Yuleride

Chapter 7 ~ A Real Eye Opener

Hermione returned home feeling rather drained and out of sorts. Once again the Potions master had put one long thin finger on the pulse of her existence. She wasn’t completely dissatisfied . . . or that was what she told herself, but there were situations in her life that weren’t quite right.

”No one’s life is perfect,” she muttered as she let herself into her flat.

The truth was Hermione was heavily influenced by what others thought, as well as a desire to try and please everyone.

For example, everyone believed that she and Ron were meant to be together. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, the rest of the Weasley clan and even Harry. They would all be so disappointed in her if she broke it off with him and the Weasleys would probably never speak to her again. Hermione didn’t have a lot of friends. In fact, her life was quite tied up with the Weasleys. She visited with them on every holiday, had dinner there every weekend when she worked at the Charms factory, and was included in everything they did. It was as if they were already family. And it was because she was with Ron. She would lose that sense of being accepted if she dumped him.

As she sunk into her mundane life, it was as if Ron validated her in some manner. She had a long, stable relationship with him. Not many witches her age could say that they’d been with only one wizard in their lives. That made her feel a little . . . superior.

But what was she sacrificing for that false sense of superiority? To hear Snape tell it, she was being stupid and not living her life to the fullest.

Hermione undressed and lay down in the bed.

No, she wasn’t being stupid. She was being moral. Yes. Ron took her virginity and they had a “proper” relationship that proved she was a good, loyal witch, one that didn’t run around or throw herself at every wizard that caught her eye. Not that any did. Hermione didn’t dare think about other wizards, no matter how attractive they were. Only loose witches did that.

So why was she lying in bed thinking about professor Snape?

Because the dark wizard had touched upon a number of things Hermione wasn’t brave enough to face herself, the primary problem being that her life was dull and commonplace on all fronts. In her younger years, Hermione had dreams of doing something that would have an impact, leave a real impression on the Wizarding World. Something of consequence.

What this something was, she had never pinned down, but with Snape’s intervention, she was starting to see that life had much more to offer than a house within range of the Burrow, and an enormous amount of little red-headed Weasleys running about inside it demanding her attention.

But wasn’t that what good witches did? Married and raised families?

Hermione rolled to her side, knowing that her thinking of Snape was about more than what he was attempting to make her see. It was how he had made her feel in that one weak moment. How his kiss and touch made her knees weak and his voice was like silk wrapping around her body, calling to it, beckoning more intimate contact. If he hadn’t spoken his desire clearly and broken the spell he had weaved around her, she might have . . .

Hermione shuddered suddenly, goosebumps covering her body as a sharp twinge hit her belly. She knew what it was but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

It was frightening. She was attracted to the Wizarding World’s snarkiest wizard. Snape was unattractive, older than her and had a temper. But he was a hero, brilliant and courageous. And the way he talked about how sex was supposed to be . . .

But underlying everything else, what was most attractive about Professor Severus Snape, he was a man who had dreams of doing great things. Very great things. But they were more than dreams. He had a plan in place and was about to bring those dreams to fruition.

His dreams were in line with what Hermione’s dreams used to be . . . before she settled into dull acceptance of what her reality was, the fire within slowly burning out.

Hermione lay there, looking up at the ceiling.

Yes. She had settled. But she had the love of Ron and his family, a secure position at Hogwarts and a stable future ahead, if not an exciting one. She could make herself be happy with what she had. Life could be a lot worse. She could die trying to escape from savages, or get crushed in some trap if she went with Snape. Her life could be very short.

But very rewarding every day she did survive. And the discoveries. Dear gods. She would have access to elixirs not seen for centuries if at all.

But did she want to risk what she had for what could be?

Maybe the sexual problems between her and Ron could be addressed. It’s not as if they ever sat down and talked about it. Ron wasn’t very sensitive. Telling him there was a problem directly might help, though Hermione was sure he wouldn’t take her telling him she didn’t enjoy their sex life well at all. Ron would immediately turn it all on himself, arguing she was putting him down. This happened any time Hermione attempted to correct him. It wouldn’t be any different concerning sex. He’d probably be worse.

Hermione had to make a decision.

Little did she know, she was going to make it long before the end of term.

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Traditionally, Hermione accompanied Ron to the Burrow on Christmas Eve. They would all have a nice dinner, socialize and then at midnight open their presents. She spent Christmas Day with her parents.

“I have something really special for you this year, Hermione,” Ron said, smiling as they Apparated to his parent’s home. “You’re going to love it!”

Hermione was a bit hopeful that Ron did indeed get her something she’d enjoy. He wasn’t the best gift buyer and stuck with books, but books he liked rather than she liked. About Quidditch mostly.

”I thought it would help you learn more about the teams. Then we can have good conversations about them,” Ron would say when she opened the gift.

Sigh.

Maybe this year it would be different.

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There was the usual Christmas chaos at the Weasley household. George, Charlie and Percy were in attendance, as well as Fleur and Bill and Harry and Ginny. An empty plate and chair were in evidence at the meal as it was every year. That was Fred’s chair and it was never left out. It was how they remembered him.

They had their meal, then chatted afterwards, sipping eggnog, singing carols, George getting yelled at by Molly for testing out new jokes on everyone and generally having a good time.

Then midnight rolled around, and the gifts were opened.

This time, it was unreal for Hermione. Completely unreal.

Molly gave her a handwritten, hand-bound book.

”Those are recipes of all Ron’s favorite meals, Hermione. I know you’d appreciate having them on hand,” Molly gushed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said with a smile as Mr. Weasley handed her a long package. It was easy to tell what it was.

”It’s a broom!” Arthur exclaimed. “But it’s not magic. It doesn’t fly. You . . . you sweep with it. It’s for cleaning. Isn’t that something?”

Hermione looked at him a moment and sighed inwardly. Arthur Weasley felt everything Muggle was amazing. He had no idea she wouldn’t find the broom as exciting as he did. Still, she thanked him.

Ginny and Harry gave her a negligee in royal blue.

”That’s Ron’s favorite color,” Harry said blushing.

Fleur and Bill gave her a flatware set for four, and Charlie, Bill and Percy presented her with new pots, pans and silverware.

Hermione blinked at her “gifts” and then looked at Ron, who stood up importantly, his family looking at him smiling.

He produced a folded parchment from his pocket and handed it to Hermione.

”Happy Christmas,” he said to her.

Hermione opened the parchment and visibly paled when she saw what it was. The plans for a house built hardly a stone’s throw from the Burrow.

”I’m going to build a house,” Ron said to her, taking something else out of his pocket and bending down on one knee in front of Hermione, who started to shake. It felt as if the walls were closing in on her.

Now she understood. The recipes, the negligee, the broom, the dishware. Everyone was in on this.

Ron opened the box. Inside it was a ring with a small diamond setting. Hermione’s throat constricted, blood pounding in her ears as she saw Ron’s mouth form the words . . . words she couldn’t hear.

The faces of his family seemed to become close and distorted, gathering around her, trapping her in place. Gods, she couldn’t breathe! She couldn’t get any air! She had to get out of here!

”I’ve got to go!” Hermione cried, leaping up and running out of the door without a cloak or anything to protect her from the cold.

”Hermione!” Ron cried, taking off after her.

Molly shook her head.

“The poor thing. She’s overcome with joy,” she said.

Hermione ran through the yard as if pursued by Death Eaters.

”Hermione! Come back! You’ll freeze out here!” Ron cried, running after her.

He had almost caught her when she Disapparated.

Ron Disapparated also, appearing at her flat and looking perplexed.

”Where did she go?” he wondered as he looked at the dark windows.

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Professor Snape was dressed in his gray nightshirt and slippers, sitting before the fireplace and staring into the flames when he heard the pounding on his office door. Beside him on the table were the remnants of his supper and half a glass of Firewhiskey. Who the hell was that banging on his door this time of night? It was after one in the morning and Christmas Day. Whoever it was, they better have a damn good reason for disturbing him this way.

Snape grabbed his wand and exited his study. The pounding was still going on. His wand at the ready, he yanked the office door open.

“What is it?” he snarled, then his snarl faded as he looked at a wet-eyed and very pale Hermione Granger staring back at him as if she’d been frightened to death.

”May . . . may I come in, Severus?” she asked him, her voice pleading.

He caught a desperate note in her voice that made him respond.

”What happened? Why are you here this night? This late?” he asked her as he stepped back, his eyes narrowed as the witch entered.

Hermione blinked up at Snape gazing at his harsh face and into those cold, black eyes. He didn’t look the least bit sympathetic. He looked irritated in fact. Yet here was where she came for comfort. She had come to him to feel safe.

And she did feel safe now . . . at least for the moment.

”I’m running for my life,” she replied softly, then walked into his study.

Snape stared after her a moment, one finger rising to his lip as he stroked it thoughtfully.

Then he closed the door, warded it and entered the study behind her.

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A/N: Well, it is called Yule Ride after all. :::snicker::: Thanks for reading.