Confession

~ Confession ~

The words seemed to stick in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. This man did not exude the air of confidant, and that made this all the more difficult. However, he did ask. He wanted to know.

"I found them..." she spoke at last, gathering her wits about her. "I came home from work early and found them ... in...in bed ... fu...fucking each other. In. Our. Bed."

She whispered the last three words slowly and deliberately, trying to keep her body from shaking, no doubt an aftereffect of the earlier shock that was surfacing. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Snape motioned to Abner for another refill. No sooner said than done. The bartender was certainly on the ball this evening.

"I am truly sorry, Miss Granger," was all he could say.

Eyes swimming with unshed tears, she looked at him sharply.

"Are you?" she bit, keeping her voice dangerously low. "Are you really sorry? Why do people always say 'I'm sorry' when they're not? Did you do anything wrong? Could you have stopped this from happening? Do you have anything to actually be sorry for?" Calming the rising hysteria, she continued. "Do you have any idea what it is like to walk in on your fiancé shagging someone else? Not only that, do you have any idea what it is like to be betrayed by two friends in one day?

"My God, all those Boys' Nights Out were only a farce! I mean, here I was, worried that they might be meeting girls on those nights out. He wouldn't set a wedding date, always had an excuse...and some of them were quite outrageous. I accused him a few times of using going out with the boys as a cover, that he was really seeing someone else, but he never came back smelling of another woman.

"What was I supposed to do, keep nagging? I never had any evidence to support my suspicions. He told me that it was only my overactive imagination creating unlikely scenarios. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know he was fucking Ron?"

Now she was hysterical, punctuating her monologue with her hands. Professor Snape did the only thing he could do at that point and trapped her flailing hands in his and pinned them to the table. Finally, she gave in to the anguish, letting her head fall onto his forearms, and fell apart in a fresh onslaught of tears.

Unable to reach his wand, and not one for making a spectacle, Snape shot Abner a pleading glance. Upon the pretense of bringing another round of drinks, the bartender paused and muttered a simple, "Dissimulo," as he walked away, giving them some privacy. Abner shook his head at the blubbering girl, whom poor Snape had the misfortune of accompanying.

"Miss Granger." Snape nudged the weeping witch. He noticed her tears had soaked into his sleeve and uttered a silent curse. "Miss Granger!"

Letting go of her hands abruptly, he chose to grasp her shoulders instead and coax her into an upright position. Her red eyes and blotchy face were not attractive, nor were they endearing, but her sorrowful appearance did succeed in melting his heart somewhat.

Pulling her closer across the thick table, he hissed, "Potter is not worth the amount of anguish you are putting yourself through."

His words, his body language, the lack of disdain in his voice: it made her wonder. All of this from a man who never had a kind word for her before? She was a little suspicious, but his expression held no malice.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Releasing her, he sat back and drawled, "I suppose I could have left you out in the rain. However, contrary to popular belief, I do have a conscience and somewhat of a weak spot for damsels in distress."

Damsel in distress? She supposed she fit the bill, yet her eyes narrowed at being labeled thus. It seemed almost romantic to be thought of in that light, and romance had never been paired with Professor Snape before in her mind. The twinge of suspicion flip-flopped in her stomach like a fish out of water, but it would not die. She wished it would go away. Perhaps a banishment charm would do nicely. The thought of pointing her wand at her stomach and banishing a feeling made her giggle.

"As nice as it is to finally see you laugh, I believe I should forbid you to drink anymore."

Why, bless his hardened soul, she thought, Professor Snape actually looks like he cares!

"Well, of course I care, silly girl," he scolded.

She winced. She had read somewhere that alcohol loosened the tongue. Well, she didn't know if her tongue was loose...a wagging tongue hopping out of her mouth and wiggling across the floor flashed across her vision...but her head was certainly a little misty. She needed to take more care in what she thought because apparently it was escaping past her lips. Maybe a trip to the loo would give her the time she needed to pull herself together.

She started to rise from the booth until her thighs met with the bottom of the table, shaking Professor Snape's drink and nearly upsetting it. Hers, of course, was empty again. That made, what, three in an hour? She really needed to slow down and think before she did anything else. Sitting back down, she opted to scoot off the edge of the seat instead.

"And just where do you think you are going?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

"I need to visit the loo. If you would be so kind as to direct me?" She took a wide, faltering step away from the table.

Snape rose from the booth, more used to consuming alcohol and, as a result, more stable on his feet. "I will do more than direct you. I will escort you."

He held her firmly about the waist with his right arm and reached across to take her hand in his, guiding her to the back of the room. She looked up at him with a blatantly incredulous look on her face. This act of chivalry was quite out-of-character for her ex-professor. It made her wonder how much he was actually enjoying this. He was a Slytherin. He probably had an ulterior motive. No doubt he was congratulating himself on getting her drunk.

Upon reaching the door of the ladies' lavatory, he discovered Hermione was still staring at him. Quickly, he pushed open the door and ushered her inside, hoping he wouldn't encounter another female on the other side of the door. She stood for a brief moment in the open doorway.

"Be careful. I do not want to have to come in there after you," he said in warning.

Stumbling inside, she giggled to herself as the door swung shut behind her. A giant, oak-framed, oval mirror hung above the sink, perfect for long, inebriated reflections. Giving her appearance a once-over, she figured that after everything she had been through, she did not look too worse for wear. Her hair seemed to look more wind-blown than tangled, which she thought was fortunate as it made her look more attractive, maybe even a little bit sexy.

Sexy? No, she most certainly did not feel sexy. The awful events of the day still sat raw upon her nerves and sat like lead in her stomach. How could she possibly feel sexy after essentially being told...or rather shown...that she was undesirable and unwanted?

Still, her stomach had fluttered a little at the feel of Professor Snape's hand in hers, and fluttered again in remembrance. She could not discount something as unexpected as discovering Professor Snape had a more ... human side. And on him, that most certainly was sexy. She didn't understand why she hadn't noticed him before. The gracefulness of his hand gestures, the way he brushed his hair over his shoulder, and the strength of his body, all were quite attractive. Even the self-assured way he had of holding himself, which she had always attributed to him putting on pompous airs, was appealing.

Could it be possible that the drink was making her think this way? She paused for a second, pondering that thought while still scrutinizing and fixing the rougher edges of her reflection. Alcohol generally removed a person's inhibitions, didn't it? So, theoretically...and it really could only be a theory since she hadn't the opportunity to test it until now...she would only be having these thoughts if they had been buried down deep within her to begin with. So, perhaps it wasn't the drink making her think this way, but the drink that made the thoughts bubble to the surface. That sounded about right, especially since he really did have that whole sexy Potions master thing going for him.

"He really is sexy, isn't he?" she said aloud, giggling.

"Yes, my dear," the mirror replied in a way-too-cheerful voice. "If you say so, he most certainly is."

Smiling at the mirrored platitudes, she entered a stall to clear her mind. By the time she finished, she had decided, in her slightly vertiginous state, that the mirror could very well be right. Maybe he had always been this sexy, but she had never noticed before. Considering her recent loss, perhaps moving on as soon as possible was preferable to mourning. Professor Snape had been most kind to her this evening. Not all men were insensitive, cheating sods like other men she knew. She hesitated a moment, realizing that she had completely wasted more than five years of her life with Harry, and she had a lot of time to make up for.

~~~o o~~~~

Professor Snape stood just outside the door, resting a shoulder against the wall, arms folded, waiting for Hermione to emerge. A part of him was taking great satisfaction that his ex-student was no longer connected with Harry Potter. The other part, a much larger portion if he chose to be completely honest with himself, hated the way it was destroying her. Her weakness for the boy made him angry more than anything else. She should be thankful the boy finally showed his true colors, thankful that she was finally rid of him. She could do much better than the likes of Potter.

It had always been that way. Any favoritism for Potter generally irritated him beyond all reason. In his opinion, which he was sure didn't hold much clout in her world, Hermione had stood by Potter's side for far too many years. The boy couldn't hold a candle to her in intelligence, wit or otherwise.

When Hermione finally emerged from the bathroom...he had almost given up and gone in to check on her until he heard the water flush...she seemed slightly more composed and sure of gait. The brilliant smile she flashed in his direction thawed his heart another fraction, sending a trickle of warmth through his chest before he clamped down on the errant feeling.

Hermione shuddered theatrically. "I believe I am still feeling a mite chilly, Professor. Mind if we have another drink?"

A drink was undoubtedly what they both needed, he thought as he escorted her back to the table. Fresh drinks awaited them, compliments of the overly attentive bartender. Snape wondered for a moment who was trying to get who drunk here. A raised eyebrow at Abner elicited an amused shrug. If anything, Snape had to admit, the bartender did his job well.

~~~o o~~~

Hermione sat and inhaled the steam from her drink. It was lovely. She had never been one to drink before, having only tried her mother's cheap brandy and not liking it too much. This, however, was most enjoyable.

"This was a wonderful idea. I thank you." Her precarious mood tilted temporarily toward contentment.

"I believe you already expressed your gratitude, Miss Granger," Professor Snape pointed out. "And my ideas generally are favorable."

She smirked at him. "Undoubtedly they are. I only...well, I wanted to express my gratitude with a clearer head, I suppose."

She felt as though a thick blanket had been thrown over the disturbing events of the day, smothering them. The feelings were still there but a little easier to ignore, though not completely. The lighthearted banter with Professor Snape was nice, but at the same time so contrary to her true feelings that it was impossible to prevent reality from crashing down upon her. She sighed morosely and took another sip to hide the break in her mood, trying to lose herself in the alcohol.

Snape stared at her pensively. "Why are you so upset about Mister Potter's infidelity? Undoubtedly, you were aware for some time that he was not being completely honest with you. Is not the pain of uncertainty more painful than the knowledge itself?"

Hermione pierced him with a look of intense contemplation combined with a hint of irritation, uncharacteristically...and thankfully...tempered by a little alcohol-induced blurriness.

"If I were to be completely honest with myself, I suppose I did know something was wrong for a quite some time. We have been engaged for three years, and not once in that entire time did he ever actually want to set a date for the wedding. He and Ron..."

She cleared the lump from her throat. When she resumed, her voice was scratchy. "They always had some really lame excuse. I think I knew on some level that it was never going to happen. I was...I am scared. I don't remember what life is like anymore without Harry and Ron. And now, I have neither of them."

The tears started to fall again, silently this time. With pursed lips, Professor Snape rummaged inside his waistcoat for a handkerchief and handed it across the table. She murmured a polite, "Thanks," and dabbed at her eyes, trying to compose herself. It wouldn't do to keep falling apart in front of her ex-professor. She had more than likely tried his patience to its limit already.

~~~o o~~~

"I must look a sight," she commented flippantly to cover the lag in conversation.

"Rather," he agreed.

She did look a sight: her clothes were wrinkled from the rain, her hair was more out of control than usual, there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, and she had a slight outdoorsy smell about her. Her appearance was a physical manifestation of her distress. He found himself feeling sorry for the girl and a little reluctant to leave her in such a state. An intense desire to see all her pain taken away washed through him.

"Thanks much," Hermione chided at his frankness. Although the lilt to her voice, the slight smile, and the hint of a glimmer in her eye all told him that she didn't mind a bit of honesty.

She let out a long quavering sigh. "I'm afraid I don't know what to do now."

It seemed the night was going to be fraught with confessions. He knew that he had brought it upon himself, but where he would have normally been irritated, he found that he actually wanted to help her let go of a decidedly bad relationship.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "I suppose you go on about your life as always except as a single woman."

"No, I'm aware of that." She shook her head at not having expressed herself clearly enough. "What I mean is that I cannot go back to my flat; Harry and I live together...lived together. I have no clothes other than what I am wearing, and they are in dire need of washing. And I need a bath; I smell like I fell in a river."

His snort sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. He looked down, letting his hair block his face. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he could help solve this little problem. It was the least he could do, really, and it was entirely in his power. Still, he was a little incredulous at what he was about to suggest. Even more incredulous that he actually wanted what he was about to suggest.

"My place is just up the street," he offered almost inaudibly. His breath constricted in his chest. What in Merlin's name was he doing? He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to make everything better. Mostly, he wanted to save her from the savior of the wizarding world. He wanted to be everything to her Harry Potter was not.

Where in the nine levels of Hades did that come from? he wondered, not daring to raise his eyes to meet hers. An empty glass stared mockingly back up at him. No doubt he was one too many Firewhiskys to the wind.

"Hogwarts?" she asked, knowing that stating the obvious was not going to further endear herself to the man.

"That is where I reside, the last time I checked," he grumbled at the table, finding solace in sarcasm.

The seconds ticked by agonizingly in Snape's head while Hermione considered his offer. The impending rejection was palpable. He was beginning to regret making the suggestion. Then, she broke the silence.

"Okay," she said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to have an ex-professor invite an ex-student...and one he had not particularly cared for in the past...to stay with him.

The blood rushed in his ears, and his heart tightened in his chest, pumping faster through the constricted vessels. Slowly, his eyes ascended, afraid that his ears had deceived him. Hermione just stared at him openly, relief and gratitude showing openly on her face.

Snape figured he better get them out of the pub right away before she came to her senses. Abner nodded his head one last time in their direction, taking notice of their leave, and grabbed his towel to clean off the soon to be deserted table.

Standing, the professor held out his hand to help Hermione to her feet.

A/N: Some of you were wondering who Harry was shtupping on the side. *snicker* Well, you have your answer. The Harry I portray can be a real prat sometimes, as you will see in the next chapter. Sweet-and-caring Harry is probably more canon, but I'm not always a canon kinda gal. Sometimes, I would rather just shoot canon-balls.

~