A/N: Thank you for bribing the muse, it worked!
I feel I need to address an issue that has come up in your reviews. I am a fan of canon-compliant stories, and the way I see Hermione Granger, she would have used the hell out of her time-turner. I mean, why wouldn't she, seriously? Also, has anyone ever considered that if she doubled her time studying, she also needed to put some time in for extra sleep, too? Consequently, I believe her time-turner use was extensive, making her well of age towards the end of her fifth year. I do hope that answers some questions that you might have had as to which school year this is taking place in. ;)
Chapter 5
He kept his eyes closed, his heart beating wildly in his chest in anticipation and terror. He felt her fingertips ghosting over his skin, moving along his palm towards his sleeve. Slowly, carefully, she started pushing the fabric upwards.
He had wanted to keep his eyes closed, to save himself from the look of revulsion on her face, but his eyes cracked open on their own accord, and instantly focused on her face.
Why did she always have to bite her lip? His visceral response to that was so unsettling. Her fingers kept moving upwards, almost reaching the first lines of the Dark Mark. He kept his gaze pinned on her as the head of the snake was revealed.
Her lips parted in surprise, but she kept pushing the fabric away until she had uncovered the whole nasty affair. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown as she studied it. He watched her with a heavy heart, waiting for that spark of realization preceding imminent disgust.
It did not come.
Rather, he saw curiosity written all over her face as she studied his forearm intently. Looking up at him from under her long lashes, he smiled cautiously. "Does it hurt?" she asked.
It took a minute for him to find his words because he was still reeling from his surprise at her lack of aversion. He knew that she was always drawn to help the underdog, trying to give care and sympathy to even the most pitiful and revolting creatures. That might be an explanation for why she was able to stand the sight of his shameful blemish. That she could control her reaction that much was astonishing.
"It just feels a little sore," he responded to her question.
"Can I touch it?"
His eyes widened at her question. He had known she was curious, but he still had not expected this. Hesitantly, he nodded.
Her fingertips moved over his skin, closer, ever closer to the first dark lines of ink forming the head of the snake. Her touch felt electric, and he held his breath in anticipation of how it would feel when her fingertips finally made contact with the dark mark. No one had touched it before. Even he himself did not touch it if he could help it, keeping it hidden as much as possible, not wanting to look at it. It was bad enough how it made him feel, those filaments of evil magic taking root inside of his body, poisoning his mind and tainting his feelings. He had not felt anything but despair in such a long time that this experience with Miss Granger seemed like a different life, a different reality.
Finally, her fingertips reached the snake. They hovered for a second, before softly and very carefully stroking along the black, moving lines on his skin.
He hissed, but not from the pain, but because he was overwhelmed by the sight of Miss Granger, whose expression held warmth, sympathy and affection as she continued to stroke along the black ink. It was almost more than he could bear.
"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice rough.
She looked up at him, confused. "Don't have to do what?"
"Pretend that it does not bother you, that you are not repulsed by it." He could not stand her affection anymore, he just needed to know the truth, to know how she really felt about it.
She looked at him for a minute, a frown playing across her face while she regarded him, obviously deep in thought. Finally, her hand came up to rest on his chest.
"Are you repulsed by it?" she asked him.
"Of course!" he hissed. "It is vile and depraved, and it marks me as just that. This is who I am and I wish I weren't." The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. He had not wanted to reveal this much. He stared resolutely at the wall, unable to meet her eyes.
He felt her move, but he kept his eyes averted, too ashamed to look. Hot breath stirred the tiny hairs on his forearm, causing tingles to run along his skin. Then, he felt the softest, lightest touch as her silky lips pressed a kiss onto the center of his Dark Mark.
His eyes snapped to her face, unable to believe what his sense of touch had just relayed to him. But it was true. Her head was bent and her lips were ghosting over his forearm, placing little kisses along his sore skin of his mark. There was a sharp pain in his chest as something broke; only to be mended again, instantly.
He was lost. Lost to her and what she did to him, how she made him feel. For the first time in his life, he felt cared for, even… loved.
This was what he had wanted all of his life and he had kept it hidden like a shameful secret, keeping himself isolated and apart from human contact when all he wanted was this – to be held like he mattered, as if he was loved.
But he did not want to be held just by anyone. He had kept himself isolated because there had been no one that he had wanted close by, no one that he could stand in his presence over longer periods of time.
Except for her. Somehow she had managed to break through to him, to connect with the person behind his stern façade. And now she was giving him everything he had ever wanted and he did not know how to deal with that.
She raised her head and looked right into his eyes, linking the fingers of her left hand with his while her right one kept stroking softly over the forearm bearing the Dark Mark. "This is not who you are, Severus Snape." She squeezed his hand. "You are neither vile nor depraved. This mark does not define you. It is a reminder of a very bad decision, but that is a part of your past and you are doing everything you can to make up for it. You are a good man, and the bravest one I know. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Her words were like a soothing balm to his heart, although every fiber in his being rebelled against the truth of her words. She could not really mean that, not really believe that. No one could be that open minded, that caring.
"I think we might just need to agree to disagree on this one, Granger," he said, trying to break the closeness that had built up between them and had wrapped itself around him like a warm, comfortable blanket.
She gave a small snort that he found rather charming before she settled back into her chair and picked up her bottle of lotion and squeezing another generous measure into her hand. She looked up at him and smiled, quirking an eyebrow and nodding her chin towards his left hand.
Not breaking eye contact, he lifted his hand and placed it into her waiting palm. It felt so utterly intimate that he had to suppress a shudder. When her fingers started to move, pressing into his skin, his eyes fluttered shut on their own accord. Resting his head on the back of his chair again, he allowed the sensation to overtake his body. It seemed he had not only relinquished control over his left arm, but also over his whole body, mind and maybe even a tiny, secret part of his shriveled black heart.
She worked on this arm as diligently as on the first, if not even more. Her movements were especially soft and caring when they moved over his Dark Mark, and each time he had to suppress a hiss of pleasure.
But finally, her strokes became softer, and he realized that it was almost over. He was willing her to continue, but soon, he felt her fingertips retreat to his palm and finally fall away.
Pulling himself together, he tried not to show how much this had affected him as he opened his eyes. She smiled at him nervously, obviously waiting for him to say something. But what could he say to that? There were no words to describe it.
"I enjoyed this very much," he said, his voice hoarse. Oh, indeed, the words were lacking. 'Enjoy' was not even close to what he had felt, but his language failed him at the moment. Also, he was not sure if he even wanted to convey to Miss Granger what a powerful hold she had over him.
"I did, too." The words were spoken softly, but with feeling.
Their eyes locked, and again everything else seemed to fall away, that instant connection between them as it had been in the Great Hall, but this time, there was no one here. No one here to see them, to stop them. He knew it was forbidden to pursue anything, but his mind could not stop entertaining these thoughts.
She moved closer, and her scent washed over him, enticing him even further, her eyes shining with emotion and longing. Gods, how he wanted her, too.
But he would not cross that line again. He couldn't. And yet, when she drifted even closer, he found himself unable to stop her.
A/N: Cliffhangers'R'us, you know the drill.
The muse eagerly awaits your reviews :)
