Yuleride

Chapter 27 ~ Snape Takes Action

Snape finally hit upon a plan he thought might help him break the ice with
Hermione, and wrote it down, intending on enacting it first thing in the
morning. He was drunk. Extremely drunk, but even inebriated he could tell when
he hit on something that might work in his favor. It was remembering it that was
the problem, which was why he wrote it down. He then drank several glasses of
water, pissed and made his way to bed. In the morning, he’d pop a Bezoar in his
mouth for a few seconds. Most took Sober-up potion for a hangover, but it only
took away the symptoms. Alcohol was a poison after all, and a Bezoar cleansed it
completely from the body.

Snape didn’t bother sharing this information with anyone, simply because he had
invested in the commercial Sober-up potions business long ago, due to the Brits’
inclination to enjoy their liquor immensely, and received residuals directly to
his Gringotts account. Wizards having access to an antidote that would never run
out would be bad for the profit margin. And it seemed no one else was bright
enough to figure it out yet.

He stripped down and fell into the bed, drawing the blanket partially over his
pale, scarred body and falling fast asleep, snoring horribly.

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

Hermione arrived at Hogwarts very early in the morning, still concerned about
Ron and feeling a bit guilty about her self-love session with Severus as the
star. She walked up to the door of her office and scowled slightly as she saw an
envelope attached to it. A cramped, tight scrawl read:

To Miss Hermione Granger, Spells Mistress

She had hell prying it loose.

”Damn it, whoever did this must have used a spell similar to the one that kept
Mrs. Black attached to the wall at 12 Grimauld Place,” she said through gritted
teeth as she applied spell after spell. Finally she got the damned letter down.

She turned it over in her hands curiously and saw it had a green wax seal with
the initials SS stamped into it. Oh, no wonder it was so hard to remove.
Professor Snape had affixed it there, and done so securely. Hm. Now what was
this about?

She let herself into the office, then into her private quarters. She took off
her coat and hat, hung them up then sat down at her desk to read the letter.
Once again it took a while to pry open the seal, but she finally did it, wiping
the perspiration from her forehead before unfolding the missive. The handwriting
was rather miserly looking, if that were possible, the letters very close
together as if not wanting to leave any unused space available. But there was
enough separation for the words to be readable. Barely.

Dear Hermione,

Forgive me for my hasty departure, but Dragonsbane wilts very quickly once
harvested and loses valuable potency. It was imperative I take it to my lab and
prepare it quickly for use.

Ah, so that explained it, and Hermione had thought he was just being rude, as
usual. She read on.

I would like to thank you—

Hermione stared at the words, trying to fit them to the snarky wizard she knew.
It was very difficult. Severus Snape thanking anyone for anything was a hard
pill to swallow. She kept reading.

—thank you for your assistance last night, especially with the challenges of
flying by broom and not knowing what to expect. You did quite well with your
Charm work and without you my harvest would have been unsuccessful. Possibly
even deadly.

I know that technically you assisted me to serve the school, but I believe my
personal thanks are in order, and would like to treat you to a small, informal
meal of foods you enjoy, on neutral ground. Perhaps in the ROR. I realize I am
not someone you may perceive as ideal dining company, but I will do my best to
keep any unpleasantness to a minimum. I am sadly lacking in social skills, so
this may take some effort.

Hermione harrumphed at this. That was an understatement if she’d ever read one.

Gratitude is not my forte, but I feel I should attempt at least some
expression of it. Then again, you may feel my invitation an imposition and
reject it. Rather than arbitrarily assume you would reject it, I’ve approached
you on the chance that I could be wrong. You can give me your answer at
breakfast this morning in the affirmative if you decide to dine with me. If not,
simply walk past me without saying a word and I will understand.

Sincerely,

Severus T. Snape



Hermione blinked at the letter. Severus Snape wanted her to have dinner with
him? Alone? Dear gods, what in the world would that be like?

She studied the letter. It must have been a supreme effort for him to write it.
It would have been nicer if he had asked her in person, but this was Snape. A
face to face rejection would have been painful to him. It was easier this way.

Hermione couldn’t help feeling a little pang when she read how he believed she
would reject his invitation, although he tried to cover his doubts and
self-depreciating manner, and even more of a pang when she read she didn’t have
to say anything and he’d understand he’d been rejected.

Hermione slowly folded the parchment and sat at her desk, staring into space,
wondering exactly how a dinner with the dark wizard would go. Would there be
wine? Candlelight? Music? Or would it be stark and uncomfortable, without
conversation?

But there was a chance she might enjoy herself, or at least the food.

It was thoughtful of him to choose neutral ground, but also shrewd. Hermione
knew that he could enter the ROR with her in mind and the room would most likely
show him the foods she liked. It was an amazing place after all. Of course, it
couldn’t produce the food. It wasn’t possible to create food magically, but
Snape could have the house elves prepare it and deliver it much like they did to
the Great Hall, by magic.

Hermione couldn’t openly admit to herself that she wanted to be in Snape’s
presence again. Alone. He wasn’t the kind of man who invited others in, but he
did so with her, and as a result, she did feel rather special, although there
was an uncomfortable side to it. A rather frightening, belly-clenching side
because he was so unpredictable. An exciting side that was missing with Ron,
sweet as he was.

Snape gave Lily Evans the same feeling of specialness years ago, before she
turned her back on him and his innate darkness for the bright glow of James
Potter. But Hermione didn’t know that. All she knew was he had issued her an
invitation and expected her to decline.

But she wouldn’t.

Hermione told herself that it would be rude to reject his invitation, especially
after he’d gone through such pains to invite her. It was just dinner after all.

Just dinner.

Yes, that’s precisely what she told herself.

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

Snape arrived early at breakfast, but lingered over his tea before ordering. He
felt tight inside, coiled, like a spring as he waited for Hermione to arrive.
She had to have received his invitation. Now, it was up to her. Would she stop
beside him and tell him yes, or walk by silently without acknowledgement?

His stomach gurgled uncomfortably, and for a moment, nausea washed over him. Oh
good gods, was he going to be sick? The last time he felt like this, he was just
a child about to introduce himself to the beautiful red-haired girl at the park,
and her skinny, horse-faced sister.

He steadied himself. He was no smitten boy. He was a man. Severus Snape. The
darkest, snarkiest wizard in existence, if the stories were to be believed. He
did nothing to dispel them—

Until now, that is. Now, he was reaching out to a witch, which showed he wasn’t
as unfeeling as the stories said, and as he believed himself to be. Every time
the door of the teacher’s entrance opened, his black eyes cut toward it without
him moving his head. Each time he was disappointed and relieved as Hagrid,
Minerva, Sybill and the other teachers entered. Students were also beginning to
file in. Snape didn’t even give them his usual morning glare, he was so out of
sorts.

Finally, Hermione entered, dressed in her staff robes. She walked slowly towards
him as he studiously sipped his now cold tea. He tensed, expecting her to walk
by.

She didn’t. She stopped beside his chair and leaned down so her lips were close
to his ear. Snape reflexively closed his eyes as her warm breath tickled the
pale shell of it, like a small, welcomed caress.

”I’d love to have dinner with you, Severus,” she said softly, then moved on.

The tightness left him and an unfamiliar feeling of lightness filled his thin
frame as Hermione walked away and sat down next to Trelawney. The dark wizard
ventured a small glance at her, and found her looking at him with a smile. He
quickly looked down, flustered and elated at the same time, trying not to show
any emotion.

But Hermione could tell he was happy. She could feel it somehow, although there
was no visible change in him. She felt rather good about that.

Snape ordered his breakfast, his mind percolating now. He hadn’t made it past
writing her.

Now, he had a dinner to plan.

Hermione was right. Snape did plan to use the ROR’s wealth of knowledge gleaned
from Hogwarts to find out what Hermione’s favorite foods were. Also, using the
room would take a lot of the guesswork out of it, because it would provide the
setting needed for a good dining experience. All he would have to do was be
reasonably—nice and polite.

Arrgh.

No pressure there.

If the dinner went well, perhaps Hermione would be amicable to another dinner,
one where he could make his intentions known, although Merlin knew he’d like to
engage the witch again. There were so many other acts he could show her to prove
his prowess as a lover. But no, he had to move slowly, carefully. Stir her
emotions the way he knew he could stir her body. It was unfortunate women and
men were so intrinsically different.

Women gave sex for love, and men gave love for sex. Of course, there was
intermediate ground. Sometimes it was just sex for sex’s sake or out of need for
contact rather than love. Snape wanted love to motivate Hermione to accept him
at the end of all this, and hoped beyond hope he still had, or could build up
enough trust deep inside himself to return her love because of her acceptance.
Perhaps, perhaps he could give himself a potion if he found himself lacking. It
was a thought, anyway.

He cursed himself suddenly, making a sharp, reflexive jerking motion over his
eggs and toast. There he went again, moving too quickly. There was still the
matter of Ronald Weasley. He wasn’t just going to disappear, not to mention the
possibility Hermione accepted his invitation just to be polite. She was a
bleeding heart Gryffindor after all, and could just—just pity him.

His jaw tightened. He didn’t need to be pitied. He was fine—it was just—just
that he wanted her with him so badly and time was running out. None of his other
attempts had worked. He had to do it this way—it was his only option.

Other than kidnapping Hermione that is, and that option wasn’t completely off
the table.

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

After finishing his breakfast before Hermione, Snape waited outside the staff
entrance, standing close to the wall and avoiding the eyes and greetings of the
other staff as they exited, looking at him curiously. Usually, once Snape left
the Great Hall, it was as if he’d Disapparated away, he headed to the dungeons
so quickly. He wasn’t one for loitering in corridors, just slinking down them.

Hermione emerged, and Snape quickly approached her. His jaw was tight as was his
throat, and he presented a very severe expression as Hermione looked up at him.

”Thank you for accepting my dinner invitation,” the wizard said, his normally
smooth silken voice sounding forced.

Hermione looked up into his scowling visage.

”You certainly don’t look pleased,” she commented.

”Well, I am!” Snape snapped defensively, unable to help himself. Being
vulnerable was a real chore.

”All right. All right,” Hermione said soothingly. “I’ll take your word for it,
rather than how you look.”

”Good,” Snape replied as they began to walk. “Is Friday evening good for you?”

”Friday is fine,” Hermione said as they emerged from the corridor into the
entrance hall.

”Good, I’ll retrieve you at seven,” Snape said, turning and billowing toward the
dungeons at a fast stride, Hermione looking after him with raised eyebrows.

”I can’t believe it. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen the Potions
master with a real case of nerves,” she thought to herself.

Then she giggled. It was also the first time in her life she’d ever found
anything remotely funny about Severus Snape.

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

A/N: Thanks for reading.