A Winter Tale

A Winter Tale

By: Max


Inspired by the WIKTT Marriage Law Challenge, but not following it exactly

[Disclaimer see chapter 1]


Chapter 25: That’s what friends are for

“Bang!” A door fell with a shout. “Brumm” – a few sparks flied through the garden then an angry manly voice shouted: “You know what, Hermione Dumbledore? You’re far from being as great like you think!” Steps sounded through the yard and a “crack” announced that the little door in the gate had got a kick.

Ginny Weasley, sitting in her study in front of her laptop, sighed and shook her head. She’d just tried to concentrate on an article about the newest trend in the magical world, but with Titus Ollivander and Hermione shouting at each other for the last hour it had been almost impossible to think of wizards going online. Even the nice story about a wizard and a witch who’d met each other in an online community without knowing about being magical and nevertheless falling in love with each other had lose a bit of its romantic touch with the couple upstairs just rowing to pieces what had begun as a nice romance a few months before. And now Hermione stormed down the stairs and once again a door banged – this times the kitchens.

Ginny sighed again; secured the few lines she’d written, rose up and went to the kitchen where Hermione was just bewitching the coffee machine. Hearing Ginny she immediately began to rant: “I’ll never date another wizard again! They’re all incredibly thick, old-fashioned, ghastly chauvinists who think that the possession of a more or less working dangler is enough to make them superior and us their obedient slaves. You can tell them twice a day that you don’t want to become a good, little house wife and that you’d rather swallow a pickled flabberworm than to get more children – it’s useless! Perfectly useless. They smile at you, they even tell you, that they like independent women, but a few weeks later they waltz in with a bunch of flowers and a smile as if they were to give you a star out of heaven and then they start to babble about meeting the parents – as if I wouldn’t have got enough of meeting his father three times in my life! I’d actually have got enough in meeting him once because that lecherous old pervert always looks as if he’d like to show one the wrinkled, useless, ugly old wand he keeps in his trousers!”

Hermione’s coffee was ready, but pouring them in a cup and seating down didn’t stop her tirade. “And he’d love so much to meet my son! Such a cute boy – and I would have to think about Leontes becoming older and needing a father and he could play quidditch with him.” She had to stop to swallow her coffee.

Ginny, getting herself a cup too, laughed. “The part about Leontes and quidditch I’ve heard. It was rather funny, considered that my brothers and Harry obviously try to make Leon a champion even before he starts at Hogwarts.”

Hermione turned her eyes. “Even Severus becomes mad about that. Last weekend he tried to convince me that it’s time to buy Leontes a ‘real good broom’. Did you ever hear such bullshit? Leontes is six! A fire bolt is doubled as long as he is!”

“But I’m sure he could handle it,” Ginny said. “He’s exceptionally talented in flying.”

“And he’s exceptionally talented in potions, but I won’t buy him a real good cauldron either! He’s six, for goodness sake!” Hermione banged with her fist on the table.

Ginny giggled. “You don’t have to buy him a cauldron. He is allowed to use Severus’ favourite – and even his knife.”

“What?” Hermione shook her head so furious, that a long, brown curl fell out of her bun. “Severus must be crazy!”

“He is. When it comes to Leon and you, he quite is,” Ginny sighed. “Which brings me to my usual question? After you’ve finished another affair …”

“You make it sound as if I change my lovers more often than my knickers!” Hermione sulked.

“Five in the last five years,” Ginny only said.

Hermione grinned. “My knickers I change daily. Besides: You know I wouldn’t change lovers so often if they wouldn’t always get funny ideas about moving in or marrying.”

“People in love usually move in together sooner or later,” Ginny said.

Hermione turned her eyes. “Next thing you tell me that decent women only sleep with a man when they’re in love with him.”

Ginny giggled. “I’d be one to tell! I couldn’t say I’m in love with Dennis. But he makes for good sex …”

“And for Harry boiling”, Hermione added, looking seriously at her girlfriend. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you. I know Harry is a pig head and sometimes as thick as a brick, but you love him. Aren’t you afraid he’ll give up one day and marry some one else?”

“That’s the risk I have to live with,” Ginny answered dryly. “At the moment I don’t want to marry. I’m just 23 years old, I’ve only started my career – and as long as Harry doesn’t get how important it is to me, but only wants me if I marry him and pop out one baby after the other, I don’t want him.”

Hermione looked down on her empty mug. Slowly she said: “You know I understand you. Who would if not I? But on the other hand: If I could have Albus back I’d probably start getting an ee que quidditch team if he’d want me to.”

Ginny laid her hand on Hermione’s. “That’s the difference, Hermione: Albus wouldn’t have wanted it. I’m sure he’d have become the most devoted father to Leontes and he’d certainly have loved him to pieces. But he never saw you only as the sweet little wife who was only there for fulfilling his wishes. He was proud of your talent and …” Ginny’s eyes became as sad as Hermione’s. “It’s actually quite funny, Hermione: Albus was a more modern man than Harry ever will be. In Albus’ last weeks we talked a lot when I sat with him. And he told me once that he’d have liked to stay at home, raising the child while you were going to do your career – and he meant it, Hermione! I’m sure he’d loved it. But Harry wants the old model: He having his career and me having the children. And this I can’t do – at least not at the moment.”

“Then let’s hope he’ll wait until you’ll be ready,” Hermione said.

Ginny looked at her seriously. “The same to you, friend!” she said then, raising her mug in mock salute. “Though I think you’re living more dangerously in that department than I am. Severus’ latest lady won’t give up as easily as her predecessors – and she’s a bit cleverer than dear Lavender.”

“I wouldn’t mind if he’d marry her,” Hermione said lightly. “I even think it would do him good. He becomes too old for affairs.”

“You’re right.” Ginny rose and went to get the coffee pot. “For Severus it’s time to settle down. And that means that you will have to make up your mind finally.”

“Ginny!” Hermione rummaged with both hands in her now open hair. “For the 1042.time: I am not in love with Severus. He’s my best friend – but nothing more.”

“Yes, of course.” Ginny turned her eyes. “And you’re absolutely immune to him. You don’t see how sexy he is with the hair at his temple becoming grey and you don’t see what a glorious arse he hides under those robes and you never feel a shiver run down your spine when he speaks with that erotic voice of his and you have never thought about what a talent as a lover he got. I mean, how could you? He’s just your friend – and so you’re probably the only witch at this university who never looks at his hands, thinking ‘Huh – I’d like to know what he can do with them except chopping nasty potion ingredients!”

“Oh sweet Merlin!” Hermione grumbled. “I’m neither deaf nor blind. Of course I know that he’s a very attractive man. And I was married to a Slytherin in case you’ve forgotten. So I know that they’re probably the best lovers one can get – at least if they’re as intelligent and sensual and sensitive as Severus is. But …,” she went to the window and looking out in the garden, she said: “It’s too much of a risk, Ginny.”

“What’s a risk?” Ginny almost cried. “Don’t you know that he loves you? It’s in his eyes every time when he looks at you! And he actually looks rarely at something else when you’re around him.”

“But we wouldn’t work as a couple,” Hermione said quietly. “I was the one who even drove Albus more than once crazy. And he was a much softer man than Severus.”

“Albus was soft?” Ginny shook her head. “Forgive my French, Hermione, but that’s bullshit. Your husband had a hell of a temper. He only was very good in controlling it.”

“But Severus isn’t!” Hermione said. “We would battle all the times.”

“No more than you do now.” Ginny ginned. “Probably it would become even less because you’d find a nicer way to release the tension than shouting at each other.”

Hermione sighed. For a long moment she was silent, and then she said hesitantly: “I’m not as convinced as you about Severus loving me. I mean he likes me – he likes me a loor tor this I’m sure. But love? He never once showed the slightest hint …”

“Only that he kissed you once,” Ginny reminded her friend. “And it was at a time when you were his friend’s wife. I think that means a lot with a man like Severus.”

“But it was more than six years ago!” Hermione said. “Since then – nothing although I’m not his friend’s spouse anymore. Probably to him it would still feel like betraying Albus.”

Ginny sighed. “Is this your reason, Hermione? Would it feelyou you as if you cheated on Albus?”

“Nonsense!” Hermione answered without delay. “As much as I still mourn for him and as much as I still miss him – I’ve come to term with the fact that Albus is death. If sex with another man would feel like cheating on him I wouldn’t have slept with one of my lovers. Besides: I know that Albus would hate it if I’d spend my life in celibacy.”

Ginny nodded. “He certainly wouldn’t. But I don’t think he’d be too happy about your life as i now now.” She looked down at her hands which lay in her lap. “You know when I heard that he had supported Harry in running away, I was pretty angry with him. He felt it – of course he did. He always felt such things. And one day as I sat with him he told that love is not about keeping, but about setting the beloved free. He wanted you to be free too, Hermione.”

“I am free,” Hermione said firmly. “It’s you who wants to talk me into a steady relationship.”

Ginny k hek her head. “You’re wrong, Hermione. You’re not free as long as you cling to Albus’ memory, not allowing another man to come close to you. And if you’re honest with yourselou wou will admit it: You play around with boys like Oliver and Titus because you know; they won’t endanger you of falling in love with them. With them you can sleep without giving up your love for Albus. With Severus you couldn’t do that. Therefore you avoid coming close to him.”

Hermione sunk her head and for minutes she didn’t s wor word. Ginny waited patiently. She knew she’d just got through the thick wall Hermione had built around her heart. But then Hermione looked at her, tears in her eyes: “And what if I really wouldn’t like to give up that love? It would feel as if I’d lose Albus finally! And this I can’t stand Ginny. I simply can’t.”

Ginny rose up and went over to the window, whHermHermione still stood. Embracing her she said: “You can’t lose him and your love finally because a part of it is alive. Leontes is what your love created and as long as you love him you will always love Albus in him. Leontes is his son and even I who wasn’t so close to his father as you can’t look at him without remembering Albus. But I think your heart is big enough for more love …”

Hermione started to cry. “Albus said so once. He used those very words …”

“He was a wise man,” Ginny stroked Hermione’s cheek. “He knew you well and he knew that in your heart they is room not only for Leontes and the memory of Albus, but for Severus too. And he deserves you give him this space. He already owns a big part of it – so why not give him all?”

“Pes bes because it wouldn’t be enough?” Hermione asked sadly. “Wouldn’t he deserve to become loved exclusively? How would he feel if he had to share?”

Ginny hugged her friend again. “Darling Hermione – don’t you see it? Severus is probably the only man on this earth who won’t find it hard. He’s the one who won’t become jealous of Albus and Leontes because he loves them too.”


*****************************************************


She had it coming. She had known it and now she couldn’t understand herself anymore. Why ever had she let herself in doing something so absolutely stupid, so completely silly, and so utterly idiotic? How could she have let herself in such insanity? Hadn’t she got her share of hurt and pain already? Had she really needed to become humiliated like that? She had behaved like an utter idiot – as if she wouldn’t know him, as if she would never had experienced how cruel and hard he could be!

Sinking down on one of the paled roots, panting after the run to the apparition point, she pulled her wand out of the sleeve of her teaching robe. She didn’t want to be disturbed by some one strolling along the river; she even didn’t want to see the swan who sometimes visited her when she sat on the island. She needed time to think and to calm down. So she put the wards up again – still Albus’ wards, though a bit altered by her.

She really should have known better. He’d never been a fluffy kitten, but always more of a tiger with a toothache. And how he’d looked at her – his eyes, these glittering black eyes! Just to think of them made her shudder and wrapping her arms around herself again. How could she have gone so wrong? How could she have come to think that he would love her? He wasn’t able to love – at least not her.

“How dare you?” His voice – not silk over steel, but uncovered steel, sharp as a knife, cutting through her.

“How dare you?” Three words only. But when had he ever needed much more for hurting? Last time he’d made her feel thoroughly humiliated; he’d needed only one word more. And she’d thought she’d have forgotten about it! She’d really believed the wound he’d given her then would have been completely healed. But now he had ripped it open again aven ven rubbed salt in it. Now she remembered again – and only too well – how she’d once stood in front of the potion class back at Hogwarts after Malfoy had hexed her. She’d felt how her front teeth had grown, reaching over her bottom lip, touching the chin, making her look like a beaver. And there he’d stood, arms crossed over his chest, a malicious smile around his small mouth, sneering: “I see no difference.”

He’d known that he’d hurt her. He’d known that day back in Hogwarts and he’d known it now. And in both cases he’d enjoyed it – hadn’t he?

“How dare you?”

She’d never expected that. She’d been prepared for something like “I don’t think that’s a good idea” or “We shouldn’t do that.” She’d thought over the scenario at least a 100 times before and no, she hadn’t really believed he’d immediately fall on his knees, confessing his undying love for her.

She had been prepared to seduce him – tenderly, passionately, showing him, how much she loved and desired him. She’d even prepared to persuade him with logic and arguments. But she hadn’t been prepared for “How dare ” Sh” She hadn’t been prepared for feeling as if she’d insulted him!

“How dare you?” She still wasn’t sure what he’d meant with shouting that at her. Did he really love thatly bly bitch? The woman he’d once named a “cow” himself? Did he now really care for that sorry excuse for an academic who’s only research project was the hunt for a professor – with a preference for a wealthy one out of one of the old families?

Was he now making up with her? Hermione thought she could hear his voice, in this case silken again: “Don’t mind her. You know she was always jealous of you. She can’t stand seeing us happy. She only kissed me because she wanted to drive you away.” Probably he’d even maintain he hadn’t kissed back. He was a Slytherin and he never would have mind lying when it served his purpose. But he had kissed her back! And even more. Hermione had felt how his body had reacted to their closeness, how he’d started to sweat and how he’d pressed his groin against her. He had wanted her as much as she’d wanted him, hadn’t he? Or had it been simply a male’s reaction to a female making a pass at him? She wouldn’t find out. Probably he was now just busy with releasing the tension in fucking Cho.

She’d heard Cho’s voice, saying coldly: “Oh – that’s what I’m to find out, Hermione?” Severus had dropped her like a hot potato. Stepping back, he’d looked at Cho who’d smiled like the sharp which had just swallowed the herring. “Not bad for a Gryffindor, Hermione. Your late Slytherin husband, the master of manipulation and meddling, taught you well!”

Did Severus really believe that she’d forced that scene? His “How dare you” had sounded like it.

But how could he think so low of her? How could he believe that she’d blame him and her like that? Of course, she’d told him already that from all his lovers in the last years Cho was the one she detested most. And yes, as she’d met the pretty Asian on the campus a few days before, she had argued with her. And yes again, she had said: “You’ll soon find out that Severus isn’t cut out to be a husband – at least not for you!” But she hadn’t meant it – nor had she?

Hermione laid her arms around her legs and braced her chin on her knees. She’d always been honest with herself and so she wouldn’t deny that she’d thought of herself as the reason for Cho and Severus separating. She had – as Ginny so often had demanded – made up her mind about him, she had – finally – admitted to herself that he wasn’t only her friend, but the man she loved and … yes, he was the man she desired.

To confess this had been hard. For years she’d denied herself to think of Severus as a man. He was her friend, he’d been something like a son to Albus and the closeness she’d felt to him – it had developed because of Albus! He’d once asked her to befriend Severus and their mutual love for Albus had always been part of their strong bound with each other.

For years Hermione hadn’t been able to think of Severus without thinking of Albus too. The images of Severus she’d kept in her mind as precious treasures had been memories of Albus and him. But now – no the memory of Albus hadn’t paled. She still could remember every detail of him. She still knew how the vein on his left temple had felt when she’d kissed him there. She still could remember his always a bit raw lips on her skin. She often heard his husky voice in her mind, she remembered his chuckle, his long, elegant hands with the perfect nails, the feeling of his silken hair against her fingers when she’d played with his mane, she still knew only too well how it had felt to sleep with him.

But now she was also aware that Albus was the past. Her future – her future was Severus. She’d stopped to deny herself from looking at him as the man he was. She’d started to notice his almost feline movements, his dexterous hands, and his body under the black robes.

And heavens – he was worth looking at! He was like a good red wine: With every year he became older, he became better. In Hogwarts she’d never thought of him as attractive – just on the contrary. But now after he’d gained a little weight his face wasn’t so gaunt anymore and with getting enough sleep and fresh air his skin wasn’t swallow anymore, but looked healthy and fine. And his nose didn’t look too big anymore, but aristocratic. Hermione sometimes watched his profile when he thought she wasn’t looking at him and it reminded her of a Roman emperor – proud, confident, radiating intelligence and power.

He’d grown his hair, now reaching over his shoulders and not pitch black anymore, but with silver strands, mostly kept from his face in a neat ponytail. It made him look even more imposing and Hermione often thought that now he even was in a way alike to Albus. Sure – Severus would never wear robes like Albus, but even in his usual black – now mostly velvet with a little silver – he looked like the model of a well breaded wizard from one of the old, noble houses. And … Hermione had to admit it: Severus looked damn appetizing.

Nevertheless she hadn’t intended to kiss him as she’d entered his office on that day. Of course, she’d gone there with the intention to seduce him – but not immediately! Her idea of it didn’t include stuffed offices with paper laden desks, but something like a romantic dinner, candlelight and soft music. And for that she’d just wanted to invite him. But as she’d seen him, seating at his desk, brooding over a formula while chewing at the end of his quill, she’d suddenly felt a rush of tenderness and affection towards him. At that moment she’d been sure – absolutely sure – that she had been right in coming, that it would be right to tell him about her changed feelings and that every thing would fall in its place.

Well-mannered as always he’d rose as he heard her greeting and he’d come around his desk, approaching her for the usual kiss on her cheek. Only then Hermione had just turned her head – and so his lips hadn’t landed on her cheek, but on her mouth and by doing so it had send shivers down her spine. She hadn’t thought about it, she’d simply opened her mouth, clinging to him, one hand on his neck, the other stroking down his back to the swell of his buttocks.

Sweet Merlin – Cho Chang couldn’t really have found a worse moment for storming the citadel! Hermione had just started to deepen the kiss, her tongue making contact with Severus’, her body pressed against his tall frame, her hand fondling his backside. And how she’d enjoyed the closeness and his smell! In these days he used a shampoo with nasturtium, rosemary and lavender. Hermione always connected this fragrance with summer – the hot summer days when they were in the Hall and from the garden came the smell of nasturtium, roses, lavender, rosemary and other herbs, warmed from the sun. She saw in front of her inner eye Severus – on such days not in his black robes, but mostly in light linen trousers and matching shirt, strolling through the garden with Leontes at his side. The boy loved tardearden and he was good with plants. He enjoyed caring for them and he was proud, when Severus used one of the herbs he’d grown for a potion. And Leontes’ talent as a herbologist – Hermione wouldn’t have known, but Severus had told the boy once that it was something he’d inherited from his paternal family. “Your father always was too busy with other things, besides he wasn’t the most patient man, but your uncle Aberforth was great with plants and grew the best lavender I ever got. It was even better than lavender from France. And your grandmother was famous for breading tropical herbs. She was the first who managed to grow Brazilian xentrixoxes in England.”

Hermione sighed. Severus and his knowledge about the magical world, Severus and his love for Leontes – he had really become a father to her son and although he still refused to admit it: He was terribly proud of the boy.

“Sssss …” the wards Hermione had set around the island flickered and hissed an angry sound, blue and red sparks shout around. Then water splattered and Hermione heard a loud, furious: “Fuck!”

Looking around she saw Severus, just rising up in the water, his black robe not billowing, but hanging wet around him, his face flushed in rage and embarrassment. Pulling his wand out of his sleeve and directing it at the island, he bellowed: “Hermione, I know you’re there! Open the wards immediately or I’ll blow them up! And I don’t care if I blow you up with them.”

Despite her misery and the knowledge that a livid Severus really was able to blow not only the wards, but half of the island up, Hermione giggled. She was so relieved that he’d come – and he really looked hilarious, standing there in the river, his clothes soaking wet and even his hair dripping. But Hermione knew that he wouldn’t suffer further delay gladly, so she raised her wand and dropped the wards.

Severus waddled to the strand, splatterand and cursing. Looking at Hermione, he accused her: “You did that on purpose!”

“Of course I set the wards up on purpose!” she answered crisply. “Aren’t you always telling me that even in peace times one couldn’t be cautious enough? Besides: I wanted to be left alone.”

“For what?” Severus didn’t look at Hermione, but casted drying charms on his clothes. “Planning another attempt to embarrass me? You won’t have to – Cho is gone, after shouting a few lousy hexes at me. I suppose she’s just on her way to see Skeeter.”

“Skeeter?” Hermione jumped on her feet. “But she can’t tell her – not without admitting that she has an affair with you herself!”

“Wrong tense, Hermione.” Severus looked in disgust to the mud and sand covering his black boots. After cleaning them with another spell, he said: “She doesn’t have an affair with me anymore. You succeeded in destroying our relationship.”

“Pity.” Hermione said curtly and cynic. She sat down on one of the roots again. “But you won’t tell me that she was the love of your life and that you already bought the ring for proposing to her, will you?”

Severus was finished with the drying and cleaning spells. Looking at her out of small eyes, he sneered: “Whatever I intended to do – it was no business of yours. I don’t interfere in your love life, so please keep away from mine too!”

Hermione once again sighed. Quietly she said: “I didn’t know she’d come back. As I entered the lab, she was just leaving. I thought she’d go for the weekly meeting of her idiotic women club.”

“And you didn’t think she’d follow you in my office?” Severus sounded ironic. “Please, Hermione – don’t sell me for an idiot! You knew, how jealous she was about you. You can’t tell me you weren’t aware she wouldn’t leave you alone with me.”

Hermione shook her head. “I even wasn’t aware she’d seen me. I got a glimpse of her on her way out and knowing about the meeting, I thought this would be a chance to get you on your own.”

“Ah?” He raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that? Then, pray tell me, why you jumped at me! If it wasn’t for driving Cho away – for what purpose you did it then?”

Hermione slowly shook her head. “Severus,” she said with a sigh. “I am starting to think that Slytherins are exceptionally thick when it comes to matters of love. Albus once needed three Gryffindors – Molly, Harry and me – until he got it. How much will you need? Would it be enough if Minerva and Molly try? Or shall I get Arthur and Harry for a go too?”

Severus looked as if he’d like to throttle her. “I don’t need any Gryffindors!” he sneered. “I’ve wished for all my life to be left alone by them!”

Hermione grinned maliciously. She knew him too well. Alone the fact that he’d followed her on the island instead of trying to make it up with his girlfriend showed her that he cared more about her than he’d ever cared about the “Miss Cow Cho Chang” as Ginny always named the pretty Ravenclaw. Only she found that he’d deserved a little punishment for his accusations. How could he believe she’d play foolish games with him? “Pity – it seems you’re stuck with a Gryffindor, Severus,” she said therefore. “I don’t intend to give up on you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Now he looked not angry anymore, but confused.

Hermione found him almost cute with his big eyes and she fought for a moment against the impulse to grab and kiss him. She hadn’t been married to a Slytherin for nothing. With Albus she’d learned that they claimed to be the inventors of subtlety, but nevertheless needed clear words and clear signs to understand simple messages. And with Severus it was probably even worse than with Albus. He was so much use to thinking around at least three corners that he often needed to be reminded of the fact that a Gryffindor like Hermione thought and acted always straightforward. So Hermione breathed deeply, looked at his eyes and said slowly and clearly: “I’m in love with you, Severus. And I want us to become an item.”

“You’re what?” he shouted. One of his hands landed in his hair, rummaging through it. “I don’t think I understood this right.”

“But you did!” Hermione smiled sweetly at him. “I’m in love with you.”

Now Severus sat down – or better said: He tumbled down onto a root. He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, and then he looked up to her. “What do you expect me to do now? Fall on my knees, crying something like ‘Oh, my sweet love, I thought you’d never admit it’?” He sounded harsh, but Hermione knew him too well to fall for his tone. She wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised about this reaction. It was typical Severus: When in doubt – bite!

Hermione sighed and rose up. Breathing deeply she walked the two steps to Severus. Kneeling down in front of him she looked in his eyes and said quietly: “You kissed me once in Paris. And today you kissed back.”

He avoided her gaze and starred over her shoulders to the river. “What does a kiss means? We’ve both kissed a lot of people in the last years, Hermione. It never meant much.”

“But me kissing you and you kissing me – that means something. That means in fact a lot – and you know that!” she answered. Taking his hand, she laid it on her face and snuggled her cheek in it. “Severus - I don’t want to play around anymore. I want to love and to be loved …”

“And you think I could love you?” He didn’t sound harsh, but almost desperate. “Did you forget who I am?”

“No. I didn’t. Just the contrary.” Hermione said seriously. “I know you’re Severus Snape – one of the most brilliant potion masters of our time, a very powerful wizard, a …”

“… former death eater,” he finished her line dryly.

“Former,” Hermione only said.

For a few seconds he only looked at her, his black eyes neutral and unreadable. Then he sighed. “You know, our friendship means a lot to me.” Swallowing he proceeded, his voice now firmer and harder: “I refuse to spoil it. I’m not good in relationships. You’d become fed up with me after only a few weeks …”

Hermione couldn’t resist smiling maliciously. “You mean, you’re such a lousy lover?”

“What?” He sounded insulted. “I’m not a lousy lover! But I wasn’t talking aboy quy qualities as a lover!”

“About what were you talking then?” Hermione demanded to know. “All other of your qualities I know. And in the contrast to you I know that you’re able to love. I know how much you loved Albus …”

“Sometimes I could have throttled him!” Severus grumbled.

“Me too,” Hermione smiled. “He could be very trying.”

“You know what I hated most about him?” Severus looked at her.

“No. What was it?” Hermione asked.

Severus sighed. “That he was mostly right.” Looking at the sky, he said: “I mean to hear his laughter now …” Bending down at her, he cleared his throat. “You know, that he wanted us to become an item?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “He asked me to look after you. I had to promise him I’d never give up on you.”

“Hmpft!” Severus said. “Typical of him … but he asked me to look after you too.” He fell silent, looking not in her eyes, but again at the sky over the island. It just started to become darker, grey clouds were sailing in the upcoming wind.

For a few seconds Severus and Hermione were silent, and then she said slowly and quietly: “In this case he was probably a bit wrong.”

“Hmm?” Severus didn’t understand.

“He thought it would become easier with the promises we both gave him. But he was wrong. You always hated when you felt pushed by him. You always became a bit defiant then …”

“Defiant?” Severus raised once again an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t name it ‘defiant’. I always intended to keep my promise. And that means that I won’t do anything to endanger the friendship we’ve built up. Just so simple.”

“But it’s never simple, Severus – not when a Gryffindor and a Slytherin are involved.” Hermione smiled at him.

A flash lightened the now very dark sky, followed by a roaring thunder. The wind gripped the trees and shook them, a few thick drop of rain splattered in the water of the river. Severus gripped Hermione’s hand and pulled her up. “I’ve had my amount of wetness for today; I don’t want to become showered again. Let’s apparate into the Hall …”

“Oh …” Hermione sighed. “I’m so sorry, but the wards of the Hall are up. We can’t apparate directly into it.”

“Great!” Severus ranted. “I’ve always thought I’m the paranoid one.” He ducked because a thick raindrop just hit his neck.

“Let’s apparate to the university,” Hermione suggested.

“Are you mad? Distance apparating in a thunderstorm? No, thank yery ery much – as much as I hate to become soaked again – it’s better than to become spliced! So it’s the hall …” With one quick grip he pulled her to his chest and waved his wand.

Herm fel felt the familiar tug of an apparition spell around her navel, and then the spinning and whirling that was always connected to it. Yet it only went for a few seconds, and then she fell on her feet, still in Severus’ arms. He’d landed them at the gate to the Hall’s garden. Taking Hermione’s hand, he spurted with her through the heavy rain to the door, but even in running they couldn’t prevent becoming as wet as bathed mice. Reaching inside, they stood on the marble floor, both dripping and looking at each other. Severus was the first who started to laugh. Stroking a strand of wet hair out of Hermione’s forehead, he said: “You look like something the cat got in …”

“Oh thanks!” Hermione took the sleeve of his robe and wringed it out. “You know, you’re not looking very professorial in the moment? But …” Stepping closer to him, she shove his wet robe down his shoulders, stroking with both hands over his chest in the frockcoat. “Oh – wet too … does this mean your shirt is soaked?” she purred.

“Hermione …”

His Adam’s apple was bobbing as he swallowed. Stretching on her tiptoes, she blew a kiss on his mouth. “Don’t you think we should get out of our wet clothes?”

“Hermione …” He swallowed again. “I meant it. I don’t want to lose you as my friend …”

“You won’t. I’ll always be your friend. But now …,” once again she kissed him lightly, “… I want you to become my lover too. I want you to make love to…”
…”

For a moment he stood rigid. Then, suddenly, he bent his head. Looking in her eyes, he said with an almost shy smile: “Well then – your place or mine?”

“Mine! The bed’s bigger!” Hermione answered promptly, took his hand and led him up the stairs.


The master bedroom of the Hall – the house elves still named it so though it was now years since the ‘mistress’ bedroom’ – had changed a few years before. Shortly after Albus’ death Hermione and Molly had spent two entire days in changing not only the furniture, but the walls too. The French green fabric brocade – an invention of Albus’ mother who’d loved green – was gone, instead of it cream silk, softly shimmering, was now thlingling colour of the room. The thick carpet – green with gold – which had once covered the floor was gone too and so had the huge four poster bed with the green hangings disappeared. Hermione had murmured something like “mot catcher” and that she actually never had liked hangings much because even with magical cleaning – to her they looked always dusty. For her it was a plain, king size bed with a light blue silken cover. And next to it didn’t stand wooden nightstands anymore, but two very modern she shelves – glass and chrome. Yet the high backed chair next to the bed, the chair Severus had so often sat in during Albus’ last months, was still there. Only his upholstering had changed too – once again from green to cream. And the old sofa in front of the fireplace wasn’t there anymore, but there stood now a big, cream couch with a glass and chrome table in front of it.

Severus first had thought he wouldn’t like the changes. But now he was not only use with them, but had to admit that they made the room friendly and suited Hermione. The style was plain, but elegant – and that was her, wasn’t it?

Only one thing about the bedroom he didn’t like much: For his taste it was too bright. At least this afternoon after the thunderstorm because on this afternoon he stood there and Hermione, nibbling at his neck, had just started to open the buttons of his collar and he know, that she wouldn’t stop until … and no, he wasn’t ashamed of his body, he was not … but … for heaven’s sake, he wasn’t 25 years old anymore and he wasn’t a quidditch champion like the boys she was use with and he didn’t spend his days flying around on a broomstick, but working in a lab or at a desk and he was in the possession of a mirror – of course not a talking one because he’d always disliked them, but nevertheless a mirror in front of which he sometimes stood, taking stock. Very satisfied he’d never been then. Of course, it could have been worse. He’d got long and pretty straight legs, his hips were narrow and his firm buttocks probably the best part on his anatomy – so most of his lovers had said. But there was this ghastly scar on his chest and … he couldn’t deny it: He got a belly. Where Oliver Wood’s probably showed firm muscles, he showed soft flesh. And over it … he’d never had much hair on his chest and in his younger days this had been something his housemates had made fun about too. Whenever they caught him in the shower – and they’d always tried to get him there – they’d teased him about hhairhairless titties”. It had gotten so much under his thin skin, that as an apprentice he’d once tried to brew a hair growing potion. But this had led to embarrassment too because his master had found him out and as brilliant as Nicolas Flamel had been in his work – his socikillkills, especially with his shy and insecure, broody and often defiant apprentice hadn’t been too great. He’d never got that Severus really suffered when teased – or had he got it, but simply not minded? Severus didn’t know. Yet he knew – even today – that he was by no means a handsome man.

With his affairs he hadn’t minded. There it had always been a “take me or leave me” – and most of them had taken him even with some enthusiasm because his skills in matters of sex weren’t too bad. He always thought it fair to care for the pleasure of his ladies – and being a Slytherin meant that he’d once read his way through the “special library” of his house too.

But now it was Hermione … and Hermione … oh heavens, what had he thought by getting himself into this situation? Of course, he’d dreamed of her. Many years he did. It had started in Paris and even with all his willpower he hadn’t gotten her out of his head since then. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman – and even if she wasn’t the most beautiful witch under the stars: He loved to look at her. He found her even breath taking when she marched through the lab in an old robe, a quill in her hair and ink on her fingers. She was Hermione – and this meant that he never compared her with other women. She was something special, a treasure, a dream – and Merlin, why hadn’t he just let her be his dream? Why did he have to stand here now like an idiot, unmoving because he didn’t trust his trembling fingers and his weak knees?

And why did he just now remember the day in Hogwarts as he’d met Harry idiotic Potter in front of an unused class room, just fumbling with his wand to open the door? Severus remembered only too well the sounds coming through this door – Hermione’s voice as she’d screamed in pleasure … and even without this certain memory: Severus hadn’t been a spy for nothing. Eavesdropping and collecting information had by this time become second nature to him and so … yes, of course, he’d known about Albus and Rosmerta. Albus hadn’t made a secret out of this affair – at least not with Severus. He had sometimes invited Severus for a drink in the “Three Broomsticks” and after a little talk and the one or other fire whiskey he’d simply said “You’ll find your way back without me, won’t you?” and had disappeared upstairs. Three or four times Severus had been curious enouo mao make a visit to the pub the “day after” – and every time he’d found that Rosmerta looked exceptionally smug and satisfied.

And more: Severus had known one of Rosmerta’s predecessors – a witch in Rome, a friend of Madame Flamel who’d once on the terrace just in frof tof the lab where Severus had worked, told – in epic length and graphic details! – About a weekend in Venice with Albus. Only that the lady hadn’t seen much of the city because – as she’d giggling said – “one would have to fight for coming out of bed with him. And why should I have fought? Even if Venice will go down in the next few years – sight seeing there can’t be better than sex with Albus.”

What the heck had he thought he had let himself in for a competition with Albus? And even better: He had to compete against young Albus! Hermione had experience with Albus, 30 years old.

And obviously she’d learnt from him. She was now on his chest, teasing and kissing and licking and – huh, she was good at it! Her mouth on his skin made his knees even weaker and her fingers playing with his nipple – it felt like heaven and sent shivers done his spine and made all blood floating in his groin though he’d already gotten a rock hard erection. He suddenly felt like a 14 year old – Hermione hadn’t touched more than his chest, but he knew: If he didn’t something, if he didn’t start to get her undressed andparepared, he’d explode before she even laid a finger on his cock.

Yet it needed all his will power to move. To raise his hand for stroking through her hair – he’d never name it “bushy” because it felt like silk and it smelled like vanilla and rose – and to bend his head for kissier –er – he had to kick himself out of his dizziness for doing so. But as his lips met hers, as he’d felt her body – she was still fully clothed, but the wet shirt she was wearing stuck to her breasts and he could feel her erected nipples through the fabric – against his, his body reacted at last and started to work on its own accord.

His hands glided down her back, cupping her buttocks and kneading them and pushing her closer to his aching erection, rubbing it against her belly while his mouth plundered hers, his tongue playing with hers. And at the same time he managed to push her to the bed, up the two stairs – and yes, to have her stand on a stair was nice because now he didn’t have to bend down so much anymore, but laying her down and undressing her finally would even be pleasanter because he needed to feel her skin and he needed to suck her firm nipples and he needed to feel the heath between her legs and so he gave her a last push and made her tumble on the bed, jumping on top of her, fumbling her shirt out of the belt of her jeans and shoving his hand under it, finally feeling her smooth skin. He didn’t think for a moment that he could use his wand for undressing her – his mind was fogged with a need so urgent he hardly could control anymore.

Even against himself he’d rarely admitted it, but he had wanted her. He had dreamed off her – more then once he’d wake up in the middle of the night with a stiff cock because he’d dreamed of her, of her naked body, of her eyes glittering with arousal, of her breasts and her glorious, glorious arse. And more then once he’d pleased himself then, screaming her name during climax.

Now she was there – and more then that: She kissed him back with the same need and only pushed him away for getting her wand out and directing it at him. His clothes disappeared, followed by hers and then she let the wand drop and gripped with both hands at his groin, one closing around his shaft, the other cupping his testicles.

Actually he wasn’t surprised at it happened. He’d known that he was already over the point of no return. But nevertheless he felt ashamed and embarrassed as his body took over and he felt the heath of an upcoming climax. He couldn’t do anything against it, he couldn’t fight it anymore. But it was almost painful and not only because he didn’t want it to happen, but because it was in a way intense he’d rarely felt before.

But then – no, he couldn’t look in her eyes. He didn’t want to see her disappointment. What would she think of him now? He’d performed worse then a 16 year old at his first attempt! And if he’d known where his wand was – he’d probably fled in the moment. But so he could only sink his head, whispering: “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Hermione kissed his shoulder. “There’s no reason for being sorry.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t want her pity, he didn’t want her sympathy.

“Severus!” Now she sounded firm. “Look at me, will you?”

He still didn’t raise his head, but looked at his spend member, cursing it. He hadn’t could have found a worse moment for letting him down.

Another kiss landed on his shoulder and then a hand under his chin, turning it in her direction. “Severus …”

He couldn’t avoid looking at her, but what he saw in her eyes was neither pity nor sympathy, but something like amusement and a very tender smile. And despite his misery this smile touched him and he tried to smile back wearily. “I’m really terribly sorry …”

“There’s no reason for being sorry,” she repeated – and chuckled, a throaty, very sexy sound. “Heavens, I take this as a compliment! If I can drive you this far with by only touching you – that means you really want me, don’t you?”

“Of course I want you.” Now it suddenly was easy to confess. “I want you as badly as I never wanted a woman before. I wanted you in Paris, I wanted you all these years …” He laid back on the bed, pulling her at his shoulder. “Hermione …”

She snuggled to him, kissing his cheek. “Severus – I love you. I don’t know when it started, but now: I love you. And I want to be with you.”

He held her close, his mouth in her hair, his fingers playing over her spine. “I never wanted to be with some one else, but I want to be with you,” he said quietly. “If you can bear with me …”

“I think I can.” She kissed his chin. “I’m use to you, you know? I’ve beard with you for years and actually – mostly I’ve enjoyed it.”

“You will enjoy it even more.” He turned around, taking her with him. “I have to make something up, haven’t I?” Stroking down her sides, he let his mouth follow his hand until he reached her breasts.

“You don’t have to make something up, Severus. But I’ll nevertheless enjoy you – I’ve finally waited long enough to get you here.”


To be continued …