Four: Yule Ball 2005

Anti-Litigation Charm: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. All characters are property of JK Rowling. If they did belong to me, Severus Snape would be alive and well and sipping cocoa in his nightshirt right now, reading his favourite book and enjoying the Christmas holidays.

Yule Ball 2005

Hermione had never resorted to Dutch courage in her entire life, but once she'd discharged her final duties for the evening, she found herself so unnerved, she indulged in a generous shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. It had worked so well she downed another, then wrapped herself in her warmest cloak, and headed for the West Wing Tower.

The Tower was empty when she arrived, and she looked out of the window onto the Black Lake, and tried to calm her thoughts. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, and her body was thrumming in anticipation.

"It is a lovely view, isn't it?"

Hermione turned quickly toward the silken voice, and was surprised to find its owner in the doorway. She had not heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, nor had she so much as sensed his presence. As he walked through the door, he magically locked and warded it carefully.

He stood quietly before her, and Hermione realized he was probably as nervous as she. It was the stiffness in his bearing, the way he was holding himself perfectly still. This was not the louche posture of a man confident in his seduction abilities. This was a man as unsure of himself as a shy fourth-year.

"It's the best view, in my opinion." She turned back to the window, and scooted over slightly in a silent invitation to join her. "I've been coming here forever. I used to sneak up here to study when I was a student."

"I know."

She smiled at him. "Why am I not one whit surprised?" she teased, and the awkwardness between them slipped and slid back and forth. Hermione decided the best defense was a good offense, and since she knew all too well what he thought of Gryffindor subtlety, or lack thereof, she might as well exhibit that, too.

"Do you remember the day I came for an interview, Headmaster?"

"We spent a very enjoyable afternoon, as I recall, Professor. I'm not so far in my dotage as to be so senile as to forget it, I should think."

Hermione smiled wryly at his arcane phrasing, noting the way he gave with one hand and took away with the other. Slytherin to the core. "You were going to tell me a secret, but Winky interrupted you."

There was the slightest of hesitations. "Ah yes, my secret." They were standing side by side, gazing out of the tower window. Hermione didn't dare turn and look at him.

Keenly aware of his warmth beside her, Hermione looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Would you tell me now?"

Again, the hesitation. Then a soft sigh of resignation. "If I tell you my secret, you must tell me yours. Quid pro quo."

Hermione smiled. "I don't really have many secrets, Professor."

"But you do have some, Hemione?" His voice was soft and creamy, and just on the side of teasing. It was making Hermione's heart race and she closed her eyes and tried to master her breathing.

"Alright, Professor-"

"I think we can dispense with formality at this point, Hermione." He turned to her and touched her arm. "It would please me for you to call me by my Christian name."

Hermione looked into his eyes, which were black and luminous in the torchlight of the tower. "Alright, Severus." Her words came out husky and slightly breathless, and she found she liked the way his name felt on her tongue. She smiled and said it again, "Severus."

"I like the way you say it," he breathed, and Hermione realized that, for all his elegance, his past, his personality, he was still a man who wanted to be wanted. Without realizing it, her eyes softened, and her lips parted slightly.

"I like saying it," she replied, her voice even more husky than before. Merlin, I want this man, she thought. To stem her increasingly lecherous thoughts, she pressed on, "We've agreed, then. Quid pro quo. You tell me your secret," she said, with a teasing smile, "and I'll tell you mine."

He nodded once in assent, then looked her directly in the eye. "I have never told anyone this before, Hermione, and I tell you now as a gift of sorts, to show my sincerity when I say I would like to court you."

"Severus!"

"That is, if you are agreeable," he added hastily, his pride and uncertainty warring with his hope. "That is, if your thoughts tonight were truthful."

To answer him, she simply stepped closer and took his hands in hers. They were large hands, and hers looked like child's hands within. She gave them a reassuring squeeze, then nodded. "I am agreeable, And my thoughts were true. And you don't have to reveal anything to me. I know there are things you can never tell anyone. I'm not one to pry. It doesn't matter. I want the same things you do, regardless."

His answering smile all but took her breath away and she thought, Uh oh. Remember who you are dealing with, Hermione. This is the consummate Slytherin. He's never going to give more than he gets. Take it slow, or he'll have you jumping through more hoops than a hippogriff at a circus.

He reversed their grip and held her hands within his. "Right." He took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I gave Harry Potter my memories in the Shrieking Shack the night I almost died. They were about Dumbledore and the Horcruxes," he took a large breath. He looked into her eyes without guile. "And my... relationship with his mother."

Hermione nodded. Those memories had been splashed all over Wizarding Britain in the Daily Prophet, on the Wireless, at the trial. Hermione had cringed that his most intimate thoughts had been displayed in lurid detail for all the world to gawk at. It had not been pretty.

She could only imagine how mortifying it must have been for an intensely private man like Severus Snape to have his precious memories of the love of his life, Lily Potter, exposed to the gossip mongers. Rita Skeeter had practically had an orgasm in the courtroom over it.

Snape continued, "I will tell you this. I loved Lily Evans, yes, and she did hurt me when she stopped being my friend," he hesitated, and bit his top lip. "But I never was as madly in love with her as I led Potter to believe."

Hermione was confused. "You mean, all the memories of you weeping over her and declaring your undying love-"

"Were created to spur Harry into action." Severus' expression changed. His anxiety was evident. There was a bitterness in his voice as he continued, "Dumbledore. It was always Albus plotting, scheming, doing what was necessary for the Greater Good.

"He believed if Harry saw me as devoted to the last to his mother's memory, he would believe the rest of the memories and act upon them. And perhaps even defend me when the battle was over. Albus knew there would be casualties of this war, Hermione, and he fully expected me to be one. In fact, he wanted me to be one. Albus concluded I would then be a hero and my despicable past would be exonerated." He smiled grimly. "It must have been a bitter blow to the old bastard when I actually survived."

"Gods." Hermione sat down on the flagstone step, shaking her head. "I knew he was manipulative, but I thought he merely used your guilt and remorse to make you do these things."

"I did feel guilt and remorse. I had given Tom Riddle the prophesy I'd overheard. I cared for Lily still – how could I not? She had been my only friend at one time. But she was not, as they say, the love of my life. That was the sham."

"But-but your Patronus! It was like Lily's!"

Severus chuckled and sighed. His expression was winsome. "Ah, yes, the oft-mentioned Patronus. Our Patronuses were the same because we taught each other how to cast them. At least, that's the only explanation we were ever able to come up with. Patronuses are strange things. So little is truly known about them."

"So a lot of the memories you gave Harry were –" Hermione searched her mind for the right word. "Manufactured? Created for his benefit, so he would have the courage to-"

"To allow himself to be killed to free the last Horcrux. Yes, Hermione. I lied to the boy on Albus' orders so he would let Riddle murder him."

Hermione had never felt so gobsmacked. "How..." She shook her head. "How do you feel about doing that?"

Severus sighed and scratched his earlobe. "At the time, I was just so tired of it all. My life was so hellish, nothing made sense or seemed wrong. My moral compass was so off the scale I hardly knew which end was up. Now..." He pulled at his ear. "Now, it's too late to tell the truth. The lie is so much better all round."

"And the Maurauders?"

A shadow passed over his expression, then he straightened his shoulders. It was time to put them to bed as well. "Oh, we hated each other. We were testosterone-fueled teen-aged boys! They were bullies, I was a target. I allowed their bullying to influence my already low self-esteem and I did call Lily a-a Mudblood, and she never forgave me.

"I allowed Lucius to flatter me into thinking the Death Eaters would give me what I needed to feel good about myself. I was too young and too immature to realise I was allowing myself to be used by everyone. I was deeply saddened about Lily's death, but by the time she and James Potter had married and had a baby, being used was a way of life for me and I had moved on."

Hermione could hear the bitterness in his words, and she cursed herself for mentioning secrets. "I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't mean to bring up such unpleasant memories. Especially on tonight, of all nights."

He studied her carefully, his features dark and sad. "I wanted you to know the truth, Hermione. I've lived such a half-life. Until the night I almost died in the Shack, I was a half a man, always angry, always paying for my sins, always blaming others for making me commit them. Yes, I felt I had to atone for being the one to ultimately betray the Potters, but I didn't do the things I did because I loved Lily too much. If anything, those things happened because I probably didn't love her enough.

"I didn't carry a torch around for Lily Potter all those years. I carried regret. I wanted you to understand the difference."

When he was silent for a few moments, Hermione nodded, and again took his large hand in hers. "I'll never tell anyone. I promise." Her earnest eyes looked fully into Severus', and he knew she would keep this secret for the rest of her life. "You're right. It is a lie for all the right reasons. And you were hailed a hero in the end." She ducked her head shyly. "You were always a hero to me."

It was Severus' turn to be gobsmacked. For the past year, he had spent hours talking with this lovely witch about every interesting subject under the sun. They had debated, they had sparred, occasionally they had argued, but she had never said anything like this to him before. He had told himself it was his lonely heart that reached out to her. It had nothing to do with love. It was that same heart that pounded now, and his stomach felt the butterflies of something he'd not felt, not allowed himself to feel, in years.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. No sense in scaring the poor girl half to death. "So there you have it," he said, with a deep sigh of relief. "My real secret. And now that I've voiced it, I feel...years lighter. Thank you, Hermione," he said, and graced her with another of his rare, true smiles, and she felt her breath hitch, and what's more, so did he.

Taking typical Slytherin advantage of the situation, he pressed, "So, now, quid pro quo. I've told you my secret, now you must tell me yours."

Hermione froze, then nodded, a smile of resignation playing about her lips. Severus drew himself to full height and waited. He looked every inch her former Professor, and it made her confession at once easier and more difficult.

Clearing her suddenly dry throat, Hermione rose and turned to face the Tower window. She said, rather primly,"As I said before, I used to come here to study when I was a Prefect."

"Yes, you did," came the reply, in a tone that left the word and? unsaid, hanging in the air.

"I used to come up here to daydream, as well."

He rose from the step and moved to stand behind her. She could feel his warmth and her nose caught the enticing scent of him. "Of Mr. Weasley? That was hardly a secret. I'm afraid you'll have to do better than that, Hermione." His voice was like a silken purr, and she would later swear her knickers were moments away from bursting into flames.

She shook her head. "I didn't daydream of Ron." She kept her eyes on the lake as she felt him move closer. "My daydreams were of a more...mature infatuation."

"Indeed? And who, may I ask, was the subject of this...infatuation, Hermione? I confess, I'm curious about the man who was powerful enough to steal your thoughts away from your studies."

Hermione blushed. Damn him, he wasn't going to make this any easier, was he? "Actually, he was one of my professors."

Severus held himself very still. He was close enough to smell the same perfume that had intoxicated him while they were dancing. Damn her, she wasn't going to make this any easier, was she? "And, what, pray tell, was his name?"

For an awful moment, she was tempted to lie and tell him Remus Lupin or Gilderoy Lockhart, but she still couldn't be sure of the fragile nature of his ego, and Hermione was damned if she was going to spoil this moment by screwing things up. She took a big breath and let go.

"You know who." She turned and looked into his onyx eyes. "It was you."

For a moment he stood perfectly still, looking down on her, unblinking. In that moment, Hermione felt her entire body tense. She must have been mad to confess this to him. This was Severus Snape, and Headmaster or no, changed man or not, he was still Severus Snape, who had called her an insufferable know-it-all, ridiculed her teeth, derided her and her friends, and she'd just told him she fancied him. She must be mad.

In that moment, she thought, Get out, Hermione! Get out and pack your bags and run and never look back!

She actually had already turned and was on the move when he caught her arms and held her to him. She looked up at him, afraid. He was standing close enough to press against her, and in the quiet of the night he murmured, "When, Hermione? When did you discover this ...infatuation with me?" he smirked, but it carried none of the venom of old. It was a softer, almost seductive version of his trademark sneer.

In the dark, Hermione felt her fear dissipate to be replaced with a little hopeful recklessness. The two firewhiskeys might have given her a little help. Perhaps this wasn't such a lost cause after all.

He pulled her even closer. "Actually, I already know the answer. If I tell you the when, you must tell the why. Agreed?"

She swallowed hard, and nodded, almost forgetting to breathe. He was so close...

"It was during your sixth year. During DADA class."

"Legilimency is very unfair at this point." She said, feeling that little frisson that comes with teasing and being teased.

His arms were around her waist now, pulling her closer, and she rested her hands against his chest. His breath was sweet, with an underlay of the rum punch he'd sampled at the Ball. "I didn't have to use Legilimency, Hermione. I knew." The look of surprise on her face was priceless. Her mouth dropped open.

"Wha- How did you know that?" She tried to step back, but he would not relinquish his strong grip.

He gave her an almost-mischievous smile. "What I never understood was, why?" he said, his voice silvery. He was so close she could feel his warmth, could smell the starch in his shirt, the warm, utterly delicious smell that was distinctly him. He was trembling slightly, and when Hermione looked up at him, she could tell all playfulness was gone. He was looking down on her with an intensity in his midnight eyes that made her body feel at once hot and cold.

Hermione dropped her gaze, needing to marshal her thoughts. The last thing she wanted to do was to sound like a child again. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her as the know-it-all Gryffindor girl, the irritant that she no doubt had been. But that so long ago, and she had outgrown that girl, so she devoutly hoped.

"Why?" she repeated, her voice slightly hoarse, and he found it entrancing. He would have been amused to discover how parallel their thoughts ran at this moment. He too was thinking of the over-eager child who had aggravated him to no end in those dark days. He also was thinking about the man he had been then.

Ravaged by every negative emotion, a tarnished, dented little sphere in the giant pinball machine that had been the Wizarding world at that time. He liked to think he had learned awful, difficult lessons, and rarely made the same mistake twice. He wasn't all that sure he wasn't about to make another one, but he had been a fool for lesser things.

"Come now, Hermione, where is that famous Gryffindor courage? It's a very simple question after all, Hermione," he purred, throwing tonight's caution to the winds. He would be more vigilant tomorrow. Tonight was too full of magic and passion, and dormant feelings of desire he'd long tamped down were rising. He had asked pay court to this lovely, gifted woman and she'd tacitly agreed. Could his pride take another rejection? Would it have to? His smile was a little wolfish, predatory. "Why did you become infatuated with me in DADA class?"

When she hesitated, he reached to catch a curling tendril of her hair and lifted it away from her face. When his fingers left their task they brushed across her soft cheek, and her breathing quickened. "You must indulge me this once, pet. I find incidences of beautiful, intelligent young women claiming attraction to me so rare I must explore your...motives."

He was truly astonished when she looked at him in surprise and pleasure. Of course. How could he forget that for an academic swot like Hermione (or himself, for that matter), the most potent aphrodisiac was praise for their intellect? He also knew his voice was his one, true beauty, and he thought, She loves so greatly for so little. I could learn to love this little witch as greatly.

Hermione was stunned. Severus Snape had just called her beautiful and intelligent in the same sentence! And he'd called her 'pet'. Oh shit. Part of her knew he was flattering her to make her flatter him in return. Part of her didn't give a Thestral's fart. She had wanted him then. She wanted him now.

She smiled. "I remember it well, Severus." She look up into his fathomless eyes, and willed herself not to give in to the impulse to drop her gaze. "You were teaching us offensive dueling, and you and Blaise Zabini gave a demonstration. He was such a show off – I remember he tried so hard to get the upper hand."

She smiled in memory, and looking in his eyes she opened herself, invited him in, and he relived that day with her in her mind. Like a Muggle film, he watched the two of them, man and boy, throwing spell after spell at one another. Snape was playing with him and Blaise knew it, but Zabini was determined to show his skills. They dueled, their wands flying, arcing, as graceful as batons, swirling magic around them.

Hermione narrated, "Blaise cast a Stunning Spell, and you seemed to capture it, and right at the last moment you spun around and threw his own magic back at him. You moved like a dancer, all light and magic and grace, and when you finished and won you looked..." Hermione cast around to find the right word. It was a moment she'd treasured, but had never felt the need to give description to.

He saw himself then, as Hermione had remembered it. He looked so exhilarated, as if he was simply enjoying himself and his ability to create magic. He looked happy. She said, "At that moment, I knew I was looking at the real Severus Snape, not our professor, not the Death Eater or Order member." Hermione smiled up at the dark man as he left her thoughts. He had not moved a muscle, but he was still watching her so intently she felt the heat of his gaze.

"I was seeing the man, even more than the wizard. I could see your pride, your enjoyment at your ability to wield your craft like few others. There was arrogance and innocence, and happiness. It was only there for a moment, then you became our professor again. But in that moment, you were the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen."

Hermione swallowed, and she closed her eyes so she could say what needed to be said. "As soon as class was dismissed, I ran to my room. My knickers were ...I was...so wet. I had never felt so aroused in my life. I...I touched myself. I was thinking of you, of that look on your face, while I... masturbated." She took a deep breath. "And when I came, I was...I was whispering your name."

Hermione took a deep breath and waited. She knew she was trembling. She knew there was a distinct possibility that she'd just set herself up for the most derisory humiliation she'd likely ever experience, but she'd said her piece. She opened her eyes.

Black. That was all she saw. Black, black eyes, crowding her line of vision. He was so close now she could see every detail of his face. He was not smiling. He was as solemn as she'd ever seen him. She had no idea what he would do or say next.

He took a breath, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Unconsciously, she licked her lips, and he made a slight noise, a sharp intake of breath.

"My name?" he whispered, each word a soft puff of air against her face. She nodded slightly, and realized how swiftly her heart was pounding, how quickly each breath followed the one before.

"My name?" he repeated, and a slow sensuous smile fleeted across his lips. "I would like to have heard that. My name, on your lips...." His brushed hers softly, almost as if by accident. "When you were in your solitary...ecstasy." He used the word to arouse her, and by the quick gasp from her perfect, sweetly-shaped mouth, he knew he had achieved his purpose.

He was slowly pressing her against the wall of the tower, until she could feel a strong thigh press between hers. "I wonder, Hermione, what it would be like."

Hermione was having such difficulty remaining lucid, she shook her head slightly to clear it. He was seducing her with nothing more than a few whispered words, and once again, he had the upper hand.

"What, Severus? Would what be like?" she said, and pressed against his body in a challenge. He smiled again, and she felt his large hand stroke her cheek.

"I wonder what it would be like... to hear you scream my name when you come." Then his mouth was over hers, a devouring, punishing kiss that caused her knees to buckle and her clit to pulsate. He was pushing his long tongue into her mouth, his hands tangled in her hair, and she was pulling him to her frantically. Their bodies were churning against one another's', their mouths battling, harsh and greedy moans rasping from their throats.

She pulled his head away from hers, and looked up at him with such naked desire he felt his erection pulse painfully in his trousers. In a voice laced with lust, she gasped, "Then make me. Make me and find out, Severus Snape."

With a movement so blindly fast it made her dizzy, Hermione felt herself spun around so that she faced the wall. Strong hands grasped her wrists and pushed her hands until they were pressed flat against the stones. Hermione felt the saddle between her thighs grow plump and each heartbeat felt it was coming from her core. She was panting.

A hard, strong body pressed her against the wall. A deep, sinful baritone voice whispered in her ear, "Would you like that, Hermione? Would you like for me to take you here?" A large, warm hand slipped under her arms to gently cup her breasts. Hermione whimpered helplessly as his hands tenderly kneaded her soft flesh, her nipples hardening beneath his palms like buttons. He smiled.

"Would you? Answer me, Hermione," he crooned, and she nodded.

"Yes." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she pressed her bottom against his pelvis and moaned to find his engorged cock straining against the swell of her buttocks.

He growled and moved his hands to her hips. "Wanton little girl. Are you wet, Hermione? Are you wet for your professor?"

For a moment she thought she might swoon. "Gods, yes," she moaned, her eyes closed to the sensations and the seduction he wove, like a spell. "Please..."

His voice was like a ribbon of silk and smoke, winding around her body, even as his hands pulled her bottom against his crotch. He placed his feet between hers and widened his stance, forcing her legs apart. "And would you let me, Hermione? Would you take off your robe here for me? Would you stand here and take my cock in your tight, wet cunt?"

She moaned and ground against him, her desire almost maddening in its intensity. "Please, Severus...Yes...gods, anything for you..."

He suddenly grasped her and held her still. "Shhh. Shh, little one. Calm." His arms were around her waist, and he burned against her body. She knew in that moment she would do anything for him, and he knew it. "It's alright," he crooned soothingly. "Calm. Shh." The arms that held her to him were caressing and proprietary, and she trembled as he gentled her.

His mouth brushed against her ear, tickling her skin as he spoke, "I want you, witch. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, and that's bloody well saying something. I'm a greedy, selfish man, and I don't share."

"Nooo..." she whimpered.

"Even as much as I want you, I'll not do it here. I care for you too much to take you here up against the wall like a Knockturn Alley whore." He chuckled darkly, and she shivered. "At least, not the first time."

He stepped away from her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. When he turned her around to face him, he was amazed at the desire he saw in her eyes. Trembling with the effort to maintain control, he placed his fingertips under her chin and lifted her face to his and placed the most tender of kisses on her soft lips. Her arms went around his neck and she rose on tiptoe to deepen the kiss, but he stopped her.

"Will you come with me, Hermione? Will you come to my bed tonight?"

"Oh yes," she breathed, and favoured him with a beautiful smile.

He stepped away from her and held out his hands to her. "Come with me, Hermione. Let me show you how much I want you." He took her hand, and led her from the tower.