It's always easier to run

Chapter 7


The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers. - M. Scott Peck.

_____________________


Snape forcefully dropped her wrists the instant the words had been spoken. Hermione brought them to her side as if she\'d been slapped. Moving from their close proximity, she made her way to the kitchen, wiping her eyes fiercely.

He could have said a manner of things. He could have scoffed at her pathetic display of emotions; he could have told her that magic wasn\'t completely to blame for her parent\'s death. He could have lied. But instead he merely watched her, wishing the moment they had shared had never happened.

Snape watched silently, completely unsure of how to act. Surely he\'d seen many a weeping girl, and on occasion he was the cause for such an occurrence, but to see the normally stoic and reserved Hermione Granger dissolving into tears (surreptitious ones, mind you) but tears nonetheless was a confusing matter. He watched her standing in the kitchen, her back to him. Moments passed before he heard her voice.

\"For three years I tried to forget what happened.\" came the low mutter. \" I tried to forget what happened to my parents. I tried to act normal.\" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, drawing a moderately unsettled gaze from Snape, not that she could see. \"And now you\'re here. And now I can\'t stop thinking about how much I hate everything about my old life. It\'s my old life that killed my parents...And I can\'t forgive Harry for what he\'s done.\"

\"Potter?\"

\"Yes Potter.\" Hermione spat out furiously, her back still to Snape. She was about to go on when she remembered exactly whom she was speaking with.

\"I think it\'s time we had a talk.\" Snape said severely, moving towards her, her frame twirling to view him. In her eyes he saw the folly of his suggestion, the anger in her eyes showing that his words were useless.

\"No.\" With a small sniffle and slow exaltation of breath, Hermione twirled around, heading for the laundry room.

\"I\'ll set you up a bed in here.\" Hermione said, motioning to the small space.

\"There is no need, Miss Granger.\" Snape\'s tone was firm, yet gentler than before and he held up a hand to stop her. Evidently things were going to be much more difficult than anticipated. \"I am more than able to facilitate my own accommodations for my duration here.\"

Hermione looked to him a moment, the rims of her eyes acquiring a reddish hue. She sniffled once more before imploring a hesitant; \"Using magic?\"

Snape said nothing, his gaze unwavering and giving her an answer. With that, he saw her growing apprehensive, and later defensive. It flashed within her eyes a moment, a matter of broken defiance as she looked back at him. She straightened, trying to intimidate Snape mused, but he wasn\'t as easily manipulated as this Simon character.

\"No.\" he finally answered after she\'d waited painstakingly long enough. His arms crossed in front of him lazily. \"Using magic under anything but an emergency is completely frivolous.\"

\"Fine.\" Hermione said, a hint of relief in her tone. They stood there, staring at one another stonily. Seeing Snape in her apartment was still that of a novelty. It reminded her faintly of running into her third grade teacher at the market. She had given one long incredulous look at the said teacher before rushing up to her and offering a demanding; What are you doing here?

But Snape was a different oddity altogether. For where there had been minimal ties between she and her grade school teacher, she had many to the enigmatic Professor. For almost every year she\'d been in Hogwarts they had been shadowed by the overgrown bat. He was always there, and this was also due to Harry.

\"I\'m going to have a nap.\" Hermione suddenly muttered lowly, giving him one last look of complete disenchantment before heading for her room and slamming the door behind her. Snape watched her precession to the bedroom and flinched at the booming sound of the closing door. How he hated loud noise.

This new Hermione Granger was one that Snape cared little for. She was loud, she was rude and Snape highly doubted if she was as dedicated to her studies as she once had been. He shook his head at the latter thought, finding that it he were right -and he usually was- then that was one of the biggest wastes of minds he\'d ever come across.

\"Was she always this testy, and I never noticed?\"

Deciding he would rather have a bit of time to himself, Snape decided to investigate what were to be his quarters for the rest of his duration in this strange little flat. He silently made his way to the laundry room, tsking and shaking his head at the minute space.

Most of which was taken up by two horridly tacky looking square boxes that came above his waste. Snape peered into the first large box, seeing a small circular window in the center of it. He looked to the top of the box, seeing several knobs and buttons.


He\'d heard of these items before! Weasley\'s father was almost blathering on about Muggle items. And if he recalled, there was one of this description. A screen...buttons. How idiotically simple to figure out...and completely useless.

\"Ah,\" Snape murmured to himself, looking to the item with scrutiny, affirming his prior beliefs. \"It\'s one of those telly-vision sets.\"

These items were the most prominent in muggle homes, Arthur had assured. Allegedly, you push a button and on the screen pictures come up. They\'re normally of people, muggle people. How strange...why would Muggles want to watch other Muggles?

Deciding that explore all that the strange Muggle world had to offer, Snape pushed one of the buttons on the top of the machine. Almost instantly the machine began whirring, and Snape jumped back with a thud of his heart. That was most unexpected. He kneeled down on the floor of the room now, looking to the window and waiting for the pictures Arthur had promised. He waited.

And waited.

All that Snape could see was various items of clothing being tossed about and this infuriated him. If Weasley could operate such a simplistic machine, he should be able to as well. He gave the large machine a well-deserved bash, wincing a bit as he viewed a small dent on the side of the telly-vision. Still the picture remained the same, and if he didn\'t know better, he\'d swear it was if the clothes were really inside the machine.

He stood, furious at his incompetence when suddenly a rattling sound emerged from the telly-vision. It sounded like loose change being scattered inside the strange box. The noise was horrid, screeching and Snape gritted his teeth fiercely, the sound causing his temple to pound.

\"Too loud!\" Snape bellowed, covering his ears after he\'d pressed all the buttons on the blasted machine. The damned thing wouldn\'t stop! In a flurried moment of panic that Miss Granger would catch him at his worst, he began furiously kicking at the machine, hoping to quiet it.

Nothing.

With a dark sigh overshadowed by the clacking of the machine, he prepared to go down the hall, insisting to the Granger girl fix the rubbish machine when a ginger flash of fur darted past him. Recalling the scruffy animal from before he scowled fiercely, his temper already skyrocketing as he raised a foot to kick at the animal.

\"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?\"

Snape\'s foot stopped mid-air as Miss Granger stepped into his humble abode, glaring at him furiously as she picked up her mangy pet. Evidently he had awoken her from her much needed nap. Snape -with hands still over his ears- gave her a testy glare accompanied by a motion towards her machine.

\"You\'re blasted telly-vision won\'t shut off!\" Snape bellowed, his voice positively booming. Hermione gave a deep sigh, placing a mewing Crookshanks on the floor and moving past Snape to the washer. Her shoulder grazed his own and he moved back, tentatively watching her movements as she caused the bestial machinery to quiet down.

And then there was blissful silence.

\"It\'s not the television.\" Hermione said in a huffy tone. \"It\'s the washer.\"

* * *

After that afternoon\'s humiliating display, Snape found it prudent that he was out of Hermione\'s sight for the rest of the night. He had offered no kind of apology for -\'severely damaging my washer!\'- As Miss Granger had claimed, and instead went on to say that the dents \'added character.\' Not surprisingly, she was not impressed.

She had tried to explain how Muggles did laundry, but finding that he was too embarrassed to even listen had given up halfway through and left him to his own devises, asking only that he not ruin any more of her things. He had made no promises.

Instead he had prepared his minuscule room the best that he could. Finding some spare towels in the laundry room, he had made himself a suitable bed on the floor, pink mind you, but a bed nonetheless. Leaving his shoes on, he\'d settled into the nest-like bed and slipped off into a dreamless sleep, finding it strange that sleeping on the floor he felt almost safe here.

- - -

The next morning he awoke with a pounding of his head, as if he\'d overslept and a rumbling of his stomach. He dug around in the small bag he\'d brought with him, frowning at the contents inside. There was barely enough to keep him alive for more than a week...and he had to use the lavatory.

\"Bugger.\"

He poked his head out of the laundry room, his dark eyes darting back and forth down the empty hallway. No Granger. No cat. No problem.

He gathered some new robes from his bag, and slipping out of the laundry room, Snape tentatively made his way to the bathroom, careful that his shoes didn\'t make much noise. He didn\'t dare wake the girl up. For some strange reason, he felt it necessary that they act almost as Professor and student even if it were a sham. It seemed more normal, more comfortable that way.

Using the girl\'s bathroom was still unsettling. Unfamiliar things had that way about them. When he\'d completed his buisness, he decided that a bath would be more than welcomed. He looked around the small space, noting the deep-set tub with a small nod of approval. Sadly, that was the only thing he approved of. The whole room was a gaudy red finish. Red walls, red shower curtain, red frilly thing on the toilet seat, red soap, red towels. Maddening really.

Frowning deeply, he went to the tub, finding it simple to maneuver. Making sure it had amounts of both temperatures, he watched as the steam off the water danced skyward. He felt hot then, and his clothing scratchy. Slipping out of his robes, and placing his boots quite near him, he surveyed the still water with mixed interest. He could see his reflexion in the water, and it displeased him. He looked much too tired.

He slipped into the tub then, slowly easing into the warmed water and basked in the tension that left his aching muscles. Slowly all the knots were loosening, he was becoming warmed inside and out. He could never really relax like this at Hogwarts. Funny that he could here.

His knees poked out of the mostly placid water, and he let his heavy head balance on the cool side of the porcelain tub as his arms rested along the edges of it. He squirmed a bit to get optimum comfort, his face shining. His eyes remained open, for he never closed them for long periods of time. He could only blame Voldemort for that. He had many things to blame Voldemort for.

He sighed unsettled then, his mind drifting back to Hogwarts and Voldemort. If only Miss Granger knew, if only she knew what she was avoiding. If he only knew what was fully going on so that he could convince her to return with him. If only he had someway of contacting Albus without raising suspicion.

When he\'d left on this most idiotic journey, Albus had been rather ambiguous with his need for Miss Granger\'s return. He\'d said little, and Snape had respected his decision. He was faced with the daunting task of returning an ex student, and he\'d believed it would be finding her that was the most difficult part. How naive.

\"You\'re to bring her back as soon as you can, Severus.\" Albus said lowly, his light eyes losing their shine. \"She is most important.\"

\"In what sir?\"

\"I\'m afraid it would be unwise at this juncture to inform you of exactly why, Severus.\" Albus continued nobly. \"But please know, what I\'m asking you is of the utmost importance.\"

\"Yes Headmaster...but what if the girl, what if Miss Granger refuses?\"

\"Then you must coax her.\"

Snape remembered the girl\'s stubbornness. \"And if she still refuses?\"

\"Do your best m\'boy.\" Albus said gravely, the lines of age on his face more prominent than ever. \"The lives of many rely on the safe and willing return of Miss Granger.\"

\"Silly girl.\" Snape muttered angrily to himself, scrubbing himself all over with the nearby soap. He\'d already been here a day and bit, and he still hadn\'t made any headway into getting the girl to return with him. He slapped the water at his sides angrily and stepped out of the tub, drying his hair with a nearby towel. His stomach rumbled louder then, and he looked down at the offending organ angrily, trying to stop the sensation.

\"Why does she have to be willing?\" Snape growled lowly, pulling on his fresh robes. He stopped, looking down at them dishearteningly. If he was going to blend as a muggle, he\'d better dress as one. He needn\'t arise any more suspicion than needed, and judging by the looks he\'d received from several of the students he\'d run into on the campus while searching for Miss Granger, robes weren\'t the latest in Muggle fashion.

He gathered his old clothing, shuffling into the laundry room softly, his boots newly cleaned in the bathtub. Now the little brat couldn\'t complain. He went to the \'washer\' and opened its lid, peering inside the dark recesses with a frown. What had Granger said? To just put them in? He faintly recalled her saying something about colors, darks and whites...but it was far too faint to recall. He tossed his robes in, wondering which button to press. Deciding he didn\'t want a repeat of the night before, he simply closed the lid and headed into the sitting room, intent on waiting for Miss Granger to rouse so that they may continue their talk of departure.

He passed the kitchen, noting the faint scent of something edible. Finding that hunger came before duty today, he retired into the kitchen, his dark eyes gleaming as he saw the pile of muffins waiting for him, along with a small block of butter on a tiny plate, and a butter knife. Hating the girl was proving to be difficult.

His perceptive gaze then noted the small piece of parchment lying next to the breakfast piece, and before he\'d even a chance to butter one muffin, he\'d began reading the note at a rapid pace, his eyes flicking back and forth, re-reading the sparse note.

Professor Snape,

I\'ve gone to school, and to the lab after.

I will be home around 6 o\'clock with supper.

Don\'t follow me.

-Hermione Granger.

Snape had to smirk softly at the use of their formal titles in the letter, but this _expression soon turned into a sour scowl. Now he\'d have to wait all bloody day for the little chit to return. He sighed deeply, his mind whirring in a panic before he remembered the delicious looking muffins.

Worrying over Miss Granger\'s arrival could wait.

* * *

\"Oh God.\" Hermione gasped breathlessly, her hands raking at Simon\'s back as he ground into her. His sweet smelling hair tickling her nose, his soft skin against her own, his light eyes hidden under lowered eyelids.

She could feel the slight roughness of his cheek against her own, he hadn\'t shaved this morning. He gasped out her name, his hands on her hips as he pounded into her and Hermione couldn\'t help but think that this was bliss.

It had started out innocently enough. She\'d come to him after classes before she was due to help at the lab, intent on informing him that \'Uncle Sylvester\' visit was going to be over quite quick, and that she was sorry he\'d been so rude the day before. She\'d barely gotten; \"I\'m sorry\" out of her mouth before Simon had pressed his lips over her own, unbuttoning her jacket as she moaned into his mouth.

\'No.\' she\'d said breathlessly, trying to break from him. \'I can\'t. I\'m due to help Professor Jennings in the lab in a few moments.\'

\'Tell her you\'re sick.\' Simon had implored playfully, kissing her neck as he spoke. Hermione felt all her resolve melting, succumbing to his sweet kisses over and over. It was only a matter of time before he was leading her back to his flat, barely making it to the bed as their clothes were flung all about the room.

He was very sensitive, so very gentle when they made love. He brought new term to the meaning making love, because Hermione actually felt that was what they were doing. It never felt seedy, or wrong. It felt as if she were giving a part of herself to him, as he was with her.

And now they were fervently copulating for the third time that afternoon, Hermione\'s back arching as Simon drew in and out of her, his taut body moving her in ways she never imagined. She could never have imagined that sex was anything like this. So amazingly pleasurable that it left her tingling all over after the fact, waves of intense ecstasy going through her.

He pumped into her furiously, and Hermione felt the familiar welling within her chest and below. It was always this same intensity. She pulled him into her, groaning and thrusting into him as well, gasping and writhing beneath him. Her eyes were shut tightly, and all she could focus on was the delightful electricity between her legs.

\"Do you like that?\" Simon growled pleasurably low, knowing what was going to come next. Hermione gripped him tightly to her, her hips bouncing against his own as her thighs began to tremble, their gleaming bodies pressed tightly to one another.

\"Yes Professor!\" Hermione shrieked as he exploded within her. Simon slowed, grunting a bit under his breath, coming down from his high as well. He rolled off of her, lying on his side and pulling her into a loving, post coatis embrace.

\"Professor?\" Simon teased, moving a damp strand of hair from Hermione\'s shining face as he smirked at her. \"That\'s a first.\"

\"Yes, I suppose it is.\" Hermione said with a shaky smirk, her body still trembling. Something in her words had startled her. She\'d never called Simon \'Professor\' it had always just seemed odd to her. She snuggled deeply into Simon\'s arms, trying to ignore the nagging suspicion in the back of her mind.

\"Oh bollocks, what time is it?\" Hermione suddenly cried out, moving over Simon\'s stomach as she glanced at the clock. Due to her bra being thrown overtop the said bedside clock, she had little luck deciphering the time. Simon turned over, grasping his watch and bringing it to his face.

\"I can\'t tell what it says,\" Simon said rubbing his eyes. \"I don\'t have my glasses.\"

Hermione glanced at the digital watch, her chest tightening in realization. \"Oh, it\'s past six!\"

\"So?\" Simon offered with a smile. \"You have a curfew now that Unkie Sylvester\'s here?\"

\"No,\" Hermione said with a shy grin, preparing to get dressed. \"But I should be going, he needs me.\"

\"I need you.\" Simon insisted, pulling her back down on the bed, absently stroking her breast, and watching as her eyes fell shut in rapturous abandon. She melted into his touch, and welcomed his mouth against her exposed flesh.

Worrying about Snape could wait.