Mercury Rising

Mercury Rising

Dinner was rather stilted, conversation occurring in awkward fits and starts. Snape was attempting to deal with his mortification and, as a consequence, was taciturn, though manners kept him from being a completely surly git. Hermione, for her part, was realizing the down-side of having Snape see her as a woman: she was seeing him as a man. (Instead of a professor, a very different entity.)

In fact, an entirely different entity.

Oh, he hadn't changed. She knew that. He was still a snarky, homely man, but sitting across from him at the dinner table, she began to notice… things.

His hands. Hermione had never really looked at them before. But now she noticed that they were large hands, and sinewy, rather like daVinci's 'David.' Long fingers, moving with deft precision as he manipulated his utensils. Would they manipulate her with that same dexterity? What would they be like to the touch? Smooth and well-tended as valued instruments? Or calloused and scarred from accidents and labour? How would they feel as they trailed down her body and…?

Hermione flushed and refocused her attention on her plate. Food. Yes. Food was good. Necessary. Prosaic. Certainly nothing suggestive of sex, except… Damn.

He'd noticed Hermione's high colour during dinner and attributed it to frustration at his continued presence. After all, he wasn't a pleasant conversationalist by any standard, and this mess had begun with him staring at her legs. She'd very nice ones, honestly, but he doubted he was someone she wanted looking. Even if it was her own bloody fault he had. Women were like that. Why else the black eye?

But they were nice legs. Come to think of it, the breasts weren't half-bad, either. Nor her hands as she…

Damn. Focus, man. Eat quickly and get the hell out.

Hermione took full advantage of the silence, putting her mind to work in its usual methodical way, and had come to a conclusion by the time she'd stacked the dishes on the kitchen counter.

Severus hovered uneasily near the door. He didn't need to be a complete prat nowadays and wanted to take his leave properly. "Hm. I appreciate the dinner, Miss Granger…" For the sake of his sanity, he did not thank her again for his, hm, nap. He wasn't babbling, but he couldn't seem to find an end.

Hermione found it for him as her lips claimed his.