a/n - The Spanish in this chapter was created with translation software. If anyone who reads this is fluent, please let me know if it is even close to being intelligible. There is also the start of a little coarse language. Thanks again for reading!
Chapter 3
They took a cab back to her apartment since Apparating in such a busy city had been so troublesome for Hermione in the past. She could vividly recall the last time she attempted to pop into the shadowy alley next to her building. The homeless man who resided in the cardboard box mumbled about a girl materializing from thin air for days and he would point at her wildly every time he was on the street and she walked by. Frankly, it was disturbing.
While she changed clothes for dinner, she thought back on the events at the lab. Snape had watched her like a hawk, never uttering a word for hours. Every now and again, she would hear a very faint sigh or a muted 'ah' while she worked. She hoped he was at least a bit impressed since he had taught her everything she knew.
The compliment he'd given her was more than enough to set her on guard. Snape told her that she rivaled his own potions skills. Well, that was absolutely preposterous. He was a master, possessing more knowledge than she could ever hope for, and he'd only overlooked the brain element of his dilemma because he'd focused on the skin. It wasn't brains, she was just lucky.
She did have to admit that she was definitely on her game today. The diagnostic potion was an epiphany she had during the planning of the reversal potion in her mind. She did have to give herself credit for that one.
Now, she was going on what could be considered her first date in well over two years--with Snape. This was another one of those things she thought she would never be doing--ever. Reminding herself that it wasn't a date, that it was just a celebration of their progress, she finished fussing with her hair and walked into the living room.
Snape was standing at the picture window again. He turned when her heels hit the hardwood floor and something flashed across his face too quickly for Hermione to identify. Was it amazement, or maybe it was disappointment. She didn't have time to think about it.
Snape had apparently spent his time getting ready as well. He was wearing a black silk suit tailored perfectly for him. The customary white shirt was set off with a dazzling Slytherin-green tie. He looked sophisticated and debonair, his rugged features adding to the impression of culture and good breeding. The slight gleam of the black silk made the onyx of his eyes mysteriously alluring. He was positively stunning.
Realizing that if she started any longer she would have to swab the drool from her lips, she shook herself mentally. This was not the man she knew, or at least that she remembered.
She walked the last few steps to the window, struggling to contain her interest, but could not resist doing a quick turn to show off her dress. She was looking forward very much to being the lady at his side this evening.
"You look spectacular tonight Miss Granger." His voice was so low and silky that she thought he might as well have been purring.
"Thank you. You don't look so terrible yourself."
"You can never go wrong with Armani." His eyes were shining with something she had never seen in anyone's eyes before. She was curious to find out what that was because she liked it.
"Nice touch," she pointed to his tie.
"I thought you would appreciate that."
> > > > > > > > > >
"I'll just be another minute," she said.
He watched her disappear back into her bedroom and released the breath he had been holding. He had turned his head innocently enough when he heard her walk into the room, but he was dumbstruck by what he saw.
He had the opportunity to take her all in as she pirouetted for him. She had pulled her hair back from her face into a graceful French twist, allowing him to view the fine lines of her neck and shoulders exposed by the dress. She wasn't wearing much makeup, but her eyes were more striking and her lips were now a burgundy red. The dress itself was black with a square neck that almost sat off the shoulder and left nearly as little to the imagination. Silver threads ran through it, giving it a shimmering effect at each point where it hugged her body and fell loosely from her hips down just above the knees. Strappy high-heeled black sandals accentuated her elegant legs and everything else he was admiring of hers as she turned for him.
She stood barely to his shoulder, but she had such presence. She was petite, firm, modest breasts and a slim waist where he would love to slip his hands around and pull her close to him. He felt that weightlessness and the stirring again, this time significantly more than before. Not only was she brilliant, but she also happened to be positively gorgeous.
He knew it had to be evident on his face, no matter how he tried to hide it, and he knew he had done a poor job of keeping it out of his voice. He had been overwhelmed with a craving he had not felt in so many years when he looked at her. Though he knew he had little chance of sweeping her off her feet, he also knew that he was certainly hoping the potion would be ready tomorrow. He also hoped that sometime between now and when she came back from the bedroom, he could regain the use of speech. He could not pinpoint the moment it transpired but, somewhere during the course of the day, he had become taken with the young, beautiful Miss Granger.
> > > > > > > > > >
When she went back into the living room, she was amazed to see Snape still standing in the same place with the same strange look on his face as when she left him. Attributing it to the general weirdness of the situation, she dismissed it.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"Most certainly," he said smoothly, smiling ruefully. "Please forgive me for not offering my arm to the beautiful lady I am so delighted to be escorting this evening."
She blushed so much so that there was no way to hide it. Smiling candidly, she said, "You're forgiven."
He opened the door for her and bowed slightly as she walked past him. This was becoming exceedingly weird. He continued the chivalrous behavior all the way out of the building, opening doors and pressing buttons. She had never had a man treat her with such respect and consideration. She had never dated anyone other than Ron and he had certainly never thought to open a door for her. While they were in the elevator, Snape told her that her scent was divine and recognized it as honeysuckle. Ron had bought her perfume when he just had a crush on her and it had smelled something akin to toilet water, the kind you find in the more upstanding public restrooms.
Snape led her masterfully through the streets of Chicago. She could feel the warmth of his hand near the small of her back, hovering just inches away from her so he could guide her with ease without ever touching her. That near touch was incredibly sensuous.
He chose a restaurant called Alba. It was on Ledbetter Street, but down at the east end where she never frequented. It was full of little, romantic restaurants and shops that were aimed more towards couples, so she had never had the inclination to venture down that far.
He apparently had reservations as they were ushered to their table as soon as they arrived. The host called him Señor Snape and referred to her as Hermosa. The host seated them in a private room filled with lit white candles and faint violin music playing what Hermione recognized as Beethoven. The table was set for an intimate dinner for two with a bottle of chilled merlot.
As they took their seats, the waiter asked Snape something and Hermione scanned the menu. It was entirely in Spanish and she thought just then that she should really make the time to learn the language. She glanced at Snape looking for help and he took the lead.
"What would you enjoy this evening?" he asked.
"Chicken?" she meant to say, but ended up asking.
"Would you like to try the chicken with red beans? It is really quite delicious."
"That sounds fantastic," she replied.
He turned to the waiter and Hermione was immediately lost in everything they said.
"Señor querría la carne de vaca con brécol y arroz y la dama tendrá el pollo con frijoles rojos por favor," Snape said.
"¿Muy bueno Señor, algo más esta tarde?" the waiter asked.
"Sí, dos vasos de agua por favor," Snape answered.
"Absolutamente, regresaré en breve con el agua y su comida seguirá poco después," the waiter said.
"Gracias," said Snape
The waiter left the table and Snape poured them each a glass of wine.
"Do you come here often?" she asked him.
"There are a few ingredients I need from time to time that are only available in the States. When I am here, I try to make it a point to stop by."
"Did you call ahead somehow? They seemed to be expecting us."
He let go of a relaxed laugh. "No, they are always like this when I come in. I must be a good tipper."
"Then how did they know my name?" she asked innocently.
He laughed again, "He called you hermosa, which simply means beautiful lady."
Thankful that candles were the only thing lighting the room, she blushed again. The waiter suddenly returned with two glasses of water and their meals.
"Su cena se sirve. Goce por favor su comida y tenga una tarde maravillosa," he said before bowing deeply and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
Astonished, Hermione said, "That was fast."
"They pride themselves on their speed," he said as he began to cut into what looked like steak.
She took a bite of her chicken and it was marvelous. "I think this is the best meal I've had since I moved here," she said, adding, "No, I know this is the best."
"That is a shame," he said. "To think, you have been just down the street from here this entire time."
She nodded. "Except that I don't speak Spanish."
He smiled, "They speak English--they just do not bother with me." He laughed, "They think it makes me feel special."
"And does it?" she teased.
"That is nothing compared to sharing an evening with a woman like you." His low, silken voice reverberated in the small room and it vibrated through her.
She was blushing again, except this time she could not stop the grin from spreading across her face. "I've never had someone talk to me like that before," she said before really thinking about it.
He regarded her with warm, caring eyes. "Then that is a disgrace and I am thrilled to have the opportunity to correct it."
It was either the atmosphere of the room or the charm of his words, but she found herself fascinated by the man who was sitting opposite her. They passed through the meal with pleasant conversation. There was no hint of the man she thought she'd known.
He asked her about the cat she used to have. She told him Crookshanks had died a few years ago. He apologized. She asked him about his plans if her potion worked. He said he thought he would return to teaching. She said that was great because he was a fantastic teacher. He gave her an inquiring look. She conceded that he'd been unpleasant, but that it had served a valid purpose.
After they finished eating, they sat talking as they enjoyed the rest of the wine. They discussed Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. They discussed the days when Hermione had been at Hogwarts. Eventually, the conversation turned to the more delicate topics--specifically Hermione's history with Ron. She couldn't complain because she'd actually been the one who brought up the subject.
"I didn't know you were at the wedding," she said. "Well, my almost wedding."
"Albus convinced me to go. He said something about the sun doing me some good," he chuckled.
"You weren't sitting with Dumbledore were you?" she asked. "He was sitting in the front with my parents."
"I was lurking in the rear of the church," he smiled drolly. "There were so many former students there that I did not want to cause a scene."
"That and the fact you couldn't sit next to anyone for fear of screaming in agony," she observed.
He smiled, "Yes, and that." He stared at her for a moment before asking gently, "Is there a reason why you are delving this up again?"
He posed a valid question. "I don't know. No matter how much time or space there is between those memories and me, they still haunt me. I feel like I failed."
His eyes were warm with concern, "Would you be willing to accept the aid of a man who got into a rather permanent situation and realized too late that he was wrong?"
Suddenly, she saw the parallel and felt ridiculous for feeling so bad about something so petty. "You're right, it's nothing compared to becoming a Death Eater--"
He stopped her mid-sentence. "That is not what I meant. You remember what I said the other night while I was under the influence, as it were?" She nodded. "Then you know how I felt about it. You were, and are my dear, too good for him." She opened her mouth in protest, but he continued anyway. "Would you have rather woken up this morning in bed next to him?"
"No," she said.
He then asked, "Then why do you let it trouble you so?"
Without thinking, she answered, "Because it was the only real relationship I've ever had and I managed to fuck it up spectacularly." She blushed at her use of the expletive, but continued anyway, "There must be something wrong with me if I couldn't even make it work with Ron. He's such a simple guy, what would I do with a man who actually thought every now and again?"
A boundless understanding filled his eyes. "It took me years and many sermons from Albus before I finally forgave myself for the events that happened that were out of my control. You did not fuck up anything. Logic suggests that if it takes two to fuck then it takes two to fuck anything up. Were you marrying Ron because you wanted to or because that was what you thought you were supposed to want?"
Stunned by his repetition of her expletive--she had never heard the man cuss like that, he barely used contractions in general dialogue, but he had posed another legitimate question. She would have to think about that, but before she had the chance, he laughed.
He leaned in close to her before saying lowly, "Don't think about it. It really is possible to think things into the ground, love. Take the word of someone who has thought enough ideas to Hades and back to know. It is a simple question. Is it what you wanted or what you thought you were supposed to want?"
She answered hastily, "It's just what was supposed to happen."
"That is no reason to get married," he said in frustration. "That is a good reason to buy bread if you want a sandwich or take a magnificent woman out to a fine dinner because she deserves it--those are things that are supposed to happen." He put special emphasis on his next words, "That is certainly no reason to commit the rest of your life to another human being."
She was becoming worried. Everything he said made perfect sense to her brain, but the doubts that obsessed her were from deep down within her soul.
"But sir, what if I can't? What if every relationship I ever have ends up the same way?"
He sighed deeply, standing up and moving his chair next to hers. He grabbed the back of her chair, turned her towards him and sat down directly in front of her. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with compassion.
"I understand that was a defining moment in your life. I also understand how hard it is to conquer those demons. I hope so very much that you will not waste as much time as I did before recognizing you are not to blame. Think about it dear woman. If it were not for that day over two years ago, neither one of us would be sitting here right now. Imagine what that future would be like. I personally do not like that future because in that future you are not sitting here with me."
It was like a leaden weight lifting from the very essence of her being. Snape was right. She was not to blame--she was nothing other than herself and that was not right for Ron. Truth be told, he was not right for her--he never had been. She was only going along with what was expected.
"I would have been absolutely miserable," she finally said, laughing happily.
"Thank you," he said, relief spreading across his face, "I was afraid I was going to have to spend the next decade playing Albus Dumbledore to your Severus Snape."
As always, when she managed to grasp a concept, another concept would click into place.
"Oh my, I am so sorry!" she burst out suddenly.
Snape asked confused, "For what now?"
"I just realized that I snuck something into your drink just like Voldemort did. That was terrible. I never would have if I'd--" she was rambling.
Snape started to laugh almost hysterically. He put his head into his hands for a few seconds and when he looked up there were tears of laughter in his eyes.
"What is so funny?" she asked.
Struggling to compose himself, he said, "You compared a little truth serum to a curse I have been afflicted with for over half a decade." He chucked again. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."
She smiled at him. He really was quite the amazing man.
As he stood up, he said, "Well, Miss Granger, if you are ready it would be a pleasure to escort you back to your flat."
"Thank you," she said.
They had just made it out the door of the restaurant when she realized that during some parts of their conversation, he'd stopped referring to her as Miss Granger and had at least once called her 'love'.
> > > > > > > > > >
It was nearing midnight when they left the restaurant. Snape could not express his satisfaction at being able to help her with her concerns with the Weasley boy. He knew that she would not suffer the same years of concern and denial he had. Albus had been so patient with him until a few months before the final battle. Snape once again accused himself of the murders of countless people that he was inadvertently responsible for killing when Albus finally lost his temper. In his speech, Albus made many of the same points that Snape had reiterated to Miss Granger. That night, he had managed to release his responsibility for the war. He was a player in it just like everyone else on the side of good, and they were no more to blame than he was.
They walked in silence down Ledbetter Street and reached the entrance back to the muggle city when Snape noticed Hermione shiver. Taking off his jacket, he slipped it wordlessly onto her shoulders. She smiled warmly up at him as she pulled the jacket around her arms.
There was only another block to Hermione's building when Snape saw the flash of red light and felt the searing pain as he fell to the concrete.