Dinner on the Mediterranean

Thank you all so much! Sorry about the wait... life has been very crazy and promises to become more crazy as the holiday season progresses.

Thanks to my beta Shana!

Chapter 22- Dinner On The Mediterranean

For the first time in Severus' life, he felt oddly content with himself and with what was going on around him. Classes were going surprisingly well, considering all the dunderheads this year had brought him, and he had none of the near death experiences that often were his only excitement within the castle walls. Grades for his students were steadily improving because he did not feel so vindictive wielding his red-inked quill. People were treating him with an ounce of respect for a change, and that was befitting of a Deputy Headmaster. Things that would have normally annoyed him greatly before, like a Gryffindor's brashness or the chattering and laughing of students in the corridor, rolled off of him a bit more easily now. It was a strange, pleasant feeling, all brought about by a female named Hermione Granger.

Had someone told him that it would be a past student to bring him out of his partially self-imposed celibacy, much less one he had loathed during her seven years at Hogwarts, he would have laughed in their face and then hexed that someone horribly.

Yet, here he was pining over a woman, a very young woman, at that. One who found him attractive in some incomprehensible form of the word. Alive, perhaps, and even a little softer around the edges than he had ever been. Just because someone had given him the chance to be something other than Severus Snape, Greasy Git, Overgrown Bat, and ex-Death Eater turned spy for the Order of the Phoenix. She somehow saw him, as him, and still was not running away.

But this also brought up many complicated and equally frightening possibilities in their future together.

He was a man who was so well versed in the Dark Arts and the sheer beauty of a difficult potion. He loved to read and expand his mind, as it had been one of the few joys and solaces in the past besides Ogden's. He had always considered himself more intelligent than most of his peers and could learn anything presented to him. He was confident of that fact.

Until now.

Would he ever be able to learn to love adequately? Hell, was he even capable of accepting love from a woman? He was certain he had only ever been loved by his mother, and at that, she had grown to resent him because of his startling likeness to his father. No one had ever shown any more feeling than what was absolutely necessary at a given time. Could he even love at all? Would he be able to learn? He hoped above all other hopes that he could. She deserved that much.

Something troubled him even more, though, and that rested wholly on the knowledge that he was a tabula rasa, as it were, in the acts of sexual discourse. How could he ever please her when it came down to that? If their relationship progressed and moved down that path, it would most likely be expected of him. It was a healthy part of any relationship, just as arguments and misunderstandings were. He did not know the first thing about doing, well, anything. Sure, he had read his fair share of less-than-savory publications. He had heard stories, seen drawings and paintings and photographs.

But he had never, ever had hands on experience. And as a teacher, he knew well enough that a student was useless unless they had practical application, as well as book learning. Well, he knew, in all certainty, what was supposed to happen. He knew what his body responded to and, from books, knew what a normal female body might. But he hadn't the faintest idea how to really pleasure her, or what made her completely weak in the knees.

Would Hermione expect that he knew more than he did? Would she be patient with him? He was already asking so much of her patience in just spending time with him outside of the professional arena, and he knew she had very little to give. Would she laugh at him if, or when, she found out that he was nothing more than an inexperienced schoolboy?

Face it Snape, for the first time in your life, you're utterly besotted, even more than with Lily. You're terrified about what could happen.

He had a very strong feeling the next few months would yield a high percentage of firsts for him.

"A Knut for your thoughts?"

Startled, Snape glanced up at the entrance to his darkened classroom and the witch standing in the doorway. How long had he been sitting here, anyway? He remembered letting his last class go for the weekend, but beyond that, he remembered nothing, other than his wandering musings. It had been like this for a few weeks now, drifting off so deep into thought that he did not know where he was or what he was doing, ever since their evening together at the gardens.

They had not seen much of each other after the Monday following their date for reasons he had no control over. Their effort to remain as secretive as possible was much harder than he thought. The only times they ever had time to spend together were on weekdays after curfew for the students, so no one would notice her going to the dungeons or him to Gryffindor Tower. Almost any educator would tell you, though, that at the end of the day, and after grading many things, the last thing they were physically able to do was spend quality time with a paramour.

That weekend was booked, as Hermione had duty in Hogsmeade accompanying the students, as she would for every other Hogsmeade weekend. Cursed schedule! At the time he had made the schedule, he had not been having these feelings for her. At the time, she had merely been the youngest and newest professor, which meant she received all the grunt work that no one else wanted to do. Now, all he longed to do was change it. But he could not. People would question, and he would not be able to tell them why. It would be wrong.

Another week had passed, and they had only been able to share their customary, furtive glances or touches in passing. He was glad for a weekend, finally, hoping that they might get down to "business" and stop this walking around on eggshells, like they did continuously during the week.

"It is nothing," he said, meeting her brown eyes.

She smiled and moseyed over to his desk, in no hurry, stopping beside him and settling down on top of a stack of papers on the corner of his desk. "How about assisting in my movement for inter-house unity?"

"What does it entail?"

She chuckled. "Dinner with me."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" he asked incredulously, both brows going up, meeting her eyes.

"I think that's what I'm doing," she said plainly, considering her nails for a moment before glancing back up. "Why?"

"Isn't it supposed to be the male half of a relationship that orchestrates and implements?" he asked.

Hermione snorted slightly. "Don't be so old fashioned, Severus. It's the new millennium."

"Not yet," he replied. "But I believe I will have to take you up on that offer."

"I knew you would," she said. "You have a choice. We can go someplace with lots of people, or we can go someplace quiet and you'll have to endure my cooking."

"If your cooking is anything like your potion-making, then I imagine it cannot be too horrible, Hermione."

"I really must start a log to take down every time you compliment me." She giggled. "So I can reflect on it when you're being snarky."

She probably had a very good point. They were in short supply with him, but he had the insane urge to do it more often whenever she was around.

Hermione stood from her spot and let out a short sigh. "Do you like the ocean?"

"Yes, why?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Because," she replied. "I'll meet you outside the gates in a half hour, Severus. Wear something comfortable for a change, and bring an extra set of clothes."

She was out the door before he could even scowl appropriately at her. What did the little witch have in mind, anyway?

*****

Hermione inhaled deeply the warm, heavy ocean air. The hand on her arm loosened slightly, the tall body stepping away from her to look around him. He was trying to orient himself and plan for escape. He may not have admitted that much, but she had noticed this slight paranoia from him since the War, and even more so now that they had been spending more time together.

If they were in an enclosed place, he kept his back to a wall so he could look out at the entrance to be prepared for attack. When they were walking in the gardens, he walked with her, his eyes always moving to try to detect the slightest movement, almost reminiscent of Mad-Eye Moody. She could only imagine just how uncomfortable he was, being told to pack an extra set of clothes and having to Side-Along Apparate with her to unknown territory.

"I assure you that it's safe," she said with a small smile. "But you're free to investigate if you like."

"Where are we?" he asked, looking out over the ocean, the sun beginning its descent.

"You are in the south of France, on the Mediterranean."

He turned to look at her curiously. "France?"

She nodded. "My family always used to visit here on holidays for the warm weather, and this is the place of some of the happiest times of my life. After the War and everything, I came to the place where I knew I would find tranquility. My parents' home in London seemed too empty, so I settled their estate and will and bought this."

Severus slowly looked up at the moderately-sized home, the side facing the lapping, foaming beach, built out of clear glass. "A Muggle portion of France. That's why no one knew where you were. They were looking in Wizarding areas."

"Hence the appeal," she acknowledged. "I had to get away."

"I know the feeling," he admitted.

An awkward, silent moment passed between them until Hermione decided to break it by smiling. "Well, let's go inside. I'm hungry."

"You aren't planning on staying the evening, are you?" he asked. "We'll need to be back for the Quidditch match tomorrow morning."

Hermione nodded. "We'll be back in plenty of time, trust me."

"I will," he said and followed her up the short staircase to a flat deck with chairs and a table set up on it.

"Get comfortable," she instructed, glancing at his attire again. She had not remarked on it before, but now she hoped that he would consider it ridiculous to keep that heavy woolen frock coat on. He eyed her suspiciously as well, and knew in an instant what she was thinking. "I'm not asking you to disrobe completely, for crying out loud, just the coat. Relax. Don't be the normal, formal, uptight Snape."

He considered her for a moment longer. "Then I would like you to not be uptight Hermione either."

"I hardly think you'd be able to handle me parading around in my normal beach attire, Severus," she said and giggled. "Okay, fine! Do what you want. I'm fixing dinner."

He disappeared for quite some time, most likely looking around and acquainting himself with the Muggle home, allowing her the opportunity to prepare everything she needed to bake in the oven. She was glad she had the foresight to Apparate back here earlier in the week during her combined free hour and lunch to shop and get everything ready. Secretly, she had hoped he would pick this date rather than going out and about. The last thing they needed at this point in time was publicity.

"It is certainly different from Hogwarts," he remarked, coming around the corner and into the kitchen.

"I hope that means you like it." She giggled lightly and turned to glance at him. She truly had not expected him to take the frock coat off, but she was extremely pleased that he had. She had always liked the strict look, but this was a welcome and different version of the man who was slowly but surely opening up to her. Rolled up to his elbows, the white shirt that normally lay beneath appeared to be a rather fine weave of cloth.

The left corner of his mouth curved in a nervous smile. "Need I remind you that you were the one who asked me to remove the coat?"

"I did," she nodded. "I just didn't expect you to actually do what I asked."

He spread his hands in a "make of it what you will" gesture before crossing his arms over his chest. She smiled and rolled her eyes, finishing up drying the last of the utensils she had used to prepare the food now in the oven.

"Would you like some wine?" she offered.

"Please."

Retrieving a bottle of merlot, she pulled the corkscrew from the kitchen cabinet, hoping he would get the idea to open it, while she went searching for suitable goblets.

"Why not use magic, Hermione?" he asked.

She glanced back to find him inspecting the contraption closely. "Don't you ever get tired of magic?"

"No," he replied smoothly.

Hermione chuckled. "Well, sometimes I like to do things like a Muggle."

"But it is the difficult way," he pointed out.

"I like conquering difficult tasks," she responded quietly, meeting his eyes.

The ubiquitous curiously-arched brow appeared again. "Perhaps that is what you find so appealing about me."

"I find many things appealing about you, Severus," she hedged. "Now, are you going to uncork the wine, or will I have to?"

"What, though?" he pursued, suddenly interested. "What do you find so appealing about me, besides me being a difficult riddle to crack?"

Hermione sighed and took the corkscrew from him, pressing the point down into the cork, rotating slightly, hoping that a decent answer would come to her mind. Truth be told, she did not have one answer to his question. She had many. And she was not quite sure she was ready to let him know everything.

"You don't know?" he pushed lightly, his voice low and the emotion indiscernible.

"I do know," she sighed. "But you'll balk at me and say I'm mad."

"Tell me, Hermione." His voice was almost pleading, as though he were looking for some sort of validation in pursuing her...so long as she wanted him, then it was fine for him to want her.

She set the corkscrew down on the counter and laced her fingers together, trying to still her faintly trembling hands. "I don't know what it is exactly, Severus. You've always interested me. Call me a sucker for the troubled, mysterious type, but I find you unbelievably attractive."

"The way you make it sound, I feel as though I am still only one of your charity projects," he countered.

"Don't," she admonished. "Yes, it started out like that. I just wanted to be a friend. I knew you'd be happier with someone to talk to. But it changed. I can't explain it, Severus. You'll just have to believe me that I find you, oddly, undeniably... I can't think of the right word."

"Bah," he spat, and took the wine from her, using more force than necessary to turn the screw.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "Alright! I find you... oh, gods, I can't believe I'm saying this... I find you... sexy."

"You would be the first." He stopped and met her eyes.

"Then let me be the first," she huffed. "If people haven't noticed it before, then it's their loss."

His eyes narrowed at her, as though he were again trying to decide her truthfulness, his gaze boring deep into her. She wondered, for a moment, if he was going to employ his Legilimency, but she breathed a sigh of relief when he did not.

"You need to quit worrying that I'm going to be like her," Hermione ventured. "I wouldn't do that to you, Severus. I've pitied you before, but when I'm with you now, and when I kiss you, I don't pity you. As a matter of fact, I don't think anyone would pity you. They should envy you."

"And why is that?" he asked, clearly bewildered.

"Because you somehow scored a catch like me," she replied with a small wink and a flip of her hair.

He laughed. For the first time since she had met him so long ago, he laughed. And it wasn't a pleasant little chuckle, but a full laugh, coming from deep within, causing the lines in his face to deepen and his crooked, ivory teeth to show. It was a wonderful sound too, considering the rich timbre of his natural voice.

"Damn your Gryffindor arrogance," he teased.

She inched closer to him, removing the bottle from his hands and placing it on the counter. "You know you wouldn't have it any other way, Severus."

He shook his head, looking down at her and snaking out an arm to pull her close. "You know, I do not think I would."