Beyond Pathetic

A/N: Ah, the inevitable hiatus, due to the inevitable scholarly pursuits. Well, that's over with for the moment, so I can, perhaps, finish this up. I have until Summer Semester starts, anyway. We'll see how this goes. Also, title named for good ol' Kurt V. Poor man, getting a crappy bit of SS/HG smut named after his most famous line. Speaking of smut, it'll make more of an appearance soon...

Thank you all

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After Severus stopped breathing, he dropped his fork.

His mind went numb. A tiny, cynical part of him struggled to move.

She…asked me…start breathing, Severus… she asked me…There you go…now, pick up your fork…good...

What came out of his mouth was something like “Excuse me?”

Hermoine giggled nervously, for all the world sounding like a twittering student.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner on Friday night. With me.”

“Ah, yes. That’s what I thought you said,” replied Severus. He was still numb. He took a bite of his food, which he absolutely couldn’t remember the taste of.

Hermione blinked at him, too confused and anxious to ask again.

So Severus finished eating.

He stood up, not looking at anyone, and left the hall. Oblivious to the students who cowered out of his vicinity, he made his way down to his quarters and closed the door slowly.

Alcohol.

Yes.

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Several shots of whiskey, a vial of potion to clear up said whiskey, and a few eye twitches later, Severus Snape stood at the door of Hermione’s quarters, mustering the courage to knock.

The obvious arguments against knocking included the fact that he had behaved like a mental patient.

However, the desire to actually have a (dare he say it…date…) with Hermione, not to mention his reputation in general, led his fist to the wood.

After a few moments, a dressing-gown clad Hermione stood at the door, with an unreadable expression on her face.

(This wasn’t due to any sort of complex emotion; merely a deep-seated confusion as to precisely which emotion she was supposed to be feeling)

There was a certain amount of silence.

“I…” began Severus, trying not to think about her tiny little pajama shorts, “…would like to apologize for my actions at dinner.”

There was a bit more silence. She wanted some kind of explaination.

Severus Snape was not a man who said “Er,” “Um,” or any sort of pointless nonsense. He thought it wasted time, breath, and it was something he associated with bumbling students. However, if there ever was a time in his adult life where an “Er,” would have been released, it was now.

“I am simply…not used to being…I mean, I’ve never…” he sighed, then continued slowly, “I’d be honored, Miss Hermione, to accompany you to dinner on Friday night.”

The look on her face grew into a small smile.

“Well, then. That’d be lovely. Pick me up at seven, will you?”

Severus nodded his assent, and, bowing slightly, turned to leave. A hand caught his arm.

“Severus…” said Hermione, “It’s quite alright.”

A very joyous professor made his way back down to his not-so-lonely dungeon that night.

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It was a long week, to say the least.

Severus kept his contact with Hermione at a minimum, not sure what to talk about now that their relationship had hesitantly moved to some sort of new level.

There was also the problem of what to wear.

This was a thoroughly perplexing issue, as Severus had worn a grand total of three outfits since he was old enough to pick out his own clothes. He just didn’t think it was in good taste to show up in Death Eater’s robes (and he wasn’t sure where he’d stuffed them, anyway). He actually still had his old Hogwarts uniform, but that thought just wasn’t one he entertained for a terribly long time.

All that remained was his teaching uniform,. (He had five pairs) so he settled on that. He tried to bring a little color to the affair by transfiguring his black button-up shirt white, but that made him look like a Muggle reverend, or something stupid. In the end, he merely changed into a fresh change of robes at the end of the day on Friday.

He looked into the full length mirror he’d never paid attention to before. Staring back at him was a professor looking like he was about to teach a classroom of Neville Longbottoms; stiff and highly nervous.

As an afterthought, he bound his hair back into a green band.

It would have to do. The clock above his fireplace read ten minutes till seven, and he knew it would give Hermione no end to amusement if he showed up late for anything.

The walk up to Hermione’s quarters was obscenely long. Several students were milling about, unfortunately not doing anything wrong. They stared in awe at his hair. Severus never did anything immature such as roll his eyes, but the eye-rolling mood gripped him momentarily. He amused himself for a moment by imagining their reactions if he actually had worn anything different.

Finally, he arrived outside Hermione’s door, and he knocked quietly.

She immediately opened it, slipping her wand into a handbag.

“Miss Hermione…you look…beautiful,” said Severus, rather shakily.

She did indeed. A little black dress clung to her form, revealing that ever-so-deadly bit of cleavage and a good portion of leg. Wrapping her cloak around herself, Hermione smiled, feeling nervous in spite of herself.

“Thank you. I like what you’ve done with your hair, by the way.”