Sticks and Stones
******
"Hello, Professor."
Severus paused almost imperceptibly at her words. He wasn't used to being caught off guard. One doesn't survive as many years as he had as a spy against Voldemort without a practiced ability to keep the upper hand.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione chanced a look his way. He was staring out into the dark haze over the water. The moonlight was kind to him, she thought. His forehead was slightly wrinkled, the corners of his eyes less so. She wondered if a person's happiness in life could be measured by the ratio of smile lines to forehead furrows. The corner of her mouth twitched, a parallel expression to one of Snape's own that she had marveled at so often.
Snape toyed with a small twig, weaving it back and forth through his fingers enjoying the snap as it broke in several places. He ought, he knew, to take points from Gryffindor. To skip the opportunity would be out of character. He shifted uneasily on his feet. He wasn't feeling like himself tonight.
"I'd be careful if I were you. Dangling your feet in the water like that, you're liable to get your toes nibbled on by the giant squid."
Hermione was floored. Did Professor Snape just say "nibble"? She bit her lower lip, suppressing a giggle.
She had known he was there when the breeze shifted directions and the damp earthy smell by the lake suddenly took on a new layer that reminded her of the potions lab. Extraction salts and herb mixtures, and another scent that she could never identify but she just knew to be his own unique smell. Besides, she had watched him walk in this direction enough times now to know that this was his spot. She had seen the worried little twigs scattered around the tree stump where he now sat, weaving another piece between his fingers.
Snape noticed he was being watched and abruptly dropped the shoot. Hermione thought his cheeks might have even grown a slightly pinker hue. Her own, she guessed, were definitely a bright rosy color, judging from the warmth she felt radiating from her face, her reaction to having been caught staring.
Hermione had come here several times. She knew that inevitably, one night their paths would cross, and she had imagined how he might react. Would he be angered at her invasion of his privacy? He would probably scorn he for being out after curfew. Maybe a detention? She wouldn't have minded too terribly. Truth be told, she found herself longing for an excuse to spend more time down in the dungeons these days, and she wasn't about to try to kid herself into believing it was for the atmosphere.
She felt she ought to say something, to start a conversation, but was afraid of ruining the moment.
Instead, she too sat down, in a small patch of grass near his tree stump, and began choosing unusual pebbles from her surroundings to make a geometric pattern on a bare patch of ground in front of her. There were gray ones with light speckles scattered across the surface, red-brown ones with white, lightning-like cracks running through them, and cloudy green ones that reminded her of the smooth pieces of glass she used to find on the beach as a child during summer vacations with her parents.
She was growing a little sleepy now, and when she yawned, a shiny black stone caught here eye. Picking it up, she felt that it was still quite warm from sitting in the sun that afternoon. She marveled at this, smoothing the stone over her palms and along her inner arm where the skin was so sensitive. She held it up to her cheek and smiled slightly at the warmth.
He had been watching her play. She looked so innocent. If he had been in a darker mood, he might have sniggered at the fact that she had found an intellectual way to pass her time, even sitting in the dirt by the lake. But now he just sat and admired her work as she arranged the stones. And then she yawned. He briefly wondered if she would fall asleep right there. He would like to smooth the hair away from her face, he thought, and kiss her forehead as she slept. He could carry her back up to the castle, and for those brief few moments feel the warmth of her body against his chest. He sighed.
When he looked down, she was cupping something in her hand against her cheek and smiling up at him. His face must have betrayed his curiosity. As he watched, she stood and stepped closer to where he sat. She walked behind him and he felt a sudden sense of loss that she must be leaving, going back to the castle. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to savor the last of her vanilla scent that lingered in the air. But it didn't weaken, as it should, if she were walking away. And then he felt something warm and smooth being pressed against his cheek.
He stiffened at her touch, and his eyes flew open as he turned his head to look at her in alarm, but in return he saw only a warm smile and her hand had stayed where it was. Could this amazing creature of the night really be touching his face in such a caring gesture? He lifted his hand to the side of his face, almost expecting that when it got there she might vanish, a figment of his imagination, but his smooth palm touched the warm back of her hand and she still remained.
His eyes softened. He felt her fingers slip from beneath his own and then he was holding the stone there by himself, and he saw her head moving toward his and was frozen in place as her lips descended on the back of his hand to lightly brush across his skin. He closed his eyes again, and heard the rustle of her cloak, as she turned and began walking up to the castle. When he heard the creak of one of the entrance doors being opened, he opened his eyes and turned back toward the castle, where he saw she had paused briefly to look back at where he sat, his hand still pressed against his cheek.
He turned back toward the lake and as he heard the doors close, he held the stone in front of him for closer scrutiny. Unconsciously, he held the stone up to his face and felt its warmth against his lips. Standing to leave, he dropped the stone into a pocket of his robes and scowled. 'You sentimental old fool,' he berated himself.
****
A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed my first chapter. This is my first attempt at fanfic and it was flattering to get a response. Serpent tongue, ChishionoTenshi, Clarity, Ginny R, and Kylaia: thanks for the complements. I'll update as often as I am able. Ginny R, I've tried to be clearer on the POV switches in this chapter; thanks for the advice and let me know if it's still not clear.
To be honest, I'm not sure where I'm going to go with this; I wrote that first chapter when I was a little tipsy and hadn't really planned any plot smirk. I had a few ideas though as I was driving home today and I guess I'll see where they take my favorite snarky pair.
******
"Hello, Professor."
Severus paused almost imperceptibly at her words. He wasn't used to being caught off guard. One doesn't survive as many years as he had as a spy against Voldemort without a practiced ability to keep the upper hand.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione chanced a look his way. He was staring out into the dark haze over the water. The moonlight was kind to him, she thought. His forehead was slightly wrinkled, the corners of his eyes less so. She wondered if a person's happiness in life could be measured by the ratio of smile lines to forehead furrows. The corner of her mouth twitched, a parallel expression to one of Snape's own that she had marveled at so often.
Snape toyed with a small twig, weaving it back and forth through his fingers enjoying the snap as it broke in several places. He ought, he knew, to take points from Gryffindor. To skip the opportunity would be out of character. He shifted uneasily on his feet. He wasn't feeling like himself tonight.
"I'd be careful if I were you. Dangling your feet in the water like that, you're liable to get your toes nibbled on by the giant squid."
Hermione was floored. Did Professor Snape just say "nibble"? She bit her lower lip, suppressing a giggle.
She had known he was there when the breeze shifted directions and the damp earthy smell by the lake suddenly took on a new layer that reminded her of the potions lab. Extraction salts and herb mixtures, and another scent that she could never identify but she just knew to be his own unique smell. Besides, she had watched him walk in this direction enough times now to know that this was his spot. She had seen the worried little twigs scattered around the tree stump where he now sat, weaving another piece between his fingers.
Snape noticed he was being watched and abruptly dropped the shoot. Hermione thought his cheeks might have even grown a slightly pinker hue. Her own, she guessed, were definitely a bright rosy color, judging from the warmth she felt radiating from her face, her reaction to having been caught staring.
Hermione had come here several times. She knew that inevitably, one night their paths would cross, and she had imagined how he might react. Would he be angered at her invasion of his privacy? He would probably scorn he for being out after curfew. Maybe a detention? She wouldn't have minded too terribly. Truth be told, she found herself longing for an excuse to spend more time down in the dungeons these days, and she wasn't about to try to kid herself into believing it was for the atmosphere.
She felt she ought to say something, to start a conversation, but was afraid of ruining the moment.
Instead, she too sat down, in a small patch of grass near his tree stump, and began choosing unusual pebbles from her surroundings to make a geometric pattern on a bare patch of ground in front of her. There were gray ones with light speckles scattered across the surface, red-brown ones with white, lightning-like cracks running through them, and cloudy green ones that reminded her of the smooth pieces of glass she used to find on the beach as a child during summer vacations with her parents.
She was growing a little sleepy now, and when she yawned, a shiny black stone caught here eye. Picking it up, she felt that it was still quite warm from sitting in the sun that afternoon. She marveled at this, smoothing the stone over her palms and along her inner arm where the skin was so sensitive. She held it up to her cheek and smiled slightly at the warmth.
He had been watching her play. She looked so innocent. If he had been in a darker mood, he might have sniggered at the fact that she had found an intellectual way to pass her time, even sitting in the dirt by the lake. But now he just sat and admired her work as she arranged the stones. And then she yawned. He briefly wondered if she would fall asleep right there. He would like to smooth the hair away from her face, he thought, and kiss her forehead as she slept. He could carry her back up to the castle, and for those brief few moments feel the warmth of her body against his chest. He sighed.
When he looked down, she was cupping something in her hand against her cheek and smiling up at him. His face must have betrayed his curiosity. As he watched, she stood and stepped closer to where he sat. She walked behind him and he felt a sudden sense of loss that she must be leaving, going back to the castle. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to savor the last of her vanilla scent that lingered in the air. But it didn't weaken, as it should, if she were walking away. And then he felt something warm and smooth being pressed against his cheek.
He stiffened at her touch, and his eyes flew open as he turned his head to look at her in alarm, but in return he saw only a warm smile and her hand had stayed where it was. Could this amazing creature of the night really be touching his face in such a caring gesture? He lifted his hand to the side of his face, almost expecting that when it got there she might vanish, a figment of his imagination, but his smooth palm touched the warm back of her hand and she still remained.
His eyes softened. He felt her fingers slip from beneath his own and then he was holding the stone there by himself, and he saw her head moving toward his and was frozen in place as her lips descended on the back of his hand to lightly brush across his skin. He closed his eyes again, and heard the rustle of her cloak, as she turned and began walking up to the castle. When he heard the creak of one of the entrance doors being opened, he opened his eyes and turned back toward the castle, where he saw she had paused briefly to look back at where he sat, his hand still pressed against his cheek.
He turned back toward the lake and as he heard the doors close, he held the stone in front of him for closer scrutiny. Unconsciously, he held the stone up to his face and felt its warmth against his lips. Standing to leave, he dropped the stone into a pocket of his robes and scowled. 'You sentimental old fool,' he berated himself.
****
A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed my first chapter. This is my first attempt at fanfic and it was flattering to get a response. Serpent tongue, ChishionoTenshi, Clarity, Ginny R, and Kylaia: thanks for the complements. I'll update as often as I am able. Ginny R, I've tried to be clearer on the POV switches in this chapter; thanks for the advice and let me know if it's still not clear.
To be honest, I'm not sure where I'm going to go with this; I wrote that first chapter when I was a little tipsy and hadn't really planned any plot smirk. I had a few ideas though as I was driving home today and I guess I'll see where they take my favorite snarky pair.