A New Beginning (DH -COMPLIANT)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 37 ~ An Important Conversation

It didn’t take Snape long to recover from his reception by the Wizarding World, and he spent most of the day meeting with dignitaries, taking photos and generally boosting the Minister’s popularity. By far the most enjoyable part of the day for the wizard was when he, Harry and Minister Utterton sat down for a press conference, which was dominated by Utterton. There were reporters from several newspapers who questioned them, and Harry was unable to respond to any question concerning Snape because Hermione had not yet told him he could. He had taken an Oath not to reveal anything about Severus Snape that wouldn’t release until the witch told him it was all right.

Needless to say, the Minister was furious with the Auror, and poor Harry couldn’t even tell him he had taken an Oath. Snape sat there with a smirk. He could have helped Harry, but to be honest . . . he was enjoying his browbeating too much to offer the slightest assistance.

Finally at the end of the day, the Minister brought the Potions master into his office with the intention of giving him further instructions. There was to be a dinner the following night in his honor, then the following day a ribbon-cutting for a new Ministry office that Utterton wanted him to attend.

Snape listened to all the Minister had to say, then dropped the bomb on him.

“Minister, I am not a Ministry employee or an elected public official. I am a private citizen with my own life to live and I do not intend to devote another hour of my time being displayed as your personal poster boy for political advancement. I will not be attending ceremonies, cutting ribbons or presenting myself publicly for any reasons except my own. I have lived up to my side of the bargain. You have the recognition for finding me. I suggest you ride that wave of popularity until it reaches the shore,” the wizard said coolly, his black eyes resting on Utterton’s jowly features.

The Minister looked taken aback.

”What do you mean, Professor? Surely you aren’t going to disappear again?” the Minister asked him.

”I am going to return to my work, Minister. A man must work,” Snape said evenly.

”Not you. Of course you know that all those who played a role in Voldemort’s downfall receive a monthly stipend from the Ministry for the rest of their lives. It isn’t an extreme amount, but you have over twenty years of payments in arrears. It is quite a hefty sum, Professor. You could be a man of leisure,” the Minister said persuasively, “I am offering you fame, notoriety and the freedom to do what you wish.”

The Potions master arched an eyebrow at him.

”But I already have those things, Minister, the first two of which I don’t particularly want. There is nothing you can offer me that will change my mind,” the wizard said, rising.

”But Professor, it’s unconscionable that you will not participate in the public forum,” the Minister said. “You have people out here who want to see you. You’re a hero.”

Snape smirked at him.

”For many, many years I was considered an unconscionable individual, Minister. Why you think that designation would bother me now is beyond me. People might consider me a hero, but what they want as opposed to what I want is of no significance. Unlike you, sir, I am under no obligation to meet the public’s needs. Good day,” Snape said, pulling up his hood and exiting the Minister’s office, his robes billowing behind him.

Utterton scowled after the wizard. Snape was right. There was really nothing the Minister could do to force him to continue building up his political popularity.

He was a free man.

Outside the Ministry, people milled about, hoping to get another glimpse of Snape. A glimpse was what they did get too, the tall hooded wizard appearing on the Ministry steps, walking down to the sidewalk and suddenly disapparating amid cheers, chanting and groans of disappointment.

Snape reappeared on the grounds of his property, feeling a bit dirtied. Not because of the crowds that cheered him. It was easy to see the people were sincere in welcoming him back. It was the stint with the dignitaries that affected him. Every official eye that met his was gleaming, looking at him as if he were some type of tool, something to be used in their personal plans for advancement.

He looked toward his home, then toward the worksite where Hermione was. He stood there a moment, trying to decide if he should go see the witch. He could use a little time in her presence to re-ground himself, to feel the reality that was his life.

He strode toward the site.

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Hermione was looking at the front page of the evening edition of the Daily Prophet, staring at a photo of Professor Snape staring over an undulating cheering crowd. The witch wiped her eyes as she recalled the astonishment on the wizard’s face. It had been a beautiful moment, absolutely beautiful. It was easy to see that the wizard was humbled. His address to the crowd had been simple, eloquent and a tribute to everyone they had lost, rather than something geared to self. She had secretly feared he would browbeat everyone, demanding to be left alone and threatening magical violence to anyone who infringed on his privacy. He could be quite snarky. But he hadn’t done it.

Hermione wondered how he had fared afterwards with all those officials and hanger-ons. She could imagine the Professor scowling blackly as everyone milled around him, not giving him even space to breathe and shook her head, hoping tomorrow’s edition of the Prophet wouldn’t announce the newly returned hero’s arrest for blasting dignitaries in a fit of exasperation.

Just then a knock sounded on the door and Hermione’s heart leaped a bit. Only one person knocked here. She stood up, smoothed down her robes and her hair then walked over to the door. She took a deep breath and opened it.

There, standing in the doorway was the Potions master. Snape stood there stiffly, looking down at Hermione, the memory of the stolen kiss flowing back to him. Gods, how had he forgotten he did that? Well, he was here now.

“It’s the wizard of the hour,” the Professor said, “May I visit for a few moments? I need to . . . to unwind a bit.”

Hermione stepped back.

”Come in, Professor. You must be exhausted,” she said sympathetically as Snape walked past her.

“Yes, it was quite a day,” he agreed, taking a seat in the armchair.

Hermione sat down on the couch and silence ensued for a bit.

”Your speech was wonderful,” Hermione said, meaning it. “I don’t think anyone ever read off the names of the fallen in public before. It was a beautiful tribute.”

Snape nodded.

”At least one oversight I’ve managed to correct. What I said was true, however. Those who fell to Voldemort are the ones who should be remembered,” he said quietly.

The wizard sighed and relaxed a bit, leaning back and closing his eyes as Hermione looked at him, remembering the kiss he’d given her yesterday in the exercise room. She felt herself flush a bit as she studied his face. He was such a severe looking wizard for the most part. Nothing like Ron with his ready smile and bright, expressive countenance. Professor Snape didn’t look like a man who took pleasure in anything. When he did however, it was the way he held his mouth and how his eyes changed that showed it. Only someone familiar with him could see it, would recognize the slightest change as a true expression.

Hermione was so lost in thought gazing at him, she didn’t stop when he opened his eyes and looked at her. Snape saw the witch was preoccupied as she looked at him.

“A sickle for your thoughts, Hermione,” he purred at her.

Hermione started, turning pink.

“I was . . . I was just wondering how it felt to you to see all those people so happy at your return,” the witch lied.

Snape studied her for a moment, and Hermione got the distinct impression he didn’t believe that was what she was thinking at all, but if he didn’t, he didn’t challenge her on it.

”It was . . . surprising,” he said, “That and the number of people there on a weekday.”

Hermione snorted. He must have been the only person in the world who didn’t see the flyer the Minister put out.

“The Minister knows how to draw people in,” she responded, smiling. “He put out a flyer that said if everyone wasn’t shocked and surprised he’d step down from office.”

Snape shook his head.

”I imagine that did provide plenty of incentive for attendance,” the wizard said with a small smirk, “He tried to lock me into an agenda of dinners, ribbon-cuttings and the like. I believe he wanted me to be his shadow for the rest of his term in office,” he said to Hermione.

“Well, you are quite the feather in his bowler,” Hermione replied.

“A feather that I neatly plucked out. I made it quite clear to him that I would not serve in that capacity,” Snape commented.

”What did he say to that?” Hermione asked him. She knew how pushy Ministers could be when they wanted their own way.

”I didn’t wait for an answer. I was tired and wanted to come home to the peace of my own dwelling,” Snape replied.

”Instead, you came here,” Hermione said before she could stop herself.

Snape looked at her.

“I find it peaceful here as well. At least when I talk with you, I know I am not being sized up to serve some ulterior purpose,” he replied.

Hermione reddened at this statement. She couldn’t say the same about the Potions master. Not now. Not after he kissed her the way he did, making it clear he did have some other motive besides keeping an amicable working relationship.

Snape seemed to divine her thoughts and leaned forward in the chair.

“About yesterday, Hermione . . .” he began.

Hermione blinked at him, her belly tightening. She didn’t say anything however.

”I want to apologize for the impulsiveness of my actions, but . . . not for the action itself,” the wizard said, his dark eyes resting on her. “I felt in lieu of my last foray into the world of . . . of attraction to a witch, I should not hedge when an opportunity to express that attraction presented itself again. I never acted in Lily’s case, not that it would have made a difference, but I didn’t want to make that same error in your case. You are a brilliant witch, Hermione, one I can talk to and feel comfortable with. Finding a comfort zone with anyone has always been difficult for me, and I hope in reaching such a zone, I haven’t inadvertently disturbed yours. It isn’t my intention, believe me.”

Hermione swallowed and said in a weak voice, “I understand, Professor.”

”Do you?” he asked her softly, “Do you really understand, Hermione? Or are you simply trying to stave off what must be discussed? Your acceptance or rejection of my attraction to you and the reasons for it.”

”I . . . I don’t think I’m ready for such a discussion, Professor,” Hermione said softly, “I don’t know how I feel about this . . . about you in . . . in another capacity. I don’t know if I’m over Ron enough to explore anything else. And to be honest, Professor . . . “

Here Hermione faltered a moment, then continued.

”And I’m not sure if your attraction to me isn’t based being in close proximity after being alone so long. You haven’t exactly been out and about, Professor. You might feel as you do toward me because . . . because I am ‘available.’ If you were to meet other witches you might find that they attract you as much as I do,” the witch said.

Snape frowned at her.

”Hermione, what level of attraction do you think I am addressing here? Surely not sexual,” he said to the witch, who raised her eyebrows at him.

Hell, with that tool? She didn’t even want to say it … though she did kind of think it. Again, she didn’t answer him.

Snape sighed.

”It isn’t that way at all, Hermione. I have needs other than the need for sex, needs far more important in my estimation. Sex can be purchased like a bit of candy from a sweet shop. What I desire is not anything that can be bought,” he said wistfully, his Adam’s apple working.

He couldn’t say what he wanted, but Hermione knew. She knew and her heart went out to the wizard.

He wanted love. He wanted to love and to be loved. Something he had never experienced.

“Oh Professor,” she said softly.

Snape looked at her.

”You’ve told me you’re not ready to discuss this, Hermione . . . but tell me, that doesn’t necessarily mean rejection, does it?” he asked the witch, his body language stiff.

Her answer was so important.

Hermione studied the dark wizard, then remembered what Ron had said to her:

“ . . . if the opportunity arises and you connect with somebody, be willing to take a chance it can become something more . . .”

Hermione did feel a connection to the Potions master on several levels, and she looked forward to the personal time she spent with him. In essence, he was a kind of platonic companion, bringing something to her life she would not have otherwise. Without Professor Snape, she would simply be a book reading workaholic. He helped her keep her mind sharp and brought a bit of extra pleasure in dining with her twice a month. Sure, she had Harry as a male companion, but he was married and he wasn’t much on intellectual pursuits. He always gave up too quickly during an argument. But not Professor Snape, he’d keep going just to piss her off and she liked that about him, very much. She realized that if they were to stop associating the way they did, she would honestly miss him.

Now this didn’t mean she wanted him climbing all over her, because that was something she was quite apprehensive about. Maybe if she had never seen him naked it wouldn’t have entered her mind as a possible deterrent to establishing something more. But she had and it was daunting.

Still, the Professor had made it clear his attraction to her wasn’t based on sexual desire although he found her physically attractive. She believed him, because he was right. If he wanted sex he could simply buy it as he’d done over the past two decades.

There was so much that needed to be said between the two of them, and so much more that needed to be explored. But the wizard was waiting for an answer now.

“No,” she said softly, “It isn’t an immediate rejection, Professor.”

Snape nodded.

”Good,” he breathed, relief on his face

Snape looked less severe and younger than what he was for a moment. But just a moment as he rose.

”I have taken up enough of your time, Hermione,” he said to the witch, “I will see you on our usual day for dinner at my home, I presume?”

Hermione rose also.

”Of course, and it is my turn to suggest the entrée. Roast duck,” she said to the wizard, glad he hadn't pushed for more.

”Water fowl. How delightful,” he said to her, smirking, “As you wish.”

He opened the door and looked at her as if he would like to dart in and steal another kiss, but decided against it. What she had told him made him feel heady enough to carry him through this evening and the next.

Hermione hadn’t accepted his advances, yet she hadn’t rejected them either, which to Snape meant she felt at least some return interest.

Well, he had to work on her a bit more.

”Good night Professor,” Hermione said to him, breaking through his thoughts

”Good night, witch,” the wizard replied, exiting the apartment and striding up the hall to the foyer. Hermione heard the voice announce his departure.

As Snape strode across the grounds he thought about this upcoming Friday. If he were going to put his best foot forward, that would be the night to do it.

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A/N: Thanks for reading. ****