Before I First Met You, I Was Lonesome

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

~~Severus~~

She still manages to stupefy me, with no need of spell work. Just catching her eyes as she raises them from marking her moronic students' homework is enough to stop my blackened, much abused heart.

Hermione is like sunlight and fresh air to my dank, musty cellar of a life. I want to do all manner of 'un-Snape-like' things when she smiles at me, giggling and skipping included.

But I restrain myself, at least when we're not alone. I've spent my adult life scaring the pants off of horny, imbecilic cretins. It's far too late to change tactics now. When we retire to our chambers, however, I can give in to all my whims.

Right. I've never actually skipped. But I have walked quickly with a bit of a bounce to my step. The woman thrills me beyond all reason, but Rome, as they say, was not built in a day.

I can remember feeling terrified and bitter when I realised that I'd allowed myself to be wooed by this child. This amazing, beautiful, fierce, delicate force of nature, young enough to have been sired by me--not that I'd ever so much as laid eyes on her mother, but that's beside the point--could never return my feelings.

My treatment of her went from testy to positively mortifying. Even I wanted to cringe at some of the things I heard myself say. But I felt it was best to keep my distance, for my own sanity. The less she liked me, the easier it would be to remain focused on what our relationship would have to be.

But, gods, that woman brought out the very worst in me, from the moment that she walked back through the doors of Hogwarts as a professor. I'd always known that she was intelligent, but added to that was the confidence she'd gained in the intervening years. Her studies abroad, not to mention the fight against the Dark Lord and all its fall out, had given her the grace and bearing that I found hypnotic.

Staff meetings became torturous. I began to stare at her while the others were speaking. Try as I might have to keep my actions covert, somehow she always seemed to meet my gaze. Sometimes, she would look away quickly, though at times she would smile shyly at me. My blood boiled, and not in the angry, resentful, comforting, normal way.

Then the meetings in the library. Only the first was a true accident, though I'd kept up the charade of 'chance meetings' for several months. I found myself searching for topics during the day that might provoke interesting debates with Hermione. Then, most annoyingly, I found I was making an effort to suggest books or articles she might enjoy.

I don't know if I should have been more pleased or terrified when I discovered just how similar our tastes and views really were. Begrudgingly, I was forced to admit that she was my complement and my equal. She no longer seemed to fear the dreaded 'Snape Glare.' I don't mind saying I was utterly gobsmacked when, for the first time since my early teens, someone simply stared back into my tense, creased face and asked, ever so coolly, if I'd finished with my tantrum.

I found myself in immediate gratitude to any and all attending deities that I was wearing rather voluminous robes that hid the evidence of my 'ardent' approval for her contempt and disrespect.

That same night, in my shower, I pleasured myself to thoughts of a specific witch for the first time in twenty years. The faceless female of my fantasies was gone. It was Hermione's face I saw, her body I envisioned beneath me. Her hands, eyes and mouth. In one final show of supplication, I cried out her name as I spent myself.

I laughed afterwards. I now belonged to someone infinitely good and kind, who had no idea that she was the centre of my once pathetic existence, controlling me completely. It was a giant step up from Voldemort or even Albus. Rather like getting your soul back from Satan to turn it over to God. I felt clean and pure every time I thought of her.

That was the cause of my hysterics. I felt clean and pure whilst wanking to thoughts of an oblivious colleague.

Gods above, my life is wholly and utterly lost.

Over the next weeks and months, it became increasingly necessary for me to retire to my chambers and 'find release.' I made excuses right after meals; I ran from staff meetings as though demons gave chase; I'd even needed to duck into an unused classroom once, after she'd smiled at me as we passed in the corridor. Quickly, I surpassed the wanking activities of my early teen years, and this time, my mum wasn't around to threaten me with the imminent failure of my eyesight.

~~Hermione~~

The library has always been my favourite place within the confines of Hogwarts. If I had an available moment, I lost no time in finding my favourite table and reading or marking essays.

After a few weeks, I noticed that there always seemed to be someone watching me. Given the number of ghosts in residence, it didn't seem odd to me.

One night, Severus stalked past my table. He didn't make eye contact, but I felt certain I'd discovered who had been observing me. I decided to leave a trade journal I'd received recently on the table.

I had to make several attempts, but finally, after weeks of stalking and glancing surreptitiously at my reading materials, he stopped.

The sound of his voice surprised me so much that I had to grip the table for support.

"You'll want to read someone other than Thatcher's views regarding Elemental Transfer Efficacy. The man's a waste of space. Try reading Hiensman or Garner. They are at least moderately knowledgeable." With that, he was off again. But it was only a beginning.

From that night on, he stopped and spoke to me about something. Eventually, he sat while he insulted my reading materials. And finally, he brought his own reading to sit with me while we worked in silence, occasionally disrupting the stillness to goad me about one thing or another.

If these sorts of interruptions had been coming from anyone other than Severus, I'd have beheaded them. But I'd been waiting to speak with this man on an intellectual level since before I could understand why I so badly wanted his attention.

At first, it was his voice that captured my attentions. As he'd rattled off his standard (though I hadn't know it at the time) 'First Year Speech,' I fell under the spell. I had more difficulty with my Potions lessons than any other course--not because they were more difficult, but because the sound of Severus' velvety voice was a distraction to me.

My first sexual experience followed a particularly vivid dream of him speaking. Though I didn't have a clue what caused the aching at my centre or how to fix it, instinct took over. I fumbled my way to my very first release replaying his lectures in my head.

By the time I was in my fifth year, I'd noticed his hands and the beautiful, confident way they manipulated ingredients and implements as he worked. I became adept at memorising the way Severus worked so I could bring the mental images back for better use when I was alone.

As a colleague, I was obsessed with him. I'd come to realise that my affections and attentions would be entirely wasted on him. It hurt a bit to know that these feelings would forever go unrequited, but I was willing to accept the pain I might one day feel should he ever discover me.

He was cruel and cold. He was sexy and arrogant. He was the drug, and I was the hopeless addict.

Then one night, everything changed. I needed a different book. A simple Locator charm told me that it was, luckily enough, in the stack opposite our table.

As I stood to walk the short distance, Severus raised his eyebrows at me. I smiled weakly, trying to control my heart rate. Because I didn't trust my voice or my spell casting under his watchful gaze, I pulled the wheeled ladder over to retrieve the book in the Muggle way.

I climbed more than halfway up the ladder, feeling his piercing, onyx gaze the whole way. I reached my destination and took the heavy, dust-covered volume in my hands. For some reason, I decided to turn my shoulders to smile down at him.

As I turned, leaning away from the ladder slightly, I misjudged the effects of the enormous book against my chest. I closed my eyes as I felt the ladder slip away from my body, and I tried to remember to relax for the impact with the hard floor below.

My book seemed to vanish, and the floor never came for me. I landed, remarkably comfortable, against something firm. The sound of his rapid breathing caused my eyes to spring open.

His eyes were searching me, as if for sign of injury. I was cradled against his chest. I opened my mouth to say that I was fine, but the words died as he pressed his lips firmly to mine.

Never in my wildest fantasies had a kiss like this existed. Every nerve ending from the top of my head to the sole of my pinkie toes was singing the 'Hallelujah Chorus.'

I still swear I felt my ovaries perk up and do their victory dance as his hand stroked my cheek, and my arms tightened their hold on him. The world melted away, and I was only aware of his lips and tongue.

The term 'master' applied to him not only in the realm of Potion making. After what felt like days of intense kissing, he pulled away and looked into my more than slightly dazed eyes.

His brow furrowed, and he took a slow breath. "Mr. Weasley?"

I was stunned for a moment and then shook my head. "He's only ever been a friend, Severus." I blushed, but I felt that honesty was best here. "I've only ever wanted you."

~~Severus~~

Over the weeks and months that followed that kiss, we became closer than I'd imagined possible. Never in my life had I known closeness like I'd experienced with Hermione.

We were well-matched intellectually and had enough differing views to keep discussion interesting. Though, at times, I found her thought processes maddeningly over-intellectualized.

I would rather die than admit it was a quite a turn-on to have a woman who would argue with me. She would not be intimidated. I glared, ranted, and hissed at her through gritted teeth, and still, she would remain calm.

I wanted her physically for as long as I could remember. The kiss in the library only served to frustrate me further. I had experience, but nothing that I would care to share with Hermione.

I'd never had to seduce a woman. I'd either paid or been compelled to act by a merciless tyrant. Hermione deserved far more than that. The thought of disappointing her made me reluctant to push things further.

So we went on for months, snogging like randy fifth-years until I'd have to make my excuses. The shower in my private bath saw more action during those months than in the whole of my residence.

Tension began to mount, and it occurred to me that she would likely assume that my hesitancy was due to some flaw on her part. The very last thing she should feel was rejected.

I hoped she'd simply ask me to make love to her. If she did that, then I'd feel more confident. I pulled away and apologized for what felt like a million times.

Then one night, just after the end of summer term, things had gotten wildly out of hand. I found myself in only my trousers, Hermione atop my lap. She was clothed only in a skimpy lace bra and a scandalously shortened skirt when I broke our kiss to take a breath.

Make a move now! Either get on with it, or get out. One way or the other, stop torturing me!! Odd that my genitals had decided to open a mental dialogue with me now.

"I should go.... It's terribly late." I tried to smile gently as I disentangled myself from her.

Her delicate yet surprisingly strong arms shot out to circle my neck and pull me back down. "Don't go."

When I could bear it, I brought my eyes to meet hers. Hermione's chocolate brown orbs were full of longing, hope, and something else that I couldn't yet identify.

Does she want me? Like this? I sat, nervously trying not to touch her without looking like I was trying not to touch her.

"Severus." Her hand trailed from my cheek, down my neck, and over my chest. It's rather difficult to appear dignified when one is both randy beyond all reason and frightened.

Yes, that's right. The Snarky Dungeon-bat was afraid. I'm human.

"Don't go." Having said that, she leaned up and placed the softest and most gentle of kisses on my lips, moaning lightly as she did so.

I was done for. The next few moments reminded me most of the times I'd been embroiled in a battle, only exponentially more pleasant. It was blurry and confused. Hands and mouths were everywhere, causing little bursts of lightning to erupt beneath my skin.

Finally, the moment arrived. I held my weight using my left hand, my right hand holding my erection at her entrance. The moist heat coming from within her was having the most exciting and unfortunate effect on me. I could ignore my woeful inadequacy, and hope she wouldn't mind or I could be a man, and admit my shortcomings (no pun intended).

I chose the high road, and struggled to stop my voice from shaking as I sacrificed my dignity on the altar of true love.

"Hermione," I panted, "I swear by all that is sacred in this world that I'll make it up to you later, but, sadly, this first time will be decidedly--ungh--brief."

She laughed and shook her head, reclaiming my mouth with hers. It was extremely short-lived, but never one to go back on my word, the subsequent couplings had more than made up for it. Hermione assured me and anyone within a five mile radius (Silencing Charms be damned) of that very thing.

*****************************************************************************************

~~Hermione~~

After we consummated our relationship, everything else seemed to fall into place. I'd been a bit nervous that it would become centred on sex, but it didn't. We were able to find a balance of the physical, cerebral, and emotional. I was in heaven.

Make no mistake, Severus was still difficult--highly irritable, short tempered and set in his own ways. But those were the things I loved most in him.

We fought, sometimes violently. But every time we had an argument that ended in my flinging something rather heavy at his head, shouting, "Fuck you!" it seemed that a few hours later I would be writhing beneath him, moaning, "Fuck me!" with equal sincerity.

In a really odd way, that became the definition of true love for me. I didn't take any shit, and neither did he. We were best friends. We each were aware of the other's flaws and loved in spite of them, if not all the more because of them.

The darkest spot was Ron. I wasn't lying when I told Severus that we'd only ever been friends. At least for my part, we had only ever been friends. Ron had designs of a future for us, involving marriage and a 'happily ever after.' He always had been stupidly optimistic on that front.

I told him about Severus, and he literally lost control of himself. He screamed and threw things. In the end, I put in him a Full Body-Bind and quietly told him that if he really was my friend, he would accept my decision and support me in it.

I haven't heard from him since. I missed Ron's friendship, but I didn't want him around if he was going to constantly berate my choices and never be civil to the most important person in my world.

Severus understood as I grieved the loss of my childhood friend. He really can be quite sweet and thoughtful in the proper circumstances. He even did his best to hide his glee at the prospect of never having to deal with Ron again.

Harry took the news much better. He ran his hand through his hair and pursed his lips for a moment. Finally, he sighed and told me that if Severus made me happy, then that was good enough for him.

I nearly knocked him over with the fierce hug. Harry was my family, and for him to accept Severus was an enormous relief. Though Harry had warned me that it might take him a while to be on his best behaviour and that they would likely never be fast friends.

I was thrilled by anything less than blatant hostility!

~~Severus~~

Marriage came about with some difficulty. I wanted to ask her the first time we ever made love, but that seemed rather cliché. So I waited for the perfect opportunity. Hermione was rare and unique. No ordinary dinner would do for her.

But first, my honour and the depth of my feelings for her demanded that I follow tradition. This posed a problem, however, since Hermione's parents had never fully recovered from the Memory Charms she'd used to keep them safe. I knew that she had no regrets about sacrificing her relationships with them for their own safety, but it did leave her without a father.

The next most likely candidate was Arthur Weasley, and though I genuinely liked the man, I felt it was inappropriate to ask the father of the man who'd been rejected by my intended for a blessing on our marriage.

This left me with only one other option. Feeling as though I'd rather be eating shards of broken glass, I waited for Harry Potter to answer his front door one Saturday morning in September.

"Profess--I mean, Headmaster? Can I help you? Please, come in, sir." Harry looked rather bewildered.

No, you twit, I'm just knocking on every door in London to wish each of my countrymen a good morning, I thought rather nastily, swallowing my venom and nodding politely.

I followed Potter through the house and into the kitchen.

"Would you care for some tea, sir?"

I nodded, realising the only way for the both of us to survive this encounter was for me to humour the imbecilic boy, hopefully putting him at ease in the process.

I tried to think of polite things to say to Potter while he gathered the things for tea. I came up with an extremely short list of suitable topics. This was shaping up to be one hell of a day.

"I understand you've come through Auror training at the top of your class. Congratulations." I tried to keep my voice polite.

While he finished the tea, Harry prattled about his training and his first few assignments. I was pleased to see "The Chosen One" was no longer full of himself. He seemed gracious and had a strength that I found I could almost respect.

After a pause, he looked tentatively at me and asked, "Sir, I mean no disrespect, but what brings you here? We've never really socialized, so I assume this is a bit more than a casual call."

"You are quite right, Potter. I am here to speak to you on a rather sensitive matter. I must ask that you keep all that I say in confidence." I waited for a response. Though he didn't look thrilled at the prospect, the younger man nodded his assent.

I continued. "I'm sure it's come to your attention that Hermione and I have spent a great deal of time together over the last years. I value her as a person, as a friend, and as a colleague. More than that, I find myself with... with deep personal feelings for her." I took a shuddering breath and focused my gaze on the floor.

When I'd reined in my nerves, I went on. "I know that as a result of her parents' difficulties with their memories, she is left without blood relatives. I am also aware that she considers you to be her family. Oh, and of course, Mrs. Potter."

I paused, and the green-eyed git nodded in encouragement (I found insulting him internally soothed me). "That being said, I've come here to declare my intentions toward Hermione to you, as her family. I have gainful employment at Hogwarts, and I also maintain a large number of private brewing contracts.

"I can obviously provide her with more than adequate living accommodations, both at Hogwarts and a small home I inherited that could be used during the holidays. If she should wish to have children, I am amenable to that. I will in no way hinder or discourage her career."

Harry gaped stupidly at me in utter shock and then quickly found his voice. "Do you love her?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, with all my heart." I wasn't truly comfortable sharing my feelings, but I felt I owed it to Hermione to do this, so I met Harry's gaze evenly.

"Does she love you?"

I wasn't expecting such direct questions from him. "For some strange reason, yes, she does. Though I'm not a jovial or pleasant sort of person--"

At that, Harry snorted, and I glared at him coolly before continuing. "I assure you I will make her happiness my first priority."

Harry's face broke into a disbelieving half-smile. "So you want my permission to marry her?"

"No. I am asking for your blessing to seek her hand. She is the only one who can grant 'permission.'" I was feeling more annoyed than nervous, hoping he would mistake the one for the other.

Potter laughed outright and stood, extending his hand. When I shook his hand, the boy clapped me on the shoulder. "It's good that you feel that way; otherwise, I think your bollocks would be in mortal peril. Not from me--from Hermione. You might have noted that she can be a bit on the independent side."

We laughed together for the first time. When we parted ways, he assured me that he would not mention our conversation to anyone. In spite of myself, I felt a spring in my step and almost wanted to smile at random passers-by. Almost, but not quite.

A/N: Stay tuned!! Next chapter talks about the proposal, and stag and hen parties. =]