The long and winding road to love
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
45
Views:
6,456
Reviews:
69
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
45
Views:
6,456
Reviews:
69
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The wound
Chapter 21: The wound
Well, my
friends… here it is; chapter 21… enjoy!
Chapter 21: The
wound
Oscar Wilde once said that we are each our own devil and we make
this world our own hell. Was he right? I am afraid he was; for this little couple
we cherish so much had everything in their hands to be happy. The problem is
that life, as well as love is rarely fair, but sure enough never easy.
When they reached Severus’s chambers, they sat at either side of
the fire on their characteristic leather chairs, desperately trying to warm
themselves from the cold the winter inflicted on their bodies.
It took her only minutes to realize how badly injured her husband
really was; he was bleeding almost uncontrollably. She could tell because his
black pants had suddenly turned purple from the knee to his ankle and little
drops of red blood were now resting motionless on the stone floor of his rooms.
The scene was so shocking that Hermione took her time to get on
her knees and face the wound that was barely covered by the black cloth of his
trousers.
“What have you done?” she asked while slowly caressing the purple
spot in his knee where the chunk of glass had penetrated his skin. She took his
calf in her hands and applied some pressure on the wound without ripping his
trousers apart.
It hurt. Oh, Gods! How much it hurt! Men like Severus are not used
to demonstrating their feelings in front of a female, even if thatale ale is
your wife; the love of your life. Severus had never believed in love. He
thought he was too cold to love. Now he knew how wrong he had been in believing
that one can escape the devil that is cupid with his silver wings and harmless
arrows. Harmless? Not at all.
In fact, they are lethal. He sat there contemplating love in the flesh, a love
that was so pure yet so monstrous.
Finally, he got the courage to answer her question.
“What I do with my life, Miss Granger, is none of your business.
My private affairs should not concern you in the least,” he simply said,
resting his hand on a black leather pillow. He was holding the back of the
pillow very hard, in pain. But make no mistake; even though he treated her
coldly, he could not refuse her touch. For one thing because he knew how
roughly injured he was and for the other because he loved her and her simple
company was a delightful experience that brought nothing but joy to his life.
The pain, however, was strong enough to make him dizzy, to make him shake from
head to toe.
“I was simply asking you what you had done; I was not enquiring
about your reasons for doing such a stupid thing,” she answered while ripping
one part of his trousers from a single cut with a
little knife he used to leave in a table by the fire. His wound was now
exposed.
“Oh, my god,” she managed to mutter at the mere glimpse of his
abominable cut.
It was awful. It was, by far, the most ugly
thing she had ever seen. The piece of glass was stuck in his skin like a knife
and a very sharp knife at that. A magical mirror had stabbed him. Hermione
could tell by the dreadful bubbles that surrounded the deep cut. They were
green and quite big… and the smell! That terrible smell! The prospect of
tong ing it was not a happy one.
When she slowly stretched her hand to touch the bubbles, Snape
shouted in a way she had never heard.
“Miss Granger! Do not touch it!” he commanded, taking her hand on
his.
And just there, for a moment, time stopped; time froze, for two
individuals have touched as if nothing had changed, as if everything was
peaceful in their worlds even though it wasn’t; even though they knew death was
waiting for them at the very end of the corridor. In fact, they had faced death
only seconds ago and despite being just an image, they were sensitive… as
sensitive as they could be.
“Do not touch it,” he once again said,
his voice barely a whisper. Their gazes were locked and they could see their
little faces in the other’s eyes. The burning desire that had once burned their
souls with passion was giving birth to a different kind of love, a love that
found comfin tin the presence of the other. They dared not act on it; there
were too many things at risk.
“Severus…” she whispered while caressing his palm with her thumb,
“I wish to heal you,” was all she said.
How could he possibly refuse if she asked in that innocent tone of
her? How could he possibly refuse if her eyes were filled with tears because of
his pain? How could he refuse to nod if he loved her so much? If she was everything to him?
And so he let go of her hand, knowing perfectly well that the
moment for him to kiss her was gone.
“It is probably for the best,” he kept reminding himself while
staring at his wife who was running about the room, searching frantically
through his personal laboratories for a potion she knew he ought to possess.
“EUREKA!” she shouted from the labs, holding a yellow bottle in
her right hand.
“Well done, Miss Granger,” he said, clapping his hands mockingly,
“don’t you think that it would be proper for me to walk to the Hospital Wing?”
he asked.
“I thought you would find Poppy’s questions as nosy as you found
mine,” was all she said while diluting the very solid potion with water.
“Very well, Miss Granger. You
do have a point theret cot consider yourself warned: that potion you are holding
is extremely strong and furthermore I advise you not to stay a minute longer
than you should; I may act differently,” he said.
“Differently?
What do you mean?” she dared ask, while inspecting the potion quite carefully;
making sure it was of the right colour and texture.
“Never mind, Miss Granger. It
is not safe for you to stay by my side when the potion makes contact with the
injury. Is that clear?” he asked, as the professor he was.
“Of course,” was all she answered while, once again, kneeling in
front of him with her dragon skin gloves on.
She needed to know so many things; she needed to understand what
he thought of her; how he felt about her. She needed to comprehend what his
plans with Malfoy were and furthermore, she needed to know why he had rejected
her when reaching the castle if he had told her he loved her.
But she didn’t open her mouth. She applied the potion on the cut,
and when the potion reacted to the pus he made the sign for her to lock herself
in her chambers.
But she didn’t lock the door. Mainly because she thought he was
lying to get rid of her, but also because she trusted him, even under the
influence of pain and drugs.
Little did she know that the magical wound on his knee would make her
happy for he would confess everything in a very un-Snapish
way.
Well, my
friends… here it is; chapter 21… enjoy!
Chapter 21: The
wound
Oscar Wilde once said that we are each our own devil and we make
this world our own hell. Was he right? I am afraid he was; for this little couple
we cherish so much had everything in their hands to be happy. The problem is
that life, as well as love is rarely fair, but sure enough never easy.
When they reached Severus’s chambers, they sat at either side of
the fire on their characteristic leather chairs, desperately trying to warm
themselves from the cold the winter inflicted on their bodies.
It took her only minutes to realize how badly injured her husband
really was; he was bleeding almost uncontrollably. She could tell because his
black pants had suddenly turned purple from the knee to his ankle and little
drops of red blood were now resting motionless on the stone floor of his rooms.
The scene was so shocking that Hermione took her time to get on
her knees and face the wound that was barely covered by the black cloth of his
trousers.
“What have you done?” she asked while slowly caressing the purple
spot in his knee where the chunk of glass had penetrated his skin. She took his
calf in her hands and applied some pressure on the wound without ripping his
trousers apart.
It hurt. Oh, Gods! How much it hurt! Men like Severus are not used
to demonstrating their feelings in front of a female, even if thatale ale is
your wife; the love of your life. Severus had never believed in love. He
thought he was too cold to love. Now he knew how wrong he had been in believing
that one can escape the devil that is cupid with his silver wings and harmless
arrows. Harmless? Not at all.
In fact, they are lethal. He sat there contemplating love in the flesh, a love
that was so pure yet so monstrous.
Finally, he got the courage to answer her question.
“What I do with my life, Miss Granger, is none of your business.
My private affairs should not concern you in the least,” he simply said,
resting his hand on a black leather pillow. He was holding the back of the
pillow very hard, in pain. But make no mistake; even though he treated her
coldly, he could not refuse her touch. For one thing because he knew how
roughly injured he was and for the other because he loved her and her simple
company was a delightful experience that brought nothing but joy to his life.
The pain, however, was strong enough to make him dizzy, to make him shake from
head to toe.
“I was simply asking you what you had done; I was not enquiring
about your reasons for doing such a stupid thing,” she answered while ripping
one part of his trousers from a single cut with a
little knife he used to leave in a table by the fire. His wound was now
exposed.
“Oh, my god,” she managed to mutter at the mere glimpse of his
abominable cut.
It was awful. It was, by far, the most ugly
thing she had ever seen. The piece of glass was stuck in his skin like a knife
and a very sharp knife at that. A magical mirror had stabbed him. Hermione
could tell by the dreadful bubbles that surrounded the deep cut. They were
green and quite big… and the smell! That terrible smell! The prospect of
tong ing it was not a happy one.
When she slowly stretched her hand to touch the bubbles, Snape
shouted in a way she had never heard.
“Miss Granger! Do not touch it!” he commanded, taking her hand on
his.
And just there, for a moment, time stopped; time froze, for two
individuals have touched as if nothing had changed, as if everything was
peaceful in their worlds even though it wasn’t; even though they knew death was
waiting for them at the very end of the corridor. In fact, they had faced death
only seconds ago and despite being just an image, they were sensitive… as
sensitive as they could be.
“Do not touch it,” he once again said,
his voice barely a whisper. Their gazes were locked and they could see their
little faces in the other’s eyes. The burning desire that had once burned their
souls with passion was giving birth to a different kind of love, a love that
found comfin tin the presence of the other. They dared not act on it; there
were too many things at risk.
“Severus…” she whispered while caressing his palm with her thumb,
“I wish to heal you,” was all she said.
How could he possibly refuse if she asked in that innocent tone of
her? How could he possibly refuse if her eyes were filled with tears because of
his pain? How could he refuse to nod if he loved her so much? If she was everything to him?
And so he let go of her hand, knowing perfectly well that the
moment for him to kiss her was gone.
“It is probably for the best,” he kept reminding himself while
staring at his wife who was running about the room, searching frantically
through his personal laboratories for a potion she knew he ought to possess.
“EUREKA!” she shouted from the labs, holding a yellow bottle in
her right hand.
“Well done, Miss Granger,” he said, clapping his hands mockingly,
“don’t you think that it would be proper for me to walk to the Hospital Wing?”
he asked.
“I thought you would find Poppy’s questions as nosy as you found
mine,” was all she said while diluting the very solid potion with water.
“Very well, Miss Granger. You
do have a point theret cot consider yourself warned: that potion you are holding
is extremely strong and furthermore I advise you not to stay a minute longer
than you should; I may act differently,” he said.
“Differently?
What do you mean?” she dared ask, while inspecting the potion quite carefully;
making sure it was of the right colour and texture.
“Never mind, Miss Granger. It
is not safe for you to stay by my side when the potion makes contact with the
injury. Is that clear?” he asked, as the professor he was.
“Of course,” was all she answered while, once again, kneeling in
front of him with her dragon skin gloves on.
She needed to know so many things; she needed to understand what
he thought of her; how he felt about her. She needed to comprehend what his
plans with Malfoy were and furthermore, she needed to know why he had rejected
her when reaching the castle if he had told her he loved her.
But she didn’t open her mouth. She applied the potion on the cut,
and when the potion reacted to the pus he made the sign for her to lock herself
in her chambers.
But she didn’t lock the door. Mainly because she thought he was
lying to get rid of her, but also because she trusted him, even under the
influence of pain and drugs.
Little did she know that the magical wound on his knee would make her
happy for he would confess everything in a very un-Snapish
way.