Beyond Pathetic

‘Whoever invented the concept of a formal ball,’ thought Severus, sipping his drink, ‘Deserves to be flayed alive with a blunt, salted knife.’

He glanced over at Hermione, who, despite her harsh words about this event the previous evening, was still a rather social being. She was currently laughing with Minerva at the high table, and Severus felt a shot of jealousy run through his heart. He turned his head to look back at the reveling students.

Some sort of outrageous mockery of music was playing, which the children clearly seemed to enjoy dancing to, if it could indeed be called ‘dancing’. With a hint of amusement, he watched the shy young Mr. Malfoy approach a sitting, lonely-looking Miss Weasley. To Severus’ detached surprise, the lovely young woman took Mr. Malfoy’s hand and let him lead her to the floor.

“Having fun yet?” said that gorgeous honeyed voice, a slight hand suddenly on his arm.

Turning to look at Hermione, he managed a light scowl before all conscious thought was wiped from his mind.

She wore some kind of silk robes in an off-white, champagne color. They were modestly cut, (it was a school dance she was chaperoning, after all) but Severus could see every disastrous curve of her.

Coming out of his stupor, he noticed her conspiratorial grin as she leaned dangerously closer.

“I think,” she whispered, “We could escape. Weren’t you mentioning the other day the article on experimental charms that you had in your study? I’d love to read it, as well as perhaps get my hands on something a tad stronger than butterbeer.” Seeing his usual disgusted grimace, she added, “That is, if you’re willing…”

‘You have no idea how willing,’ Severus thought, taking a sip of his drink to hide his discomfort.

Out loud, however, he said “That, Miss Granger, is the only decent idea I’ve heard all night.”

The trip down to his quarters was rather hazardous, for both Severus, who had to deal with Hermione’s robes twirling around her body, and for house points.

“Thirty points from Ravenclaw and Slytherin!” snapped Hermione, as a young couple in a shadowy nook struggled to straighten their robes.

Severus snorted. “You go far too easy on them,” as he pulled a disheveled young Gryffindor from a corner, his date cowering from the tall black pillar of evil. “Fifty points from Gryffindor, each of you,”

“Come now, Severus, there is a House Cup for Gryffindor to win this year,” said Hermione, leading him away from the (ahem) ‘festivities’ to his dungeon.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” growled Severus, as he opened the door to his study.

But Hermione just laughed, which made Severus want to kiss her in a more romantic way than he believed he was capable of.
“The journal you’re looking for should be on my desk. I’ll go select some wine,” said Severus, moving to his private work area, which he generally used for brewing potions.

Once free from Hermione’s sweet form, he collapsed against the countertop, a long train of semi-coherence running through his mind:

‘Now is your chance. Here it is. Don’t fuck this up. You can do it,’ and other such nonsense filled his mind. He shook himself and rummaged in his supply cabinets until he found a bottle of extremely old red wine he had once been given by Lucius Malfoy. “Use it to seduce some unsuspecting young thing,” he had said, as if Severus could hardly do it alone.

A sneer crossed his face as he thought of what the old man would do if he knew the wine would be used to seduce a Muggle-born.

‘Then again,’ Severus thought, ‘Lucius’ grandson is currently tripping over his own feet to dance with a member of the Weasley clan…’

Once wine glasses had been produced, Severus made his way slowly back to his study. Hermione had taken the liberty of lighting a fire and had curled up on his sofa in front of it.

Severus had to tear his eyes away from the sight, and poured out the wine. With a level of bravery he hardly knew he had, Severus put one hand on Hermione’s shoulder and handed her a glass with the other.

“Oh,” she breathed, “Thank you,” She took a long sip, smiling at him, “I couldn’t find the journal. I didn’t want to poke around in your desk

Severus swallowed hard. The feel of her hideously smooth skin had immediately pumped blood to his nether regions. He had also noticed something else about her, however.

“Are you cold, Miss Granger?”

She grinned slightly and nodded, “The walk down here was a bit chilling,” as he immediately moved to accommodate her, finding a small throw blanket and draping it around her bare shoulders. It deprived him of her delectable figure, but this helped to curb his illicit thoughts and gave him the opportunity for clear conversation.

“Incidentally, Miss Granger, you look lovely tonight,” he said, turning to retrieve his own wine, and wincing. ‘Perhaps too clear, Snape,’ he thought, sitting as far from Hermione on the sofa as possible, without merging his cells with the upholstery.

Hermione smiled, “Why, thank you! I … meant to tell you the same earlier, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

Severus raised his eyebrows, “In all my years of experience, Miss Granger, I’ve never known you to worry about someone’s reaction when it came to stating your opinion. Why should you begin now?” The implications of the conversation began to make him tingle, a sensation he wasn’t used to, and didn’t appreciate.

The sweet smile on Hermione’s face diminished a bit, taking on a trace of nervousness. More tingling.

“Well, I had been noticing, you see, over the past few months…that your hair…” she said slowly, looking resolutely into her almost depleted wine.

“My hair?” said Severus, who immediately cursed himself after an attempted look upward to the offending follicles.

“Yes, it’s no longer…I mean…it’s very…healthy-looking…lately,” she finished lamely.

Severus looked at her blankly. He had no idea how to interpret this. It was inexcusably possible that she was attempting to flirt with him, but there was also a good chance that she had simply miscalculated her words.

“Since my movement to Defense professor, I have been doing marginally less potions work,” he said in a deadpan, “My hair reacts badly to most potion fumes, causing the oily build-up. But thank you for the compliment, Miss Granger.”

“Ah,” she said, swirling her wine and taking a delicate sip. The timidity disappeared as she asked, “Why is it that you call me ‘Miss Granger’? As far as I can tell, I’m the only other professor you do not refer to with their given name.”

Severus blinked. He had honestly never thought about that before. When he did, he figured calling her ‘Hermione’ anywhere other than his mind would have been too much for him to stand. Not something he could just say, but he decided to tell what was mostly true.

“I suppose that old habits die hard. I called you nothing but ‘Miss Granger’ for seven years, and calling you ‘Professor Granger’ seems altogether too formal. However…if you wish it, I will call you by your given name.”
Another smile on those lips. This time it lasted long into the silence that accompanied it.

Severus frowned, “What?”

“You don’t want to say it, do you?” she continued, grinning at his obvious discomfort.

“Well, I can hardly say it now; it would be forced and sound ridiculous!” Severus took an indignant sip of his wine.

‘I just don’t want to say it!’ He thought, ‘Or rather, I only want to say it in my imagination, when I’m buried up to my balls inside you!’

Hermione yawned, “My goodness, it’s only been a few minutes, and I’m already falling asleep on you!”

Severus looked resolutely into the fire, swallowing hard at the thought of taking that phrase literally, but he managed to keep his composure.

“Then allow me to escort you back to your quarters…” he hesitated, “Hermione.”

He looked over when his words were met with silence. She was asleep. Severus repeated her name louder, and when that didn’t work, he shook her. Nothing.

Alarm spread over Severus as he checked her pulse. It was fine, as steady as any sleeping person’s. He looked at her empty wine glass that was perched on the edge of the sofa, which couldn’t possibly be the culprit. Severus had seen her imbibe far more than just one glass of wine and remain sober, ruling out a low alcohol tolerance level. Hermione had been lively all night until entering his quarters and…

“Fuck,” Severus said aloud. He pinched a bit of floo powder from his mantle and threw it in the fire.

“Lucius Malfoy!” he called. The eldest Malfoy had used his wealth at the end of the war to secure himself a life of house arrest as opposed to Azkaban.

Said ex-Death Eater appeared in the coals after a few long moments. “Severus? What could I possibly owe the honor of this unexpected call? Three years, I think it’s been?”

Severus glared as hard as his face could possibly manage. “Just be quiet for a moment! Remember that 1890 red wine you gave me for whatever reason, years ago?”

A look of thought crossed Lucius’ face, then sudden remembrance, “Why, Severus! Did you actually drink it? With a woman?”
If Severus had been the kind of person who rolled his eyes, he would have done so in lieu of the venomous sneer that he sent across the floo network.

“Yes, Lucius,” he spat, “I did drink it. With a woman. The point is, what in all the hells did you put in it?”

Lucius’ laughter punctuated Severus’ question.

“I don’t see what is so amusing about having an unconscious woman in my study!”

“Relax, you old bastard. It was just a minor sedative. You brewed it for me, I believe. I simply modified it a bit to only affect women. Yours should be completely fine come morning. That is, if you don’t….take advantage…of the opportunity I’ve just given you.” said Lucius, a wicked smile spreading over his features.

Sighing, Severus let loose another glare, “You’re a disgusting fool, Lucius,” and closed the connection.

While he wasn’t terribly keen on following Lucius’ advice of leaving Hermione, Severus wasn’t sure what had been added to the sleeping potion and didn’t want to give her something that might have bitter consequences.

This left him with another quandary. What was he to do with her? Over the months their friendship had been cultivated, he had never been enough of a gentleman to walk her back to her own quarters, and only knew vaguely where they were.

‘Besides, you should keep an eye on her,’ he thought, ‘For no perverse reason, obviously, simply to make sure she’s alright…’

Severus sighed and steeled himself to gather Hermione’s slight frame in his arms.

The wine glass dropped to the carpet, but all Severus could think about was how she felt. He had fully expected to have a raging erection from the moment he touched her, but the moment was unpredictably tender. She sighed a bit in her sleep and curled closer to him.

Carrying her into his bedroom, he wandlessly pulled back the bedcovers and laid her down. He contemplated changing her clothes (magically, of course. He might be a pervert, but he had too much on his war-torn conscious to add ‘molesting an unconscious woman’ to it.) but decided that it would be difficult enough explaining what happened in the morning already. Instead, he simply slid her shoes off and covered her with the blanket.

Proceeding to make a bed for himself on the floor next to her, Severus took off his outer robes and thought bitterly that this was not exactly how he had hoped to spend the night with Hermione.

A/N: This chapter took me a horrifically long time to write, because I wanted to set this whole thing up the right way. You might consider the first two chapters a sort of epilogue, just the back story and whatnot. I got a complaint (the only negative review I’ve gotten, and even that wasn’t terribly negative) that Snape was *too* pathetic. This is because I wanted to establish his initial issues first before I got into actual dialogue. He’s still pathetic, but more on the inside.

The next chapter will be much better, I promise. I hope to be finished with it soon, and it'll be lemony fresh...

Anyway, thank you all hugely for the fabulous reviews!