Chapter Eight

Smith was waiting for him, as usual, but the piece of toast clutched in his hand suggested that he hadn't exactly been expecting him this time.

"Made some progress then, Professor?" the Interviewer surmised as he opened the door to the spinning room beyond. Severus brushed past him, not bothering to reply. Once the walls had slowed to a stop, he opened the closest door and marched inside.

Hilary was hanging her cloak from the hat stand, apparently having only just arrived herself, but she looked up in interest at their entrance, and noticing the determined set of Snape's jaw, bustled round the desk to join them.

The three of them approached the Device together. There was an air of ceremony about the proceedings that had not been present before, and Severus allowed himself to believe that he might finally find himself invested into the noble office of Unspeakable.

The Device whirred, and there was a clatter of keys before a small slip of paper was spat out into the tray. Severus snatched it up greedily, cupping it in his hands so neither of his companions had any chance of making out the old fashioned typeface.

There in black and white remained his task.

T r u s t .

"Bloody buggering Hell!" he hissed. "My apologies," he added, with a distracted nod towards Hilary. "She said that she... damn it!" The paper burst into bright, angry flames and curled into ash. "There has to be a fault with the Device," he continued. "Either that or this has been a deliberate ploy to waste my time."

Bartleby exchanged a look with Hilary and discreetly palmed his wand.

"Never mind, old chap. You're in time for breakfast, if you like toast. Or custard. There seems to be an awful lot of the stuff here these days."

"I can't actually believe it! Can you show me? Not here, obviously, I don't want to be sent to arrest you on suspicion of Dark behaviour, but after work? Ooh, I know! I'll get the Zephyr and meet you somewhere – perhaps not the Burrow – and we can fly together!" Harry finally paused to breathe, and Hermione took the opportunity to cut him off.

"Of course I'll show you," she laughed. "But maybe not tonight. I only learnt the very basics yesterday, and there are a few more things I need him to show me first."

Harry sighed the long suffering sigh of someone denied a treat simply because someone else was being painfully sensible. Then he frowned. "If he's only just taught you to fly, what was all of last week spent doing?"

Hermione prepared to launch into a long, convoluted lecture of the various spells and charms that she had mastered over the last few days, when she actually felt herself begin to blush. Thankfully Harry misinterpreted her embarrassment and laughed.

"You mean it's actually taken you this long to be able to do it? My God, Snape must have somehow acquired the patience of a saint. Better watch out; here he comes now." He pulled her into a tight hug and placed a sloppy kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

Hermione was rather nervous about seeing Severus again. Although nothing had actually happened between them yesterday, there was no denying that something had... happened.

Sleep had been a surprisingly long time coming last night, and Hermione had used the time for some serious thinking.

Severus Snape was not the sort of man to indulge in a casual dalliance, and if Hermione was serious about taking their unconventional flirtation any further, then she owed it to him – and herself – to decide whether she was seriously considering attempting to build a relationship with him. There would be obstacles, she knew, least of all the man himself, who seemed to have a tendency to pull away at the slightest hint of intimacy. He was also short tempered, irascible, closed off and a smoker. He could also, however, be surprisingly patient and kind. If Hermione was being honest, she had been growing increasingly attracted to him ever since he had snuck a Cushioning Charm beneath her during practice.

There was the slightest chance that Harry and Ron would be horrified at the thought of her and Severus together, but they were no longer in school, and they had lost the ability to make her life unbearable any time one of them felt a grudge. She had a guaranteed role as an Unspeakable, which meant that her social circle in the UK was likely to be very different to the one she had left behind. They boys would come around to the idea, eventually, and she could easily weather their disapproval until then.

Which just left Severus.

Hermione didn't doubt that he was attracted to her. She'd experienced a few of romantic moments in her time, but never had anything come close to the erotic potential of lying on damp bracken in a field in Manchester, hoping to be kissed by the man cutting off the circulation to her lower body. He had felt it too, which was why he had been so hasty to leave. That was the part that troubled her. Nerves or doubt, she could cope with, and while she did not truly believe that the man could still be pining after Lily Evans, even if his memories of her had been part of the argument to keep him from Azkaban, there was still that chance that he was involved with another woman. There hadn't been much time for personal conversation whilst falling from office chairs, an oversight that Hermione meant to remedy at the first opportunity.

It might be awkward, but an adolescence spent marshalling Ronald Weasley through his Charms homework and persuading Crookshanks to submit to the occasional Poppington's Patented Parasite Purge, had given her a good grounding in shepherding males through various unpleasant but necessary tasks.

Her confidence dipped, however, at Severus' approach. She'd expected him to be a little withdrawn after yesterday, or perhaps even a bit nervous –she hadn't expected a look of such cold, hard fury.

"Good morning," she attempted. And then, because she was no good at keeping quiet, she asked, "Is everything alright?"

His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. "Everything is exactly as I should have expected," he replied cryptically. "Shall I Apparate us?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed, preparing to curl up against his chest when a thought struck her. "Actually, no. Can we start in here, first?" She opened the door to the Tintagel suite, glad that she'd booked the room until the end of the week.

Something had happened to upset him, that much was clear, and Hermione could only suppose that it was her fault. She was also fairly certain that there was very little chance that he would actually tell her what was wrong.

Had teaching her to fly caused him some sort of trouble? Hermione hadn't taken Harry's joke about Dark behaviour seriously, but she supposed that there could be those in the Ministry who might take a dim view of an acquitted Death Eater teaching a future Ministry employee any suspect spells. Still, that was preferable to the thought that he might have seen Harry kiss her and now believed she was some sort of floozy.

Standing in awkward silence, Hermione wondered what she might do to make things better without setting a precedent. If there was any chance of an adult relationship developing between them, then Hermione refused to be caught forever in the role of peace broker. If something was wrong, then he needed to tell her.

He stood across from her, arms folded, waiting with little pretence at patience for her to speak.

"Severus," she began. "Will you do something for me?"

He gave a slight nod, as if she'd just confirmed something for him. "Ask."

"I want..." She tried again. "I would like you to close your eyes and allow yourself to fall."

"What?" he demanded.

"I believe this is a tried and tested Muggle technique." When he didn't respond to her admittedly weak attempt at humour, she tried again. "Please, Severus. I promise I'll catch you. Just turn around, close your eyes and fall."

Later, Hermione could never decide who had been more surprised when he had complied with her wishes and fell back into her arms. He was both taller and heavier than she, but Hermione simply caught him beneath the armpits and allowed his momentum to carry her down too, sinking with him until his head rested upon her lap.

Like she had before, Severus kept his eyes closed tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. On impulse, Hermione combed his hair back from his forehead using her fingers. His eyes flew open at the touch, but he didn't move. Hermione was suddenly aware of the other times that she'd seen him like this, lying crumpled on the floor, vulnerable and defeated.

"I'll catch you," she repeated. "You ought to be able to trust me, too."

"Trust," he echoed quietly. He made no move to get up from the floor, simply lying half in her lap. Hermione had never seen him looking quite so lost, and she reached down to take his hand in hers.

"Tell me what's wrong, Severus," she implored.

His next words caused something painful to shift in her chest. "I'm not sure I know how to trust anymore."

"Then let me show you," she begged.

There was a light drizzle in Manchester, and Hermione was grateful for the litany of spells she had been forced to memorise. Warm, reasonably dry, and protected from the gusting wind that buffeted the trees, Hermione whispered the final spell Severus had taught her and stepped up into the air. She paused some ten feet from the ground and held out her hand, watching in delight as Severus swooped gracefully up to take it. There was a stomach jarring moment before her magic absorbed his weight, but then she had him.

Unlike her, Severus didn't apparently feel the need to hold on to her for dear life, but she could feel the tension in him even as he kept the lightest grasp on her hand. He allowed her to hold him in her magic for almost a minute before casting a Volanti of his own.

Almost sixty seconds of being completely and literally in her power.

He was much more dignified about it than she had been, but Hermione didn't doubt that it was every bit as difficult for him as it had been for her. Perhaps more so. She found it hard to trust the magic of others. He had placed his trust, his very life, in the hands of others, and been betrayed.

Hermione wondered if perhaps she might not be just the slightest bit in love with him.

They drifted for a while, hand in hand through the misty morning. Hermione kept expecting the overwhelming fatigue of yesterday to arrive, but when her magic continued to hold, she realised that she was somehow changeling her emotions into the spell. The combination of nerves, excitement and longing was apparently enough to keep her afloat.

She would ask Severus about it later. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but not yet.

They landed in the same clearing as before. The rain was falling steadily now and the long grass brushed her legs, soaking her trousers to the knee. They ought to head inside, she knew, but Hermione could not bring herself to end the almost dreamlike experience just yet.

Severus' hair was plastered to his scalp, but Hermione was certain hers had frizzed up around her face like a halo. She didn't care about either, not while his hand was still safe in hers.

"Close your eyes," she whispered.

And then she kissed him.

Hermione was certain that she could feel the slightest of tremors run through him as their lips met. Her legs felt unsteady after so much time aloft, and she knew if they continued they would end up sinking to the ground. The idea of sinking down amid the ferns and bracken sent a pulse of deep excitement through her, despite the cold and rain.

She parted her lips, willing him to deepen the kiss. He was hesitant at first, his tongue just brushing the seam of her lips. Hermione heard herself mewl in encouragement before losing herself in the warmth of his kiss.

He tasted like rain, rich, smoky magic and rising passion. Hermione wondered if he could discern the longing in her kiss and found herself hoping that he could. Her arms were around his neck, holding on for dear life, and his hands were pulling her ever closer.

It took a distant rumble of thunder for them to eventually pull apart. The rain was falling in sheets, and Hermione realised that the last of her Water Repelling Charms had failed, leaving her soaked through.

Severus Apparated them indoors. They arrived with a loud crack, and Hermione could feel the tell-tale tingle in her fingers of an almost Splinch. She smiled at the thought that Severus had been affected enough by the kiss for it to impact on his concentration. Her smile grew into an undignified beam when she realised that he hadn't returned them to the Ministry as she had expected, but had carried her back to his home.

They were in a little sitting room, with a squishy looking red sofa and low bookcases with sagging shelves. It was a nice room, with the slightly worn look of a place that is loved and lived in, a far cry from the bleak picture Harry had painted.

Hermione shivered slightly, and Severus flicked his wand at the fireplace before summoning a towel.

"Can I take your coat?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged out of her wet anorak and toed off her shoes, casting a quick drying charm at the hem of trousers before accepting a seat on the sofa and taking the proffered towel. It felt rather decadent to sit in front of a fire in summer time, but the warmth was already returning to her toes.

Severus returned from the hallway and graced her with a shy smile. "I could make cocoa," he offered. "If you like?"

"Come and sit down," she replied, patting the seat beside her. When he complied, she used the towel to wipe the last of the rain from his face before starting on his hair.

He didn't tell her that there was a simple charm that could do the job far better than she. He sat, eyes half closed, as she dried him. Then, taking back the towel, he did the same for her.