Beneath the Surface

Beneath the Surface

Chapter the Twentiethe: Meeting Happiness


‘Those brats, those despicable, snotty little brats…’ Snape thought murderously as he strode through the darkened corridors of the school. ‘And *him*! Hasn’t he humiliated me enough in the past? Has he nothing better to do with his life than to come back here and torment his old ‘friend’ Snivellus further? Pathetic!’

Memories of his years as a student within this very school and of the Marauders, his tormenters, sped indistinguishably through his mind. Remus Lupin was one of the boys in that band of scoundrels, and although he had been the kindest---if such a word could be used in connection with his name---towards Severus, he hated him just as much as he did the rest of them!

Snape had no doubt that the little ‘drag act’ Lupin had pulled with his image in that boggart lesson earlier today had been done out of some juvenile sense of malice that he still harbored towards him.

Oh, yes, he’d heard of the incident by now, several times over, in fact. The sordid story was sweeping the entire school! Every staff member, student, even ghost---EVERYONE---knew about it; Severus didn’t know whether to lock himself up in his rooms for the rest of his life or to go straight down to Lupin’s room and ‘Avada Kedavra’ his sorry arse!

But those thoughts were pushed to a corner of his mind and his stomach muscles tightened up almost painfully when he realized where he was; the place where he had told Hermione to meet him earlier that day.

The place was situated on the second highest floor of Hogwarts castle, a set of dusty and largely unused rooms which were barely occupied by people during the day, and not at all during the night. The ghosts preferred this level of the castle to haunt for its solitary feeling of antiquity and ancient nostalgia; for, in these halls were kept the immense portraits and tapestries of wizards and witches that had existed in an age too far back in time for those who were born during the modern era to understand.

But Snape had always understood it, and cherished it as well. He spoke to no one here, and the place’s ancient inhabitants tolerated him as if he himself were a wandering ghost. When the cold, often stifling atmosphere of the depths of his dungeons got to him, he could rise to this high and hallowed plateau to clear his mind and loosen up his body by breathing in the freshness of the air that circulated at this altitude.

Situated just left of the direct center of the corridor was a small, nondescript wooden door, but the room that it led to was anything but simple. It was what people used to call a reading room; it possessed too few books in its cabinets to be deemed a library, and was designed so that only several people at a time could sit in the room comfortably.

Decorated in a refined, Victorian manner, it consisted of four finely wrought, velvet-seated chairs, two of which had been placed in an intimate manner around a matching coffee table, the other two pushed back against the wall on either side of the room. A broad yet not imposing hearth filled most of the back wall, and various delicate objet d’arts had been set upon its marble mantle.

The room exuded a refined, feminine aura, one which Snape found surprisingly comforting. In its entirety, it reminded him of his mother, who was now no longer with him in body but whose spirit often haunted his nightmares. He had loved his mother for her gentility, but at the same time despised her for her weakness. This room strongly brought back his memories of the former aspect of the woman; he had never gotten to know her very well, and he felt somehow closer to her when he was there.

This was the room in which he planned to have his ‘discussion’ with Hermione (whatever that would consist of; it was very unlike him, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what he would say to her). He didn’t feel comfortable enough in any of the other rooms on that floor to hold such a serious meeting in, but he felt that bringing Hermione into a room that was so important to him would be misleading; he was planning to let her down, once and for all, in this relationship quest of hers. Or was he?

‘I don’t know.’ He sighed. ‘I just don’t know what to do here. I was the one who did it this time, not her. And I know now that I want her in my life… I just don’t know how.’

He sighed again, raking a hand roughly through his black hair and then rolled his eyes as it swung right back into his face. He had been pacing back and forth in front of the door to the reading room for quite some time now; he’d gotten there a half an hour earlier than their appointed meeting time so that he could sort through what he wanted to say to her.

Needless to say, he had nothing.

Aside from the shame and nervous tension he was still feeling from the episode that had occurred with his student earlier that day, the fact that she undoubtedly knew about the… ‘boggart in drag’ incident was very disconcerting to him. He dreaded what she would say to him about it. This meeting they had set up might turn out to be very odd indeed, if she were to bring up that subject.

But then, he hadn’t counted on the idiocy opin pin when he’d made the appointment, had he? Damn it all, but the man was still making his life a living hell! He halted his pacing and leaned his back against the wall to the right of the reading room. He had to pull himself together. He had to breathe.

But his breath was suddenly seized in his chest, and his posture stiffened uncomfortably as he sensed that he was not alone anymore. Though he was staring straight ahead and could not see her with his eyes, Severus sensed Hermione with every pore of his being as she timidly stepped closer and closer to him.

~*~

‘“Take the staircase to the right of the charms wing, and let it raise you to the fourth floor”…. Alright, I’m here. Now what on Earth does this say…?’ Hermione’s brow furrowed as she concentrated on reading the practically indecipherable directions that Snape had written to her on that scrap of parchment. ‘“Follow the corridor to your left and proceed down it until you reach the very end, then take the staircase you will find to your immediate right.’’ Alright then, here we go…’

Hermione did not have to lie to her friends when she’d explained that she had to leave their Common Room at 7:45 p.m. in order to meet with Snape; they had believed her when she’d told them it was for a detention.

Only Ginny had been watching her askance as she slipped out of the Fat Lady’s portrait hole. That girl was cleverer than the lot of them put together; Hermione didn’t know whether it was due to her experiences with Tom Riddle or whether she had been the only member of the Weasley family to receive the gene for cunning.

At the moment, however, Hermione was quite preoccupied with getting to her and Snape’s assigned meeting place on time; she had made a couple of wrong turns in the beginning, and knew that being late would not make for a good starting point with him.

She blushed at the memory of his face inches from hers, of his dark eyes fixated upon her lips. Despite her superior mental capabilities, Hermione was next to totally uneducated when it came to what her old health teacher liked to call ‘relationships and dating’.

They had explained to her all of the basics of a physical relationship, she knew what intercourse was and how it worked, as well as various other methods of sex. But she hadn’t had any practical experience in this area of her expertise; and, until she met Professor Snape, hadn’t the desire to explore it.

The feelings she had when she was with him, the thoughts that ran through her mind about what she wanted to do to him, what she wanted him to do to her, were alarming and alien. She felt ashamed for wanting these things with a grown man, a professor, but that shameful feeling also excited her and enhanced her desire to be with Snape sexually.

Not that she would know what to do with him once she got him, if she ever got him. She was beginning to doubt that she ever would at this point; the man couldn’t even bring himself to kiss her without falling into the depths of a shame spiral, how would he ever be able to go any further than that? If he even wanted to go further than that.

Hermione didn’t know much about the male species, but she did know that they were often fickle creatures whose emotions were dictated not by their minds, but by their… libidos.
That could have been what had caused Snape to almost kiss her earlier that day. His mind must have been what had caused him to stop. Hermione sighed, and returned her attention to Snape’s hastily written scrap of parchment.

“Once you get to the top of the stairs, there will be a long hallway before you. Walk down it until you find the fifth door on your right; you will have to twist the knob three times to the left before entering the room. When you are inside, you will feel a loss of gravity for approximately three seconds; when your senses return to their normal states, exit the door. Walk out into the hallway you will see before you, and look around. You will see me waiting there.”

‘…What on Earth is he on about? ‘Loss of gravity’? That sounds right dangerous!’ she sighed. ‘But if this is what it takes to see him, I’ll do it.’

With faltering steps, she walked down the corridor and stopped at the fifth door on the right. With a shaky hand, she twisted the knob three times to her left. She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, threw open the door and then threw herself into the room. Or lack thereof.

The feeling she experienced, this ‘loss of gravity’, was akin to flying down the highest hump of a roller coaster track; she had never been fond of that feeling, and had only ridden on a roller coaster exactly two times in her life (the second time, despite the promises of her then best friend, had not been any better than the first).

Thankfully, the uncomfortable feeling lasted only several seconds, as Snape had said it would. She allowed herself a few moments for her senses to reorient themselves, and found herself to be in a simple, dusty room, not unlike a broom closet. It was, literally, completely empty, but a lumos charm had been placed upon it so that she was able to see inside the room; she smiled to herself, knowing that Snape had cast it for her. He could be thoughtful when it really counted, she supposed.

With that thought in mind, she took another deep breath and opened the door. A dusty hallway unrolled itself before her eyes, its floor covered by a faded carpet which had originally been a vivid crimson shade. What had once been bright, emerald green vines threaded their winding way up the carpet.

It was too dark for her to be able to see every detail of the corridor clearly, but she could make out dim outlines of immense portraits and long tapestries lining the aged stone walls. Wrought iron sconces had been fixed into the walls all the way down the corridor, but only two of them were lit, and between those two she could see outlined the grim figure of Severus Snape.

Her heart skipped a beat---an almost painful, wrenching feeling---and she moved forward to approach him.

‘Here goes nothing, Hermione.’

~*~

“G-good evening, sir,” Hermione addressed him timidly. “I came as you request---”

“You’re late,” he told her briskly, his eyes fixed on the wall straight in front of him.
He made her feel so small, so insubstantial when he deliberately looked away from her like that.

She glanced down at her watch; the time read 8:03p.m. Her first instinct was to deride him for his obstinacy, but she pursed her lips tightly, willing herself not to say anything stupid and risk ruining this meeting before it even began.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said in clipped tones. “But it’s only three past the hour. Surely you can overlook it, given the complexity of your directions.”
Well, so much for being the perfectly polite student. Snape finally swiveled his head in her direction, sneering down at her.

At least now she could see his face, however unpleasant the expression he wore upon it was.

“My instructions were perfect; the fact that you had difficulty finding your way was most likely due to your own lacking sense of direction,” he spat at her.

She scowled up at him, knowing that it was near to impossible to top an insult of his. They engaged in a staring contest for several seconds before Snape sighed and turned away.

“This is ridiculous,” he said tiredly, then opened the door to the reading room. “After you, Miss Granger.”

She looked up at him questioningly, wondering why they couldn’t just as well talk right there in the hallway.

“This is a room I often go to when I’m in need of… solace from the outside world,” he explained to her tentatively, not wishing to give away too much. “I am the only person who comes here, so I thought it the best location for our little chat. We will not be interrupted here, and this particular discussion iresires the utmost secrecy, in my opinion.”

Hermione had to agree with him there, and nodded thoughtfully as she entered the room, which turned out to be breathtakingly beautiful. Her mouth dropped open as she took in her surroundings, eyes darting from one fixture to the next, and Snape’s lips curved in an indulgent smile as he watched her.

It wasn’t until Hermione heard Snape shut the door behind them with a click that she realized they would be completely alone togr, ar, and if Snape’s intentions were… improper, then there probably wouldn’t be a way out of here.

She’d thought she wanted him to be ‘improper’ with her, but now that such was actually possible, she wasn’t so sure. Her nervousness was very apparent to Snape as she crossed her arms over her chest protectively and surveyed the room with apprehension. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, sit down, girl, if I’d only wanted to have my way with you, I wouldn’t have gone through all ttroutrouble, now, would I have?” His dry quip was met with large, perplexed eyes. He sighed.

“Never mind,” he muttered. Perhaps such vulgar witticisms were beyond the comprehension of someone of her age. He shouldn’t have said such a thing to her anyhow, he thought ruefully.

He glided past her and primly sat down in one of the chairs around the coffee table, motioning for her to take a seat in the c opp opposite him. She did so, albeit nervously, perching on the very edge of the seat.

“Now,” he began, steepling his long fingers in his lap, as if this were a potions lesson and not a discussion about an illicit romance between a teacher and a student. “About what happened this afternoon. Again, I…” One of his hands had unconsciously risen from his lap, the palm open, as if he were shielding himself from his own shame. “I’m terribly sorry, it should not have happened.” Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he pointedly continued speaki

“It should not have happened,” he said, enunciating each word sharply to convince her of his conviction. His words hit her like hail against a windowpane, and her face fell, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Oh, don’t start to cry, please,” he fairly begged her, his tone weakening, and a hand fluttered upwards to support his head, which was beginning to feel quite heavy on his neck. He couldn’t take her tears right now, and looked away from her, feeling quite guilty that he had gotten her into this predicament.

“I am very sorry for what I did; I led you to believe that something was going to happen that simply cannot. It is my own fault, and I take full responsibility.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes searching his face eagerly for the answer. He gazed sidelong at her for a moment before averting his eyes from hers once again, and sighed wearily.

“I did it because… because I wanted to,” he answered simply.
Hermione fell back against the chair, her spine’s rigid position having given out at those words that meant so much more than what he thought he was telling her.

“You don’t understand what it’s like to be hunted---yes, hunted---” He glared at her, having heard her gasp of protest to his choice of wording. “By a young girl who…” He looked away again, and his voice grew softer as he continued. “Who happens to be not only unusually intelligent and extraordinarily determined, but… rather appealas was well. A man doesn’t stand much of a chance against someone like you.” He glanced over to her and saw that Hermione was staring at him dubiously.

“It’s true; I’m… drawn to you. I don’t know why,” he felt the need to insist, putting up a hand, “But I’ve found that I am strangely at ease when in your company, and the bizarre way in which you conduct yourself along with your odd mannerisms fascinates me almost to an… unhealthy level. Somewhere along the way, I sse Ise I developed an… attraction to you.”

He felt very vulnerable, as if his emotions were completely exposed for her viewing and dissection. However, his words were met with silence, and he looked over to Hermione to see how she was taking what he’d said. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and her mouth had dropped open.

‘I can’t believe I’m attracted to this *child*,’ he thought dryly, a shudder of disgust rippling up his spine. He noticed that when she leaned back in the chair, her feet didn’t even touch the floor.

“Well, girl, what do you have to say about all this? Aren’t you shocked, appalled, disgusted?” he asked her sharply, expecting an answer that mirrored his own thoughts. But, as she often did, Hermione surprised him.

“Er… thank you?” she replied unsurely. He scoffed incredulously, and she blushed. “I mean, I’m glad that you feel that way, because… I feel the same way about you.”
The words had rushed out of her mouth; she realid sid sound like a teenager on their first date, which, Snape assumed sadly, this probably was to her.

He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. Now what were they supposed to do? He knew that it was his job, as the adult, to steer the direction of this conversation, but he was more at a loss than Hermione, though he did not know it. At the moment, she was beaming from ear to ear.

“So, does this mean that we’re… going out now?” she asked shyly, but was obviously very pleased with herself.

Snape gawked at her for a moment, gripping the arms of his chair so tightly his already pale knuckles turned pure white. He knew that the children used that phrase to mean ‘dating’. How had she come to that conclusion?!

“No, we’re not ‘going out now’!” he shouted at her. The smile fell from her face as if it had been slapped off. “Just because we possess these feelings for each other---which are completely reprehensible, I might add---doesn’t mean that we are able to act upon them! Don’t you understand that?”

“No, I don’t,” Hermione replied, her features pensive. “Well, I understand that you could get fired or go to jail---Azkaban, if anyone found out about this,” she began. Snape threw up his hands, aghast that the utter ruination of his life seemed so simple to her.

“Let me finish,” she ordered, staring him down. His mind was reduced to such a senseless frenzy at the moment that he backed down, giving her the floor. A rather lascivious corner of his mind perked up at her forceful words; no one else would dare to speak to him that way.

“As I was saying, I know that if we were to go public with this thing, you would go to jail and I would get expelled. So there is only one thing we can do here.” She paused for effect, her eyes gleaming. Snape raised his eyebrows at her, expectantly awaiting this brilliant solution of hers.

“We must keep it a secret.”

“…What?!” Snape burst out, rising from his chair. “Are you implying that we should actually try to make this immoral, abnormal and illegal thing work?!”

Hermione blushed and bowed her head. “You don’t have to say it like that, Professor, but… yes, I think we could make it work, if we didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Do you see how many things are wrong with your logic here? If you can call any of this madness logic!”

Infuriated by his unwillingness to recognize the validity of her feelings for him, Hermione shot up from her seat, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“It’s not madness to me! You don’t understand what I go through over you!” she burst out, then sighed and looked down. Her memories of the inner struggle she’d dealt with over accepting and then dealing with her feelings for her professor were flying through her mind. “It’s been awful, just awful, to feel this deeply for someone and then to have them reject you over and over again. You can’t imagine how much I…” she trailed off, too afraid to say those particular words to him.

Snape said nothing, quietly taking in her words. Perhaps her feelings were more substantial than the mere schoolgirl’s crush he had originally thought them to be.

…But this was far worse than that! How could he easily dismiss her now? He’d turned away his fair share of student admirers (he never could figure out quite what they saw in him), but this girl was far different than any of them. Not only was she someone he actually respected and even liked as a person, but her feelings towards him were genuine. What a predicament he had stumbled upon!

He strode to the end of the room that was furthest from her, a part of him suddenly frightened of her after what she’d said, and folded his arms tightly across his chest. If he did not make a strong effort to keep himself together, he feared he would go insane. This girl was not helping him here at all, but had she ever? Damn her! Damn him! Damn THEM!

‘Deep breaths, Severus, deep breaths…’

“Alright, let’s deal with this calmly and rationally.” He turned back to face her, noticeably more composed than he had been a moment ago. “If we were to take your suggestion, and cultivate this secret relationship, just what do you think we would be doing together?”

She stared at him blankly, her brows furrowing in an attempt to comprehend his subtle meaning. He sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“I’m not going to have sex with you, I’ll tell you that right now,” he stated frankly.

Hermione drew in a ragged breath, choking on her shock at his words. Sex? She hadn’t even thought of that! Well, she had, but not in actuality. Maybe her plan wasn’t so brilliant after all…

“We, er, don’t have to do that,” she said meekly. “We could… spend time together, have intimate talks…?” Snape put a hand over his face.

“We do that now, Hermione,” he sighed. Her eyes shot to his face in surprise at hearing her given name uttered from his lips. “Yes, well, it would be odd indeed if I didn’t call you by your first name in circumstances like these! …As if they aren’t odd enough…”

“Then can I call you by your first name?” Hermione asked excitedly.

“NO.” He knew how unfair that would seem to her, and in a way, it was; but he simply could not deal with hearing his given name coming out of her lips at that moment in time. He cleared his throat, ignoring her small show of pouting.

“Anyway, to continue on with my point. Since we already spend a significant amount of time together outside of school hours, and have these intimate discussions of yours, what difference would it make if we labeled ourselves a…” he shuddered, “couple?”

“Well, we wouldn’t do just those things,” Hermione said, averting her eyes bashfully as she elaborated. “We could… you know, kiss and stuff.” She looked up to find him gawking at her as if she had gone mad.

“And do more than that,” she went on. “Just not… all of that.”

“I take it by your incredibly vague insinuations that you wish for me to treat you the way that a boy your own age would.” She shrugged, not knowing how to answer that. He drew closer to her, intent upon getting her to comprehend his point. “Don’t you see, Hermione, that I am not a boy of your own age? That I, as an adult male, would require more out of a relationship than would a boy of your own age?”

Hermione’s brows knitted together. Snape sighed and counted to ten in his mind.

“Alright, let me put it to you this way: men have sex with women---or other men, whatever the case may be. I am a man. Any person with whom I get into a relationship with, I am going to engage in sexual relations with.” Hermione’s cheeks had deeply flushed, and she was having great difficulty looking him in the eye, but Snape continued anyway, knowing that this was very important for her to understand.

“You are a girl. A very young girl---”

“I’m fourteen years o---”

“Don’t interrupt me,” Snape rebuked her in a tone that brooked no argument. “You are a very young girl, and you do not yet know what men want from women, or how to give it to them. If you and I were to enter into a relationship together, this would prove to be a great problem. Neither of us would be satisfied, if you catch my drift.”

“I catch it, sir,” Hermione said dejectedly.

“Good.”

Several moments passed by with Snape pacing the room and Hermione sulking in her chair. After having gotten the chance to think things through, however, she rose out of her seat as if with purpose, causing Snape to still his movements and look at her expectantly.

“Professor,” she began. His eyebrows rose as if of their own accord. “I understand exactly what you’re trying to say to me.” Snape let out a relieved breath.

“Good---”

“However…” she said.

“However?” he asked suspiciously.

“However, I still think that this can work.”

Snape heaved an exasperated sigh and advanced upon her angrily. “After all that we’ve just gone over, how can you possibly still think that this could work? What are you THINKING, girl?!”

“I like Hermione better,” she told him petulantly, but quickly got to her point upon receiving one of his murderous glares. “What I’m asking for from you is basically the same as before---you know, just kissing and… stuff.” He nodded impatiently, prompting her to go on.

“…But I would allow you to go and see adult women when you need those… other things that I don’t know how to give yet. And besides…” Here she looked away shyly, a small smile playing about her lips. “You could teach me how to do those other things too, after a while.”

Snape’s jaw had dropped open at that last statement, and he was about to berate her sense of reason again, but then he paused for a moment and seriously thought about what she was saying; actually, it was more like a mental battle between he and himself.

‘I do like the girl, and what she’s saying does sound fairly rational---oh, no, you don’t! I am not that kind of a person anymore, I will not give in to this girl. …But it’s not really giving in, is it? You know you want this too. You never got to have a normal relationship back in school, and this could be your chance to---now that’s just perverted! I demand that you leave me alone and let me go on with my life. …Oh, yes, your lonely, dull life. Whatever you say… “Snivellus”.’

Snape shook his head, willing his inner monologue---or dialogue, more like---to shut up. This discussion had already gone on for almost two hours, and he couldn’t fathom any end to it that would make both of them happy. Perhaps each should give in to the other’s wishes, just a little bit. He said as much to Hermione.

“…So, you and I will continue spending time and talking together, and I will… occasionally… hold your hand in private or something. Alright?” he fairly pled with her, willing this draining crsatrsation to finally end. She didn’t appear satisfied, but nodded her agreement anyway.

‘Oh, I’ll get you to do more than that, Professor… Severus.’ She smiled up at him. There would be plenty of time to achieve that.

“I suppose we should be getting back to our rooms now then, right?” she asked.

“Yes, I believe so. I, for one, have been utterly depl of of my energy.”

Hermione smiled again; she found his archaic way with words very amusing, as well as educational; quite a winning combination.

Snape walked her to the door and opened it, then stood beside it as he waited for her to exit the room first. But on her way out, she halted abruptly and turned back to him with a mischievous grin on her face; he glared down at her suspiciously, wondering what madness she would spring on him now.

“I know you’re going to hate me for saying this, but I just have to tell you…” Her words were cut off by stifled giggles. He rolled his eyes.

“Just spit it out,” he told her in a resigned tone. She was laughing louder now, clutching her stomach, but she managed to speak in spite of her hysterics.

“You look absolutely killer in a dress!”

A blank expression froze on Snape’s face; he had forgotten all about that incident, thanks to her, and now it was she who had reminded him of it. He should have known the girl would do something like this, contradictory creature that she was.

But he found that he wasn’t as morti as as he thought he’d be when confronted with the dreaded boggart incident; this discussion was far preferable to one which involved himself and his student in a romantic relationship.

“Oh, get a hold of yourself, girl, that most certainly was not me,” he said adamantly. “It was a boggart.”

“I know,” she wheezed. “But it was the only way we’d ever get to see you in drag.”

Snape rolled his eyes, causing her to laugh even harder; unfortunately, her merriment was infectious, and it was becoming difficult for him to keep from grinning himself. He covered his mouth with his hand and waited while she calmed herself down.

“Are you quite finished?” he asked her after a moment or two had passed.

“Yes, I think so,” she replied after releasing one last giggle, and then yawned. This meeting had thoroughly exhausted her, and she thought that she might even be able to get to sleep tonight, she was so tired. She looked up at him seriously. Thers ons one more thing she just had to say to him regarding that boggart incident.

“Truly, though,” she started. “We both already know that I’m a bit nutters, but I found you strangely appealing in that outfit.”

Now it was Snape who let out a sudden guffaw, instantly putting his hand up to cover his mouth again. “Did you really?” he asked her through his fingers, genuinely amused.

Hermione only looked down at the floor to conceal her blush from him. The admission had been a truthful one, indeed.

Snape chuckled once more before heaving a long sigh and stretching slightly; his body was unused to the physical exertion caused by genuine laughter. Having grown very tired himself, he massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingers and looked down at Hermione.

“I believe that a decent rest is long past due for the both of us,” he said. Hermione nodded, reluctant to leave him but yearning for the comfort of her soft bed. She smiled up at him and started to walk away from the reading room.

She had only taken several steps before it came to her attention that he had not yet left the room, and was standing just inside the doorway. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked, turning back to face him.

“No, I think I’ll stay here for the night. I do that every once in a while,” he explained.

“I thought you said you were tired.”

“Oh, I am. I don’t sleep.” It was obvious that he did not wish to elaborate on this fact at the present time, so Hermione let it go.

“Oh. I don’t get to very often either,” she said. He raised a surprised brow at her, but said nothing.

“Well, good night then, Miss…” He sighed in mock-exasperation at the warning look she was shooting at him. “Hermione.” She offered him a wide smile, and he returned it to her just the tiniest bit.

“Good night, Severus,” she replied. He glared at her, but again said nothing.

They had agreed upon calling each other by their first names when they were in private (Severus, of course, only when he felt comfortable enough to do so). He began to close the door, but before it could click shut, Hermione stopped it by putting a hand between it and the doorframe.

“Wait!” she exclaimed; there was something she desperately wanted them to do, and she would feel terrible later if she didn’t at least ask him for it now.

“Yes, what is it?” he asked her tiredly, but patiently. She waited several beats before getting up the nerve to put her request to him.

“Can we… may I have a kiss good night?” she asked, wanting it too badly to be very shy. Though his face and body were obstructed by the door, she could feel him freeze up in indecision.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said eventually. “I just can’t do that yet…. Good night,” he said again quietly, a tinge of regret suffusing his voice.

Hermione just stood there, the sting of rejection affecting her entire body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t cry, couldn’t even think. Through the haze of her thoughts, she realized that her hand was still keeping Snape’s door from closing. She slowly made to remove it, but found that she could not.

A wave of shock tingled through her body as her mind registered what had happened; Snape had placed his fingers over hers and was keeping her from leaving. His much larger hand covered hers completely, and she watched it in an almost disconnected manner as its long fingers slid down to her wrist and pulled it closer to him; the rest of her body moved with it, and she found herself suddenly pressed up against the door.

She heard a soft sound which indicated a slight shifting of a body on the other side of the door, and Snape’s face instantly appeared before hers. Before she could even process a single thought, she felt his warm lips pressed against her own. She let out a tiny alarmed gasp into his mouth, and he pulled back from her ever so slightly, waiting for her to compose herself.

When she did, he joined their lips again, and remained perfectly still so she could become accustomed to the contact. He waited several seconds before beginning to carefully move his mouth over hers.

Her wide open eyes fluttered closed as she gave in to this experience, and her lips began to move in a slow, unsure rhythm with his as he kissed her. It was a warm and enveloping sensation, and as she became more comfortable with it, intensely pleasurable.

Who would have known that those same lips that were capable of uttering the harshest, most debasing invectives she’d ever heard could also be this soft and gentle?
Though it did not last long, it felt to Hermione that they remained there for ages perfecting their first kiss.

When she was feeling as if her heart was about to burst with pleasure, and that this was the greatest thing she’d ever experienced, Snape’s lips stilled on hers, and grew firm. She was confused, but did not move from him, hoping he would continue.

But he did not. He pressed his mouth tightly to hers for a last, quick yet powerful kiss and then a rush of cold air hit her lips as they were separated from his. She felt him give her wrist an affectionate squeeze before his hand slid off of her and slithered behind the door, his face going with it.

It took the sharp click of the door fitting into the frame for her to realize that he would not come out again tonight. She stood outside of his door for a long time, hearing, seeing, and knowing nothing. Just feeling. She had never done that before, just felt with her heart, as if her mind did not exist within her.

When she finally left his corridor, it felt as though her feet were not touching the ground as she walked back to her Common Room. She felt light and free, wondrously unencumbered by life. She wondered if this was the way the ghosts felt.

She smiled to herself, a broad, secretive smile that reveled in its newfound freedom. She wouldn’t mind keeping this secret to herself, not if she were able to feel in such a way.

‘I can’t believe he gave me my first kiss. I suppose this is what being really happy feels like. …Amazing.’