Eleven

Hermione watched Severus slam the door in her face. He was officially pissed. So much for the fun time in Finland . . . actually, that had ended last night when the reservations had been screwed up. And then she'd sealed her lips shut...a really impressive thing to do. Severus had come to the rescue with calming her down. And to top it off, he hadn't seemed upset helping her with her nourishment problem either. But he'd been a minger once the award ceremony had started. Was he upset because he hadn't won anything this year? She was sure he would have had several golden cauldrons from all the improvements he'd done to his old Potions textbook as the Half-Blood Prince. Wasn't she allowed to gloat a bit? After all, it was her first time. And two in one night! The bubble wand was purely luck. There must have been some pitiful entries if she'd won the last category.

She unsheathed her feet from her pumps and cautiously took off her robes. She didn't want Severus to walk in while she was naked...well, she did, kind of. Those sorts of thoughts had entertained her a few times, but it was all fantasy. What would she really do if he walked out of the loo while she was naked? Better yet, what would he do? It would probably improve his mood some to see some arse.

Straining her ears, she could make out the water running in the sink. He was probably brushing his teeth. She slowly removed her clothes, leaving it to chance. She would just change normally, and if he happened to walk out while she was nude, she would take whatever came. And if she got dressed before he came out, she would go on with life with no alterations. The room was chilly, causing goose bumps to mature on her exposed skin. She filtered through her clothes while naked, searching for her nightgown. Oh, there it was, oops, she accidentally dropped it.

He still wasn't coming out! Where was he? It was deathly quiet in there. She slipped into her nightgown, appraising herself in the mirror. Did she look promiscuous in this outfit? Severus hadn't approved last night, but he was from a different era...maybe he liked a different look or nothing at all. She was tempted to crawl into bed naked and see what he did when he joined her. But she didn't want to appear wantonly. She would just let it happen by chance or let him think it was purely chance.

Severus Snape was a snarky bastard. He had treated her badly so many times, but for some reason she couldn't hold a grudge against the man for very long. His bad attitude was sexy, something like the unexplainable attraction women had for "the bad guy." Every time they had a conversation, she was drawn to him; Hermione was obsessed. He had thoroughly enjoyed her finger-sucking bit at Christmas. Even though she had been unable to control her actions, she had seen how he'd looked at her as she'd ministered to him. And she hadn't told him how much of a turn on it had been to do it to him either. But the best part of the whole incident was his simple act of kindness when he had lied to the staff and students on her behalf. When he'd told her about it, he hadn't used any pretenses about doing it for his own welfare...only as a courtesy to her, to keep her from embarrassment in the future. That was the sexiest part of all, and he had no idea.

Hermione patiently waited at the foot of the bed for the bathroom door to open but realized she couldn't brush her teeth anyway. Her breath was going to stink tomorrow morning. She crawled up the bed to the pillows when Severus came out. What a lovely view for the man: her arse in the air as she crawled on all fours up the length of the bed. Well, she'd wanted to give him a sign, here it was. She scrambled under the covers and heard him slide into bed next to her. The lights went out. Either he was really mad or really dense.

It took a long time for Hermione to sleep, and she was sure Severus was having trouble too. She wanted to roll over and snuggle up to him, tell him he shouldn't be jealous of her because in a way he'd won the award too. If he hadn't been in need of help, she never would have made the potion. But instinct told her to leave him alone. Besides, she couldn't talk. Finally, she slumbered, and the room grew cold. It was a restless sleep, and she seemed aware of her thoughts as she slept. It wasn't hard for her subconscious to draw her closer to the warmth of the other body in the bed. All night, she slowly crept closer and closer, only partially aware of what she was doing. Her mind told her several times to stop, but the irrational side won out, telling her it was fine. She needed warmth; it was only right. When she found it, she buried her face into it, sleeping peacefully at last.

When she did awake, she was aware of a robust-like spice. But her hazy mind couldn't tell which kind. It was oddly familiar...musky; it attracted her and sent a chill down her spine, reminding her of a thrilling and windy adventure. The warmth moved slightly, pulling her out of the dazed sleep. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly from the collected sleep and found herself curled up into Severus' chest, facing him. She took stock of where her arms were, hopefully nowhere embarrassing. One hand was tucked under her head, good. And the other was in front of her face, lying on the bed, next to his chest as it heaved slightly with each of his slumbering breaths.

But his hands were another story. One arm was under her neck, and the other was resting on her bare thigh, right up at her panty line near the hip. Her nightgown had slipped up to her belly button again. It never stayed put, its only downfall. She wanted to stay in this position, pretending this whole thing meant something, but she knew he'd be mad when he woke up and found her invading his space. Slowly, she eased his hand off her hip, but he grunted and slid it back up her thigh.

"Stop moving, Granger," he mumbled. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Severus," she said, realizing she could finally open her mouth. "I..."

"Shh, you're the one who wanted us to sleep in the same bed. Now hush, I'm comfortable, don't move."

"But do you know . . . " She didn't know what to say. And why was she arguing with him?

"Mmm, I liked you better as a mute," his voice croaked as he pulled her closer.

Hermione wondered if he was actually awake, but she didn't really care. It was nice feeling wanted even if it weren't real. They lightly dozed, and when she woke up again, she thought they must have overslept because the sun was pouring in through the window. There was no point in finishing the convention now; it ended at noon. It must be nearly ten if there was this much light. Turku wasn't that far from the Arctic Circle, and winter sunlight was limited.

She watched him sleep. Her feelings for Severus befuddled her a bit. The past few months had been invigorating. She'd never had such conversations before, and it was addictive. But she worried about being overbearing. Was she invading his privacy too much, spending too much time with him? Surely he would have said something by now. He would have told her off if he didn't want to be around her any longer. But he hadn't. So she kept coming back, wondering how far she could push before he would shove.

There was more than that: not only was she enjoying the discussions and sparing but she also enjoyed him. He was her friend, although she was sure he wouldn't use that word out loud. And she had a yearning to take it a step further. Like right now. It was so natural to sleep next to him and feel his gentle hand on her thigh. To have his breath brush past her neck and know he was comfortable too. Sadly, he wasn't awake. She was sure if he were, they wouldn't be in this position. But it was obvious that his subconscious wanted security and affection.

Tentatively, Hermione inched her hand down to his groin. Heat radiated from him, and she lightly grazed her hand across the fabric of his pajama pants. He pressed against her hand for a moment, and he was hard. It sent a message right to her core. She wanted to grasp him in her hand, but knew it was uncouth. Instead, she reached into her own knickers to fulfill her own needs.

His body must have been thinking the same thing because, although he was still asleep, his breathing had quickened and he pressed his cock against her stomach. They reached climax almost together, his hips buckled against her.

"Lily," he whispered through his teeth as he came.

She jerked her hand out of her knickers, stung by his words. He was close to waking up now. Hermione hid her face in the pillow. Her heart was breaking; it was a plunging hole making it difficult to function. With only a moment to control her quivering chin, she steadied her breathing and pretended to be asleep. Severus was awake now; she hoped her act was convincing. He tried to leave the bed quietly so as not to wake her...he was probably embarrassed by his "dream" and wanted to clean up.

As soon as he was in the bathroom, she got out of bed herself. Silent tears spilled onto the bed. They had been awfully close to her side of the bed, just like yesterday. Severus had moved more during the night than she had. It made her feel a little better but not enough to cover the hurt from his subconscious confession of Lily. He was still in love with Lily? Long ago, Harry had told her how Severus had loved his mum since childhood, but she had thought by now he would have been over her. Lily's death was avenged; he should have let go. Why couldn't he see her, Hermione Granger?

What hurt the most was the fact that she was infatuated with this man, and she didn't seem to have any effect on him. Night after night she had dreamt of Severus as she had licked the barbeque sauce off his fingers. More often though, she would relive their most recent debates; he always had a passion in his eye when he'd spoken on a subject he loved. Those were the moments she'd seen whom he really was. But he was passionate for subjects and subjects alone...not people and certainly not her.

Hermione packed while he showered. Again, he came out with a towel around his waist, and she could barely look at him. It was despairing to know he would never be hers. Oh, this was ridiculous! She was a grown woman; she needed to get in control of her emotions. Severus was always in control of his. Why couldn't she do the same? Hermione gathered a change of clothes and went to shower. As she adjusted the water temperature, she mused on how intimate it was using the wet shower after he'd recently exited. There was still steam on the mirror, and the floor was wet where he'd dried off. Why, oh why, couldn't she just stop?

The water was cold long before she was willing to get out. Severus was slamming drawers impatiently, waiting for her to finish. He was still mad about last night then. She dressed quickly, stepping out with wet hair. He was scowling; she didn't have to ask why. He wanted to grab the next Portkey and get out. This trip had been as unromantic as possible...completely unsentimental. She never wanted to remember this morning as long as she lived.

A Portkey was ready when they arrived at the conference hall. Without either one speaking, they took a hold of the cracked beer bottle. Within minutes they were inside Severus' office. His jerky movements told her he didn't want to talk. She hadn't spoken to him since he'd told her he liked her better quiet. She wasn't in the mood for talking anyway; it would only make her cry.

The students were incorrigible once school started on Monday. Maybe their New Year resolutions for the year 2004 were to drive her insane. Hermione broke up three fistfights before the owls even arrived at breakfast. Oliver sat next to her, much to her surprise, asking for forgiveness for his tart behavior during his birthday last month. Must have been his resolution to make amends. She told him it was nothing. Okay, so she was still at odds with Oliver, but she wanted to make Severus jealous. But she asked herself why he would even care about her relationship with others in the first place? His thoughts only revolved around the dead woman of his fantasies while a living, desirable woman wanted him just three seats down the table.

Two more fights, or duels rather, broke out in the corridors. Those students were lucky she was there before Filch could assign detentions. Classes were chaos, much like her emotions. Everything she'd spent teaching last term seemed to have fled from their minds over the holiday. All her classes fell behind schedule. She hadn't planned on this. Growing up with Harry and Ron should have prepared her better. No one was listening to directions, and large amounts of ingredients were wasted by the cauldron-full each class period.

On Wednesday night, she was tired of grading half-completed essays. She needed something to do. But she had nowhere to go. Susan and Neville were on rounds tonight, and Oliver was down at the Quidditch pitch "watching" the Gryffindor team practice; she didn't dare go up to the Headmaster's office. She still didn't know where they stood. Things were still a bit awkward. She knew Severus' birthday was on Friday, and she didn't have a gift for him. Maybe a heartfelt present would smooth things over. Figuring the best gift would be a potion, she entered her storeroom. Ingredients lined the shelves around her. Something was bound to catch her attention and hopefully catch his. So far her anti-venom had done nothing but anger him, and her bubble potion had only made him scoff. What about a gift somewhere between serious and childish? No, what rubbish. This was going to take some serious thought.

Hopefully, the award ceremony hadn't burned out their relationship. Suddenly, she wondered if he'd known she'd been touching herself while sleeping with him. What if he'd deliberately said Lily's name just to show her how much he didn't like her? He wouldn't have done that, would he? No, she decided that he would never be that cruel.

Hermione turned her attention back to Severus' gift; she was determined to give him something whether he accepted it or not.

On Friday, she was all nerves. Hermione couldn't decide when to give him his gift. Breakfast in the Great Hall was too public. So maybe she'd wait until her free period. But she wasn't sure he would be available. By dinner she realized it had better be soon. After dinner, the gargoyle jumped out of the way, and she knocked on his door, waiting for permission to enter. She heard a slurred voice tell her to enter.

"Happy birthday, Severus," she said quietly.

He was inebriated. Already? Dinner was only an hour ago.

"I have something for you," she prompted.

He took a swig from something in a bottle.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I made you a Hate Potion." She pulled it out of the box, and it plunked on the desktop. "And I've had this bottle for a few years now; I'm passing it on to you." She pulled out a much larger bottle. It made a deep thud as it rested on the desk.

He pulled it towards him and read, "Gregory's Unctuous Unction. So let me get this straight. You thought I'd like a Hate Potion, and a potion that makes me think you're my best friend? Would you care to explain?" he sneered. He wasn't going to make this easy.

"To tell the truth, our relationship has had a lot of ups and downs, and I thought these could straighten it out a little. When you find yourself hating me, you could take a small dose of Gregory's, and when you're pleased with me, just take the Hate Potion and remember all the reasons I don't meet your expectations."

Severus blinked.

"It was supposed to be a bit more funny, but you were supposed to be a bit more sober."

Another swig from the bottle.

Fine, if this was how it was going to be . . . "Right, well, have a wonderful birthday. Sorry I even bothered." She turned sharply on her heals.

"Granger," he called gruffly. She turned around. "Quit trying to show off you dammed talents. I'm sick of you throwing it in my face. You think after the convention and your gloating over two awards, you can just waltz in here and one-up me in my own office? I thought you'd said we were 'friends.'" The liquid sloshed inside the bottle as he made quotation marks. "Friends don't smear failure in their friend's faces. I don't need reminding of my shortcomings."

He went back to the bottle.

She quickly sped through the corridors until she found the stupid portrait of fruit. After stocking up on her own bottle of Firewhisky, she slumped onto her couch. Hermione wasn't much of a drinker, so it didn't take long to get sloshed. But the hurt didn't fade at all. It was a disappointing night all round.

Hermione found herself agreeing to hang out with Oliver and Susan for Saturday night. But it unexpectedly turned into a date. At lunch, Susan received a letter from a long lost relative, asking her to stop by for a visit while he was passing through Hogsmeade. Susan had no idea whom this person was, but Oliver encouraged her to go, insisting it sounded important.

Oliver had transfigured his classroom into a forest glade, and a romantic picnic was set up. He promised it had been already prepared before Susan had been called away, despite there only being settings for two. Hermione had a good time, but something was off. His eyes were hungry; she knew what he was after. Oliver was confusing. He liked her, but then he didn't. He was scared of her, and then he wasn't. Simply, he was a fair weathered friend who wanted a booty call. He tried all his old tricks, grazing her hand or rubbing his feet with hers. During dessert, he "accidentally" spilled red wine down his robes and shirt. He took them off instead of using magic to clean himself. That was her cue to leave.

He insisted on escorting her to her chambers. But when they got there, he asked to come in. Reluctantly, she agreed. As soon as the door closed, he pounced. He was kissing her mouth and neck. His hands groped her breasts as he swiftly guided her to the couch. His slimy tongue was forced down her throat, and he pushed her onto the couch rubbing his erection roughly into her hip.

"Lie down, Hermione," he commanded hoarsely.

"Enough, Oliver, no. I don't want sex with you. Stop!" She was reaching for her wand as he tried to take off his robes.

"Come on, Hermione. This will help our relationship. You'll like it too, all the others have never complained. It's been forever."

His lips claimed her mouth again. She turned her head to keep his lips from hers and thought she saw Severus' face in the flames...they licked around his hair. But the next moment he was gone.

"Get off me!" She wasn't strong enough to push him away at this angle, and her wand was stuck in her pocket.

"I want to see what you can do," Oliver said in a seductive voice. "I saw the way you licked Snape's fingers. If you could do that to the greasy git, then think what you could do to someone you like."

Oh for heaven's sake! What a prig. Finally, she unsheathed her wand and stuck it into his underwear-clad groin, commanding him to get off. Once he was sitting on the couch, and she was standing up against the fireplace, she became a little more secure. He needed to leave now, or she would do something to put herself in Azkaban.

"I don't want to see you in here again. I told you 'no'; yet you persisted. I am not attracted to you Oliver, and I've never led you on to think I was someone looking for a one night stand."

He looked unabashed as he stared her in the face. She grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it in the fire, yelling, "Oliver Wood's chambers." Nothing happened. What was going on? She looked at the fire and could make out an ear listening through the flames. She kicked it, hard. Severus would have to be dealt with later. The Floo powder worked on the second try, and Mr. Wood was gone. She then cursed her fireplace to give whoever entered through it the worst hexing of their life.

On Sunday, Susan reported the letter to be a hoax; no one had been there to meet her. Big surprise. Hermione explained how Oliver had tried to make her feel comfortable by just hanging out, all three of them. And then he'd disposed of the third wheel, hoping to inflate the remaining tire.

The next week was quiet. She didn't hear anything from Oliver, who sat at the other end of the table during all his meals, or from Severus, who never tucked his long raven hair behind his ears. How much of her incident had Severus seen or heard? And what had he wanted? He'd made himself pretty clear the night before; he wasn't interested in repairing their friendship.

Regardless of their friendship status, life went on. Most days, her classes were only a distraction from the pain. But when Hermione had time to think about Severus, she considered her options. She could turn to her bottle of Firewhisky or she could have that fling with Oliver. She knew he was willing. But it would get her nowhere. How did she make someone jealous if they didn't care in the first place? There was no simple solution to her problems. It was like her anti-venom. There were so many variables to solve, so many reactions to certain circumstances. It just wasn't as easy to solve this puzzle.

After classes on Friday, Hermione decided to skip dinner. She had so many papers to grade it wasn't funny. Half way through the second stack, she was startled by a light cough. Severus was standing in front of her desk. After the initial shock, she stiffly invited him to sit down. Now that she was face to face with him, she didn't know how to act.

He didn't meet her gaze until he spoke. "I owe you several apologizes. Firstly, I am sorry for intruding upon your . . . personal time with Professor Wood last Saturday night. But I had feared you might have been in danger, so I'd remained inside the Floo as a precaution. If you had been assaulted, I wanted to be ready to help. But you were in control of the situation, as I soon found out."

He paused, as if waiting for her forgiveness, but she didn't give it.

"I've faced Voldemort, Severus, I think I can handle a crippled Quidditch player."

"If you care to press charges, I would be more than happy to help," he said.

"And the second apology?" she asked, ignoring his help.

"Do you not wish to dispose of the creep?"

"No, I don't think I wish to be reminded of that entire weekend. Bringing others into it would only prolong the pain."

He watched her for a moment before proceeding. "The second apology would be why I was calling upon you residence through the Floo Saturday night. I wanted to thank you for the gifts. My birthday has never been a joyous occasion. And I am sorry you saw me in such a state. I'm not myself when I drink, and although I don't recall the words I had said, I know I must have been harsh with you."

Oh, she was ready to remind him. "You said I should stop throwing your failure in your face. My talents were annoying you, and I, as a person, would never measure up to your expectations." She added the last one, hoping he would quell her fears that Lily was the only important woman in his life.

He let a heavy sigh pass between them. "I have negative associations with the Potions Convention." He said, "I've entered in over several dozen potions and have never won an award. I assume it is because of my past association with the Dark Lord. I finally stopped sending in entries. It was a bit difficult watching you enter in only two and winning both while at your first convention."

No wonder he was jealous. Perhaps more potions hadn't been the best idea for a birthday present.

"Now, your gifts, despite what I might have said the other day, are wonderful. I can only assume what you meant by them, and I find it quite humorous. Don't think I won't drink them either." Severus smiled at her, a real genuine smile.

He really wanted to continue their friendship. How could she stay mad at him? It was another milestone in this twisted relationship, but she felt like they'd passed a point of no return and they were in this for the long haul.

Severus walked slowly back to his study after meeting up with Granger. She had forgiven him without much persuasion, to which he was eternally grateful. It had been a rough month, and he'd taken most of it out on her. The whole convention had been a joke. He had been jealous with her awards, but the more he thought about them, he conceded that she did indeed deserve them. All his work in Potions...his improvements, hadn't been for the betterment of others, they had been for himself.

His birthday had been yet another disaster. Severus hated the reminder of when he'd been brought into existence. It was not a happy life, so why celebrate its commencement? The gifts were thoughtful and clever...just like Granger, but he'd been an utter bastard. He should have known she would have stopped by, he could have warded the door before drinking, but he hadn't thought about it.

And when he'd gone to apologize the first time, he had been shocked to see her with Wood. Severus had watched in horror as they'd kissed. Then Granger had looked directly at him. That had been his prompt to retreat. She had been angry, but there had also been a fear in her eyes that he'd recognized too. What if Wood were taking advantage of her? He'd kept an ear in the Floo to listen for danger. She'd fought Wood off, and his heart gave a triumphant leap as he'd listened. Granger had then threatened Wood before she ordered him out. Severus had tried to pull out of the fireplace as she activated the Floo, but his robes had gotten hooked on the grate. He'd tugged but a swift, sharp kick to his right ear had knocked him out. Minerva had saved him. She had fetched Winky immediately, and the elf had pulled him out of the fireplace before he'd caught fire.

The last few days, his concerns had been for Granger. He'd been furious with Wood for trying to force himself on her. Severus was ready to kill the fuckwit, but it wasn't his place. Granger would be upset if he took matters into his own hands. He couldn't fire Wood without a proper cause, and if she wasn't going to do anything, he couldn't either.

Why was he so protective over this nuisance, Granger? She wasn't anything but a good conversation. Besides, he needed to get her into more trouble with her curse. It had been a while since she'd said anything that set it off into something funny. The last time had been at the convention, and it had been more involved than he would have liked. Touching her made his stomach flip, the contact burned in a good way, but he didn't like his enjoyment. And come to think of it, he'd been spending more and more time thinking of Granger. Lily used to fill his every spare moment. Silent memories of green eyes piercing him with a desire he had never held for anyone else. But the magic of that image was cracking. And he didn't feel as much pain in his everyday life as before. The hurt of his lost love was fading, and he didn't know what it meant. But he was looking forward to teatime on Sunday.