Bolero (or When Introverts Date)

Thanks for everyone's lovely reviews for Chapter 6. I know you're clamouring for chapter 8, the book club presentation chapter. With holidays and hustle and bustle of the end terms, I'm sad to say that chapter 8 won't post until late December. However, you've received this chapter far ahead of schedule in exchange. :) For my part, I'm planning to have the remainder of the story written and shipped to betas by the end of the year.

The chapter does include links to the music that Severus and Hermione encounter in the programme: the music certainly inspired my writing. Hopefully, it will add to your enjoyment. Several of the pieces are rather dark and distracting, and I'd recommend pausing your read to listen.

As always, Team Gilford would be nothing without betas kittylefish and Persevero.

And, of course, I've no claim to the Harry Potter universe nor am I profiting financially from writing this story.

Chapter Seven - Bolero (or When Introverts Date)

Hermione glanced around her flat in anxious anticipation of Severus's arrival. Until now, she'd managed to keep herself busy every waking moment since they had set their date. Last night, on the off chance that her friend was home on a Friday night, she'd Flooed Ginny when she returned home from the coffee shop. Ginny had squealed with delight upon hearing that Hermione had managed to secure what could safely be considered a date with Severus Snape. Ginny had pulled Hermione through the Floo, installed her on the sofa, and whipped up some incredibly tasty hot chocolate while she encouraged Hermione to spill the details. They'd chatted for hours, giggling as Ginny made increasingly lewd suggestions about Severus's voice, attire, habits, and equipment. As always, Ginny seemed to thrive on making Hermione utterly embarrassed.

I suppose that's what I love about Ginny. Uncomfortable though it may be, she always manages to push me out of my comfort zone when I most need it. Looking in the mirror, she'd wondered if perhaps she'd let Ginny push her too far this time. They'd gone shopping in preparation for her date, and Ginny had given quick counter-arguments to all of Hermione's protests. The heels were much higher than she could comfortably wear without looking like a newborn giraffe. Ginny had cast a Stabilizing Charm on the shoes and smiled sweetly at Hermione. The sheath dress revealed far too much cleavage, more than she had ever displayed before, and left little to the imagination regarding the rest of her figure. "Nonsense," Ginny had replied, "I've seen McGonagall in dresses more revealing than your conservative rags." The new knickers were entirely unnecessary. "You'll appreciate the confidence," Ginny had responded. The dress was too expensive. Ginny plonked forty quid down on the shop's counter to finance part of the purchase. The dress was green, for fuck's sake. Could she be more obvious? "You can never be too obvious with a man," Ginny had retorted.

Upon returning to Hermione's flat with their purchases, Ginny had rushed to the Floo and summoned Lavender Brown. Hermione's mortification had further increased with the revelation that Lavender not only knew the identity of her date but highly approved. Lavender had reminisced, "Mmmm. I used to sit in the back of his class, close my eyes, and listen to his voice when he lectured. I can't count the number of times he berated me for sleeping in his class. Thank Merlin, he never figured out I was daydreaming rather than napping! Of course, the daydreaming wasn't as effective with my eyes open. I bet you're glad that he's improved his looks a bit since the war, eh, Hermione?"

Honestly? Lavender had been perving over Professor Snape while they were still at Hogwarts? That was just... eww! And really, he hadn't done all that much to improve his appearance. Though she supposed his teeth did look a shade or two whiter, and he'd clearly stopped using axle grease to control his hair.

Hermione had been plucked, waxed, and trussed until her patience had very nearly snapped. Her eyelids felt as if they were drooping under the weight of Lavender's Patented 24-Hour Lash Thickening Charm. Her lips were so glossy they felt as if they'd been coated in Teflon. The French Twist Charm that Ginny had used for her hair was so tight that she thought she had better take a Headache Potion before she left. And who knew that there was a specific charm to exfoliate one's elbows? Fortunately, Ginny had more or less managed to keep Lavender in check. Hermione had consulted the mirror several times to verify with relief that her face had not adopted the cartoonish whore look that Lavender had often applied when left to her own devices at Hogwarts.

Hermione had drawn the line when Lavender had aimed her wand at her breasts. "What?" Lavender had asked, "Don't you apply a little Blushing Charm to your cleavage?"

"Of course not! They're my breasts! Am I supposed to look flushed the moment he shows up? What if it's chilly in the restaurant? I'll be pale white but for my glowing breasts!"

Lavender's face had clearly communicated her thoughts on the subject of rosy tits. Pouting, she had replied, "Next you'll tell me that my Granny's famous Girdling Charm is out, too!"

Seeing the expression of horror on Hermione's face as she looked at her barely visible belly, Ginny had kindly thanked Lavender for all of her efforts, complimented her artistry, and gently shoved her towards the fireplace. That had been fifteen minutes ago, and Ginny had left shortly after counselling one last time, "Stop your fretting, Hermione. With that dress, you'll be lucky to make it to the restaurant."

Perhaps she should have begged Ginny to stay longer. The anticipation was about to kill her. She looked out her sitting room window and contemplated her love life. Two years without sex, and she could honestly say that she hadn't missed it. But ever since that night on the sofa, just the thought of Severus Snape caused stirrings and flutterings in her belly. Weeks of friendship had coalesced into something far more tantalizing. True, she'd been mortified the following morning upon her abrupt awakening, but after talking with Ginny, that mortification had been overshadowed by a flood of memories: the way he had gently brushed her hair from her face, the feel of his calloused hand holding hers, the rumbling in his chest when he had softly spoken while holding her, and the feeling of his arms curled around her in comfort. What would it be like to kiss him? How glorious would he look naked? And how fantastic would it feel actually to wake up with him?

Hermione groaned and shook her head. Reliving that night in the moments just before he arrived at her flat was perhaps not the smartest of choices. Faced with a rush of arousal she'd not felt in years, Hermione was nearly overcome. Gods, she was tightly strung, nervous, and hornier than she could recall ever having been. It would take all her willpower not to jump the man when he arrived to escort her to dinner.

As if on cue, she heard Severus knock upon the door. Trying vainly to collect her wits before she opened the door, Hermione looked down in horror to see that Lavender's Blushing charm would have been overkill. She was lit up like a bloody Christmas tree.

Opening the door, she was dumbfounded at how well he'd cleaned up for the evening. He'd donned a dinner jacket and pulled his hair back, and, oh shit, had she forgotten to greet him?

"Hello, Severus. You look rather spiffy this evening."

"Thank you. Do you have the tickets? I don't want to miss our reservations."

Distracted as he frantically tried to force the disparate parts of his brain to cooperate, Severus took Hermione's arm in his and Apparated to The Hidden Charm, one of the newer and more exclusive wizarding restaurants that had opened since the war. They were led to their table. A short time later, Severus noticed that at some point their orders must have been taken since he no longer had a menu sitting in front of him. With any luck, Hermione would think that their companionable silence was nothing out of the ordinary.

Hermione, for her part, felt a bit miffed that he'd not commented on her dress. So much for Slytherin green and its overpowering seductive force. Still, she had caught him staring blankly at her chest several times. She supposed that was a reasonably good sign.

That's fantastic. She looks bloody gorgeous, and here I am in the shittiest mood I've been in since Potter stole into my Pensieve. Severus Snape did NOT like being distracted. His was a mind that was focused and precise, not scatterbrained and unable to concentrate on any one thing for more than three minutes.

Not for the first time in recent weeks, Severus cursed Albus Dumbledore thoroughly. How was it that the man could cause just as much trouble and consternation dead as he had alive? He'd been looking forward to this evening with Hermione and had planned a fairly relaxing afternoon in preparation. Instead, after being stuck in Minerva's office for four hours talking to Albus, he'd had to skitter down to his quarters, rush through his ablutions, and was still transfiguring parts of his clothing as he hurried towards the Apparation point. He'd certainly not had time to process all that he'd discussed with Albus during their tête-à-portrait. While the apologies from Albus were appreciated, he supposed, Severus hadn't fully realized until today the depths of the man's manipulations. 

His head was still reeling from all that Albus had revealed. He ardently wished that he'd thought to grab a Headache Potion while in his rooms. He ordered a coffee, well before dessert, in an effort to forestall some of the pain, and he was cleverly alternating sips of coffee with Firewhisky in an attempt to stave off that knot that always threatened to span from one shoulder to another. Perhaps some chocolate for dessert would be in order as well. He looked at Hermione with slightly unfocused eyes as she finished telling a particularly long-winded story.

A bit irked that her amusing anecdote about the perils of owl-order take-out had failed to elicit even the smallest of chuckles, Hermione asked, "Severus, are you feeling okay?"

"Of course I'm feeling okay," he snarled. Severus spied Hermione's shocked and dismayed face. Fuck! I cannot handle this today, he thought as he rubbed his temples. "I just have a bit of a headache."

Severus excused himself to the Gents abruptly. He leaned over the tap and stared blearily into the mirror, cursing his temper. He knew that he'd inadvertently snapped at Hermione several times. He really ought to have owled her to cancel, as he was in no shape to do anything but mull over the afternoon's discoveries. But he was here now, and he ought to salvage what he could of the evening.

This was awful. He felt utterly eviscerated from his discussion with Albus. Combined with the rather revealing talk he'd had with Hermione on her sofa, he felt, well, vulnerable wasn't quite the right word. That called to mind images of a lonely, pathetic boy who was strung upside down with his underpants exposed to the world. No, he felt as if he'd woken from a nightmare to find he was standing on the ledge of a very tall building without his wand to conjure a safety net. He was not prepared to be so emotionally unguarded - yes, that was the right word. He was not prepared to be so emotionally unguarded in front of THIS witch in THAT dress. Hell, he wasn't accustomed to feeling unguarded ever with anyone, including his own person. 

After splashing some water on his face, Severus made his way back to the table. He was relieved to see their entrées had been delivered in his absence but quite annoyed to see the waiter had lingered and was flirting with his date. It didn't help matters that she smiled prettily in response to his undoubtedly vapid comments. Upon seeing the rather murderous look in Severus's eye, the waiter departed hurriedly.

The dinner lurched along rather awkwardly. Hermione attempted conversation several times but eventually decided that focusing on the meal might prove more entertaining. In truth, the only thing that kept dinner from being an unmitigated disaster was the fact that the food was positively delicious and the waiter kept their wine glasses full.

Severus escorted Hermione to the concert hall to what turned out to be an excellent pair of seats. The change of scenery did his mind some good, and he was able to muster a bit of small talk with Hermione. How long had she been attending the symphony with her mum? Were these season tickets or a special purchase? What composers did she like best? He still wasn't up to maintaining a complete, two-sided conversation, but he was relieved to see that his questions launched Hermione into full-blown, know-it-all mode, effectively putting him on autopilot.

Severus nearly snorted out loud when he glanced at the programme. It was fitting to see that Shostakovich's Tenth Symphony was on the programme tonight, seeing as it was written in response to Stalin's death. It certainly fit his dark mood and the revelations of the day.

The orchestra began tuning, and Severus felt the tendrils of his headache returning. Hermione's incessant chatter and the cacophony, particularly from the string section, nearly made his vision blur. Just when he thought he might launch himself off the balcony, the conductor stepped onto the stage and quieted the orchestra.

Severus closed his eyes and let the music surround him. While he'd desperately tried to put his conversation with Albus out of his mind during dinner, with minimal success, he seemingly had no choice but to reflect upon it now; the music was forcing him there.

The idea that here it was five years after the war and Severus was JUST finding out the depths of Albus's machinations made Severus sick to his stomach, though he supposed he hadn't exactly sought out the information. Oh, he'd known and understood for years that Albus had manipulated everyone in the Order. Severus had been privy to the planning of some of those machinations, but he certainly hadn't agreed with most of them. Albus always seemed to forget that people tended to resent having their free will cleverly abolished. They'd also had countless arguments about how dangerous it was for Albus to disperse his plans so widely and secretively. If but one element of his intricate plans had failed, who would have been able to right the course of the war against Voldemort? Never mind the fact that Albus's plans left Severus in great personal peril, or the fact that he had ultimately left the defeat of Voldemort to children – a fact that he and Minerva had protested with Albus since the end of Potter's first year. He had more or less come to terms with all of that before today. It was water under the bridge, so to speak.

It was Albus's revelations and apologies about the Elder Wand that shook Severus to his core. Even after finally breaking his silence on the war and his involvement, he had studiously avoided analyzing those moments preceding his near death. He recalled now that Voldemort had mentioned the Elder Wand, but in the heat of the moment Severus had attributed his ramblings about a wand from a children's fairy tale to his former master’s insanity. Severus clenched his fists at the thought, momentarily distracted by the start of the second movement. Oh, he wasn't foolish enough to have expected to survive the war. Spying was dangerous business after all, and he'd reckoned he'd be hexed into oblivion by one side or the other. But the news that Albus had intended to send him back to the devil's lair, knowing that, in all likelihood, Voldemort would connect the dots and pin Severus as the Elder Wand's owner... that meant that Albus had effectively signed Severus's death warrant.

Thinking objectively, just the logistics of Albus's plan made Severus quake. Albus had banked on Severus killing him and nullifying the power of the wand. It was an enormous and incredibly foolish risk that Albus had taken. What if Draco HAD succeeded in his task? What if Snape had died of Dragon Pox? What if the nullification didn't work and some other Death Eater had killed him? And why in seven hells had Dumbledore let Draco disarm him? Fuck! Why not just cede the wand to Potter as soon as it became clear that the end was in sight? He'd made Potter force-feed him that awful potion. Why not have the whelp cast Expelliarmus on him as well? So very much could have gone awry and left Voldemort undefeated. What if Voldemort had murdered Severus before he could deliver the critical information to Potter? Hell, what if Potter had been unable to piece together all the disparate clues to track down the Horcruxes or the Deathly Hallows? He couldn't help but hold Hermione and Potter in higher esteem now: so much had fallen on the Trio's shoulders. It was astounding that they had triumphed and grown to become fully functioning, and by all accounts, successful adults.

Severus recalled the fury he had felt all those years ago when Albus had let on that Severus had done figurative cartwheels and somersaults to protect Lily's son, only to have Albus lead him to the slaughter when the time came to defeat Voldemort. That had nearly crushed his respect for the man entirely. Finding out today about this business with the Deathly Hallows had obliterated what respect was left.

Along with the Occlumency training and greasy bastard routine that he'd confessed to Hermione, Severus had survived all these years of spying through carefully crafting his own personal myth: he was Severus Snape, steadfast, persistent, cunning, and loyal warrior. This wasn't a romantic myth where Severus Snape conquered all, but it was a myth that helped him compartmentalize and survive the often dismal circumstances in which he found himself. Steadfast, persistent, loyal, and cunning were, after all, much better descriptors than others gave him: evil, cowardly, snivelling, spiteful, pathetic, inferior, half-blood. It had been fruitless to reflect very much on the circumstances; that only sent him teetering on the edge of depression. No, it had been best to think of his life as a role – something that he was playing at, rather than his own isolated, pathetic existence. He was just living out the myth. Perhaps, he realized, it had started well before his spy days, back when he had given himself the moniker Half-Blood Prince.

Throughout the time that Severus had relied on the myth for his mental survival, Albus had played the role of benevolent dictator. After all, Severus had lived under his wing since he began teaching. He'd reported to Albus nearly on a daily basis once his spy duties resumed. Hell, Albus had been more of a father figure than anyone else in Severus's life. But now, looking back, he realized Albus had hardly been benevolent. He'd been as ruthless as Voldemort, only more inclined to use guilt, rather than Crucio, as a weapon.

It almost made it worse that the man, or rather the man's portrait, had apologized today. Knowing that the man had carried guilt to his grave over his treatment of Severus made it harder to hate him. Without Albus's remorse, Severus would have been able to write him off as a sociopath like Voldemort. Instead, he'd reluctantly acknowledged that Dumbledore hadn't been in the easiest of positions, either. At any rate, it wasn't as if one could inform one's pawns that they were marching off to certain death; it tended to put a damper on morale.

No, Severus thought as he sighed and settled further into his seat, it won't do to stew over the actions of someone long dead, even if it does alter my perspective on my own history. There's nothing to be done for it now. Besides, I've wasted enough of my life holding on to hate.

Finally, the Fourth Movement began, and Severus acknowledged that he was beginning to feel better. He'd thought about the Deathly Hallows business enough for now. Likely, he'd have some sort of epiphany in the next few days that would send him scurrying back through his memories again. But for now, his headache had dissipated, the tension between his shoulder blades had started to fade, and he could actually concentrate on the music. He stole a glance at the witch beside him and was relieved that perhaps he could finally enjoy her company, presuming he hadn't buggered things up by behaving poorly during dinner. She did look a bit agitated. Perhaps the Shostakovich unnerved her, Severus thought hopefully.

Fidgeting in her seat for what must have been the fiftieth time, Hermione thought, This is the most excruciating concert I've ever attended. She glanced at her programme. Thank gods, there's just this last movement left until the interval. I may not survive through the end.

Over the course of the evening, she'd all but abandoned hope that Severus would make some move towards renewing the affection they'd shared the week before. She'd tentatively touched him three times during dinner, but each time the man had turned positively green so she'd withdrawn immediately.  Oh, but he'd placed his hand on her back as they shuffled towards the centre seats of the aisle. She'd nearly whimpered when he dropped it as they took their seats. It was embarrassing that just that one inadvertent touch could keep her senses on high alert throughout the entire first half of the programme.

Hell, at this point she'd given up on the affection and was merely hoping to survive with all her limbs intact. What the hell is wrong with him? He seemed eager to join me last night, but he's been cranky and irritable all evening. I can hardly believe his ill humour is all the work of a headache. She stole a glance at Severus and saw a nearly shredded programme lying in his lap.

Hermione was quite put out with her raging libido, too. He's been a complete arse all evening, and here I still want to drag him into an alleyway, shove him against a wall, and have my way with him. Where the hell did my backbone go?

The lights flickered back on, and Hermione stretched her legs and arms.

"I'm going to visit the Ladies for a bit. Did you want to grab a drink in the lobby?"

Severus visibly paled at the suggestion. The last thing I need is more alcohol. I've barely maintained control all evening. I'll never manage with another drink in me. "No. Shall I get you something?"

Hermione shook her head in response before escaping to the Ladies. She ardently wished that she'd managed to convince Ginny to get a mobile. Then she could call her from the Ladies for advice like any normal girl on a disastrous date.

Hermione stared into the mirror as she blinked back tears. Why the hell was this date going so badly? She'd been so sure that Severus was interested in pursuing something beyond friendship. Had she misread him? Why was he acting so aloof? Hell, that was being too generous; she'd nearly cuffed him several times for being such a prick.

Well, she supposed that she could at least enjoy the second half of the programme, even if Severus was determined to be a complete bugbear. She had been looking forward to hearing Bolero live for some time, and she wasn't about to let Severus Snape ruin it.

Hermione returned to her seat just as the house lights dimmed their first warning. A quick glance revealed that Severus must have surreptitiously cast Reparo on his programme, and he looked a bit more relaxed than he had the entire evening.

"How did you find the first half of the programme?" she asked, attempting to avoid what would assuredly be an awkward silence.

"It was nice enough." Very eloquent. Perhaps you should submit a review in writing to accompany that bold statement, Severus scoffed as he scrambled to turn off his internal commentary.

"Well, thank you for coming. My mum would have hated to see the ticket go to waste."

Bravo, Severus, your company is preferable to throwing a ticket into the bin. What an accomplishment! Severus suppressed a wince as he tried not to react to Hermione's hopefully unintentional insult.

"No, thank you for inviting me. I'm sure I wasn't the most pleasant company during dinner, but my headache has finally gone away," Severus replied as he reached to rest his hand on her forearm.

Hermione was entirely unprepared for the gesture and startled, dumping her bag onto the floor. She reached down to collect its contents and swore as she rammed heads with Severus. She managed to collect everything just as the house lights dimmed.

Severus cursed his clumsy reactions, frustrated that he couldn't seem to restore the easy affection they'd shared before they spent that night on the sofa. Now, every time he touched Hermione he could feel her entire body tense. It was just a fucking accident when I was startled out of my wits! The way she's reacting, you'd think I'd kicked her for accidentally stepping on my shoe or some such nonsense. She's like a skittish kitten! Fuck, does she think I'm a walking catastrophe? She touched me three times during dinner but jumped as soon as she realized what she'd done.

Severus crossed his arms and settled further into his theatre seat, sulking with the knowledge that he'd well and truly buggered up his chances with Hermione. This evening had been pure and utter hell. It didn't help matters that she looked utterly ravishing in that fucking green dress. Was she trying to kill him?

The second half of the programme began, and Hermione smiled at the selection of pieces from Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet. It seemed so melodramatic – a bit like Severus ominously swooping through the halls of Hogwarts, actually. She fondly recalled when her mother had taken her to see Romeo and Juliet when she was young. They tried to take in a ballet every year. Was she ten when she saw that particular ballet? Hermione cursed herself thoroughly when she realized her mind had wandered off to ponder what Severus might look like in tights. How appropriate it was that she was listening to pieces from a ballet about lovesick teenagers. Pish. I'm no better myself, Hermione thought.

Finally, Bolero began. Hermione sat on the edge of her seat in anticipation. When they had initially purchased the tickets, her mum had talked excitedly about how much better it was to hear and see the piece live. Audio recordings just didn't do justice to the glory of seeing the melody move from instrument to instrument or seeing the piece begin so quietly with so few instruments until it gradually swelled to encompass the entire orchestra. It had been years since she heard the piece, and she hadn't quite understood how enchanting and erotic the piece could be.

Hermione could feel the melody winding its way through the orchestra and up towards the balcony. It was entirely bewitching and seemed to cast a spell that heightened all of her senses. Despite the fact that Severus was barely in her peripheral vision, she had never been so aware of anyone's presence. Each repeat of the melody, each chord, each note, each rest, and each beat all served to remind her that Severus Snape was sitting not six inches from her. She could smell the man, and it was so incredibly alluring.

Severus watched Hermione, wondering if she realized she was swaying ever so slightly to the music. As annoying as he had found Bolero in the past, this evening had Obliviated any notion he may have previously held. He wondered if that undulating melody were perhaps cursed, bespelled to taunt him. All he could imagine was Hermione writhing sinuously on a bed, beckoning him to join her. He shifted in his seat and discreetly adjusted both his boxers and the programme covering his lap. Torture. This piece was absolute bloody torture. Was there anyway he would be able to leave the theatre with his dignity intact?

Over and over again, the melody assaulted Hermione and Severus until, at last, the torturous piece ended and the symphony members took their bows. Hermione released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, wondering briefly if her legs would be able to support her when she stood up. She stretched again and, to Severus's relief, she leaned forward and watched the orchestra packing up, hoping to prolong the spell cast by the music and vainly trying to collect her wits before facing Severus. Finally, she sat back in her seat and turned to look at him.

He was smiling – actually smiling – for the first time the entire evening. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that his good humour seemed to have returned. Perhaps the dark cloud that had settled over him had dissipated during the performance.

"Would you like to go out for a coffee?" Hermione asked hopefully. Though why I'm eager to risk continuing this catastrophe of a date is a mystery.

"Sadly, I have Hogsmeade duty tomorrow. I need to be getting back to the castle so that I'm rested enough to chase the horny little buggers out of the nooks and crannies of the village," Severus replied, perhaps too quickly.

Hermione was crestfallen. Since when do they have Hogsmeade visits on Sundays? Bloody hell, Severus! Why not be more obvious, and tell me you need to go home and wash your hair? she thought, trying desperately to conceal her dejection.

Oh shit! Was that a look of disappointment that had crossed her face? Was it possible that he'd misjudged her responses? "I believe it's customary for me to see you to the door of your flat?" Severus responded, proffering his left arm. 'I believe it's customary,' Severus mocked himself silently. I sound like a fucking etiquette guide!

To his great relief, Hermione nodded and slid her arm through his.

The moment that they Disapparated from the alley behind the concert hall coincided with the failure of Ginny's Stabilization Charm on Hermione's shoes. She landed in the hallway and wobbled precariously on her spiky heels. Severus reached out to steady her and suddenly found himself with an armful of witch. He stared at the wide-eyed witch now inches from his face as her eyes slowly fluttered shut. He silently thanked every deity that came to mind.

Severus brushed his lips tentatively across Hermione's and groaned when she pulled him closer and sucked his bottom lip between hers. Kissing her was a sensory symphony all of its own. His hand slithered across the satin of her dress as he caressed the small of her back. The downy skin at the nape of her neck seemed to prickle at his touch. Her delicate hands sent shivers up his spine as they gently roamed his chest. The soft cooing noises she occasionally made were the most glorious sound he'd ever heard. The way her tongue flickered against his gave him goosebumps in places that had never seen the light of day. Kisses that had begun as slow, tentative explorations had become frantic. Hesitant touches in relatively chaste locations had escalated to unabashed groping. His arousal was building to a very heady crescendo indeed. Never had he imagined that she would feel this good.

He wasn't sure when he'd closed his eyes or how long they'd been standing there, but his eyes flew open when he heard the unmistakable sound of jangling house keys. Hermione blushed furiously and greeted her neighbour before quietly inviting Severus into her flat. He glanced at the neighbour's door and was relieved to see they'd been left in relative privacy.

"No, I wish I could," Severus said, pausing to nuzzle Hermione's neck, "but I really do have Hogsmeade duty tomorrow and ought to be getting home. It's nearly midnight." He felt Hermione stiffen when he tendered his excuse and quickly added, "The sixth and seventh years are being rewarded with an extra day for going an entire month without detentions."

Severus shuddered as he felt Hermione's lips upon his neck and her hands across his lower back and, gulp, arse. "Ungh. You're making it very difficult to leave, Hermione. Gods, you look incredible tonight."

"I've wanted to touch you all night. I'm merely collecting my due."

"I'm so sorry," Severus said as his right hand slowly crept up towards her breast.

"For what?" a rather confused Hermione asked. By all means, put your hand on my breast, Severus. Don't apologize on my account.

"Well, primarily that I have to leave, but also because apparently I was a complete idiot the entire evening. I misread your every reaction," he said, pausing to nibble at her earlobe. "I thought you were still upset because I nearly concussed you."

"Severus, I was only ever mad at Ginny for interrupting what might have been a very lovely morning for us, and I wasn't upset tonight. I was just nervous," Hermione said, blushing. "Was that the only thing bothering you tonight, though? I'd not seen you this agitated since, well, since I was a student. You know you can speak your mind with me, right?"

Severus's resolve to keep his mouth shut crumbled under the weight of her gaze. He pulled her against him and sighed against her neck in defeat. "I spoke with Albus's portrait today for four very long and painful hours. I didn't want to ruin the evening by bringing it up," he mumbled.

"Severus, you great lug," Hermione interrupted, thumping Severus on the chest and pushing him back so she could make eye contact with him. "You very nearly spoiled our friendship by not bringing it up. It's no wonder you were in a snit all night. It may not have been ideal dinner conversation, but I'd have been happy to talk with you about it, especially since it was bothering you so much. Anything would have been better than watching you brood throughout dinner and wondering what on earth I might have said to earn your wrath."

"Oh, shit! It was never you," Severus replied guiltily.

"Severus, you know that if we continue this," Hermione said, gesturing vaguely to the space between them, "then we'll both have to open up to one another. What on earth did Albus have to say that took four hours?"

"I'll tell you, but not tonight." Seeing that Hermione was about to protest, Severus continued, "I promise I will tell you. There are things I wish to discuss with you about the war independent of my discussion with Albus, and it may take some time."

"I'll hold you to that promise. You know there's very little you could say that would drive me away, don't you?"

"Enough!” Severus interjected with a sigh. “ Repeat this to anyone, and I'll string you up by your toenails: I'm a bigger moron than half the students I've taught."

"Severus, only you could turn an apology into a threat, but I suppose I'll let you make it up to me." Hermione grinned as she kissed him again.

"How very charitable of you. When?" he asked, resuming his attentions to her neck. "Tomorrow's out for me. Are you free Monday evening?"

"No, I'm looking after Teddy Lupin on Monday."

"Would you like to meet up earlier than usual before Tuesday's meeting?"

"Absolutely. Shit, I've got a meeting that won't wrap up until five thirty or so. If you head to the Leaky early, I can pop over as soon as my meeting lets out."

"Mmmkay," Severus hummed by way of reply as he explored the juncture of her neck and collarbone. "It is patently unfair *lick* that I don't get *kiss* to see you for three days *suck*, and it's tragic that I'll be forced to share you with the book club that night."

Hermione was panting so heavily now that she feared she just might undress the man in the hallway. She could feel his cock brushing against her leg, reminding her suddenly and incredibly inappropriately of the summer when she was eight and she'd tried to light a fire by rubbing two sticks together. Focus, Hermione. Focus. "Please," Hermione begged as Severus continued torturing her neck, "come into my flat."

A very reluctant Severus stepped back and leaned against the opposite wall as he struggled to maintain his self-control. Mercy, she looked incredible. It seemed like her body was flushed from head to toe. She was clearly struggling to catch her breath, and her hairdo was beautifully mussed. Just think how much better she would look spread out on a bed, his libido cried.

Miraculously, and rather unfortunately for his libido, his reason returned. Given how apt Hermione and he seemed to be at miscommunication, not to mention his ability to make an unmitigated arse of himself, perhaps it would be best if they didn't jump into bed immediately. It seemed they had some ground to cover before such intimacy was introduced. "I don't think that would be wise, Hermione. I'll see you Tuesday." He delivered a quick peck on the cheek before Disapparating.

Hermione leaned against the wall and grinned sleepily. The evening had very nearly been a train wreck. If tonight was anything to judge by, the road ahead with Severus would be perilous at times. Honestly, I can't believe he sat and stewed the entire evening. Mmmmm, but those kisses very nearly made up for it. With that thought, Hermione fished out her wand and lowered the wards to her flat, kicking off those blasted heels when she went inside. She set wards on the Floo to stall Ginny in the morning, as she would certainly want an account as early as possible. No, after a night like this one, she looked forward to a well-deserved lie-in. Grabbing Crookshanks off the sofa, she sauntered off to the bedroom, all the while wishing for another male's company.

A/N: I believe THIS may be what Severus had in mind during Bolero. ;)

And last, happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the States. I'm thankful that this fic. has made so many people laugh.