The snow had started to fall a little passed midnight, the chilled winter's wind stirring the last of the deadened leaves from their branches. She thought of all the things this night had suddenly become. Turning everything over in her mind again and again, she still did not find the same outcome. It had been one of those momentary lapses in judgment that she'd always heard of but thought herself to be immune to. The fragility and awareness of her natural simplicity had stunned her. The throb that started at her thighs and drifted carefully upward left an unmistakable reminder that this had been, at least for one second in time, exactly what she had wanted.
There had been nothing exceptional about tonight, no convenient excuses to hide behind. In a thoughtless instant she had given herself to what could only be described as blind need, a guilty tremor callusing her skin at the memory.
The rhythm of his breathing and gliding snowflakes soothed her aching thoughts, the scent of faded passion and matted perfume drifting heavily from the dark air. Her body had hummed with electricity; the lightest of touches sent her reeling. Everything she had ever convinced herself to be was shattered.
"You're a child," He had begged emptily, the smooth temptations of her blanched skin becoming too much.
"Don't speak, you'll ruin it." She had whispered, her breath soft and commanding. With her thoughts a million miles away and whatever self control she had rapidly ebbing away, she surrendered herself to him in the coldest of silences.
And suddenly it was over. The screaming release ended with a thick, awkward silence that seemed to go on forever until merciful sleep shrouded the damp afterglow. She felt empty in places she hadn't known existed, an odd sadness violently consuming her. There was nothing left to say.
"Oh Severus…" She sighed in the secrecies of night and irrefutable blunder. The numb tips of his fingers, tracing his way to forever in the arch of her spine.
"I'm sorry, Hermione."
She dressed silently, pausing to watch the snow every now and then. It would be Christmas soon and she would forget this. The sick feeling in her stomach would pass, the bruises would fade, and her guilt would melt away with the fickle snow. Time would make all this go away.
Hermione turned quietly and gazed at his sleeping form, the steady rise and fall of his chest. She imagined life being simple, ignoring the painful pricks and pangs reverberating throughout her body. She thought of years passed and years to come, of laughter and tears. She thought of herself and the faulty existence she had so carefully crafted. She thought of all this and yet all she could think to say wouldn't come. Her heart beating so slowly it might have even stopped, she made the long walk back to the common room.