The Unfortunates

I know this chapter is rather short and uneventful, but it is, as the chapter title says, bringing our two heroes closer, if nothing else. And I figured it was time to let Severus do a bit of contemplation again. Anyhow, hope you\'ll survive still...! Next chapter\'ll be longer, more eventful and more revealing, so please bear with me...! :)

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: CLOSER


That night, Hermione and Severus crawled into Severus’s large bed, Hermione feeling more than a little nervous. She’d be spending the night with him.

Not that she didn’t want to, mind you – she really did. But this was still Professor Snape, and there was still so much she didn’t know about him. He was like a locked book whose key she had yet to find, but she certainly intended to find it. By the time she was through with him, she planned, he would no longer be haunted by his past and his mistakes. Hermione was certain she could handle them, and all she wanted was for Severus to finally forgive himself. She was convinced he would, if he would only let his past go.

The transaction of going to bed had been slightly awkward. Hermione had been uncertain of what would be proper for her to do, but luckily he had excused himself to go to the bathroom, and in the meantime she had stripped down to her Muggle top and panties, quickly escaping to the confines of the covers before he returned. When he did, he didn’t seem uncertain for a moment of what to do: He sat down on his edge of the bed and relieved himself of everything save for his boxers.

Hermione caught herself silently cursing the darkness of the room, and the fact that he sat with her back to him. It looked nice, smooth and pale, and Hermione wished he could have turned so she could see whether or not his chest looked anything the same. However he crawled under the bed covers before she had a chance to look.

No part of their bodies touched for a whole of thirteen minutes.

All Hermione could hear was his steady breathing; she could see the sheets moving as his chest rose and fell. And she couldn’t bear just lying there, spending the entire night in his bed and not even touching him. Surely he would want her to?

Tentatively, she turned to lie on her side, fully looking at him. He noticed her staring almost at once.

“I thought you had fallen asleep,” he said, his gaze flickering to her. “You were so quiet when I came back.”

“I hadn’t,” she smiled slightly, “though I suspect I could have. It’s been a while since I’ve slept properly.”

“I do not doubt it.”

“The same must go for you,” said Hermione, happy that the conversation was continuing. “And you’re sick, to boost.”

“It is nothing, I told you,” he said, but a smirk was playing at his lips. He too turned to lie on his side now, facing her. She could see his collar bones and the top of his chest, as well as the one arm he had free of the bed sheets.

His gaze on her was intent.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” she whispered.

“You are quite welcome,” he replied lazily. His free hand rose, almost on its own accord it would seem, and reached over to stroke her hair away from her face, playing with her curls. He didn’t bring his hand back, but instead let it trace the skin of her shoulder and arm, just caressing gently. He appeared lost in his own world, watching his own hand glide across her skin, and for a moment his guard appeared down again.

Then he caught her looking at him, grinned, and the real man inside of Severus was gone once again, hiding behind that damn, sexy smirk of his.

Hell, yes. His smirk was sexy.

Come off it, the whole man is sexy! Hermione didn’t even bother to restrain her thoughts; one look at the top of his chest had made denial impossible. Speaking of said chest; for some reason her gaze seemed to be returning to that spot constantly, willingly or not she did not know.

His collarbones, meeting where his chest began... She thought she could see a few, black hairs further down, hidden beneath the sheets. She so wondered what the rest of him looked like, no longer caring whether such a thought was decent or not. All she wanted was to learn more of him.

Then, before she could even react he had reached out and wrapped an arm around her, effectively bringing her close to that chest which she found she so craved, letting her rest her body against his in his arms.

“You alright?” he whispered in her ear.

“Fine,” she whispered back, feeling her heart beat faster. Her left hand and head were resting on his chest; she could feel his smooth skin now, caress it if she wanted to. Her right hand rested on his shoulder, near his neck, and she suddenly felt his hand tracing along hers, gliding all the way up to her hair and neck and over her back, holding her tight.

She suddenly realized how close they were and figured he was certainly feeling something of hers pressed against his chest right now.

Was he perhaps remembering...?

His hand continued to caress her back, and because her head was tucked beneath his chin she couldn’t see his face, though she desperately wanted to. The hand moved lower, reaching the end of her top, and without hesitation it slid under it, touching the bare skin of her back, gently stroking up and down across her spine.

The feeling was amazing... Hermione couldn’t help but sighing content into his chest.

“What?” he said silkily then.

Bastard – he knew perfectly well what. But if he needed to hear it, well, Hermione wouldn’t keep it from him.

“It feels good, that’s all,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Good,” he replied, his voice rumbling through his chest underneath her. He bent his head slightly, gently kissing her forehead.

And, lying so comfortably in his arms, feeling as though she had no cares in the whole world as long as he would hold her like this, Hermione finally remembered just how tired she was.

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Listening to her steady breathing, Severus found himself strangely at ease, more so than he felt he’d been in years.

Why would sharing one’s personal space so intimately with someone feel so good? What logic encouraged such behaviour? Never before in his life had Severus felt that he could in fact relax so close to another human being.

Ah, well. Yet again he was lying to himself. Because obviously, there was this one person; one other person who, if things hadn’t turned out the way they did, he most certainly could have been willing to be this close to.

But it would do him no good, thinking about her.

And a strange thought struck Severus then: He realized that now, at this very moment, he would not trade the woman in his arms for anyone or anything in the whole world, not even her; Jim Higsley’s sister. Not even if she were still alive would he want her there instead of Hermione.

A small, begrudged part of him announced then that he should probably feel guilty for thinking that. He should feel guilty for every single moment of his life during which he didn’t wish he could ruin all he held dear just to see her alive and well again; or so stated this evil, little part of him. The part which had yet to let go of the dark, bitter man who was Severus Snape.

But, thought Severus suddenly, surprising himself, I am almost no longer that man.

It was true. He’d felt a change, a gradual one, over the coarse of the last few weeks. He’d suddenly found there were still experiences in this world which he could enjoy, conversations which he could like having, company in which he could relax... And he thought he knew pretty well who’d caused these changes in him.

Hermione turned a bit, her body snuggling its way closer into the crook of his shoulder. One of her arms slid unconsciously around on his chest to find warmth and comfort there, and Severus almost wondered if she was awake – but her heavy breathing told him otherwise.

What was it she had said earlier that evening?

Stop taking your past out on me.

She was right – she usually was – he had taken his past out on her, letting her suffer for the things he’d done. He was a guarded man, had always been so, and he had yet to let her in, fearing that if he did so he would lose her again. He knew this happiness couldn’t last; the moment she were to find out exactly what sort of person he was and what he’d done she’d be gone for sure. Severus was realistic, he knew this much.

Which was why he wouldn’t tell her. He told her nothing; he’d only just let it slip from where he knew Jim Higsley and already he regretted it; already she had shown him signs of resent and scepticism. Surely it would only take a sentence or so more of his past before she’d be off, hating him, like all normal people did.

Her words rang in his head; it felt as though they were almost aloud, filling the big, noiseless room with her defiant voice:

You’re too stubborn to accept help, and you’re too afraid that opening up means the same as handing the world weapons to use against you. Well, it’s not like that... not with me.

Perhaps she did mean what she’d said... Perhaps she would try to understand, were he to open up to her and reveal his very soul and his greatest and most horrible regrets to her. Would she really resent him?

Perhaps she’d pity him.

Severus couldn’t hold back a snort – that was hardly likely. No woman would pity such behaviour. She was more likely to hate him for it.

And he had enough troubles on his hand already – he was only lucky Higsley hadn’t spotted him yet, otherwise he surely wouldn’t have had the privacy he had now on this evening.

Because Jim Higsley obviously knew it all, Severus was certain of it. How could he not know? He was her brother, for the gods’ sake, of course he knew. And when he found out he was staying in Severus Snape’s house, and that the lord of the estate still dwelled under its roof, then... then there would be hell to pay. Severus was not looking forward to it.

Not that he thought he couldn’t handle Higsley; of course he could. The problem was, he didn’t want to. He had no desire whatsoever to cause any sort of harm upon her brother, and he hoped so dearly that he wouldn’t have to either. But if Jim Higsley was to attack him, what could Severus do? Just sit back and take what was coming to him?

I could do that. Merlin knows I deserve it.

But of course he wouldn’t. He was Professor Severus Snape, after all.

Professor Severus Snape I may be, he thought, clutching Hermione tighter, but I will still be confronted by the brother of the woman whose life I ruined.


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A/N: Read my notes at the top to learn why this was short and uneventful...

Thanks so much to my darling beta, JessiokaFroka, and to all you people with your wonderful reviews! Keep them coming; they\'re like nutrition!

- Grill