When Living is No Longer Enough

Disclaimer: See Chapter One


Chapter Fourteen


Friday evening found Hermione standing in front of the full-length mirror in her room, staring critically at her reflection. A waterfall of untamed curls flared above her shoulders and spread over her arms to where it rested halfway down her back. Glancing ruefully at the reflection staring back at her, she frowned and turned to the side to critique her appearance from a different angle.

“Honestly, Crookshanks, I don’t know why I’m bothering,” she told the orange bundle of fur in exasperation. “It’s not like I’ve ever worried about Valentine’s Day before,” she reasoned and then shook her head in disgust as her familiar leaped onto the bed, settled into a comfortable position, looked at his mistress with a rather bored expression and then laid his head down to take a nap.

‘Great, I can’t even get my own cat to take an interest so how do I expect to get him to notice?’ she wondered with despair, critically eyeing the dress that was currently hanging on her slim figure. And ‘hanging’ was the appropriate word. The dress boasted of a deep burgundy colored velvet and little else. “Oh, Crooks, it looks like a sack!” she moaned, shrinking back at the sight of the straight cut of the dress, the high-necked collar and the long sleeves. “The ghosts wouldn’t even take a second glance and they’re all dead!”

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts had been filled with stress and it was all she could do just to keep the children focused during lessons. Several of the students had received visits from various owls in class all carrying assorted holiday declarations in the form of cards, candy and love letters. Then there were the boys that had sauntered fearlessly throughout the halls serenading their objects of affection in loud, boisterous voices. Some of the quieter youngsters were found in hallway corners spouting words of undying love and one student actually had the audacity to show up with a crossbow that was charmed to shoot singing arrows at its target. The frightened screech that had come from the intended target upon release of the first charmed arrow one one that Hermione was certain that she would remember for the rest of her days. Luckily the arrows dropped to the floor and exploded into a burst of red and pink flowers just before reaching the recipient so that, in the end, no one was hurt.

‘Except of course those of us who had to listen to those songs!’ she thought, shuddering at the memory of one rather explicit song in particular.

Turning her attention back to the matter at hand, she wondered what to do about her appearance. While she had never really paid attention to this particular holiday in the past, she found herself worrying about it now. “And for what?” she asked her reflection mockingly. Well, she knew what for, or rather who for. It was all for him. The only man in the entire school that could make her knees turn to jelly and her brain go to mush just by walking into the room.

“Dear me,” the enchanted mirror said in a grandmotherly voice “That dress reminds me of those old fashioned night gowns that those poor girls wore back in the eighteenth century. Nothing was allowed to show at all,” the mirror continued, oblivious to the look of dismay that settled on the face of the distraught Witch. “All you need now is a braid draped down your back, dearie, and you’ll be set.”

Not for the first time, Hermione considered hexing her mirror into oblivion. Always in the past she had managed to stop herself just in time from flicking her wand and uttering the incantation that would shut the mirror up once and for all. ‘Tonight might just be the exception,’ she thought angrily.

“Well, Crooks, I guess it’s time to put those Transfiguration lessons to good use,” she told the sleeping cat as she reached for her wand. “Now let’s see, something a little more modern that shows a little more skin… Hmmm…” and suddenly her wand was shooting tiny streams of colored lights as she swished and flicked her way into a new outfit that would have made Beau Brummel proud.

“There, that should do it,” she muttered surveying her handiwork. No longer did a frumpy eighteenth century matron stare back at her from the reflective glass of the antique mirror. Instead, a modern, well-figured but much more scantily clad young woman looked back with a slight smirk at her own ingenuity. Hermione had removed both the sleeves and the high-necked collar and turned the dress into a little burgundy number that was strapless and form fitting from the waist up. The skirt gently flared out from her waist into a pool of burgundy iridescent taffeta that ended just below her calves and softly rustled when she walked. “There now, that’s better,” she said to no one in particular. She was pleased when she heard the rewarding sound of agreement from the annoying mirror.

“Now for the shoes…”

Deciding that the black patent pumps laying on her bed were simply all wrong for her newly crafted outfit, she waved her wand and transfigured them into a pair of impossibly high heeled strappy sandals made from the same colored taffeta as the skirt of her dress. Another determined flick of the wand and her make-up was in place as well as a necklace and earrings that were just enough to accent, but not overshadow, her ensemble.

“And now for the hair,” she murmured, thoughtfully looking over her reflection and turning back and forth as she tested various styles.

“Up or down?” she asked the Kneazle and was rewarded with nothing more than the steady rise and fall of the cat’s long fur as he continued napping blissfully. “Well, you’re no help,” she muttered good-naturedly. Casting a few more spells, she looked up to see an intricate hairdo that was pulled back from her face and partially piled on top of her head. The back of her head was covered in long spiral curls that cascaded gracefully down her back.

“Well, if he doesn’t notice this then I don’t know what it will take,” she murmured, pleased by the reflection of the young woman that now peered back at her.

The truth of the matter, plain and simple, was that she happened to like Hogwart’s resident Potions Master. A lot. And she thought, or rather she hoped, that he might be starting to realize that his feelings lie along the same path as her own. He had seemed less moody lately, a fact she interpreted as a good sign, and the worry had seemed to be lifted ever so slightly from his countenance during the past few weeks.

‘And we have been seeing a lot of each other,’ she thought. Of course that could simply be a result of the research they were conducting but somehow she didn’t think so. Most research projects didn’t include long talks in front of the fire each night before being escorted back to your room and given a good night kiss. But that was as far as things had gone other than a little hand holding here and there. If nothing else, Severus Snape was a gentleman. Not that she minded that fact in the least but she knew that if she allowed things to continue at their current pace that she would be older than her grandmother before anything of consequence happened in the relationship. And Hermione had decided, after much soul searching, that she very much wanted something to happen so she did what any other determined Witch would have done: She formed a plan.

Step One of her plan was to start that process by looking the part tonight. She cast another look in the mirror and modestly decided that she had succeeded at the first part of her newly formed plan. At least she hoped that she had…

Step Two of her plan would consist of being a little more forthright in her advances. A small lump caught in her throat at the thought of offering herself up for potential rejection. Being forthright in front of her class or with her friends was one thing, but being so in front of a potential suitor was something else entirely. Her recent burst of confidence dwindled ever so slightly.

And last but not least was Step Three… she gave her reflection another nervous glance and hastily decided that she would just deal with that step once she got to it. ‘If I ever get to it that is,’ she thought with a small grimace. Still, she was well aware of the fact that she would have to exert at least a reasonable amount of subtlety as the contrary Potions Master was not a man that was going to go for flash and extravagance.

‘No Valentine’s Day poems or songs of undying affection for this guy,’ she told herself with a small grin. Of course she was thankful for these traits as she herself tended to shy away from overt displays of affection.

Her musings were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Taking one final look at her appearance she took a deep breath, opened the door and nearly fainted. Sing ing in front of her was the very man she had spent the last half hour dreaming about, clad in an elegant black formal dress shirt and trousers. His raven locks were neatly pulled back in a ponytail and he had exchanged his black school robes for a set of black robes that was more tailored and in vogue with the recent styles of the Wizarding fashion industry.

“Professor Granger,” he said, smiling slightly at the obvious appreciation on her face. “You look beautiful this evening.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Professor Snape,” she replied and placed her hand in the crook of the outstretched arm he offered.

Entering the Great Hall, Severus and Hermione immediately found their senses accosted by the sights and sounds of Cupid’s holiday. The room that was usually so stately and sedate was now engulfed with varying shades of pink, red and white. Tiny hearts had been enchanted to rain down from the ceiling and softly disappear just before they touched the floor. Miniature Cupids flew throughout the room softly prodding people with their bows and arrows while an endless variety of flowers adorned the refreshment tables.

“I see that Albus has been busy yet again,” Snape remarked sarcastically. “I swear the man adds more decorations every year, if that’s possible.”

Before Hermione could reply, the subject of the Potion Master’s derision appeared before them clothed in richly decorated robes of red and white brocade that were trimmed off in a band of tiny hearts.

“Severus, Hermione,” the older Wizard called happily, “I’m so glad you could celebrate with us this evening.”

“You told us that our attendance was mandatory if I remember correctly, Albus,” Snape remarked dryly while Hermione tried valiantly to keep from laughing. “Something about chaperoning the deluded dunderheads?”

“So I did although I am quite certain that I did not phrase it as such,” the Headmaster agreed with a twinkle in his ever-bright blue eyes. Turning to the young Gryffindor that was still draped on Severus’ arm, he remarked, “Hermione my dear, you look radiant this evening and I might addt tht this is the first time that I’ve seen Severus in such fine form at a Valentine’s Ball.”

“Hmmf,” the younger man snorted. His retaliation for such a comment was swift as he turned to the Headmaster and caustically remarked, “It looks like I am to be forever beleaguered in this ghastly decorated hell for the lovelorn.”

“Come now, Severus, if this is Hell then it can’t be too bad when you have such beautiful companionship,” Dumbledore told him cheerfully and beamed at Hermione.

“You may have a point,” Snape acknowledged, although that was the only concession he would allow the older Wizard.

“Enjoy yourselves,” the Headmaster told them as he left in search of the Deputy Headmistress.

“Cheer up, Severus,” Hermione ordered mischievously. “It’s not all bad and in a little while you can walk the grounds and deduct House Points from students making out in the bushes.”

“If they are thick-headed enough to get caught enflagrante then they deserve to have points deducted,” he replied in a low voice while glaring at a seventh year Slytherin that was leering at Hermione. Seeing the dark scowl that now rested on the face of his Head of House, the boy straightened up and sauntered off to stand by a group of fellow Slytherins.

“Maybe you should send them all to the Infirmary where Poppy can give them a talk about the birds and the bees and the wonders of safe sex,” she laughed. Seeing the look that ed oed over his face at the idea, she smiled and shook her head. “No, Severus, I was just joking.”

The debate concerning disciplinary methods was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Hooch and Professor Sprout. “Hermione, you look lovely,” the Herbology Professor told the younger Witch merrily before turning her attention to the frowning man standing beside her. “Severus, you look very nice yourself this evening.”

“I’ll say,” the Flying Instructor agreed. “Severus, you are going to dance this evening aren’t you?”

“Perhaps,” the Potion Master conceded, hoping that he might avoid occupying a spot on the woman’s dance card. Madam Hooch was agreeable enough as far as conversation went but dancing with her, in Severus’ opinion, was similar to he he imagined dancing with a herd of centaurs might be like: Painful. The woman was all feet when she danced and those feet always managed to mangle his own. It was one of the many reasons he loathed these social occasions.

The evening passed quickly enough and it wasn’t long before Hermione found herself dancing with several of the teachers as well as a few of the students. She was pleasantly surprised to find that she was generally having a good time despite her quiet nature and fear of being on display in front of so many people. The high point of the Ball however, in her opinion at least, was when she would dance with Severus. The first time they walked onto the dance floor, there was a general hush as both students and faculty stared in surprise at the couple. It was a well-known fact that Snape didn’t dance at the school Balls and on those rare occasions when he did, it was only for one or two obligatory dances before he exited to the gardens to harass the students. However, tonight had proven to be different. The Professor had remained inside for most of the evening and was seen in the company of the Charms Professor more often than not. By the end of the evening it was fairly evident to both staff and students that something was happening between them.

Escorting her out of the Great Hall, Snape suddenly stopped when they reached the stairway that would lead them to her rooms. “Hermione, would you like to come my rooms for a nightcap?” he asked quickly as if he was afraid his courage would fail him.

Hermione looked at the man standing before her. ‘He looks nervous,’ she thought to herself in confusion. ‘I wonder why?’

“A nightcap sounds great,” she replied and they chatted amicably all the way to the dungeons.

Deactivating the wards, Snape allowed her to enter first and followed her inside, pausing long enough to reactivate the wards and cast ‘Lumos’ on the room.

Hermione gestured with her wand towards the fireplace in an unspoken question. Seeing the Potions Master give a slight nod of his head, she smiled and proceeded to point her wand at the hearth and mutter the spell that would bring a raging fire to life. Accepting the glass which Severus handed to her, she sat down beside him and watched in silence as the flames danced, casting shadows on the walls throughout the room.

“You really do look beautiful tonight, Hermione,” rus rus told her quietly as he turned to gaze upon the petite features of her face. “Thank you for spending your evening with me.”

“It was my pleasure,” she replied honestly, placing her glass on the table in front of them. “You know, I think you set a few hearts fluttering tonight.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he snorted in disbelief.

“No, I’m serious. I heard a few of the Ravenclaws talking at the refreshment table. They were quite impressed. I was quite impressed,” she told him as she reached her hand up to finger the ponytail at the nape of his neck

“There’s only one heart that I’m interested in right now,” he replied in a silky voice and she could see the beginnings of a fire smoldering in the depths of his eyes. “Hermione…”

He didn’t get any further in finishing his sentence as the Gryffindor unwrapped her fingers from his hair and rested them against the back of his neck. Before either of them really knew what was happening she had gently pulled him closer and covered his lips with her own in the softest of kisses.

Her lips were hesitant as if asking his permission to continue this miraculous contact. Always in the past, he had been the one to initiate their kisses before saying goodnight and heading back to his own rooms but tonight she was the one to step forward and the thought left his mind in a wondrous haze of emotions. Lifting his hands, he gently cupped her face and returned the kiss allowing her to set the pace. Before each of them realized it, a fire was raging from deep within them both that burned hotter and brighter than the one she had started in the fireplace just moments before. Soon, his lips left the sweet haven of her mouth and trailed tiny kisses along her cheek and down her throat as she threw back her head and arched her neck in a welcoming gesture.

Hermione, for her part, was caught up in a vortex of both physical and emotional responses. Her body instinctively gravitated closer to his as both of her hands rose of their own volition to wrap securely around his neck in an attempt to draw him even closer and communicate her desire for him to continue his assault on her body. A soft moan escaped her mouth and a fine shudder passed through him at the sound of her pleasure.

Leaning back against the sofa, she pulled him closer and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt so that she could slide her hands beneath the soft fabric and caress the skin that lay hidden beneath. This time a moan escaped his own lips and she reveled in the sound knowing that he was as pleased as she was by their mutual actions. Within moments, he had lowered the zipper at the back of her dress and allowed his hands to roam her body in gentle adoration. It wasn’t long before both of them were tugging and pulling at the material that hindered their explorations of one another with an obvious needdrawdraw as close to the other as physical limitations would allow.

“Severus,” she moaned in response to his latest barrage of caresses and wrapped a high-heeled clad foot around the back of his leg in an effort to pull him even closer.

Suddenly, he pulled back from her with a groan and took a few deep breaths in a concentrated effort to slow his breathing. “Hermione,” he rasped softly, gazing at the half clad woman lying beneath him. “If we continue like this for much longer I won’t be able to stop and I don’t want to push you into anything that you might not be ready for.”

Placing a finger against his lips she smiled slowly in response to his words. “Severus, if I wasn’t ready then I wouldn’t be here now, like this, lying underneath you on your couch praying that you would just move past this conversation and make love to me.”

Upon hearing her words, words that he thought he would only ever dream of hearing her say, his eyes became wide with amazement. “You mean that you want to…” he asked incredulously.

“Oh yes,” she assured him with a sultry smile. “I very much want to,” she answered, pulling his head down for another long kiss. “Take me to bed, Severus. Please.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he replied and the melodic tones of his velvet voice sent shivers throughout her body. Standing up, he lifted her from the couch and gently cradled her in his arms as he carried her into his bedroom. Lighting the fire, he pulled back the satin covers on the large four-poster bed and gently sat her down as he kneeled to remove her shoes. Slowly, his fingers brushed teasingly against her delicate ankles as he deftly undid the buckles that held the sandals in place. Carefully setting each shoe off to the side, he lifted her feet and softly pressed a kiss where each buckle had rested, before lifting his eyes to search her face. “I want you so much,” he whispered, the raw need obvious in both his eyes and voice.

“Then have me,” she replied simply aulleulled him down on the bed with her as they once again began their exploration of one another’s bodies. They continued their ministrations and mapping of each other far into the night until they could take no more. With one final assurance from the woman lying beneath him, Severus cradled himself between her thighs and took the last step that would complete their joining. Hermione’s eyes opened wide in wonder as he filled her and they began to dance a rhythm as old as time. A rhythm that began slowly, their bodies moving in unison as they instinctively picked up momentum until they finally reached a pinnacle of ecstasy and exploded into a world that consisted of nothing but fireworks and the most glorious of sensations.

It was some time later when he released his grip and finally rolled over so that her slender body was nestled close against the contours of own.own. Both were sated and tired from their journey but still engulfed in the remnants of euphoria that had guided them during their coupling. As they drifted off to sleep, neither one could remember a time when the world had seemed more perfect than it had this night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

TBC


Author’s Note: And then the lemons came… I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I would love to hear your thoughts and comments on it as I added a bit more inner monologue/ narration to Hermione’s thoughts and feelings than I had written in the original posting.

~Jules