Remember When It Rained
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
5,294
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
5,294
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Nine
Remember When It Rained
Chapter Nine
Tears For You That Will Not Dry
‘Don’t lie to me,’ her voice heavy with tears, rang in his ears. ‘You want this as much as I do, and you know it!’
Hers was the only voice he heard, in spite of the noise in the Great Hall, as the first night of term commenced. He allowed his hands to idly toy with the gold cutlery before him, as he tried to rid his brain of the sound of her tears.
‘You want this as much as I do, and you know it!’
He glanced at the crowd of students, using his curtain of hair to shield his eyes from them, and saw her enter the hall with a determined look on her face. She looked as if she had not a care in the world except for her red rimmed eyes. With a few whispered words from him, the signs of her tears faded as she sat in her customary seat next to her friends.
Potter, he saw scooted away from her as she took her seat next to him, earning a scowl from her. He watched as she leaned over to him and watched her lips move as she spoke. He shook his head and rose from his seat, then without a backward glance strode from the room, leaving a stricken looking Hermione behind.
White hot rage coursed through his veins at the way Potter dismissed her obviatteattempt at reconciliation. His hand clinched around the handle of his knife as he willed himself to not get up from his seat and pursue Potter. He couldn’t answer for what he would do the stupid boy.
‘Hermione,’ he thought as memories of the kiss in the garden returned unbidden at the sight of her trembling lips as she tried to stifle the tears that threatened to fall. He watched her brush off Weasley’s attempts to comfort her and glance up at the Head Table, searg fog for his eyes. ‘What am I to do with you?’
The Sorting and the feast that followed passed by too slowly for his liking. All he desired was to retreat to his chambers, pour himself a drink, fall into his favorite chair and repeat his earlier mantra. It must never happen again, it was wrong, that kiss, his feelings, and his desire for her. Perhaps, he thought, with enough repetition and fire whiskey, he would even come to believe it.
Yet, as he watched her dejected figure leave the hall, he knew that it would not be so. He would never forget the way her mouth felt on his, the way her body had felt against his. Her tears, her words, ‘Don’t lie to me! You want this as much as I do and you know it!’
She was right, he acknowledged to himself. He had wanted nothing more than to take her there, in the middle of the pathway. To make her his, to take her and possess her, body and soul. But he was her Professor and he was who he was. An ex-Death Eater, a murderer, a practitioner of the Dark Arts. There was a war on, and his role in the war was a dangerous one. Hermione drew attention to herself with her intelligence and power and friendship with Potter. It wouldn’t do to put her any further at risk by making his tender feelings toward her known. There were too many spies in Slytherin. He had to tread carefully.
Therefore, he decided as he plopped down on his couch, fire whiskey in hand, he would treat her just as he always had. With disdain. It would hurt her, he knew. She might even come to hate him again, but she would be a little safer. Just a little.
In Gryffindor Tower, far above the dungeons, Hermione Granger was settling into her Head Girls room, albeit with some alacrity. She was, of course, proud that she had attained the highest student position at Hogwarts. She had earned it, she felt. She had worked hard for it and had, in truth, expected nothing less. Yet her joy was tempered by the still existing rift between her and Harry, and the pain in her heart over the rejection by Severus.
Severus, she thought, for he could never be anything but Severus to her now. Severus who kissed her like she had never been kissed before. Severus who didn’t think that she was odd because she would rather read than play Quidditch. Severus who was such an enigma to her, someone that she wanted to know better. He was dark and light, proud and humble, powerful and weak. He was so much more than what the students saw.
She plopped down on her bed and grabbed Crookshanks. Hugging him to her, she sighed and allowed a tear to slip down her cheek.
“Oh, Crooks!” she whispered. “Harry hates me, Severus won’t tell himself the truth and I just don’t know what to think!”
Crookshanks answered her with a purr and snuggled closer. They lay there, the two of them as she cried silent tears while she stroked her familiar’r.
r.
He room was silent except for the steady purr of the half Kneazle half Tom Cat and the cricket’s song that floated through the open window. Eventually her tears ceased to fall and her eyes drifted closed as sleep overtook her.
AN: Sorry it’s so short, but this is a bridge chapter. I promise, more action to come, including a wide variety of citrus! Live long and prosper, Titania
Chapter Nine
Tears For You That Will Not Dry
‘Don’t lie to me,’ her voice heavy with tears, rang in his ears. ‘You want this as much as I do, and you know it!’
Hers was the only voice he heard, in spite of the noise in the Great Hall, as the first night of term commenced. He allowed his hands to idly toy with the gold cutlery before him, as he tried to rid his brain of the sound of her tears.
‘You want this as much as I do, and you know it!’
He glanced at the crowd of students, using his curtain of hair to shield his eyes from them, and saw her enter the hall with a determined look on her face. She looked as if she had not a care in the world except for her red rimmed eyes. With a few whispered words from him, the signs of her tears faded as she sat in her customary seat next to her friends.
Potter, he saw scooted away from her as she took her seat next to him, earning a scowl from her. He watched as she leaned over to him and watched her lips move as she spoke. He shook his head and rose from his seat, then without a backward glance strode from the room, leaving a stricken looking Hermione behind.
White hot rage coursed through his veins at the way Potter dismissed her obviatteattempt at reconciliation. His hand clinched around the handle of his knife as he willed himself to not get up from his seat and pursue Potter. He couldn’t answer for what he would do the stupid boy.
‘Hermione,’ he thought as memories of the kiss in the garden returned unbidden at the sight of her trembling lips as she tried to stifle the tears that threatened to fall. He watched her brush off Weasley’s attempts to comfort her and glance up at the Head Table, searg fog for his eyes. ‘What am I to do with you?’
The Sorting and the feast that followed passed by too slowly for his liking. All he desired was to retreat to his chambers, pour himself a drink, fall into his favorite chair and repeat his earlier mantra. It must never happen again, it was wrong, that kiss, his feelings, and his desire for her. Perhaps, he thought, with enough repetition and fire whiskey, he would even come to believe it.
Yet, as he watched her dejected figure leave the hall, he knew that it would not be so. He would never forget the way her mouth felt on his, the way her body had felt against his. Her tears, her words, ‘Don’t lie to me! You want this as much as I do and you know it!’
She was right, he acknowledged to himself. He had wanted nothing more than to take her there, in the middle of the pathway. To make her his, to take her and possess her, body and soul. But he was her Professor and he was who he was. An ex-Death Eater, a murderer, a practitioner of the Dark Arts. There was a war on, and his role in the war was a dangerous one. Hermione drew attention to herself with her intelligence and power and friendship with Potter. It wouldn’t do to put her any further at risk by making his tender feelings toward her known. There were too many spies in Slytherin. He had to tread carefully.
Therefore, he decided as he plopped down on his couch, fire whiskey in hand, he would treat her just as he always had. With disdain. It would hurt her, he knew. She might even come to hate him again, but she would be a little safer. Just a little.
In Gryffindor Tower, far above the dungeons, Hermione Granger was settling into her Head Girls room, albeit with some alacrity. She was, of course, proud that she had attained the highest student position at Hogwarts. She had earned it, she felt. She had worked hard for it and had, in truth, expected nothing less. Yet her joy was tempered by the still existing rift between her and Harry, and the pain in her heart over the rejection by Severus.
Severus, she thought, for he could never be anything but Severus to her now. Severus who kissed her like she had never been kissed before. Severus who didn’t think that she was odd because she would rather read than play Quidditch. Severus who was such an enigma to her, someone that she wanted to know better. He was dark and light, proud and humble, powerful and weak. He was so much more than what the students saw.
She plopped down on her bed and grabbed Crookshanks. Hugging him to her, she sighed and allowed a tear to slip down her cheek.
“Oh, Crooks!” she whispered. “Harry hates me, Severus won’t tell himself the truth and I just don’t know what to think!”
Crookshanks answered her with a purr and snuggled closer. They lay there, the two of them as she cried silent tears while she stroked her familiar’r.
r.
He room was silent except for the steady purr of the half Kneazle half Tom Cat and the cricket’s song that floated through the open window. Eventually her tears ceased to fall and her eyes drifted closed as sleep overtook her.
AN: Sorry it’s so short, but this is a bridge chapter. I promise, more action to come, including a wide variety of citrus! Live long and prosper, Titania