Hilltop Cottage
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
42,296
Reviews:
198
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
5
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
42,296
Reviews:
198
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
5
Disclaimer:
I do not own any Harry Potter characters or situations - they all belong to JK Rowling. I am making no money from this story.
Twelve
A/N: Sorry for the long delay - Merry Christmas, everyone x
Hermione sat beside the window and watched as the scenery beyond it changed by the mile. The rolling Derbyshire hills and dry-stone walls gave way to a more industrial landscape, images of the revolution that shaped the history of the area and forever changed the face of the world. As the train entered Manchester and pulled up at the crowded platform, Hermione could feel herself tense slightly. It had been a few months since so many people had surrounded her.
Hermione closed her eyes for the rest of the journey, not really sleeping but pretending to. Over the years, Hermione had realised that she had one of those faces that endeared her to strangers and gave them the impression that she was up for a conversation. At first, because she was a nice person and hated to be rude, she would be civil, and tedious conversations would ensue. Unfortunately, she found she had little to share with the common Muggle, and explaining that she was a witch was never a good idea, even if she wanted to. Inevitably, Hermione would then spend most of her time listening to the Muggles as they talked incessantly about themselves. Today, she chose to avoid this.
The train arrived at Kings Cross just before one o’clock, and Hermione walked quickly down the platform and towards the humming noise of the city.
***
The house at Spinner’s End looked like it had been burgled. The furniture in the front room had been decimated to such an extent that even clever magic wouldn’t be able to entirely repair it. Shards of broken wood, smashed glass and the stuffing from the armchair completely covered the carpet, and the room was filled with dust and the aroma that hangs in the air after Bonfire night, sulphurous and cloying.
At the edge of the melee, slumped against the wall, Severus sat with his wand in his shaky hand. Streams of sweat ran down his face, mingling with his frustrated tears as he gulped in huge breaths of air, trying to calm himself and failing miserably.
His stomach hurt as if someone had thrust a red-hot poker into his gut, and somewhere under his ribcage, his heart was beating wildly as if protesting from such wanton mistreatment. His body had thrust its sense memory forwards with force as soon as he had made it back to the house, for he had been here before with Lily. He knew rejection, and he knew the pain it brought. But this was worse than the last time. Although he couldn’t or wouldn’t name it, Severus had fallen in love, and this was what it felt like when his heart was broken.
He couldn’t stop seeing her face. He couldn’t stop the tears.
***
Hermione stood in front of the mirror in the toilets of the Leaky Cauldron, feeling and looking like a different woman. She hadn’t lost her touch, and the Glamour she had applied was flawless. Putting on her robes, she inspected her look critically. Her hair was a mousy brown, tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were now blue-grey, her face rounder than normal, and her mouth smaller and thinner. In fact, she was so nondescript that she wouldn’t earn a second glance, which was exactly what she had been aiming for.
She pointed her wand at her rucksack and Transfigured it into a tapestry carpetbag with a leather strap. She already had Galleons from her last shopping trip, and when she was sure she was all set, she ventured out into Diagon Alley feeling refreshed and alive after letting her magic loose again.
Her first stop was to Madam Primpernelle’s Beautifying Potions, where she bought as many bottles of Sleekeazy as she thought she would be able to store in her tiny bathroom. She also purchased a bottle of ‘All Over Wonder Cream,’ which claimed to smooth and hide any bodily imperfections for that ‘special night.’ Hermione laughed softly to herself. She hoped she would have the opportunity to try that out very soon.
Her thoughts now firmly with Severus, she took the liberty of purchasing a newly published, up to date Herbology book from Flourish and Blotts. The book had a special section on growing specialist plants for potion making. It was a personal gift, but not too intimate. Their relationship hadn’t gone that far yet, but as Hermione waited for the shopkeeper to parcel up her books, she felt a little frisson of excitement about the forthcoming evening. Grabbing her books quickly, she all but ran from the shop and back down the alley in her sudden haste to return to New Mills.
She didn’t even notice Harry and Ginny as they strolled along hand in hand.
***
Severus made a perfunctory effort at cleaning up his house, but his heart wasn’t in it. He felt like a wrung-out dishcloth, weak and good for nothing. He would have to buy a new armchair, and from the way his small table kept wobbling over to one side, he guessed he would need to replace that too. With a deep sigh, he trudged into the kitchen and filled his kettle. He thought of Hermione as the water started to pop and crack over the heat of the gas ring.
Had the wine addled her brain so much that she had seen more in their friendship than there could ever be? Her emotions had been unsettled for weeks; her rambling musings when she was weepy had held the promise of so much. And yet, after acting on her whims, she must have come to her senses finally, and who would blame her? Severus was in no doubt that a life lived with him, in peaceful solitude, would be nought but a half-life. The commonplace Muggle town of New Mills was no place for a witch with her talents and potential, no matter how hard it was for him to cope with his own personal loss.
And yet, wasn’t it her who had insisted it was worth a shot? Wasn’t it her, with her seductive persuasion and breathy pleading, who had cajoled him into this mess in the first place?
‘Give me a chance, Severus,’ he repeated her words harshly, his anger bubbling up again. She had hoodwinked him, pulled him into her little experiment like a spider beneath a microscope.
‘Bitch,’ Severus hissed. He stormed back into the living room and pointed his wand at the wobbly table.
‘Bitch!’ he yelled.
The table exploded in a shower of red sparks.
***
Hermione was getting impatient. Already it was gone nine o’clock in the evening, and their programme had just finished. He hadn’t missed it in over six weeks, so where the hell was he?
She stood and walked into the kitchen, opening the bottle of wine that had been chilling for hours in anticipation of his arrival. She poured herself a glass, throwing the metal wrapper from the neck of the bottle into the bin along with the remains of an oddly beheaded bunch of flowers she had found, dropped just outside her front gate.
She lifted the glass and took a sip before going to the front door and looking out onto the lane. There was still no sign of Severus, and Hermione frowned. What if he was ill? Or something had happened to him? Or, what if… With a sharp intake of breath, Hermione gasped.
He had cold feet! Why hadn’t she thought of that? He had been a reluctant participant in this new relationship, and she had all but beguiled him into it. No matter how enthusiastic he had been once they had perfected the kissing, in the cold light of day, he must be having second thoughts. Perhaps he had decided she really was too young for him? Or maybe she wasn’t his type?
Hermione felt her stomach clutch in dread. She had made such an effort tonight. Her hair was smooth and silky, and she had smothered herself from head to little toe in Wonder Cream. Other than plastic surgery or constantly wearing a Glamour, there was nothing else she could do to improve on her looks. She hoped Severus wasn’t that shallow, but what did she know of his tastes and desires where women were concerned? Apart from his well-documented and unrequited crush on Lily Evans -- which Hermione had always dismissed, because teenagers fall in lust at the drop of a hat anyway -- she knew absolutely nothing.
Although, hadn’t he told her he had never had a girlfriend? She was sure that’s what he had said.
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, and with Gryffindor impulsiveness roaring inside her, fighting and winning against her more cautious side, she grabbed her wand from the side of her rucksack that she had left by the bottom stair, threw on her thin grey cardigan, and slammed the front door behind her.
Hermione sat beside the window and watched as the scenery beyond it changed by the mile. The rolling Derbyshire hills and dry-stone walls gave way to a more industrial landscape, images of the revolution that shaped the history of the area and forever changed the face of the world. As the train entered Manchester and pulled up at the crowded platform, Hermione could feel herself tense slightly. It had been a few months since so many people had surrounded her.
Hermione closed her eyes for the rest of the journey, not really sleeping but pretending to. Over the years, Hermione had realised that she had one of those faces that endeared her to strangers and gave them the impression that she was up for a conversation. At first, because she was a nice person and hated to be rude, she would be civil, and tedious conversations would ensue. Unfortunately, she found she had little to share with the common Muggle, and explaining that she was a witch was never a good idea, even if she wanted to. Inevitably, Hermione would then spend most of her time listening to the Muggles as they talked incessantly about themselves. Today, she chose to avoid this.
The train arrived at Kings Cross just before one o’clock, and Hermione walked quickly down the platform and towards the humming noise of the city.
***
The house at Spinner’s End looked like it had been burgled. The furniture in the front room had been decimated to such an extent that even clever magic wouldn’t be able to entirely repair it. Shards of broken wood, smashed glass and the stuffing from the armchair completely covered the carpet, and the room was filled with dust and the aroma that hangs in the air after Bonfire night, sulphurous and cloying.
At the edge of the melee, slumped against the wall, Severus sat with his wand in his shaky hand. Streams of sweat ran down his face, mingling with his frustrated tears as he gulped in huge breaths of air, trying to calm himself and failing miserably.
His stomach hurt as if someone had thrust a red-hot poker into his gut, and somewhere under his ribcage, his heart was beating wildly as if protesting from such wanton mistreatment. His body had thrust its sense memory forwards with force as soon as he had made it back to the house, for he had been here before with Lily. He knew rejection, and he knew the pain it brought. But this was worse than the last time. Although he couldn’t or wouldn’t name it, Severus had fallen in love, and this was what it felt like when his heart was broken.
He couldn’t stop seeing her face. He couldn’t stop the tears.
***
Hermione stood in front of the mirror in the toilets of the Leaky Cauldron, feeling and looking like a different woman. She hadn’t lost her touch, and the Glamour she had applied was flawless. Putting on her robes, she inspected her look critically. Her hair was a mousy brown, tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were now blue-grey, her face rounder than normal, and her mouth smaller and thinner. In fact, she was so nondescript that she wouldn’t earn a second glance, which was exactly what she had been aiming for.
She pointed her wand at her rucksack and Transfigured it into a tapestry carpetbag with a leather strap. She already had Galleons from her last shopping trip, and when she was sure she was all set, she ventured out into Diagon Alley feeling refreshed and alive after letting her magic loose again.
Her first stop was to Madam Primpernelle’s Beautifying Potions, where she bought as many bottles of Sleekeazy as she thought she would be able to store in her tiny bathroom. She also purchased a bottle of ‘All Over Wonder Cream,’ which claimed to smooth and hide any bodily imperfections for that ‘special night.’ Hermione laughed softly to herself. She hoped she would have the opportunity to try that out very soon.
Her thoughts now firmly with Severus, she took the liberty of purchasing a newly published, up to date Herbology book from Flourish and Blotts. The book had a special section on growing specialist plants for potion making. It was a personal gift, but not too intimate. Their relationship hadn’t gone that far yet, but as Hermione waited for the shopkeeper to parcel up her books, she felt a little frisson of excitement about the forthcoming evening. Grabbing her books quickly, she all but ran from the shop and back down the alley in her sudden haste to return to New Mills.
She didn’t even notice Harry and Ginny as they strolled along hand in hand.
***
Severus made a perfunctory effort at cleaning up his house, but his heart wasn’t in it. He felt like a wrung-out dishcloth, weak and good for nothing. He would have to buy a new armchair, and from the way his small table kept wobbling over to one side, he guessed he would need to replace that too. With a deep sigh, he trudged into the kitchen and filled his kettle. He thought of Hermione as the water started to pop and crack over the heat of the gas ring.
Had the wine addled her brain so much that she had seen more in their friendship than there could ever be? Her emotions had been unsettled for weeks; her rambling musings when she was weepy had held the promise of so much. And yet, after acting on her whims, she must have come to her senses finally, and who would blame her? Severus was in no doubt that a life lived with him, in peaceful solitude, would be nought but a half-life. The commonplace Muggle town of New Mills was no place for a witch with her talents and potential, no matter how hard it was for him to cope with his own personal loss.
And yet, wasn’t it her who had insisted it was worth a shot? Wasn’t it her, with her seductive persuasion and breathy pleading, who had cajoled him into this mess in the first place?
‘Give me a chance, Severus,’ he repeated her words harshly, his anger bubbling up again. She had hoodwinked him, pulled him into her little experiment like a spider beneath a microscope.
‘Bitch,’ Severus hissed. He stormed back into the living room and pointed his wand at the wobbly table.
‘Bitch!’ he yelled.
The table exploded in a shower of red sparks.
***
Hermione was getting impatient. Already it was gone nine o’clock in the evening, and their programme had just finished. He hadn’t missed it in over six weeks, so where the hell was he?
She stood and walked into the kitchen, opening the bottle of wine that had been chilling for hours in anticipation of his arrival. She poured herself a glass, throwing the metal wrapper from the neck of the bottle into the bin along with the remains of an oddly beheaded bunch of flowers she had found, dropped just outside her front gate.
She lifted the glass and took a sip before going to the front door and looking out onto the lane. There was still no sign of Severus, and Hermione frowned. What if he was ill? Or something had happened to him? Or, what if… With a sharp intake of breath, Hermione gasped.
He had cold feet! Why hadn’t she thought of that? He had been a reluctant participant in this new relationship, and she had all but beguiled him into it. No matter how enthusiastic he had been once they had perfected the kissing, in the cold light of day, he must be having second thoughts. Perhaps he had decided she really was too young for him? Or maybe she wasn’t his type?
Hermione felt her stomach clutch in dread. She had made such an effort tonight. Her hair was smooth and silky, and she had smothered herself from head to little toe in Wonder Cream. Other than plastic surgery or constantly wearing a Glamour, there was nothing else she could do to improve on her looks. She hoped Severus wasn’t that shallow, but what did she know of his tastes and desires where women were concerned? Apart from his well-documented and unrequited crush on Lily Evans -- which Hermione had always dismissed, because teenagers fall in lust at the drop of a hat anyway -- she knew absolutely nothing.
Although, hadn’t he told her he had never had a girlfriend? She was sure that’s what he had said.
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, and with Gryffindor impulsiveness roaring inside her, fighting and winning against her more cautious side, she grabbed her wand from the side of her rucksack that she had left by the bottom stair, threw on her thin grey cardigan, and slammed the front door behind her.