opened the first book to what must have been a familiar page. Holding the book in one hand, he pointed to a poem called "She Walks in Beauty".
"This part is particularly good." He indicated a verse. She leaned towards him, taking in his scent as she read:
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
Hermione could not help but blush. "Byron. I love Byron."
"I thought you might." Closing that book and selecting another he said, "Some may consider Poe a dark writer, but I've always been fond of his work." He opened the book and sat it gently on her lap. Leaning close to her, pointing to a specific passage, she could feel his hair brush her cheek. She suppressed the shiver that went through her, but she could not suppress the sharp intake of breath.
As he leaned in, he felt her startle. Thinking he had alarmed her, he asked, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she almost whispered. "This one?" She quickly pointed to the passage he had indicated. She's uncomfortable sitting this close to me, he thought. Swiftly sitting back from her he said, "That verse of 'Tamerlane' is quite excellent."
After giving him a curious look, she hastily looked back to the page. The passage read:
We grew in age - and love - together
Roaming the forest, and the wild;
My breast her shield in wintry weather -
And, when the friendly sunshine smil'd,
And she would mark the opening skies,
I saw no Heaven – but in her eyes.
> > > > > > > > > >
She found the last two lines very lovely, but she was more concerned with Snape who seemed to have withdrawn from her. Closing the book, she turned toward him, trying to decide which to address first.
She decided, saying, "I have never read that before. It's lovely."
"Yes, I've always liked that one," he said, not quite meeting her eyes.
Her thoughts raced, searching for whatever it might have been she had done. Quite suddenly, her mind grasped what he had been doing. Hopeful she wasn't wrong, she opened the book and hurriedly found the only poem by Poe she was familiar with, "The Raven".
Shifting closer to him, heart beating out of her chest, she placed the book carefully on his lap and pointed to a line.
"Read this," she said, "and pay no mind to the 'Madam' part."
The line read:
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore."
After looking at the page for only a second, he turned his face toward her, eyes questioning. She decided it was best not to let him speak and gestured to the line right above.
This line read:
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer
> > > > > > > > > >
He read the first line, distracted by her body pressed against his right side. She was leaning into him, hair tickling his neck, making his pulse quicken.
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore."
He turned to see her face, wanting to tell her she'd done nothing wrong, but she moved her finger to the line above.
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer
He turned toward her again to ask what she meant, but she raised her hand and pressed two fingers tenderly to his lips. The delicate touch stole his breath and he found himself unable to speak.
> > > > > > > > > >
She was mildly dazed to find her fingers on his lips--on his tender, warm lips. He didn't try to speak and he didn't attempt to move her hand. Turning her body towards him, she brought her legs up underneath her so that she was kneeling at his side. She leaned forward, brushing the side of her face against his cheek, struggling to remain calm and placing her lips by his ear. She floated only a fraction of an inch from his skin. She felt his thigh against her knees and his quickening breaths on her neck, her own air arriving so fast she thought she'd almost stopped breathing entirely.
"Did you know I was at the door?" she whispered.
Her heart was thudding, blood rushing in her ears. She felt him slowly shake his head no.
Again, she whispered. "Perhaps you were going out for ice cream?"
Again, he slowly shook his head.
"Then what were you seeking?" she managed, her breath catching in her throat. She slid her fingers from his lips, finally resting her hand on the armrest to steady herself, seemingly restraining him in his seat. They were still barely touching. Thinking she had misread his intentions, she was about to retreat when he spoke.
"You."
Deep and resonant, his voice thundered through her, the meaning of that one word cascading through her veins like lightning.
