A Pocket Full of Posies

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Chapter II:

A Pocket Full of Posies.

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He moved against her slowly.

It was almost too painful. Awkward. Clumsy… but oddly magical. A Magical Secret. AMS. Their secret and their love.

She was happy.

~*~

The glare of the sun burned her eyes, making them water.

She blinked the liquid away, fluttering her lashes as a camouflage.

The anger she felt had faded, leaving her hollowed out and empty, like the shrivelled remains of the Whomping Willow.

He wanted to talk about her losses. Her losses. Loss was a funny word to use in her opinion. She hadn’t lost anything. Not really. How could a person lose something if it had been taken from them? It was absolutely absurd to assume that Hermione Granger would lose anything. She found herself scoffing at the very thought of it and prepared herself to tell him exactly what she thought of his ridiculous assumptions.

But she found herself stopping abruptly as she looked at his hateful face.

He was eyeing her fist greedily, and she noticed that it was still clenched.

It was almost as if he was waiting for her to react violently to his thoughtless words.

Severus Snape was a many things, but thoughtless was not one of them. He never spoke without dissecting every minute detail of the sentence first.

A cold chill of comprehension trickled down her spine.

He wanted something from her. Something that she had never given him before.

He wanted the truth.

He wanted her to be angry, to take her anger out on him.

Flicking her eyes between his hungry face and her fist, she decided that she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her affected.

Instead, Hermione smiled at him coldly, pleased to note that his gloomy eyes had widened a fraction.

She took a small step forward, forcing her body not to revolt against his proximity. “Punish you for what?” She wanted to make him say it again. She wanted him to squirm like he had made her squirm for the first six years of her life at Hogwarts.

Hermione crowed inwardly with triumph as his pale cheeks flushed with mortification. She wanted him to suffer.

Snape cleared his throat. “Your losses,” he repeated hoarsely, hesitantly. “You are punishing me for your losses.”

The smile that played at her mouth grew into something cruel, and had Hermione noticed exactly how unhinged she looked, she would have been appalled at the sight.

Ron would have been appalled.

“You’re not worth punishing, Snape.” The words, delivered in an icy, whispered hiss, sounded oddly loud in the vacant garden.

Snape seemed bewildered, almost hurt, as if her response wasn’t what he expected – what he wanted. She stared at him blankly, watching as he floundered and sputtered, trying to search for something to say.

She wondered if he would start spitting.

“Why else would you allow me to… to t-touch you, Polyjuiced as him, if not to punish me?” As disbelieving and as furious as he seemed, he still couldn’t say his name.

Hermione snorted. “Don’t be pathetic, Severus,” she spat, not waiting for him to reply. “It was never about punishing you.” She allowed herself to look smug for a moment. “It was about servicing your needs – needs that you forced onto me – and I couldn’t do that without an incentive. Polyjuicing yourself was the only requirement I had, and you agreed to my terms. It was a fair trade.”

He looked as if he wanted to throttle her. “You enjoy it.” It was a question.

She wondered if she should reply honestly. “Yes.”

“But I am not worth punishing.”

She raised her eyebrow. Hurt and anger radiated off of him in waves, and something akin to confusion furrowed her brow. “Do you want to be punished?”

He said nothing, and she didn’t press him. This part of the conversation was over. For now.

“Will you come again tonight?” A week had passed since the last time, and she was growing restless.

He nodded brusquely. “If you wish it.”

“I do.”

“The lock of hair will not last forever.”

“I know.”

They both seemed resigned to it. They both knew that the Polyjuice potion was only reason she allowed him to be with her. Kiss her. Fuck her.

As they continued to eye each other silently, a gentle breeze tugged at the ends of her hair. If she closed her eyes, she would have heard the sound of flowering petals brushing up against one another.

She felt oddly drained.

Snape looked at her pointedly before turning to leave, his shoulders bunched together, and his manner reminding her of a kicked puppy.

Sometimes, she pitied him.

Hermione was surprised when he stopped suddenly. She watched, fascinated, as he bent down to pluck a few flowering buds from a tangled bush. Before she could understand the significance, he had pressed them into her hand. One lone flower found its way into her hair, tucked behind her ear and an errant curl.

“Little Eve,” he murmured wistfully.

She touched the flower behind her ear, avoiding his eyes. “Sneaky snake.”

“Adam has left the garden.”

He was gone long before she could form a response.

Looking down at the multicoloured posies in her hands, Hermione wondered if he wanted to be forgiven instead of punished.

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tbc.