The Scientist

a/n: This was truly meant to be a one-shot but it keeps nagging at me to add more - another couple of chapters should do it I hope!

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The courtship that ensued between Hermione Granger and Severus Snape was not smooth. There were no candle-lit dinners or trips to the theatre, no handholding on moonlit walks by the lake, and no sidelong, loving glances at the table in the Great Hall.

There were, however, stilted conversations that punctuated the atmosphere every couple of weeks, where Severus was unable to articulate himself properly and Hermione would leave in a flurry of perfume and ruffled feelings, and the dungeon door slammed in her wake.

But in-between the confusion, they had the chair by the fire and they had his bedchamber. And they had a passion between them that made the air crackle with a magical energy that grew to such an extent that on one memorable night, they had actually made love floating above the bedclothes, although neither of them had noticed until they reached their conclusion and fell back to the mattress with a soft flump. Hermione had giggled, and Severus had laughed, his body shaking against hers and his eyes dancing with the joy that she was beneath him, and he was still inside her, and this really wasn’t just some beautiful dream.

And so it went on, until Christmas came around again, and with it came the complicated issue of how Hermione would spend her two weeks holiday. Severus had infuriated her no end when he refused to tell her what he wanted. He had decided that this was her decision to make. His Christmas would be the same as every other year as far as he was concerned. He would remain at Hogwarts, there would be no decorations in his quarters, and should she choose to visit him, or perhaps stay a few days, then all well and good. At least, that is what he told Hermione.

What he really wanted was for her to stay with him. And not just for Christmas. But he hadn’t even told her he loved her, after a year of her sharing his bed, although he had been close, so many times. Hermione had no such qualms about telling him how she felt, usually in the throes of passion, or afterwards, when she laid her head against his chest and he had stroked her soft curls with his slender fingers.

‘I love you, Severus,’ she would mumble, half sated and half sleepy against his skin.

Severus would inhale a little, ready to form his reply, to tell her that he loved her too, that he would always love her, and that she filled his thoughts and his heart always. But he never did, and the words would die unsaid on the tip of his tongue, leaving them both disappointed.


******

Christmas morning had dawned, and there was snow on the ground around Hogwarts Castle. The dungeon was empty, although a fire still flickered in the hearth and sent tendrils of light around the room that bounced off the cut-glass decanter, still half-full of Ogden’s.

He had looked a lonely figure, his dark, thick robes wrapped tightly around his frame as he stood looking out over the frozen water. His blackness stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding snow, and if hadn’t been for a line of footprints showing the route he had taken to get there, one might have thought him to be a statue.

And then, a snowball had hit him squarely between his shoulder blades. He didn’t flinch, but bent and scooped a large handful of snow in his gloved hands and packed it together loosely. He turned, his face set, and walked purposely to the tree that stood tall and proud a few feet behind him. He stood beside the trunk and waited quietly.

Hermione had stood with her back to the rough bark, panting a little and biting her lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to give her away. Her woolly hat was pulled down over her curls, and she had rubbed her gloves together to dispel the remnants of wet snow that had stuck to the purple knit. She risked a look around the side of the tree, and her stomach had dropped in disappointment. He had gone back without her.

‘Shit,’ she had muttered with a sigh, and then stepped around towards the path, right into a face full of black leather glove and soft, white snow.

Severus had laughed as she sputtered and spat the snow from her mouth, and brushed it from her face with purple fingers. Her eyes were closed, and flecks of snow had stuck to her eyelashes like tiny diamonds. She had screwed her face up and started to laugh, and he grabbed her around the waist and kissed her soundly, not caring that they were in full view of the school and that anyone glancing in their direction would see them.

Hermione had clung to him, her joy still on her lips, and she had laughed into his mouth until she had sighed contentedly and wrapped her damp gloved hands around his forearms and leant against his chest, opening her soft mouth to his probing tongue. He moved his grip and crushed her fiercely to him, until she had gasped for breath and pushed him playfully with her arms, but he refused to move and pulled her closer, nuzzling his face into her neck and losing himself in her perfume.

‘I love you,’ he had murmured, and he felt her sag slightly against chest and squirm her hands around his body, splaying her fingers against his back and pulling him towards her, even thought he was so close there was nowhere for him to go. And they had held each other for what seemed like forever.

By the time they walked back to the castle hand in hand, the light had faded and the fire had started to die in Severus’s quarters. But it had seemed to both of them that the sun was shining and that everything was imbued with a warm glow as they walked quietly to the bedroom. Hermione had tripped over her open trunk as she stepped dazedly into the room, and Severus had caught her with strong arms as she stumbled.

‘When we are married we can expand our quarters, and your clothing can be stored more appropriately,’ he had muttered with a frown, glaring at her open truck and noticing for the first time just how cramped the space was for two.

Hermione had paused and stared at him open-mouthed; until Severus turned his gaze back to her and noticed her fish-like gape.

‘What is it?’ he had said, and his mouth had twitched slightly at the surprised look on her face.

She had smiled then, and shook her head as he pulled her closer and started to remove her clothing.

‘Nothing,’ she had said, still smiling. ‘Hurry up, though, won’t you?’

Their eyes met, and not for the first time that Christmas, the sound of laughter had bounced around the walls of the dungeons

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As proposal's go, I think Hermione should just count her blessings - I thought he'd never get there!