Forbidden Lover

Chapter Six
Waiting on the Blossom


After Christmas, Severus did some hard thinking. He did not make love to Hermione on Christmas Eve. He was too scared to attempt it. The other factor was her age. She was only sixteen, and he was not going to corrupt a sixteen-year-old. Next year, it would be an entirely different situation. Her continued curiosity and his were going to get them into trouble. Besides, he was afraid that his fumbling might run her away from him even though she'd been offering herself.

Hermione continued to sneak down to see him whenever she could. Often, she was flanked by Potter and Weasley, and all the two could do was glance at one another, longing in their eyes. Severus knew that she wore his necklace under her uniform, hidden from prying eyes. Mentally it was a turn on thinking about the silvery snake hanging between those lovely breasts.


For an ex-Death Eater, he lacked courage. If were still in his youth, Hermione would have been raped, bedded, and Severus would have moved on. Not anymore. The Death Eater still whispered to him in his mind, urging evil to return, but he fought it. He'd learned a valuable lesson in his years with the dark lord. Darkness had its uses, but so did the light. Now that he was living in it permanently he'd had to mend some of his ways.

Right, Severus, he thought. The Death Eater would never totally die; only take a few naps from time to time. It was a mistake he would pay for the rest of his life. At least Hermione seemed to be accepting him as he was.


His feelings were in turmoil, his heart leaping when she walked into class or if he were lurking in the shadows and watching her unobserved. Severus didn't want to get his hopes up that she would ever have true feelings for him. He'd been hurt too much the time or two he'd put his heart on the line. He watched her like she was his world, and he was worshipping her - in his own way of course. A Snape didn't worship anyone.


As winter morphed into spring, he continued to leave black roses on her pillow, something that was not lost on Ron and Harry.

Harry especially wanted to know why there was always a supply of perfect black roses in a vase in Hermione's room. The roses were enchanted, and only after many days dropped their petals and were replaced by another. Hermione spent a lot of time alone, staring out the window and reading or scribbling things that she hid when Harry or Ron would walk in.

"What's going on with you, Herm?" Harry asked her, one day close to the end of the school year.

"Nothing, Harry." She was distractedly packing her trunk, thinking how nice it would be if she could spend the summer at Hogwarts with Professor Snape. She wasn't happy with the prospect of leaving him behind.

She was bent over, folding clothing. She was wearing an old shirt and jeans. Her snake necklace dangled, the sunlight catching on one of the emerald eyes.

"What's that?" Harry reached down and lifted the tiny snake in his hand. He looked at it.

Hermione took it away from him quickly and tucked it down her shirt.

"It's a snake, isn't it? Like the Slytherin symbol."

"Yes."

"Where'd you get it?"

She didn't say anything, just kept packing, which worried Harry. First the mysterious black roses, now a snake necklace.

"You're not messing with Draco behind my back are you?" Harry asked.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Black roses, and a Slytherin necklace."

"Why is it so hard for you to realize that someone might just like me?" Hermione snapped.

"But Herm, you never, I mean, oh hell, I screwed it up, didn't I?"

She glared at him. She was not telling anyone about Professor Snape. He was too precious to her.

"I know you and Draco have a... thing. And I don't care. It's not Draco. I'm not telling you who it is."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way that it sounded."

She slammed the trunk.

"Then butt out," she said bluntly.

Harry left, wondering what had gotten into her. Normally, she spoke her mind. They'd been growing apart over the last year. He and Ron had other interests now. He hated to see it happen, but Hermione had her own life to lead as well. She was right, he shouldn't have been asking questions.

But he wanted to know which Slytherin she was getting involved with.


Harry would have been shocked if he'd known the Slytherin was in fact, Professor Snape himself.

The last day, after class Hermione threw caution to the winds and went down to the potions lab where she found Professor Snape scowling at the piles of papers whose grades he was scribbling onto the final report cards.

Severus heard her footsteps and knew it was she even before he heard her. She came right up to him.

"Hermione..."

"Professor, I..I don't want to leave," she said, her eyes looking wet.

"I don't want you to go," he replied. "But you have to. You have parents waiting for you, parents that probably would not care for my presence." He looked sad, wishing to himself that for once he were a normal wizard that was seventeen again.

"Could you, I mean, could we see each other over the summer?"

"Would that please you?"

"Yes."

Severus seemed to think a moment, hesitating, and then reaching a decision, took her by the hand.

"Come," he said.

He looked around both the room and down the hall, making sure that there were no other students loitering behind before taking her into his private study, where he rummaged through one of the desk drawers. Hermione watched as he removed a black bag, which he reached into. He withdrew his hand, and showed her a deep green stone.

"Here, take this with you."

"What is it?"

"It's a wishing stone. All you need to do is hold it in your hand, and call me. I will come to you."

"You will?" She moved closer to him, wanting to kiss him goodbye. He hadn't kissed her in several months since they hadn't been able to be alone.

His heart lurched. She was so close. He shut his eyes. Please...... he thought.

Severus, you damned idiot. She's ripe for the taking. Don't be such a twit. Quit shaking in your shoes. Take her to bed before she leaves us.

Hermione's arms went around him and he was helpless when she did that. Severus kissed her with all the emotion he could find within himself even as the Death Eater whispered ideas in his head. He felt wetness against his cheeks. She was crying. He slowly pulled away from her, and she buried her face in his chest, sobbing softly.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered, not daring to hope it was because of him.

"I can't leave, I don't want to. Ever."

He looked down at her, feeling his own eyes moisten. He kissed her again, and she pressed against him, hard, wanting to feel his strong body. She ached in secret places, wanting him to touch her and to show her things she'd seen in the Kama Sutra.

Take her now, here, on the carpet. She actually wants you, Severus. She'll spread herself for you.

His fingers dug into her shoulders until it hurt, but Hermione paid no attention as they were locked together. The wishing stone had fallen to the floor at their feet, glittering and forgotten as they hungrily kissed.

One of his hands was twisting in her shirt, wanting to rip it to shreds before he got a grip on himself. He carefully set her away from him, smoothing the rumpled fabric and stooping to pick up the stone and give it to her along with its bag.

"You need to go, love," he said, the word love feeling strange to say.

"I know," she wiped her eyes. "At least I have this." She clutched the stone in one hand.

He gently, almost reverently touched her soft face.

"We won't be apart. I promise," he said. How was he ever going to keep himself from brutalizing her?

"I'd best go, before I won't leave," she said, sniffling.

"Here, take this," Severus produced a black silk handkerchief from one of his pockets.

She could smell his scent on it, and she stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans.

"Good-bye, Professor Snape."

"Good-bye, Hermione."


She left him standing there, his heart thudding and his body tense with unleashed passion and need. For such an older man, he was a total idiot. He didn't know how to make love, and was going to have to fight the darkness in the bargain.



When Hermione went home to London, her Mother noticed that she was unusually quiet. She spent her first night home crying in her room. She missed the Professor.

Her Mother, Margaret, had come upstairs to check on her and could hear the muffled sobs. She tapped on the door.

"Hermione, are you all right?"

No response. She believed in privacy, but she opened the door, concerned about her normally calm daughter. She shut it behind her and went over to Hermione, who was sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, her face in her hands.

"What's wrong, dear?" Margaret sat down next to her.

"Nothing," she choked out. Gods, those arms of his, how she needed them now!

"Nothing? You've never cried over nothing." She smoothed Hermione's hair, which was starting to bush up a bit from the coming rainstorm. Thunder rumbled outside the window, and lightning lit up the sky.

Tears started afresh at the memory of his arms wrapped around her, and she sobbed out loud. Her body throbbed. She was so restless she could scream.

Her Mother took her in her arms and silently held her for a while as she cried out her heart.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I...I can't."

"Is it a boy, dear?" Hermione started crying again, so Margaret knew she'd hit the target and it surprised her. Hermione hadn't been involved with any boys, as far as she knew. Unusual; given the fact that she was fifteen or as Hermione explained to her, sixteen in the wizarding world. She hadn't a clue as to what a time turner was, but it had apparently aged her daughter.

"Why don't you tell me about him?"

Hermione wiped her eyes with a black silk handkerchief.

"It's all right," Margaret assured her. "I won't judge you if that's what you're afraid of. You're my level headed girl, and I've never known you to do wrong."

"Mum, it's...difficult."

"How so?"

"I just can't talk about it." She wished she could, but she didn't dare tell Mum that he was her Professor, the very Professor she'd fought with from the beginning.

"Has he touched you, Hermione?"

"No." He sort of had, but just on her breasts, which still swelled at the thought of his hands.

"Dear," Margaret began, and then thought about her own experiences as a teenager. She'd had a fiery nature at the time. She'd lost her own virginity with Matt Granger at the age of fifteen. It'd happened in the loft of the barn on her father's farm. "I've always been honest with you, haven't I...about things?"

"Y-yes, I suppose so," Hermione replied, wondering where her Mum was taking this conversation.

"Have you had sex yet?" she asked frankly.

"No."

Margaret sighed. She'd always been honest with Hermione, feeling that hiding facts wasn't a good thing. She was their only child, and had always been intelligent, so she hadn't seen any harm in telling her the truth.

"Well, you see, dear, I think that maybe..." she hesitated again, trying to figure out how to tell her beloved daughter that she was probably needing a good lay. "Maybe you... good grief."

"What's wrong? Are you okay, Mum?"

"Hermione, I'm trying to find a polite way to tell you that you're probably frustrated. I can't believe I'm even telling you that."

She looked at her Mum with wide, wet eyes.

Margaret continued. "Hormones, dear, make it hard. And you're at the right age where most teenagers are experimenting."

"How?"

"Haven't you ever been on a date at Hogwarts yet?"

"Just the dance with Viktor Krum two years ago. Boys don't really like me..."

"How could they not? You're a very smart girl."

"Mum, they don't care for my type. Some of them make fun of me. And it hurts. Other than Viktor, no one has ever really paid me much mind."

"Then who is this boy you're crying over?"

Hermione said nothing. In the silence, Margaret Granger started to wonder if maybe it wasn't a boy. And if it wasn't a boy... "He" had to be a man, one her daughter was pining for. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of that.

"Hermione. I am almost afraid to even ask you this, but would I be correct in assuming that the "boy" I'm asking you about would be more appropriately referred to as a man?"

Her daughter looked down at the carpeting as the rain started pouring outside, refreshing the stale air in the room. The fact that she wouldn't say anything confirmed Margaret's suspicion.

"Does he love you?"

"I...I don't know."

"Do you love him?" She'd loved Matt at fifteen, but he'd only been several years older than she was.

"Yes. Oh Mum, I love him so much."

She looked down at Hermione, and her brown eyes were shining with joy along with the pain of unshed tears.

"I'm trying to understand this," she said. "Are you sure that you don't just have a crush on whoever this is?"

"Maybe, Mum, but I...I can't explain it, exactly."

Where could she have met a man? In Hogsmeade? Margaret searched her mind, trying to mentally tick off a list of males at Hogwarts that weren't juveniles. It was hard, since she and Matt had only visited once and then only briefly. Most of the teaching staff they'd met had been old wizards, far too old for her daughter to even glance at a second time. The only younger male teacher was that strange man with the black hair who'd glared at everyone and caused her daughter no end of trouble. He was scary looking. It couldn't be him. It had to be someone in Hogsmeade.

"Are you taking any birth control?"

"What? Mum, I haven't..." Hermione felt her stomach drop. The thought of getting pregnant hadn't occurred to her.

"Look, dear. I don't like the idea of you being in love with a grown man. At your age, your body can make you do strange things."

"Like making love?"

"Yes, if you want me to be blunt. I am not encouraging you, but I do think that it might be a good idea to either go see our family doctor, or else do whatever it is that you do in the wizarding world to prevent children."

"I think they have a potion that prevents conception that you take every day."

"I don't want you to think I'm being hard on you, Hermione. I just remember how it was when I was your age. And sometimes it's hard to fight against the urges Mother Nature has built in. It makes your emotions hard to handle sometimes. I spent time crying too, if it makes you feel any better."

"What happened?"

"To me?" She'd unwittingly stuck her foot in her mouth. "I eventually lost my virginity. To your father," she confessed.

"How old were you, Mum?"

It was Margaret's turn to blush.

"I was fifteen. But your dad wasn't grown. And that doesn't mean it's all right to sleep with grown men."

"I told you I haven't slept with him." She hadn't, not exactly. He had spent the one-day in her bed, and she'd stayed with him the entire night on Christmas Eve, the two of them partially clothed, on his big bed. All they'd done was kiss, and touch each other above the waist.

"If you keep on, dear, you will. I hate to say that. But it's hard to say no when you're in the throes of first love. Men are different from boys. They are more mature and know how to handle a woman, especially one like you with no experience. The first time is going to hurt. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No, you didn't."

"Just be sure, Hermione. Your virginity is a gift; you can give it only once. If it has to be a grown man, then make sure you love him first. Will you promise me that?"

"Yes, I will."

"And please, don't tell your father. He won't like the idea of another man touching his child."

"I'm not a child anymore Mum. I'm nearly grown."

"You'll always be our child," she kissed her on the forehead before standing up. "Now go to bed, you'll feel better in the morning."

Hermione obediently crawled under the covers and Margaret turned off the light on her way out. She listened to her footsteps die away down the hall. Outside, the lightning made white jagged marks across the black sky. She thought about Professor Snape. He'd appeared in the hall as she was leaving, making her heart crack in two as they looked at one another. For once he wasn't glaring, he'd looked unhappy.

"Professor," she said softly to the ceiling.

"Yes, love?"

Hermione sat up in bed and stared. Professor Snape stood, silhouetted by the window, dark and shadowed, his cape blowing around him from the wind that blew from the partially opened window.

"Is it really you?" she whispered brokenly.

"Yes, I can't stay away," Severus apologized, sinking onto the bed next to her, and taking her in his arms.

Her stressed out heart calmed the minute he held her, and she nestled her head onto his lean chest. His fingers tangled in her hair.

"I'm glad you came. I missed you."

She missed me? Gods, his heart had broken when she'd gone out that door this morning. He'd been like a starving man after that kiss last night. It'd been too long without her before that kiss.

Severus, you devil. You just wanted to fuck her. That's all. She's still ripe and willing. You're alone in her bedroom with her. Go for it.

"I missed you too," he admitted.

"Do you have any birth control potions in the lab?" Hermione asked before she lost her nerve.

Severus stared at her in the dark. Was she asking......?

His finger shook as he caressed her cheek.

"Yes," he rasped out. "I supply Poppy with it."

"May I have some?" She stared into his eyes, and then said, "Will you make love to me if I take it?"

He was speechless, never having expected her to ask him such a thing.

"Have I made you angry?" her voice was sad.

"No, you haven't. I'm just surprised," he said.

Surprised that you want me to love you. No one has ever wanted my love. Or me.

Yes! Way to go Severus, a willing victim.

The Death Eater in him chuckled blackly. Go to hell, He said firmly, inside his mind, shoving the black need back.

"Hermione, I'll bring you some potion. But we need to wait."

"Why?"

"You are underage."

"Not by British law. You don't want me?"

"I didn't say that. I said that you are still underage. I can't do that to you."

Hermione pulled him down and kissed him, sliding her tongue in his mouth. She had a few ideas now from their past encounters. If the Professor wanted to be difficult, then she would make him want her. She would tempt him until he couldn't say no anymore, even if it took all summer. If Mum were right about hormones and urges, then the older the guy was, the more he would want. It made perfect sense to her.