Pillow Fight

The room remained silent after the others had left. Albus Dumbledore sat on the makeshift sofa that Minerva had created for them and waited for Hermione and Severus to take a seat. Neither was eager to do so. It was Hermione who sat first— directly opposite of her former Headmaster, and then Severus— wishing to be as far from Hermione as possible, who sat beside the older wizard.

Albus cleared his throat. Reaching into the pocket of his robes he withdrew a tiny metal tin. “Sherbert lemon?” he asked.

Hermione’s gaze remained fixed to the floor and her lips remained decidedly shut.

“Severus?”

For a moment the Potions Master considered casting a stupify charm upon himself with the thought that it would somehow spare him from whatever asinine prattle was about to come spewing forth from the other wizard’s lips. Caught in his own notions he did not hear Albus repeat his question. And a moment later he found the intense gaze of his employer focused solely on him. “What? This is no time for your bloody lollies.” He grumbled.

Popping a sherbert lemon into his mouth, Albus reluctantly put the tin back into his pocket and then sighed. Hermione continued to gaze at the floor, wishing nothing more than to be anywhere but where she was currently sitting.

“Miss Granger…” Albus began, but was cut off by Severus’s biting tongue.

“We’re on a first name basis, Albus.” He sneered.

Her eyes shot up from the floor. Hermione glared at Severus. Invisible daggers laced with the flames of malice flew from her eyes directly into his and for a moment he was certain he could almost feel tiny pricks behind his eyeballs. He shook his head and turned his gaze back to Albus.

“Alright, Hermione,” he began. “Would you please explain to me what transpired between you and Severus that has you both so…” his voice trailed off. There hardly seemed an appropriate word, even in his vast vocabulary, to explain the situation that presented itself. “Allow me to rephrase…” he cleared his throat and attempted to start over. “What happened last night?”

Hermione said nothing. Did he actually expect to her tell him that she’d felt special? That after the shock of waking in his bed that she’d felt giddy and for the first time in her sexual encounters felt that she was more than just some fancy fuck? She certainly wasn’t prepared to say all this, especially not with the offending party present. Mostly because she couldn’t really explain it to herself, and had no real basis for justifying those feelings, and because she refused to give Severus Snape the satisfaction. After all she’d been nothing more than a notch on the bedpost.

“Hermione?” Albus asked her once more.

“Why don’t you bloody ask him?” she spat.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Albus, really.” He leveled his gaze to the young witch. “This is a waste of time, and it is clearly not going to accomplish anything. You need to hear more sordid details like you need another death mission. And my level of wanting to share more sordid details is no less the same as Miss Granger’s.”

“That’s all very well, Severus.” Albus said. “But it is all too obvious that something transpired between the two of you…more so than whatever else you encountered last night, and it appears to be causing a problem.”

“Frankly, sir, and do forgive me, but I don’t see what business it is of yours, and if you don’t mind I’d rather not discuss it— in detail or otherwise— with anyone, ever.” Hermione said. She rose from her chair and began to cross the room to the door.

Severus was struck dumb-founded when the witch opened the door, pulled it shut behind her and disappeared out of the room. He stood from his chair and proceeded to do the same, but was quickly waved back into his seat by the hand of Albus Dumbledore. “If she gets to walk—”

“And you will, in good time.” He said. The elder wizard rose from his seat and waved his wand around. “Come along, Severus,” he said. Before them appeared a stone basin, swirling with water. “Out with it.”

Severus sighed. It was almost more embarrassing to be dumping his memories of the previous night’s encounters into the pensieve, knowing that Albus would be sifting through them. He was certainly not ready to confess that Hermione Granger had been more than just another evening delight, especially not when he’d attempted to explain as much to the girl only to have her blow up in his face as if it were some commonplace lie that he told every day.

Drawing his wand, Severus tapped the tip to his temple and slowly began to extract a long stringy filament, bluish in hue, and tapped it into the bowl. It swirled around and created the image of him slumbering in his bed on the water’s surface. He stood, bowed his head and waited for Albus to dismiss him.

The older wizard chuckled softly. “You’ll need to put the others in these vials then.” He said. From thin air he conjured five more vials, one for each of his other encounters— including the initial group encounter. “Seeing as you wish to start with her, I know that I’m right in thinking something more than just sordid details occurred.”

Again he found himself at a loss for words. But Severus saw no other choice in the matter. Filling each of the vials with memories of the previous night he kept his face passive and then handed the memories to the other wizard.

“That stone face may fool the ladies, Severus, and even your higher powers, but not me. Not today.” He said.

“If that is all…” he said, quickly losing his patience with his boss.

Albus shook his head. “You are far from done, my boy.” He said and then took Severus by the hand. The two wizards tumbled forward into the pensieve, much to Severus’s chagrin.

* * * * * *

The outside air was cool against her lungs. She’d stormed out of the room and headed up to the attic of Number 12 Grimmauld Place faster than a raging Doxie on the rampage. The tiny window that was just big enough for her to squeeze through led out onto a slant of the roof that was pitched at just enough of an angle for her to sit on. She sighed, burying her head in her hands.

The hand on her shoulder nearly made her pitch forward off the roof. And as she attempted to settle her nerves from the surprise she jumped again, feeling another hand on her other shoulder. “Boys!” she cried.

“Sorry, Hermione—” said Fred.

“—but we saw you storming up here—” George continued.

“—and we thought that perhaps—”

“—that in your condition—”

“—you might like someone to talk to.” They said in unison.

Hermione shifted her glance from Fred on her left to George on her right. Or perhaps it was the other way around, but she was too emotionally choked to care. “I think that in my condition it is best if you both bugger off.” She spat.

Fred and George exchanged glances and then each twin wrapped an arm around her back.

“Fred. George. I’m warning you. I’m in no mood for this.”

“Hermione,” Fred started. “We’re not going to pretend the whole house isn’t talking about you and Snape.”

George started in before she could snap a response to Fred’s comment. “And we know that doesn’t make you feel any better about the situation.”

“Go away.” Said Hermione.

“I think we should tell her.” Said Fred.

George turned his head away from his brother. “You can’t mean—”

“I do,” Fred said. “I think it’ll help.”

“You said we’d never speak of it. Except in a case of extreme emergency.”

“Well, brother, what exactly do you think this qualifies as?”

George hung his head. “Alright. We’ll tell her.”

Hermione had no idea what they were talking about but the more they prattled on, the more she wished they would leave her alone. “I don’t care what you’re on about, but I’m not staying out here if you two are going to insist on sitting up here.” She attempted to get to her feet but the twins kept their arms firm around her and scooted in a little closer on either side of her to keep her between them.

“We’ve been where you are—” Fred began.

“—well not with Snape, of course—” George interrupted.

“—but a similar situation,” Fred leaned his head a bit closer to Hermione’s ear. “Do you remember, Hermione, a few weeks ago when that really big Order meeting was here?”

She scoffed. How on earth would one forget the biggest meeting since Dumbledore’s second death? Which now seemed completely irrelevant as the man was alive and up to his usual meddling. “Yes,” she muttered.

“And you know how there were Order members that we hadn’t ever seen at meetings before, like those three aurors from Kingsley’s office and Madam Hooch?” asked George.

“Yes,” she said.

“Well,” said Fred, clearing his throat. A blush had begun to creep its way up into his cheeks. “Let’s just say that you and Snape aren’t the only ones to have an encounter of the like…”

George rolled his eyes. “You wanted to bring it up to make her feel better and that’s how you bring it up?” He reached over Hermione and slapped Fred upside the head.

“Ow.” Fred said. He rubbed the back of his noggin.

“That didn’t hurt,” said George. “Anyway,” he paused and closed his eyes for a moment. Taking care to tilt Hermione’s chin toward him, George locked eyes with her. “What Fred means to say is that night, after you girls went to bed, we found ourselves in the drawing room with Madam Hooch.”

“And Percy, and Charlie, and Ron.” Said Fred.

Hermione quirked a brow up on her head.

George was trying very hard not to blush. But the red hair on his head seemed to act like a magnet for the color and lured it right up into his cheeks. “We were drinking, fire whiskey, and chatting. She was like one of the guys—”

“—until it got cold.” Said Fred.

“Cold?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” said George, blushing. “We had been demonstrating one of our newest inventions.”

“Instant-Blizzard,” said Fred. “Tap a tiny plastic snowflake and out comes a temporary blizzard. Great for clogging corridors, cancelling Quidditch practice for the other team, a variety of uses as it were.”

“Only, we hadn’t worked out all the kinks,” George added.

“Yeah. We had managed the cold part that much was certain for the room filled with the worst chill we’d ever felt.” Said Fred.

“And before we knew it we were all being huddled into the fireplace and the next thing we knew we were in a tiny room in the basement that was hardly big enough for the six of us.” George shivered at the memory. “Madam Hooch had somehow ended up straddled between me and Percy…” his voice trailed off.

“Well?” Hermione asked. “Go on.”

Fred looked at George, and then he spoke up to continue the story. “Well we had all been drinking…”

“And it was an awkward position to land in…” said George.

“—and things happened.” They said together.

Hermione furrowed her brow and looked from one twin to the other. “Go on.”

Resigned to having to tell the whole story, the twins sighed.

“The particulars in that tiny room aren’t important, I don’t suppose—” Fred started.

“—because after it got awkward for everyone involved but Ronnie—”

“Ronnie?” Hermione asked.

“Madam Hooch.” The twins said together.

“Ah.”

“Anyway,” George continued the story. “She took Percy, by the tie, and led him off to her room—”

“—naturally we were insulted that she’d choose our nerdy older brother over either of us—” Fred said.

“—so after a while we headed up to her room to attempt to obtain some blackmail to hold against Percy later—” George smirked fondly at the idea.

“—only when we got there it wasn’t Percy leaving her room—” Fred shook his head.

“—it was Ron.” They said together.

“Ron?” Hermione cried in exasperation.

“Yeah, little blighter looked dreadful.” Fred smirked.

“Yeah. But before we could go after him we saw Charlie coming up the hall and he marched right into her room, closing the door behind him.” Said George.

Hermione frowned. If this story was meant to make her feel better, it was failing at its task. The only thing it had managed to do so far was prove that Hogwarts faculty members were indeed massive sluts. “Well?” she asked.

“Well, you can imagine our shock when Charlie left and that not soon after Madam Hooch appeared in the corridor, hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips.” Fred said.

“She called us in like were dogs out of line, Hermione.” George added.

“Not even sloppy seconds but fifths. Fifths Hermione!” Fred added with an exasperated look on her face. “Though, I can’t say we did much complaining.”

“You did. Whinging all the way about how you weren’t going to have any part of anything after she’d refused to take us separately.” George muttered.

Fred had a full on face flush. He was against incest that much was true. As was George or so he’d thought. But something had changed that night and George had stopped being his brother for that moment in time— stopped being his twin even, and with that ferociously sexy woman between them, it hadn’t seemed to matter. “Yeah,” he added softly.

Even Hermione blushed a little at this comment.

“The conclusion of our story draws near,” said George. “The point being this. We were furious with her and ourselves for having let her use us like sloppy leftovers—”

“—to have us just for the sake of having us—” said Fred.

“—like we were a conquest.” They said together.

“But a week later when she came round the house again,” Fred cleared his throat. “She managed to catch us in our room unguarded.” This time Fred blushed.

“You two—” Hermione paused and her face went pale. “Oh my.”

“Don’t judge, Hermione,” said George being very serious perhaps for the first time in his life.

“After what we’d had with her—” Fred bowed his head for a moment. “Well it didn’t seem so…unnatural, anymore.”

“And it beat wanking alone,” added George. This earned him a punch on the shoulder from Fred and a very strange look from Hermione.

“Anyhow,” Fred said. “She walked in and caught us with our hands in the cookie jar, so to speak…”

“Yeah, and we thought she was going to walk out, but she didn’t.”

“Well, obviously,” muttered Hermione.

“No, it’s not what you think, Hermione.” Said George. “She’d pretty much frightened away our erections, well, mine anyhow.” This earned him another hard punch from Fred. “She had wanted to talk.”

Fred, who was shooting murderous glances over Hermione’s shoulder to George, nodded. “Yeah, she sat down between us on the bed and said she felt she needed to explain herself.”

George also nodded. “And after a long rant where she told us she’d always been curious about the Weasley clan and how the whiskey had been too much and how Percy had just seemed the most eager…”

“…she had really been curious about us, but had seen no other way to get to us,” said Fred. “And that she had felt just a little more than keen with us…”

“But what about your brothers?” Hermione asked.

The twins shrugged.

“Didn’t it bother you that she— that they…”

“It did at first, Hermione,” said Fred. “But after she’d told us she was keen to continue what she’d had with us—”

“—and only with us—” said George.

“—we forgot all about it.” They said together.

“Huh.” It was all Hermione could say.

“So, when she comes round, I get her on Mondays and Wednesdays—” said Fred.

“—and I get Tuesdays and Thursdays—”

“—and we share her on the weekend.” The twins said together with a silly grin on their face.

“Look, Hermione, we don’t know what exactly happened with you and Snape—” it was George who started this time.

“—but he doesn’t exactly strike me as the type who’s going to come back and fess up like Ronnie did—” Fred carried his brother’s sentence into the next idea.

“—and knowing that everyone else he was with that night has someone else they are significantly tied to—” George continued.

“—if you think that it was worth anything and don’t want to feel terrible about it—” said Fred.

“—then our suggestion is that you go talk to him.” They said together.

There was a loud earsplitting shout that rose up from somewhere in the bowels of the house. Followed by a second one, and then a series of foul curses and more shouting. The first two shouts had sounded distinctly like the words, “Fred” and “George” coming from a voice that sounded distinctly like that of Molly Weasley. And the series of cursing and shouting sounded distinctly like an angry portrait that had just been woken by Mrs. Weasley’s shouting.

Fred and George exchanged glances. “We have to go,” they said.

“I think mum may have found one of our newest inventions—” said Fred.

“—Contact Gumball Exploders,” said George. “They’re essentially gumballs that you can throw at your enemies,” said George. “and when you do—”

“—they explode.” The twins said with their patented smirk. “See you later, Hermione.” They said and quickly rose to their feet. Fred and George helped each other back through the attic window and disappeared.

Hermione sighed. It was a lot to process. And she would certainly never be able to look at Madam Hooch the same, nor the twins for that matter. Though she didn’t think it was as disturbing, now that she’d had a few moments to turn it over in her brain. What troubled her more was their advice. To go and talk to Severus Snape.

This presented several problems. The first being that she wasn’t entirely sure that what had happened was a good thing. Yes, it had been a fantastic experience, sans the drama that occurred from her arrival at breakfast. It was the best sex she had ever had. Hermione was no strumpet, but as he’d assessed that night, she was no virgin either. Of course there was leaps and bounds to be said about sex with a full¬-grown adult male who no doubt had had his share of experience and then some, verses the four or five careless fumbling partners who were just at her age or a little older, having little to no experience and being happy to roll over and snore the night away after one go.

But just because it had been mind-blowing, fantastic sex did not mean that she should go seeking him out in an attempt to attach meaning to their encounter. It had felt like something was there, but now Hermione wasn’t so certain that it was anything more than just her longing to not be so lonely. This presented quite a conundrum. And with conundrums come questions, and Hermione had plenty of those racing around in her head.

Why had they gone at it so many times? Why had he kept her in his bed? Surely he’d thrown the other girls out? Or had they left his bed knowing they’d be missed? He seemed so tender in his approach after breakfast, what was he playing at? The questions ate at her until she felt nauseous.

Hermione stood from her perch on the roof and turned toward the window. She nearly tumbled backward and pitched off the roof, but the firm grip of Charlie Weasley caught her wrist and pulled her upright. “You have got to stop sneaking up on me like that!” she cried.

“Me?” asked Charlie. In his recollection this was the first time that he had ever snuck up on Hermione Granger.

“All of you,” she grumbled. And then she hung her head. “Sorry. And thanks for not letting me fall.”

“Um— you’re welcome,” he smiled. “Fred and George said you were up here. I just wanted to—”

“No. No no. No more talking. Thank you, but I’ve had quite enough talking today.”

Charlie Weasley allowed a look of confusion to pass his face. “I just wanted to tell you that Snape is looking for you.”

“Oh.” She closed her eyes. Why on earth would he be looking for her? “Thank you,” she said. “If you don’t mind?”

“Oh, yes,” he said and took a step back from the window.

Wriggling her way back into the tiny attic window had proved more difficult than sliding out of it onto the roof. Hermione enlisted Charlie’s help and managed to pull herself inside with a loud pop. Dusting herself off after an unceremonious landing on the floor, she nodded to the second eldest Weasley brother and proceeded to leave the attic.

It was on her way down the fifth floor corridor, the very same corridor where all the commotion had started that she saw him. He was climbing the stairs at the other end of the corridor and had reached the top by the time she’d spotted him. She was certain he’d seen her and running (not that there was any where to really run to) would seem silly. So Hermione slowly walked toward him and stopped a few feet away.

Severus had seen her and had paused for a moment, wondering perhaps if she would dash into the loo or back up to the attic, where it appeared she had come from. But when she did not, he continued his slow walk toward his room. He paused in his tracks when she paused a few feet away and he gazed at her.

There was a long silence. Neither was sure who should speak first. It was Hermione, who after several intense moments of internal monologue and debate, spoke up first. “Charlie said you were looking for me.”

Severus remained silent a moment longer, trying to analyze the tone of her voice, the expression on her face, and the look in her eyes. But he was having trouble doing any of the above. “I was.” And he closed his eyes, growling inside at his own frustration. “I am.” It was unlike him to make such a careless grammatical mistake, but the girl had gotten his knickers all in a twist and left him with less than a fully functioning cognitive perception that day.

“I see.” She said. Hermione did not know what to say. There were so many emotions tangled up inside her that she was afraid to speak, thinking perhaps that they might all come out at once and none of them as she would otherwise intend them to.

He too seemed at a loss for words. It took everything he had to garner his composure and gesture to his bedroom door. “Perhaps you would be so inclined as to accompany me? I would like a word with you.” It came off much more cold and formal than he might have intended, but it was said and the words hung in the air, waiting for her response.

She’d jumped to conclusions in her head. His tone indicated that he was serious, which to Hermione meant that the conversation would be a confession of his wrong-doing and an explanation of how she was nothing more than a notch on his bedpost, as she had suspected. And he’d sounded cold, which led Hermione to believe that he would be dismissing any foolish notion that their encounter had been anything more than that. She closed her eyes, and resigned to her fate, slowly walked toward him.

Severus held open his bedroom door, and waited for her to step inside before he followed her in and closed the door behind him. The bedroom, this bedroom in particular with all things considered, was hardly the place to be having this sort of conversation. “On second thought,” he said, though his voice was just as passive and slightly off-putting as before, “might I ask you to accompany me on a short trip for this conversation?”

Feeling she had little other choice in the matter, Hermione nodded. Whatever he was going to tell her, however cruelly he hoped to reject her; Hermione wished he would just do it quickly.

Were he the type to breathe loud sighs of relief, her nod would have been the appropriate time to do so. But as Severus Snape was not a man to show his emotions, he did not. He was, however, the type of person to know exactly where a conversation of this magnitude would be appropriate and without another word he turned and led the way out of his bedroom.

Fortunately for both Hermione and Severus, no one seemed to be lingering around Number 12 Grimmauld Place to watch their decent through the house and out the back door. She had no idea where he was taking her, but she followed him as he strode across the back lawn with purpose. He veered off to the left heading toward the woods rather than the large clearing that lead to the field, where the boys were no doubt still playing Quidditch.

The woods loomed ahead and quickly engulfed them as they walked through on a tiny dirt trail. Severus appeared to know where he was going and that Hermione worry slightly less when they turned off the trail and began trumping through the thick undergrowth. The trees grew thicker and the sunlight could hardly be seen through the canopy. It was dark but not so dark that she could not see the man in front of her. They seemed to walk for hours, and Hermione was starting to grow weary when a small clearing emerged from the middle of nowhere. Or it would have been a small clearing had a large tree not fallen across it.

Severus turned and leaned against the fallen trunk, which was as high as he was tall and then some. He drew his wand and Hermione threw her hands up in front of her face, turned her head to the side and closed her eyes tightly. She waited. Nothing happened. Her arms slowly fell to her side and she opened her eyes, blushing as she met his gaze.

When she’d attempted to shield herself from what he could only presume she thought to be an attack, Severus frowned. He’d only meant to cast a muffliato charm around the perimeter of the clearing. “You thought I would attack you?” he said. It sounded much more defensive than he meant it to sound.

Hermione bit her lower lip. “Just do it already.” She said.

Severus quirked a brow up on his forehead. “And just what exactly am I doing?”

“You brought me out here to modify my memory. So I would forget all this nonsense.” Hermione paused and as the look of disbelief rose further over his face, she frowned. “You didn’t bring me out here to modify my memory?”

Severus Snape did the one thing that a wizard should never do, regardless of the circumstances or the situation. He let his wand clatter to the ground, which was less of a clattering sound and more of a soft thump as it landed in the dirt at his feet. He slumped back against the great fallen tree and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “No, Hermione.”

“Oh,” she said. Hermione Granger felt particularly foolish at that moment. The woods were silent. There were no birds, nor a breeze to be heard for miles. “Sorry,” she muttered.

He could tell this was going to be difficult, especially if the girl thought he was out to make her forget. Though how could he ask or demand such a thing when after reviewing those memories— however embarrassing it was to do so with Albus Dumbledore— he’d come to the conclusion that he was right in thinking she was more than just a casual fuck like the others had been.

The woods were silent— not a sound to be heard. No rustling of the leaves in the trees, nor birds calling to their mates; everything stood still. Hermione took a step toward Severus, who remained leaning against the tree. Words flashed through her mind. Her vocabulary had never been lacking but at present she found that she did not possess a single one which she felt would be effective if uttered aloud.

“When too people sleep together, they are going to do it again, if they can, unless it was bad.” He said. The silence was broken, but it did nothing to ease the tension. Her eyes drew a look of concern and she almost shied away from him. “It wasn’t bad, Hermione.” He added, not meaning for it to sound as an afterthought. But it was as simple as he could phrase it. He didn’t want to gush on about how he’d felt better than he had in a very long time in regards to sex. And he certainly didn’t want to mention that she’d out performed her friends, for fear it might upset her just at the mention of his encounters with the others. “It was about the sex.” He said.

Again Hermione’s face fell. “I see.” She said.

“And in being about the sex, it led me to realize that it was only sex.”

“Right.” She said.

“With the others.” He swallowed hard. It was the first time he’d been able to admit this out loud. “You evolved into something else. Something more than just sex.”

Hermione allowed his words to sink in, really hearing him as if for the first time since coming into the woods. There was an overwhelming sense of giddiness rising up from her stomach but she did her best to force it down. She didn’t want to get her hopes up in case she had misunderstood or had suddenly gone crazy and was hearing only what she wanted to hear. His eyes were still gazing into hers and she thought for a moment he might be expecting her to speak, but she didn’t have a clue as to what she should say.

The sky had grown darker. Not that either of them could tell through the dense leafy tree tops of the woods, but a storm was on the verge of pouring down from the sky. But as neither Hermione nor Severus were aware of this fact there were no discussions of returning to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

“So what— what does this mean?” Hermione was surprised to hear the question coming from her own lips.

And Severus was equally surprised. Of all the things she could have said (though in actuality when he put thought to it— her question was the most likely thing for anyone in her situation to have said) this was the one he hadn’t prepared an answer for. It wasn’t because he didn’t think it was a valid question or that he’d lied about his discovery. If the truth was told he found no answer to her question because he simply didn’t know it.

Humans, magical and muggle alike, frustrated Severus to no end. Existence had to have meaning. Things that happened had to have meaning. Everything had to have a meaning. Why couldn’t things simply be? These long convoluted attempts to attach significance to every occurrence in life made his blood boil. But he could hardly show that anger to the girl— even if she was part of that breed that longed to attach meaning to things. Without knowing what to say, which was a rare occasion for Severus in itself; he straightened up, leaned forward and pulled Hermione into a kiss.

She hadn’t seen it coming and whimpered when his lips fell upon hers. Logic told her to resist. Allowing for further physical interactions to occur without a discussion was not going to solve anything. But there was something about the way his lips met hers that left logic in a fuzzy pink haze. Her tongue met his and she felt her body leaning close to him, that warmth radiating from him. It did not take but a moment for that kiss to turn into a deeper yearning; hands tangling into hair, arms circling each other into a needy embrace.

It was a chilly raindrop that broke the kiss. It splattered heavy on her nose and Hermione frowned. Like the alarm clock that goes off during the best part of the dream that raindrop had roused her from her moment of passion that had almost made itself a repeat of the night prior. Logic came charging through the haze of lust and desire as another chilly raindrop splattered from the sky, this time landing on her cheek.

“Do you really think we should— I mean, it hardly makes sense to just repeat last night without discussing things first, does it?” she said, taking a step back.

Severus sighed. “Hermione,” he blinked as a rather large raindrop fell into his eyes. “Logic and reason can’t always solve everything. Sometimes things just are. There is no meaning.” It was clear that the meaning of what he’d just said was lost on the girl. “There doesn’t always have to be,” he amended.

“You like me.” She blurted out. Several more raindrops trickled through the canopy of the trees and splashed on her face.

Severus rolled his eyes. As he parted his lips to speak, her index finger fell over them.

“You like me because we clicked. I felt something— which is why I was so upset when I learned about the others…it’s not like me to be jealous,” she said. That wasn’t true, though she doubted that he would have any proof to the contrary. “But I was hurt. I assumed that I’d been the same as the others.”

“There is something about you,” he said, despite her finger still being pressed against his lips.

“So we…don’t attach meaning…and we…try to let these things we are feeling come and go…or grow…as they do…” she said with a bit of an awkward smile. It was if she was smiling but didn’t quite know why. And then Hermione placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him back against the large fallen tree.

Severus had a snarky comment that was sexually charged bated at the tip of his tongue, but whatever it was, it was lost as the sky had let loose a horrid crackle of thunder and a tumultuous rainfall tumbled through the treetops.

They were soaked through as soon that rain had started. He looked skyward, as did she, neither seeing the black clouds that were rumbling against one another, sounding as if the giants had started a bowler’s league in the sky. Their eyes met and Hermione found herself swept up into his arms and into a kiss. It was like being just under the misty spray of a waterfall gone rogue, light and hard, drenching and misty all at the same time. But the water has hardly noticed as the two of them kissed each other with splendid fervor.

* * * * * *

“Has anyone seen Hermione?” asked Ginny. She’d appeared in the drawing room soaked from head to toe.

Tonks was seated in Remus’s lap and he was nestled back in the armchair nearest the fireplace. A few moments prior, when the storm had begun to rage, he’d lit a roaring blaze in the hearth. Bill and Fleur were snuggled close together on the sofa just opposite where Ginny stood in the doorway. She was ready to repeat her question when her mother wandered in from the kitchen.

“Ginevra!” she shouted. “You’re tracking water everywhere! What is the matter with you?” Molly Weasley put her hands on her hips
and drew her wand from her apron pocket. “Drystratus!” she cried. A bright orange blast flew from the tip of her wand and nearly knocked Ginny to the floor. “Honestly, you should know better.” She huffed.

Ginny rolled her eyes. She was still cross with her mother, but that was a different story. She was more worried about Hermione— no one had seen her since the bedroom with Dumbledore— and that was hours ago. Obviously, Ginny had not talked to Charlie or the twins. Without a word to her mother, she stomped out of the room and into the kitchen, heading for the stairs.

As she headed up the many staircases in the ancient House of Black, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky. She was standing at the tiny window at the end of the corridor of the third floor, about to take the stairs up to fourth when she saw it. A dark figure was moving rapidly from the woods toward the back porch. Ginny raced down the stairs, two and three at a time until she was back in the drawing room. “Something’s in the yard!” she cried.

Looks of alarm crossed their faces and Tonks was the first one to spring from her seat. Unfortunately, her legs had fallen asleep underneath her while she had been curled up in her lover’s lap and that combined with her lack of proper balancing skills had her tumbling into the floor.

Remus helped her to her feet and all five of them rushed through the drawing room, past the kitchen and to the back porch door. Bang! The door flew inward and gusts of wind with torrents of rain whooshed into the house. A big black figure stumbled over the threshold and collapsed to the floor. Five wands pointed down— ready to blast the intruder. Bill was the first to draw his wand away as the figure tried to draw itself up.

“It’s Snape!” he cried.

Severus was shaking, soaked to the bone, blood pouring from his leg. His cloak was drawn over him in an awkward manner, and his right arm appeared broken. “Help her…” he whispered.

“What?” said Lupin.

With a struggling push against the floor, Severus moved his body from where it had fallen. Lines of agony washed over his face as he strained to keep himself supported. On the floor beneath him was Hermione, as wet as he was and unconscious. Unable to hold his own weight any longer, he collapsed with a cry to the floor.

“What’s happened?” cried Molly. “Good God, Severus!”

“Her…” his voice was a pained whisper as he pointed to Hermione. They had been caught up in their passionate embrace when the storm hit. Lightning had struck one of the trees nearby the clearing. A large branch nearly three times as tall as Severus and twice the girth had been split off and had come crashing down upon the two of them. He had seen it just before it had hit them both and had managed to push Hermione out of the way. Her fall, unfortunately, had landed her head against a rock.

He’d tried his best to check for concussion, but with his wand scattered somewhere in the debris of the storm, and a large piece of smoldering tree impaling his leg, he wasn’t sure. Severus had struggled as best he could, carrying her with a shattered wrist, broken and impaled leg and other wounds, through the storm, back to the path, out of the woods and to the house.

And there he lay, on the floor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He watched through bleary eyes as they all knelt around the girl. Their voices sounded garbled and so far away. The throbbing in his wrist and leg grew stronger. He tried to reach his hand out toward Hermione, but he couldn’t reach. Remus and Bill had gathered her up and begun to move her. Then everything went black.