The long and winding road to love

Chapter 3: Detention in the dungeons





I’ve just finished eating lunch (yes,
yes…it’s four in the afternoon) and I figured I could upload chapter 3. I’ve
written till chapter 9 now and I’m very happy with the story. Anyhow…thanks for
your reviews! They were awesome.

My dear Dawniky! I thought you’ve forgotten
all about me! Yes…it’s a SS/HG fanfic. I hope you like “the long and winding
road to love”.

Thanks to Lily Malfoy and to Kairi (my
new friend who made me a princess at Bertie Botts; check it out) who helped me with the spelling and
grammar.

 

So here it is; chapter 3…enjoy!

 

Chapter 3: Detention in the dungeons

 

Severus Snape felt old. His back ached, a few of his
black hairs had turned white anw wrw wrinkles had carved their way across his
sallow skin.

 

His life had never been easy… and he had lived so much
in so little time that it seemed impossible for him to think that he was only
39 years old. He felt so much older than that. His days as a young Death Eater
were still fresh on his mind eventhough nearly 20 years had passed since the
day he had changed sides. Since then, he had worked under Albus Dumbledore’s
wings and he couldn’t believe that the old man staring back at him in his
mirror was Severus Snape.

 

He resembled his father in many degrees, eventhough he
failed to admit so. His dark greasy hair, his long sallow teeth, his pale skin
and yes… even his slim legs. He had fought in several battles and he owned a
body envied by many men. The problem was that Severus was unable to feel
handsome; he was unable to feel he could own something other than intelligence.
And, perhaps, this was the cause of his insecurity.

 

He was staring at himself in the mirror, holding his
breath for his stomach to contract, when the bell rang.

 

Dinner was ready.

 

Lessons that day had passed slowly and he was now
about to face Miss Granger for the first time since their meeting earlier that
day with Hogwarts most famous Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He did not like the
idea of having things in common with that silly little girl, but now he was stuck
with her for good.

 

And so, buttoning the remaining buttons of his robes,
he opened the great oak doors that show the way to his chambers and disappeared
slowly, but gracefully, into the many corridors that lead to the Great Hall
where dinner was already served.

 

--*---*--

 

The Great Hall was filled with students of each house,
devouring every spoonful of their favourite meal available that day. The house
elves seemed to be gaining some experience and their food was getting more
marvellous by the day, if that were even possible. Harry and Ron were sitting
next to Hermione discussing recent news on Quidditch when they noticed that
Hermione was playing with her liver pudding.

 

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Harry asked above Ron’s
head. Ron was so tall that Harry almost needed to stand up in order to see
Hermione’s bushy hair.

 

“Nothing, Harry…I have detention with Snape today,” she
said, still not looking directly into either of the boy’s eyes.

 

“That’s terrible, Hermione,” Ron protested, “but why
did you do to earn yourself a detention?” he asked.

 

“Well, I just…I was…,” she d tod to explain, but she
had suddenly lost the ability to speak. She had faced the same situation the
night before, when speaking to Snape and she couldn’t believe that she was such
a bad liar. “I mean…I was…,” she once again attempted to explain, but failed. Luckily
enough, Snape interrupted their little conversation.

 

“Miss Granger, I see that you have finished your meal.
Could you be so kind as to direct yourself to my dungeons? It’s time for you to
serve detention,” he said, looking down at her.

 

She nodded, silently thanking God’s mercy. Why was she so ashamed of them knowing about her depression?

 

Anyhow, they were now walking towards Snape’s personal
laboratories where he brewed his own potions. He was leading the way, about a
metre and a half ahead of her. Hermione was timidly following his Potion’s
professor, the hem of his robes barely touching her exposed ankles.

 

Hermione wasn’t entirely able to point out why in the
name of Merlin she felt so aroused by Severus Snape. May be it was the little
connection between her skin and his clothes or perhaps the silence surrounding
the both of them that had turned her knees to jelly. As I said, she wouldn’t
know.

 

“Miss Granger,” he said minutes later, “Could you walk
quicker? I knew from the start you were lazy for extra curricular activities.
We will not make any progress this way, Miss Granger,” he confessed, knowing
perfectly well that she wouldn’t resist a challenge.

 

“Of course, professor,” she said, nodding frantically.
He turned around and was pleased to see that the hem of his robes were now
entirely touching her legs and he couldn’t help but wonder what Miss Granger
was wearing under those strict Gryffindor robes of her.

 

“Severus, old boy, you’ve had one lonely night too
many,” he reminded himself while shaking his head no.

 

Hermione wondered what was going on inside the
professor’s head at the moment.

 

“Very well, Miss Granger, here we are,” he said,
opening the door with his left hand.

 

She entered the laboratory and was shocked to see how
many yellow jars a person could ect.ect.

 

“Miss Granger, as you may see, my personal laboratory
holds the largest collection of dissected animals in the Wizarding World. There
are 3,000 species in this room and I possess most of the ingredients available
in the world,” he started to say, but when he turned around to face Miss
Granger he was amazed to fi sur surprised Hermione with her mouth fully open.
She was pacing around the room, too scared to touch anything.

 

“Miss Granger, are you listening?” he said, raising
his tone of voice a little bit.

 

“Yes, professor… it’s just that I had never seen so
many interesting things together in my life. Do you mind if I touch?” she
asked.

 

“Yes, Miss Granger. I do. As much as I would love for
you to mess with the animals I have personally devoted my leisure time to
collect, I will not allow you to touch anything unless I say so,” he said,
settling himself in his black chair, “Please, sit down, Miss Granger,” he
ordered. She did as told.

 

“Miss Granger, let me be honest with you. I despise
most of your know-it-all habits and I regret the advice I gave you last night but
the Headmaster thought it appropriate for us to brew a potion together and even
though I hate this more than you do, I will follow orders. However, that does
not mean we are colleagues. You are still my student and I am still your
teacher, so you will refer to me as “professor” or “sir”, is that clear?” he
asked, with hate in his black eyes.

 

Hermione swallowed hard.

 

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

 

“Very well Miss Granger. Do you know what kind of
potion we will be developing tonight as well as the next three nights?” he
asked, standing up from his throne.

 

“No, sir,” she answered shyly.

 

“We will work on a potion known as the desire potion
or “desous potion”. This tonic has the power of both
a truth potion and a love potion which is illegal. This cocktail allows the
drinker to specify the object of their desire and it stimulates the brain in
order to fulfil said desire, Miss Granger,” he started to explain, but he was
interrupted by a very excited Hermione.

 

“That’s wroferofessor Dumbledore wanted us to brew
this potion. If Alice and Frank Longbottom manage to specify the object of
their desire, it will be easier for the healers to cure their mental illness.
Happiness is a very potent ingredient for sanity,” she explained, very
matter-of-factly.

 

“Exactly, Miss Granger, this potion, however, is very
difficult to brew. It is very complicated and it is very dangerous if poorly made,”
he explain

 

“We should start right away,” she said, clapping her
hands together. She was ready, oh gods! She had been ready for an opportunity
like this for ages.

 

“Yes, Miss Granger. The sooner the better,” he said
unbuttoning his robes. Hermione blushed. Snape noticed, “Miss Granger, you
won’t expect me to spoil these handmade robes with such toxic products, now
will you?” he asked, “I suggest you to change into these,” he said throwing a
white robe and some protective goggles to her.

 

“Yes, sir,” she timidly said while unbuttoning her own
school uniform.

 

That, my friends, would be the first of many
detentions together; of many very long, long nights together. And, lucky enough
the first of many times in which the both of them would strip out of their
clothes.