Climate Change

Snape was well aware that he had been in the shower for a ridiculous amount of time. His body did not need a third thorough scrubbing, and his hair...though he supposed some might disagree...did not require a second washing and conditioning. Granger, he concluded, was entirely to blame for this shameful waste of shampoo products and fresh water. It certainly was not his fault that he needed a long shower to cool down and to wash away the mass of confused emotions sitting at the pit of his stomach.

Unfortunately, it seemed to make no difference how long he stood underneath the warm water, the confusion refused to be washed down. He let the spray massage his neck and shoulders for a few extra minutes, but again, he was unable to shunt his mind away from the annoying feelings plaguing him. Finally, he acknowledged that it would be quicker to let them creep up to his brain to be identified than to wait for them to disappear on their own.

Guilt and remorse seemed to be the predominant feelings.

As he acknowledged said remorse, it was the unfairness of it all that aggravated him the most. Had he not gone out of his way to prevent feelings such as these from occurring in the first place? Damn it! She had been the one to write the conditions down, and she had somehow managed to break three conditions all at once by looking at him with a hurt look that seemed to say 'I can't believe you're going to leave me here after this.' Whatever happened to condition number two...they would eat by themselves, and condition number three...there would be no snuggling, and more importantly, condition number four...there would be no hurt feelings? The hurt look in her eyes had no right to imprint itself in his mind. He'd been looking for new material to wank to, not new material to feel guilty about. The only image he wanted of his colleague was the one in which she was pinned underneath him, her face tilted upwards in ecstasy...Gods, the look on her face...as her climax radiated in waves from her cunt to his cock, sending him over the edge.

That image would have done the trick, but now he was stuck with 'the look' instead. And to top it all off, not only did he feel regret, he also felt guilt.

Good God! How in the world had Granger managed to complicate something as simple as a night of mindless sex? Why was he in his shower washing instead of getting sweaty? Why was he wasting precious time in here instead of enjoying the effects of the charm?

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

The crux of the matter was that he was not absolutely certain the Snow Day charm had, in fact, been triggered at all.

If the charm had set, then it felt completely different than when he had experienced it almost a decade ago. The lust had certainly been as strong, but this time he was fully aware of who he was with instead of seeing his partner in a distorted kind of kaleidoscope effect. Well, at least that's how he remembered it. Should he have said something to her? Perhaps. But had Granger actually given him a chance? No. If he remembered correctly, and he did, they had been waiting for the charm, drinking wine and discussing magical theory. And before he knew it, she had begun to undress him. He was fairly certain that no wizard, Slytherin or not, would have chosen that particular moment to bring up the possibility that the charm might not be in effect. Damn! He still could not believe that her first attempt at wandless magic had resulted in the complex motion of unbuttoning... his shirt.

She had disrobed him and then proceeded to snog him so completely that it had disintegrated all of the words that he needed to complete a full sentence. Could anyone blame him for not speaking up? He had tried to slow things down, but she had rubbed herself wantonly against him and grabbed his cock through his trousers, nearly making him come on the spot. Perhaps the entire episode had been too quick, but she certainly had not seemed to mind. In fact, she had appeared to crave the fast pace and the intensity.

Was that not a sure sign that she had been affected by something?

He quickly absolved himself of any sins of omission and turned off the water. Why was it up to him to figure this out, anyway? Didn't she claim to know everything? Just because he had experienced the charm for a full ninety seconds did not make him a Snow Day expert.

As he towelled himself dry, he thought of Hermione and the way she had snogged him as if her life had depended on it. The image of his beautiful, witty colleague sprawled on his coffee table replayed in his memory. She had been so warm and intense and as eager as he had been. It was obvious that she had been under some kind of a spell to wantonly embrace him in such a way. He felt a delicious pressure filling his cock at the thought of her moaning and grinding herself against his pelvis.

Snape looked in the small, oval mirror above his cabinet. Even the fog could not change the fact that the image starring back at him was not pleasant. Another proof.

Well, the ball was in her court. He would deal with the possibility that there was no charm when the time came. Granger was probably waiting to use the shower, and if she dared complain about the lukewarm temperature of the water, then she could just cast a bloody Warming Spell. Wandlessly.

He glanced at the small laboratory workbench that he had installed against the wall of his bathroom in order to grow different species of fungi. The moulds were doing quite well...sprouting long, odorous green filaments and spores...especially since the humidity levels had increased outside. He would even be able to provide a significant sample to the infirmary for antibiotic usage. It had never occurred to him to move it elsewhere for the duration of the night. It wasn't probably the kind of thing most hosts kept in their bathrooms... on purpose.

Snape sighed, wondering what else he should have put away before entertaining his colleague.

He paused in his doorway, imagining what his room would like through her eyes later on. The space was divided up simply. The bedroom area was on his right and furnished with sturdy dark oak furniture. There was a mirrored dresser straight ahead which matched the heavy headboard of his bed. His bed was positioned on the opposite wall and was covered by a thick blue and green quilt his mother had given him years ago. It looked dull and faded, probably due to the multiple Warming Spells the fabric had endured over the years.

Snape crossed to the dresser and picked up the smiling photograph of Lily Evans. He ran his finger over the wooden oval frame before opening his top drawer and stuffing it amongst his black socks. He rarely stared at it anymore, but the surface of his dresser looked strangely boring without her mischievous expression adding life to this sombre room.

~~~***~~~

Hermione returned to Snape's living room through the side door of his bathroom. It had been a quick shower...compared to his, anyway...despite the fact that she had spent a few extra minutes admiring Snape's mold laboratory. What a clever set up. No matter how disgusting some of these organisms looked in their Petri dishes, she couldn't think of a better place than a dungeon bathroom to grow them.

She looked around the room again, feeling a tinge of loneliness creep inside of her as she sat down on Severus's sofa. He had ordered enough food to feed a family; really, he could have stayed with her. She had eaten a light fare here by herself...whole wheat crackers with brie and cranberries...and now she was expected to sit here waiting for his return? Good Grief! What is taking him so long? Suddenly, she was annoyed. He had been the one insistent that they draw up some conditions so as to not waste precious time while the charm was in effect and then proceeded to disappear like a hermit crab in his room. She lay on the sofa and attempted to read 'their' book, but nothing could hold her attention anymore. Snape was sorely mistaken if he thought she was going to wait here by herself again. The charm had set, and she wanted to experience this to the fullest.

She had tried her very best to research all aspects of the Snow Day charm, but there was nothing specifically published on the subject. The only information that she had come across was on the mechanism of aphrodisiac spells, and all the data showed that their effects were intensified if the partners remained in close physical proximity.

Goodness, how long before the charm started fading? She was already losing a bit of the buzz in her head. She still, obviously wanted to be with Severus. Very much so...and the urgency to touch him had not diminished one little bit. Really, come to think of it, she had been feeling like this ever since they had met in the Quidditch broom cupboard. She did not feel any differently than she had earlier today, except for the slight giddy feeling the wine had given her earlier. Then the thought struck her sharply, and she felt a confusing moment of dread and amusement at the same time.

Was there a possibility that the charm had not been set off at all?

She buried her face into her hands and bit back the incredulous chuckles of laughter rising up from within. Oh my God!

No.

That was very unlikely. She numerated a quick mental list in her head to prove to herself that the entire evening had not been a trick of the mind. First of all, she had never been this turned on before, nor been able to stay in the moment. Her mind had not drifted off to her work once. Also she had a bloody orgasm during sex. She found it difficult to pinpoint exactly how that meant a charm had set. She supposed that in a way the anticipation had always been more thrilling than the act itself. But this time she found that once it was actually happening, it wasn't disappointing. She wasn't either wandering off, or trying to reclaim the feeling of attraction by thinking.

There. That's enough evidence.

And besides, Severus had experienced the charm before...albeit briefly...but surely he would have known that it felt different and told her, right?

What if I didn't give him a chance to? What if we were both so caught up in the moment? I did have my tongue pretty far down his throat.

She stared at the sofa, the very same one where she had seen Snape replace his legendary control with fierce passion. Had she really been so turned on by the prospect of sleeping with Snape that she had taken those feelings to be the charm? She remembered how oddly sexy he had looked in his white shirt and socked feet and how she had wanted to disrobe him even before nine o'clock. The tantalizing conversation and the wine must have added to the effect of being under the charm. She shook her head in disbelief. Was it possible that she had been under a placebo effect instead of the real charm? Well, there was certainly evidence to support both claims. Either way, she didn't really care. As far as she was concerned, there were far less pleasant mistakes than this to be made.

Hermione decided that she needed to take charge of the situation or else the charm would fade; or alternatively, if there were no charm, Severus would regress to being all 'Miss-Grangery' with her again, and she found that this was something she never wanted to go back to.

With a new plan for the rest of the evening forming in her mind, Hermione took out her wand and changed the colour of her lingerie into a deep aqua marine blue that was a stronger shade than her earlier choice. She tied back her hair with a hairclip and climbed into her pewter coloured silk pyjamas before heading out to Snape's room. As she walked by the buffet, she decided to bring the food tray with the remainder of her dinner with her in case Robie thought she was displeased and decided to punish himself unnecessarily. She also reached for the bottle of Firewhisky, uncapped it, and took a small sip before placing it with the other items on the tray. She had no idea why she thought she needed that extra bit of reinforcement.

She knocked on the door softly, but did not wait for a reply. She turned the doorknob and pushed the heavy door open. A soft chill crawled up her back at the sight of Severus Snape sitting up in bed, reading the book. For a brief moment, the scene in front of her touched something deeper than any Aphrodisiac Charm ever could. She felt a craving, not only for his body, but for the domesticity of it all. Is this what it would be like if they were together for more than this night? Would she join him while he was immersed in a manuscript they were both reading? Would she crawl into his bed where they would share their ideas and argue until they kissed and made love? She wanted that scenario to be true. She wished she didn't have to pretend to be under some sort of a spell to touch him, to make him squirm, to make him smile, to become the person he thought about the most during the day.

He seemed frozen in place, his dark eyes locked on hers, unreadable.

She heard the wind angrily pelting against the window as if demanding to be let in. It appeared that the storm was still brewing furiously outside. Maybe, she thought vaguely, the charm had set after all, for she could not remember ever feeling this pull, this urge to completely seduce a man, on the inside and out.

~~~***~~~

Snape lay in his bed and listened to the sound of the wind bouncing off the walls of his empty room, making it seem larger and colder than it actually was. When Granger entered his bedroom...wearing silk pyjamas and hair tied back with a clip...he felt his room warm up and shrink as if the storm were retreating.

He immediately berated himself for these foolish thoughts. As if Hermione Granger had any control over the weather!

And was she purposely trying to look young? Had he not hinted in the conditions that she should make an effort to appear her age? And why was she holding a basket of food in the crook of her arm and his bottle of Firewhisky in the other? Was she trying to beat her record and see how many conditions she could break at once? What next, cover his bed in rose petals? Foolish witch!

Gods, he wanted her! And she was coming towards him, and he was helpless to indicate that he was unsure about whether the charm had been triggered or not. Surely she would question him if she had doubts? Was there a possibility that the charm hadn't activated and that perhaps she wanted him anyway? He once again had to banish these ridiculous thoughts his mind kept trying to conjure up.

"Hi," she said simply. "Are you hungry? I have some food left, and I didn't want Robie to feel as if he had not done a good job preparing this for me. He's very sweet."

A multitude of scathing remarks...ranging from why he would want unappetizing, soggy cranberries, to the futility of becoming bosom friends with house-elves...sprang up in his mind, but they all seemed to evaporate when she set her loads unto his bedside table and gracefully removed her pyjama top and bottom to reveal a new set of blue-ish lingerie.

He reached over and poured himself a cap full of Firewhisky which he downed in one gulp while staring at the no-longer-too-young Granger.

She then proceeded to lift his quilt and crawl into the bed next to him. He liked it entirely too much. It occurred to him that his bed had never embraced the weight of another human being, his quilt had never warmed anyone else but him, and his sheets had never absorbed a feminine fragrance before. He felt obscurely pathetic. Why the hell had he never had a woman in his own bedroom before?

Before he had time to ponder the question further, Granger shifted to her side, facing him. He wondered if she could see how hard he was for her under that thin quilt of his. He saw her small hand reach under and make its way to...

Before he had time to react, her hand was on his waist touching him mercilessly.

He came up like a jack-in-the-box, uttering "Bloody Fuck!" as he gripped her wrist in a death grip. "Why did you do that?" he asked incredulously, still holding her tightly.

"Oh, I just wanted to see just how ticklish you were before I straddled you."

He wanted to say something, but found himself unable to articulate the number of stern warnings at the tip of his tongue. He had no idea why was he putting up with this kind of impertinence from her. She'd just fucking tickled him! And the simple fact that she was slowly pulling herself up on his body until she was astride him, the soft skin of her thighs pressing into his hips while her arse sat on his erection was proof enough that she had taken leave of her senses.

There was a shine of lantern light in her eyes as he looked at her from below. It seemed to him to reflect a touch of mischievousness and smugness. He usually disliked this position. Apart from the awful apprehension of being touched continuously on his nervous waist, he hated being the one anchored to the bed. But this time, he gave in, savouring the feel of her hands and lips becoming intimate with different parts of his body. He had never been so aroused in his entire life, and tonight, he gave himself permission to relax and enjoy the view from below.

She bent her head down low, and her small hand ran up and down his chest softly, letting her fingers venture to his side firmly once in a while.

"Not too ticklish?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

In reply, his hands palmed her arse and nudged her a bit forward so she could snuggle into a more comfortable spot than his pelvic bone. He was fascinated by her face and the graceful sweep of her bare neck and shoulders. A lose strand of curl trailed free on her cheekbone. He touched it clumsily, tucking it back in, then watched it drift stubbornly back onto her face.

Her fingers curled into his long, black hair; she bent down low and kissed him so completely that there was almost no doubt left that the charm was on. He kissed her back with equal fervour, and when her hands started caressing his shoulders, his chest and his back, it felt like his scars slid away with each sweeping motion of her hand on his skin.

"This has healed rather well," she announced, trailing a gentle finger up to the fine scars where his skin graft had faded. And before he had time to remind her of the conditions, she was kissing him there too.

"I believe you wanted to know if I could do other things than spew facts with my mouth?"

Her voice, the raspiness of it, sent tremors down his spine. He found the sight of her perched over him unbearably erotic. She hadn't even touched him there yet, and here he was concentrating hard not to come like a lovesick adolescent.

Her hands reached under the elastic band of his bottoms and tugged lightly on them to pull them down. He supposed he could raise his hips to help things along, but he found himself strangely unable to move as if any action might bring her back to reality.

"Here, help me remove these. Or are you going to let me do all the work?" she laughed breathlessly.

"You undressed me just fine earlier," he said as he pushed himself up slightly. She pulled his bottoms down quickly, and his raging hard on did not appear to be deterred by the cool draft travelling over his exposed skin.

A clear drop of fluid had gathered at the tip of his cock, and she reached to rub the head with the moisture. His stomach muscles contracted, and he gritted his teeth tightly, but a moan of pleasure escaped nonetheless. She smiled seductively and bent to lick the entire length of his cock, revealing her cleavage in the process. The charm was rendering this position more tolerable by the minute.

He felt himself relax further and acknowledged to himself that he might as well enjoy the present situation as it was unlikely to ever happen again. Let her do whatever she wished with him.

Apparently, what she wished was to torture him. Her mouth left him and lazily traced its way back to his inner thigh where she nibbled and licked, making her way back up to his torso; licking his nipples, his ribs and even his waist, her small tongue making him squirm.

"Granger!" he warned in the sternest voice he could muster. It was a rather admirable effort considering the fact that she was also delicately holding his balls between her palms.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

She did not look sorry at all. In fact, she looked quite pleased with herself as she meandered down his body kissing and touching. Her tiny movements set his senses on edge, awakening nerves he had not realized he possessed.

She licked the inside of his thigh, and he wondered briefly when that particular part of his body had become an erogenous zone. He shuddered.

"Do you like that?" she asked as she repeated the same teasing lick on his other thigh.

"Obviously," he croaked. Why was he answering her, anyway?

Then finally, finally, she made her way back down and took him fully in her mouth, her hand massaging his balls at the same time.

Yes. Oh, fuck, yes. Let this go on.

Breathing became difficult, and he was unable to tell her how fucking good it felt. She was a clever witch; she could figure it out. The wet sensation and pressure the inside of her mouth provided was beyond stimulating, but in the end, it was the pure enjoyment she seemed to be deriving from the act that sent him over the edge, had him coming in powerful jerks.

He lay there enjoying the remnants of his climax still pulsating through him. He felt her fall back to his side and begin playing with the hair on his chest.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he loosely decided that he would dedicate some time to figuring out a way to create large snowstorms that would send this woman back into his bed.

~~~***~~~

Hermione could not remember having ever enjoyed herself this much while giving oral sex. Having Snape at her mercy had been a heady experience. She couldn't deny that it had been highly erotic to have the man who had hoodwinked so many quivering underneath her. However, that wasn't the reason why she felt so completely satisfied. A small part of her mind perhaps recognized how little pleasure he has allowed himself over the years and being the one to provide it made her feel strangely feminine, powerful and sexual all at once.

A few moments later...more to avoid the awkward silence than because she was actually hungry...she rose and brought the food tray to the bed. She took a saltine cracker, took a bite and offered one to Snape. Severus leaned in and swept the crumbs from his bed with the palm of his hand. The quilt fell back on his lap. "Granger, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm trying to feed you, Severus. I have read that it is considered sexy to feed your lover in some parts of the world." She blushed at her own ramblings.

Hermione noticed his expression turn sour. "Is this a backhanded way of saying that I am grotesquely slim?" he asked more petulantly than a three-year-old asked to put his toys away.

She sighed. Always on the defensive.

"Severus," she said, putting the tray aside and then snuggling to his side. "Do you want to know how I see you?"

There was a long pause, and Hermione was inexplicably touched by the uncertain look on his face. Was this powerful wizard actually worried about his physical attributes? She pulled herself closer to him, her cheek resting on his chest, trying to find a way to tell him what her eyes saw.

Before she had a chance to choose her words, Snape attempted to distract her by changing the subject.

"If we are proceeding in numerical order, I believe it is your turn," he whispered softly into her hair. His hand found her arse and ever so lightly, barely touching her, he began to caress her in slow circular motion.

It worked. She was, indeed, completely distracted by the incredible feeling of tingly anticipation his almost-touch was having on her. It felt like the slow friction he was building up over her was being absorbed into her lower region. That was the weirdest sensation, almost like a tickling inside her pelvic area was gently branching out throughout her body.

This has to be the charm!

She couldn't help but rub herself against his hard thigh. The friction felt wonderful, and she wondered if she would come without him even touching her clit.

"Patience," he said as he pushed her off his leg and pulled her up towards him. Surely he knew by now that she wasn't the most patient individual around. She would have protested if he had not reached down to kiss her at the same time.

It was a slow kiss, lush and intimate from the moment of contact. She forgot the brief annoyance she had felt at being separated from his thigh.

Length to length, snuggled underneath the quilt, they continued embracing and tasting each other with their mouths and tongues. Their soft moans mingled together as the minutes stretched in the stillness of the cold dungeon.

Her hands started roaming again, looking for a way to tell him how much she liked this and how good it felt to be in his bed and in his arms and how she wished this night would never end.

"You feel so good," she said because anything else would be too much.

Snape gradually lowered her back down and slid a finger underneath the slim strap of her bra.

"Let's remove this," he said hoarsely. "It's still not the right colour."

Slowly, he loosened the hooks at the back, and Hermione wriggled free of the garment, letting it dangle off her fingers onto the floor. His eyes scanned her bare breasts, and she noticed his Adam's apple gliding up and down as he rose slowly to his knees. Hermione closed her eyes and pulled him towards her chest. She felt the strands of his hair on her nipples before she felt his tongue, and she felt the sensation build up and connect directly to her womb.

She opened her eyes to watch his face, but found herself staring at the part in his hair. Oh, goodness, is this really happening?

He shifted down inch by inch...the palm of his hand still caressing her breast...until he was at the foot of the bed.

His hands spread her legs apart. His fingers found her sex and smoothed the slippery wetness over her throbbing clit, stroking it gently with the pad of his thumb. She trembled and parted her legs wider as a tingling sort of heat spread down her legs and into her belly.

"More," she managed to gasp when his fingers left her.

"Greedy."

He moved, and then it was his mouth on her swollen clit. She inhaled loudly when his fingers spread her folds apart and his tongue found her sex. He kept his stroke slow and steady and with just the right pressure.

"Yes, perfect," she moaned. Don't you dare stop! Instinct made her keep that part to herself.

He didn't stop, and then the heat grew until it controlled her every nerve. It felt like her flesh was tingling everywhere, and when she felt the sensation even permeate into her head, she let the pleasure wash over her. Her body shuddered and pulsed in a releasing spasm of warmth.

Hermione savoured the moment for a few more minutes before looking at the man curled up between her legs.

It struck her that she had no idea what he was thinking despite having shared such levels of physical intimacy. The only thing she could be sure of was the fact that he was most definitely aroused again. He was lean, and his erection stood out against his pale, strong thighs. He was beautifully erotic. But she could never tell him that. Instead, she leaned forward and buried her nose in the soft strands of his hair and kissed his warm head at the part...it was the finest texture of any she'd ever felt. She liked the clean smell of it.

"Your hair is so soft," she said. He snorted.

"Did we not agree to forego the mention of infamous hair?" He pulled himself up to lie beside her.

She smiled and reached for him. They still had a few hours left, after all...

He closed his eyes and groaned softly when she ran his cock through her hands. His head dropped back while she wondered at her power to bring such abandon to a man so untrusting and guarded.

He raised himself up and leaned on his arms. He hovered above, and she guided him to her entrance. This time, when his body slipped inside of hers, it was with great deliberation. Their coupling was completely different from the first time. It was rich with slowness, unfrenzied, and almost studious. Snape was observing her through his hair, making the entire thing more intimate, and making her doubt once more the likelihood of the charm being active. It was she he desired.

As he climaxed inside of her, she held him tight, wondering how this entire night would affect them in the future.

And after a while, they lay exhausted together. Hermione's eyes closed for a moment to savour their last few moments together. She felt deliciously sated and sleepy. She would make herself go back to her own quarters (before being reminded of 'sleeping arrangements as per previous arrangement') in a few minutes, as daybreak would arrive soon. She never heard Snape's resigned sigh when she burrowed herself cozily against his side.

~~~***~~~

The wind outside was still whistling loudly, and the air in his room seemed more frigid than usual. Severus lay very still, hoping it wouldn't wake Granger. She was lying on her side facing him. Some of her hair had overflowed unto his pillow, and if he turned his head, he'd be nestled in it. The quilt was tucked under her armpits, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. He noticed the fine goosebumps on her flesh, and he felt the need to warm her up...only because he refused to be blamed for giving her laryngitis. But before he had a chance to act, he felt her stirring, stretching languorously as she sat up slightly in the bed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It looks like I slept here for a bit," she said drowsily. She leaned over, her hands searching blindly for her pyjamas under his quilt. "It's freezing in here!"

His arm wrapped itself around her waist and pulled her back down onto the bed. He quickly convinced himself that it was only for the extra warmth her body provided.

"As usual, you have broken nearly every rule you have been presented with," he said. "I see no reason to stop now."

Her sleepy eyes suddenly lit up. "Does that mean I can now ask you about lacewing flies?" she teased with a satisfied smile. "Later," he said and gave her a meaningless kiss on the forehead. Surely she wouldn't misinterpret it as affection? She smiled again and grabbed his hand and interlaced her fingers with his, settling back down with her back to him. And since she was still holding on to his hand, he had no choice but to draw her spine to him and to put an arm around her, pulling her into his warm curve. He went to sleep that way.

~~~***~~~

Hermione awakened to the feel of their warm skin touching and Snape's hand lying relaxed flat on her belly. It felt surreal to not only be in Snape's chambers, but also in his bed, cocooned against him. How in the world was she supposed to pretend that this had never happened when all she wanted was to do it again? It was close to seven in the morning, and she had no desire whatsoever to get up and leave Severus, but she couldn't very well be seen coming out of his chambers by errant students, and besides, the charm had technically ended almost an hour ago. Also, even though it was the start of the weekend, teachers were still expected to attend breakfast. However, the main reason why she should make a quick exit was that, knowing Snape, the awkwardness of the situation would have him erecting walls between them faster than she could get dressed. She couldn't handle any hurtful remarks right now. It was best to leave him now and let him replay their night in his memory without the pressure of having to make small talk and go to breakfast together. Yes, it was best to leave on a high note. Resigned, she found her pyjamas and dressed as quietly as possible.

"Sneaking off?" inquired Snape.

She took her wand and lit the lantern so she could better see his expression.

"I have to go," she replied hesitantly. Should she try to explain her reasoning or just let things unfold naturally?

"I am not stopping you," replied Severus with a slight sneer. She didn't like where this was headed. Perhaps it would be helpful if she clarified her position and got straight to the point.

"I'd like to do this again, Severus."

"Well, yes, as spring is just around the corner, I am sure there will be plenty of opportunities for further precipitation of this magnitude soon."

She sighed inwardly. The sarcasm was back, just as she had predicted.

"Do you really think we need the snow?" She answered with a small laugh. "Perhaps we could try a different kind of climate change." The cool draft of the dungeon was making her shiver. "Next time will be in my quarters," she added.

"Fine. I will make sure to arrive eons in advance."

She rolled her eyes and then bent to awkwardly kiss him on the cheek. "I'll talk to you later."

~~~***~~~

Snape leaned back against the pillows, stretched out with both hands beneath his head and extinguished the light Granger had left on above his head. Not so worried about the environment when busy running away, was she? He did not care, he told himself somewhat convincingly, that she had left so abruptly and without an explanation as to where she had to be so early on a Saturday morning. It was just as well as she had saved him the trouble of sending her on her way later on.

Still, he felt a strange longing when he noticed her undergarment crumpled at the foot of his bed. He tried to chase the feeling away. Merlin...the girl didn't even know her colours! Really, he had no time for such nonsense. Hermione Granger obviously had a bad influence on his self-control.

But what exactly did she mean by 'Do we really need the snow?' If she suspected that there had been no charm, did that mean she wanted to do this again with him? He felt his heart stutter at the thought, but then decided that last night's wine was giving him heartburn.

Well, she had been the one to seek him out in the first place. He supposed that if, indeed, she wanted a repeat performance, he might consider it.

Truth be told, this had been the best shag he'd ever had. He wondered what would it be like to have this on a regular basis.

Despite the complete darkness in his room, he could still see her face, her eyes, her crazy hair and the way she had looked when they had parted. He closed his eyes, forcing his hands to stay behind his head instead of running them over the empty half of the bed. Loneliness was a thing he had not only accepted a long time ago, but something he also craved. But now the emptiness of the word crept up, and he concluded that perhaps there was something to be said for a certain amount of companionship.

He was only forty-two years old, and apparently he was difficult kill. Had he lived quarter of his life? A half? Had he forty-two more years to sleep in this bed alone? It had not been unpleasant to share it with someone.

Perhaps he should get himself a... girlfriend. A woman with whom he could maybe share meals, discuss ideas and have regular intercourse without having to depend on the weather forecast to do so. Yes, that's what he needed, someone who was intelligent and could hold her own in a conversation, someone who would accept some of his lesser points, someone who was independent and had curly brown hair and curious brown eyes.

He sighed deeply.

Well, he supposed she was not the worst choice for a candidate. She had already snooped around his quarters, seen his mould lab, charmed his house-elf... and now just looking at the book they were both reading made him feel lonely and out of sorts.

But how could he even go about setting up such a thing with Granger? He had no idea.

~~~***~~~

Two hours later, Hermione made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. She felt a lot more nervous than she had anticipated. The truth was, ever since she had left Snape this morning, her mind had been trying to conjure up a way to be with him again before they had time to regress to their former type of relationship.

He liked her, of that she was sure now, but the imbecile would surely ignore his own instinct and insist that they carry on as if nothing had ever happened. The fact that she had no plan would not stop her from seeking him out if she saw him at the breakfast table.

Determined, she pushed open the large side doors of the dining room a little too forcefully. Several of the staff members turned towards her. Her eyes scanned the table, found Snape and stopped. She waited for eye contact before she said a silent hello with her eyes. His expression, as expected, remained impassive, but it seemed to her that perhaps his cheeks had coloured slightly. Unfortunately, there was no seat available next to him, and she had to sit next to Pomona Sprout.

"Sit, sit, Hermione," said her older colleague jovially. "There's no need to look so gloomy; you're still young. I'm sure you'll get to experience the Snow Day charm at one point during your tenure at Hogwarts."

She smiled distractedly at the Herbology professor.

So, the charm wasn't triggered. She wondered if that was why Severus looked so discomfited. Did he think she would blame him for not saying anything? Had she not hinted...quite strongly, in her opinion...that they didn't need snow to be together?

From the corner of her eye, she saw him stand to leave the Great Hall. Without care for her untouched breakfast, she stood abruptly to go after him, leaving a stunned Pomona in the middle of gossipy chatter about who had slept with whom last night despite the fact that the Snow Charm had never activated.

The long hall was empty, and she called out to him, "Wait!"

He stopped in front of the large windows, and when she was near enough, she blurted out, "They're forecasting six millimetres of rain and dense fog for tomorrow night. I think we should partner up."

He looked at her for a long moment before smirking and replying, "Are you ready to discuss conditions, Professor Granger?"

The unmistakable softness in his eyes made Hermione's heart skip a beat.

This time, it was she who led him to the Quidditch broom cupboard.

~~~The End~~~

A/N: My endless gratitude to Lariope for the alpha, the beta, and all the laughs while writing this fic. "Awwww..."

Thanks to all of you for reading despite the long gaps between updates. You have no idea how much your kind words and support have helped me. (((many hugs)))

This chapter is for the lovely Zucca. Congrats on your wedding! :D