Consider the usual stuff about J.K. Rowling written.
Thank you again for being my beta, i Wondering Witch /i ; we make a good team.
Chapter 9
Voldemort was furious, and killing Malfoy had not calmed him. He could all but sense the confusion of his followers. Lucius Malfoy, of all people, had become a traitor. The victory everybody had believed to be so readily at hand after Dumbledore's death seemed to be far away now. If the Order could convince Malfoy to spy for them...
The Dark Lord smiled unpleasantly. Harsh punishments would not do. His Death Eaters would need something to restore their confidence. He narrowed his eyes to slits.
"What do you think, my dear Severus? Wouldn't another raid be a wonderful means to show the Wizarding world the strength of the most powerful wizard in the world? We should "invite" some Muggles to our festivities."
"Of course, Mylord, this is a marvellous idea. Your knowledge of the human soul is far beyond anything I could have thought of. This will be a good distraction. My faith in you is unshaken, but weaker wizards may need this now. May I ask Mylord to be allowed to continue with my research for the greater cause?" Severus replied smoothly.
"Weaker wizards? Hhm...Severus, you are my right-hand man now, but be warned, you are nothing special. It is not up to you to decide whether you will participate in anything I provide for my servants or not. For now, I will allow you to continue with your research. For your own good, you shall come up with something very useful next time. You may go. I will announce the raid for next week."
Severus Snape bowed, kissed the hem of his master's robe, and Disapparated.
During the past weeks, everybody became accustomed to the presence of the black cat heading towards the dungeons. At this time of the day, the hallways were nearly empty. Snape made sure that he was not being followed, lifted the wards and entered his former quarters. He sank on a sofa and closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands. Alone! Fortunately, Hermione was busy somewhere in the castle.
Another raid -- and he was unable to prevent this. This had always been one of the worst things he had to deal with as a spy. He groaned, and his hands trembled. He needed a drink! Snape rose and opened the corner cupboard he used to store his Firewhiskey, only to see that the house elves had removed his stock. Of course, Hermione would not need Firewhiskey. He swore, stood silently for a moment, and jerked around when he heard a voice.
"Severus?"
She was back! He fought for composure, but was not quick enough to hide the look of pain on his face. He blinked. "Another raid...next week...the quarters where your parents live. You have to inform the Order," he said hoarsely.
Hermione paled. "A raid...my parents!" Her mind raced. "We have to warn them! We can send an anonymous owl to Professor McGonagall, and I will claim that I had a dream. Everybody knows that I normally think Divination a nonsense; so they will pay attention and take the matter seriously."
"You will send the owl to Minerva McGonagall. I will fill you in on the details. We will make your parents and their neighbours participate in some neighbourhood association trip," Snape replied.
By now, Severus had found back to his normal demeanour. He felt uncomfortable that Hermione had caught him unawares, and he avoided her gaze. Hermione knew that though he had accepted her offer of friendship, he would not talk about his feelings. She felt uncertain. Should she talk? Knowing his temper, this could result in his accusing her of intruding his privacy or in ridiculing her. By now, she assumed that part of his harsh behaviour was an act of self-preservation. Hermione drew a deep breath.
"Severus, will Voldemort become suspicious if his plans are thwarted? I can only assume what you risk every day. He might also lash out at you in his rage." She hesitated. "When you were ill, I saw what he...At Order meetings, I've heard before that..."
"No need to pity me. Consider it part of my atonement." Snape replied curtly, his jaw firmly set.
"Severus, I offered you friendship, and I meant it. I have seen how you..."
Snape interrupted her again, his face remaining unreadable. "This is not important! Informing the Order is important. How I personally deal with this situation does not matter. What do you expect me to do?" His lips curled in a sneer. "Weep on your shoulder?"
"Severus, you may think me too young to be a real friend. I would never claim to fully understand what you have to endure, but don't think me blind and dumb," Hermione replied calmly.
Severus was impressed. She really was extraordinary. Not only had she come up with a manageable suggestion though he had informed her only moments before that her parents were affected, but she withstood every effort he made to push her away. He did not answer, but obviously Hermione had not expected him to do so.
After making plans how to inform the Order and to arrange for the safety of her parents and their neighbours, they sat together in the living room. Hermione did not try to resume their former conversation but to find some kind of distraction. She made tea and sat down on the sofa, watching him carefully. Not long ago he had been her teacher, respected and trusted, but utterly feared and despised. If anybody had asked her then if she thought Snape handsome, she would have laughed out loud. Joke of the year! But now? He was fascinating and, ridiculous as it seemed, he was handsome. Yes, his nose was hooked and too big, but his eyes! During the past weeks she had seen these eyes without the usual mask of hostility. They were nearly black and the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.
He is so brave; he risks his life every time he meets Voldemort, and you have not even thanked him. Hermione cleared her throat.
"Severus, I want to thank you. If not for you, my parents would die together with other innocent people." To her horror, her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she began to sob. "I don't know why I am weeping now, you told me that they would be safe...It is not that I had that many friends before...I am relieved that it's over with me and Ron..." Tears streamed down her face, and she looked away, mortified. "Professor Dumbledore was wrong to choose me to help you. I am afraid, Severus, so afraid, and I cannot tell anyone. I am alone." It was as if a dam had broken; Hermione sobbed and cried helplessly in a complete emotional breakdown. Suddenly she felt herself being pulled into a gentle hug.
Severus was definitely not the hugging or touching type. He felt rather helpless with the crying woman in front of him. But he understood from her incoherent sentences that she and Weasley had broken up and that she felt lonely. When her words sank in, he also understood that she was a loner in the same way he had been in his youth. She had two male comrades, Weasley and Potter, and one younger friend, Ginny Weasley, but she had never been part of a clique.
He now remembered a remark of hers in the beginning of their forced cooperation. Irritated by her presence, he had told her to spend some time with her former mates. "No one will really miss me," she had replied. He had not really paid attention then, but it made sense now. Her new position as a teacher had not made her more popular either. She had always been looked at as an over-achiever; he himself had chastised and ridiculed her countless times. He cringed inwardly at this thought. When she had offered him her friendship, it had not been her pity for a loner, but rather the insight that he was as lonely as she felt herself. She had probably hoped for his affection, too. The outwardly bold Hermione was, in truth, an insecure person.
Severus fetched his handkerchief and then enfolded Hermione gently in his arms, stroking her hair and trying to convince himself that it was merely for unselfish reasons than the wish to hold her in his arms. When her sobs finally subsided and she looked up, he handed her his handkerchief, fearing he would appear brash if he wiped her tears away. She looked at him with her tearstained face and her puffy eyes, and he wondered how he, how anyone, could have called her plain. To him, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
When Hermione was finally able to look up, Severus' face wore an expression she had never seen, a gentleness she would never have expected. He had not chastised her for her tears, but had comforted her. He liked her. Severus' arms around her, they had felt so good! At first she had only sensed the comfort, but after a while she had become aware of his arms holding her, of the heat his body radiated and the soap he used. A tingling had crawled down her spine when she had leaned against his chest. She drew herself out of his arms, blinked and tried to smile. "Uhm…That was...I am sorry…Thank you...I...With you, I...I feel safe and comforted. It is good to have you as a friend. Severus, I am sorry, but I am really tired. Good night, Severus." She rose and scurried towards the bathroom, completely embarrassed.
Hermione lay awake. Every time she closed her eyes, the image of Severus Snape appeared, his eyes resting with tenderness on her, with more than tenderness, with passion, his fingertips caressing her cheek, his lips raining feathery kisses all over her body. She remembered too well the night when she had seen him nearly naked on his bed, only clad in his boxers. And now she knew how it felt to be held in his arms. All the desperation, she had felt before, had vanished. He had enfolded her in his arms, and everything had been right.
This was, how it should be, this was how love should be. Never before, she had felt a sexual attraction this strong. When she had read romance novels and read about the sexual tension which nearly crackled like electricity, she had thought these the normal exaggerations of sentimental reading. It was the way these novels got sold; love at first sight and illusions of happily ever after. The heroes were all six foot four, with broad shoulders and muscles rippling their chests and arms, were extraordinarily handsome and smiled brightly. And now she felt the same, though the man of her dreams was not exactly a poster boy for a romance novel. From an objective point of view, he was definitely not what she needed.
Some years ago, she had talked to her grandmother about the one true love she hoped to find one day and had asked her how she would know if he was love. Her grandmother had said, 'If you meet Mr. Right, you will know. There will be no doubt.' She had loved to talk to her grandmother about that, because she had seen that she loved her husband with all her heart, even after all these years of marriage. But Severus Snape, aka Mr. Right? Yeah, right, dream on! She had not even kissed the man. But Hermione had always been honest to herself. His feelings for Severus Snape were beyond lust and beyond a crush. What should she do?
She hated beating about the bush, and she had never been the "seduction-type". She would feel ridiculous if she tried to wear short skirts and low cut shirts to entice Severus. She was also tired of trying to earn acceptance; she wanted to be liked and loved the way she was. She would not model herself to the expectations of other people, not even Severus'. Yes, tomorrow, she would try to tell him somehow that she liked him, more than liked him. She was no coward after all.
In the connecting room, Severus Snape did not sleep either. He had seen how comfortable Hermione felt in his presence. He had seen how she had watched him, musing. He had seen the warmth in her eyes. He had seen how she had looked at him after he had held her. Holding her in his arms was a moment he would cherish for the rest of his life. It had felt so good. Long lost feelings had arisen in him. He nearly snorted; "arisen" was definitely the right word. He was lucky that she had not noticed anything. But although it had been the normal reaction of a man to a woman, this was different. When he visited the whores in Knockturn Alley, it was solely for sexual relief, but holding Hermione in his arms had been how it should be. He desired her, and he loved her. If he had seen any kind of reaction in her eyes, he would have kissed her, not caring that it was not appropriate. If she had only touched his hand or his arm after this hug, he would have been lost.
For some moments, he had hoped that something else beyond friendship could emerge between them. And then, all his hopes had been shattered. He had seen the embarrassment in her eyes, and then she had said that she had felt safe and comforted in his presence, safe and comforted. Obviously, she saw a fatherly friend in him, a mentor, but nothing else. How ridiculous his feelings were! If only he could switch them off! 'Nox!' He laughed mirthlessly. Tired, he was so tired of everything. Finally, he fell into a light slumber.
Hermione was confused. He had been so gentle and kind, and now he seemed to be as distant as a few weeks before. When she had told him how she liked to be in his presence, he had only looked at her with a stern face and thanked her politely. Probably he thought her a liability now, the "silly little girl" she had always been to him. How could she ever hope to win his affection, least his love! Besides their work, they did not share the conversation or even his nearly-teasing which she had become so accustomed to. In the evenings, he would tell her that he was tired. She did not say much, only bade him a monosyllabic "good night".
Severus felt her disappointment, but he felt unable to change his behaviour. He had to detach himself. He would never gain her love. Probably he should be content to have her friendship; it was more than he had ever had before. But all he felt, was emptiness.
