Plan B

A/N: Only one more chapter to go. Thank you to my lovely reviewers who've been tracking this one. Mrs_Helene_Snape- personally I like Theodore.

Chapter 9


The doorbell rang, and since my parents weren’t home I thudded down the stairs to swing the door open for the delivery guy. I expected the delivery guy. I was caught entirely off guard though when I saw Severus standing on my stoop looking as if the world had come to an end. His shoulders were hunched and he was more than a little bit straggly. I instantly felt pity in my heart, but pushed that quickly away.


“So, let me guess, you got fired and you’re looking for help again?” I said with as much bitterness as I could muster hoping to drive the man away from my door. “Or are you here for a hand out?”


Severus’ head shot up immediately, his lips curling into a customary sneer that had been long etched into my psyche. His lips quirked as if he was fighting for a comeback, and I couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt. What could he say? If he responded in kind with harsh words I’d throw the door in his face. And placating words weren’t in the man’s nature either.


“Well?” I prompted.


“I came to ask your forgiveness,” he muttered so softly I had to incline my head just to catch the words.


“For what?” I asked, wrinkling my brow. “For taking advantage of my good nature, or for leaving me without a goodbye.”


I watched him shuffle, which was very un-Snapelike behavior, but then over the previous school year I’d discovered several things about the man that were very un-Snapelike. He’d been a man, a regular man, type-cast as a cruel character and lived up to the billing to the best of his abilities. I didn’t want to dwell on how much we had in common in that respect. Most people view me one-dimensionally as the walking-talking encyclopedia and don’t look much further than that.


I knew he wanted to come in the house, he was obviously very uncomfortable standing there, but I held the door with my hand only allowing him a glimpse of the foyer.


“You stopped coming,” he whispered.


“No, you stopped coming.” I corrected. For the briefest of seconds I was reminded of the way small children fought. ‘He hit me.’ ‘She punched me first.’ ‘I’m telling Mummy on you.’


Severus ran his finger through his stringy black locks, ostensibly to keep them out of his eyes, but they flopped in his face the moment he drew his hand back.


“Yes,” he admitted with a gravelly voice, his eyes darting everywhere but my face. “For the first several days I’d come home completely wiped and so exhausted that when I drop in bed I was out until the alarm went off the next morning. I should have said something. I should have told you, but then you were gone.”


“Oh.” I should have had something more intelligent to say, perhaps a word of advice, but I had nothing. Except for ‘oh’ which sounded so very intelligent. That actuality had occurred to me, knowing that he’d have to adjust to a new schedule and handle difficult kids all day, but I’d been angry. And hurt. And not willing to forgive. He hurt me by not being there. He was my friend and he left. He was my… companion and I felt abandoned.


We stood there, both feeling distinctly awkward and I realized I had the absolute power at the moment. Just as I had offered to show him how to use a computer back those long months ago I could either let him in or close him out.


I didn’t want him gone.


“Well,” I said slowly, opening the door wider, “I’ve got coffee in the house, it’s nowhere near our usual standards, but it’s palatable.” Actually I thought it was right foul shit, but then I wasn’t much of a coffee drinker anymore. It just wasn’t my cup of tea.


I stepped aside, holding my breath, waiting to see how he’d react.


Severus straightened, bolstered by the offer, his posture returning to his normal ramrod perfection. Something I’d always admired about him. And walked gracefully through the house to the back kitchen. I smiled when he took my father’s seat at the table. This had been the scene of the crime, well nearly; it was here in my parent’s kitchen that we’d plotted our mayhem. Strange how life leads us full circle sometimes.


Working efficiently I blended beans from French and Italian roasts. Put them through the hand grinder and filled the percolator. While it perked I sat at the table, one leg kicked over the other, fingers drumming impatiently on the table, and not knowing what to say to the man who’d been so dear to me for so long, and now felt like a stranger.


“Hermione,” he rasped. His hand came up, covering my drumming fingers, stopping their nervous tapping.


I lifted my eyes to his dark glittering orbs and was mesmerized by their depths. I don’t know how I knew, but it was plain. He loved me. I didn’t need to hear the words, he’d written them on his heart, which he wore openly. Like a Gryffindor.


When was it that I realized I love him in return. Had it been days, months, or seconds ago? Maybe I knew the moment I heard his powerful silken voice singing chants to the darkness to call forth a demon.


I stiffened in my chair, unwilling to listen to the nagging voice that suggested the one thing I’d always feared and consequently kept out of my thoughts.


“I don’t think this is right.” I said hoarsely, my voice tripping over the heavy blanket of unsaid words in the air. The feelings of apprehension and anticipation that clouded us both. I swallowed thickly, “I don’t think we should see each other again.” My words were nothing but hollow whispers but they were sharp enough to strike true into Severus’ chest, the knife twisting as I refused to meet his gaze. Refused to see the harm I knew I was doing to him.


“I’m so afraid you’re only here because of a mistake I made in bargaining with a demon.” There, I’d said it. The haunting fear that made me keep him at arm’s length even when I knew he wanted more. Even when I’d seen the desire to hold me, kiss me, and make love to me, when we were sipping wine from paper cups.


“Yes,” he said stiffly. “It’s possible. I’ve given our situation much consideration over the years.”


“Our situation?” I asked, my voice gone a bit shrill even to my own ears. Our emotionally charged conversation deftly reverting to academics, or at least from my perspective. I could handle this. An analytical discussion of demons was much better than admitting my desire to run my own fingers through his lank stringy hair. A desire that I’m perfectly ready and willing to deny.


“I felt something in the circle, as we said good night.” Severus began softly using his best lecture voice. “When our eyes connected while saying good bye I felt an unnatural tug.” He paused to frown at his own description and memory. “I don’t know if you or I will ever truly know whether that tug was some form of obligation taking effect or the byproduct of our unique experience. Perhaps it was simply then I realized that I was quite taken with you.”


My jaw was open, which must have looked quite unseemly, as my lips worked to form vowels and consonants that should, ideally would, form words. But words did not come. We had never spoken of that night, and indeed he’d never confessed any feeling of magical compulsion. A shiver rocketed down my spine.


“I followed you. I’ve been watching your movements since then. I admit it took me quite awhile to work up the nerve to see you, or rather, let you see me, but I can’t help but follow you Hermione.”


“No. No no no no no,” I repeated, violently shaking my head. No! This was wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. If he loved me it was because we had made a connection, a wonderful connection over coffee and discussions as odd and varied as muggle philosophers and Sybil Trelawney’s penchant for singing boy band lyrics at the head table.


“I bought a laptop to impress you. I thought maybe if I looked like the kind of people you knew and hung out with you’d notice me.”


The chair scraped loudly across the linoleum as I backed away from the table, my arms out in front of me trying to hold back the revelations, trying to undo the damage.


“I wasn’t even that keen on the coffee,” Severus sneered making a face of distaste, “In fact, I think I might actually hate espresso.”


“Severus, you’ve got to go. We’ve got to stop this. It’s madness!” I cried, backing towards the counter tops. “Please go,” I pleaded.


His brow furrowed, his voice rich but without malice or accusation, “Why Hermione? Can’t you see I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you?”


Hot tears swam in my vision, “Not like this,” I choked. “I don’t want you to love me because of some demon’s bargain; I want you to love me for me.”

“I know,” he said serenely. His rich voice even and calm in comparison to my near hysterics. He was approaching me, and suddenly my back at the counter top was a very bad idea. I felt cornered and boxed in, ready to hyperventilate and scream at the injustice. The man I loved, yes, I’ll admit that now, the man I loved was forced to act this way. Magically compelled. I was a fool. What’s more I felt like a fool in danger as he stalked me.


Severus’ palm came up to stroke my cheek and his thumb wiped away tears I was only vaguely aware of from streaming down my face.


He stepped closer, pressing me against the cabinetry, his pelvis grinding into mine. Despite my own pain and fear at the entire situation the contact was heavenly and I could only close my eyes and lean against his warm broad chest.


“I don’t want this,” I sniffled, no doubt leaving ugly snot bubbles on his pressed work shirt. “I never wanted anyone to be forcibly bound to me.”


“I know,” he repeated again, running his long fingers through my hair, snagging occasionally on my tangles, but not commenting on the hag’s hair I knew it looked like. His hands were soothing as they ran up and down my body, blessing me with the contact I’d been craving. The desire I’d felt for him sitting in a little all night coffee bar where occasionally when our knees would touch or our hands would brush a little bit of electricity would rush through me at the connection.


“I don’t think we’ll ever know if there is magic involved here or not,” he said slowly, “But I’d rather not think on that possibility if you don’t mind. I wish you’d just enjoy what we have… what we had,” he corrected himself. His voice laced with pain and self loathing.


“Oh Severus,” I moaned, gripping his waist tighter. When had my arms come up to embrace him? Nevermind. “I wanted to ask what you asked for. I wanted to make sure that Voldemort would never be able to transcend to our world again. I never meant to ask for anything else.”


He planted a warm comforting kiss on my forehead. “I thought so,” he mumbled his breath hitting my ears as his kisses trailed lower. His beautiful nose tracing a path on the side of my face. Yes, it was beautiful; no I won’t apologize for finding him beautiful. Or sexy. Through lowered lids I saw the pulsing vein in his neck thumping in tune with his heartbeat, his exposed neck right before me. The top two buttons on his shirt casually open, revealing a few dark hairs beneath. I swear it was the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.


He drew back slightly to pierce me with his penetrating stare.


“Hermione, if you had spoken first and requested that Voldemort’s soul not be allowed to enter our plane of existence, do you know what I would have asked for?”


Struck down by the face of the wizard I knew I wanted to be my lover I could not answer him properly and could only manage to shake my head.


“The same thing you asked for. Though I’d have less compunction about someone being magically compelled to love me… could you, Hermione? Could you love me?” His eyes held only the smallest trace of tear as if he not only feared rejection, but expected it.


“Yes, Severus,” I responded, my throat dry. “I could love you. I already do.”


*
Awww, isn't that sweet? Schmootches, A.V.