Chapter Three

Disclaimer: JKR owns it all. I'm just having fun.

The ballroom was teeming with people, some dancing in the centre of the room in a dizzying array of colour, while others hovered around the edges in small groups, enjoying the gossip and flirtations. The large French doors that led to the gardens had been opened, allowing the cool night air to drift inside and offering respite from the crowded room.

Severus stood alone in a secluded corner, telling himself he was watching for any indication that Hugh Apperson had arrived. In reality, he was watching that overly-muscled buffoon, Viktor Krum, guide Hermione across the dance floor. His eyes narrowed as Krum whispered something in her ear, causing her to laugh delightedly. At least she was using the glamour charm...it was easier to watch Krum dally with the blonde, violet-eyed version of Hermione than it would have been with her true appearance. He scowled at the pair as they gracefully swept by where he stood, secure in the knowledge that if someone were to witness his displeasure, they would assume he was merely protective of his "niece."

"Protective" was putting it mildly. He wanted to wrench the woman away from the groping young Quidditch star. All right, so he wasn't exactly groping; he was holding her at an acceptable distance. But he was still touching her.

Severus was not pleased.

He did not know exactly how or when it had happened, but he had developed a slight ... attachment to his young colleague. Over the course of the past five months, he had been, in turn, annoyed, intrigued, exasperated, and amazed by the witch. He chalked it up to being inundated with her company, having shared a domicile for months on end...but deep down he knew it was more than just proximity. Just what that meant, however, was something Severus knew he was not yet ready to discover.

What he was ready for was a dance with Hermione.

Severus made his way through the crowd, deftly avoiding the waltzing couples as he strode toward his goal. As he approached, he could not help but notice once again how lovely she looked in the violet ball gown. The dress was strapless, leaving her shoulders and upper back bare, and the corseted bodice accentuated the curve of her waist, the ties in the back allowing tantalising glimpses of skin between the criss-crossed ribbon. The elegant, full skirt swirled around her ankles as she danced, occasionally offering a peek at her stylishly beaded shoes. Her charmed hair was styled in an intricate series of braids and twists and then secured at the back of her head and topped with a small tiara. She was the very image of a pure-blood debutante.

Severus smirked. They had no idea the woman who was the envy of all in attendance that night was actually a Muggle-born witch...and not just any Muggle-born, but the one who had aided Harry Potter in vanquishing their precious Dark Lord. It was delightfully ironic.

Finally reaching the dancing couple, Severus tapped Krum on the shoulder and said, "May I cut in?" Without waiting for a reply, Severus swept Hermione into his arms and took over the waltz, smoothly guiding her around the floor.

"Why, Uncle! I thought you liked Viktor," Hermione teased, her eyes continuing to scan the room for the man they were both waiting to see.

Severus snorted as he also discreetly searched for Apperson. "Krum is a useful ally, but 'like' is much too strong a word."

As he completed their first turn about the floor, the doors to the ballroom swung open; the guest of honour had arrived.

"There he is," Hermione whispered. "I wonder if he'll finally approach us tonight."

"He might," Severus replied, his eyes never wavering from Apperson. "This is the fourth little soiree we've been invited to. He would consider it a strategic move to ask for our support here, where he is most at ease."

"And where we are not."

"Precisely."

Just then, Apperson saw them and waved a greeting. Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement before he tightened his hold on Hermione and whispered in her ear, "He is watching."

She turned her head toward Apperson and beamed at him, causing the older man to flush at having such an attractive young woman smile at him in such a manner.

Satisfied that Apperson was suitably interested in speaking with them that night, Severus led Hermione away to a less crowded part of the dance floor to review their strategy for the evening.

Suddenly, she gasped and stiffened in his arms, and the hand he held in his began to tremble violently. Her face lost all colour, and her lips thinned into an angry line. Within seconds, her entire body was shaking in apparent rage, and she looked as though she were about to pull her wand.

Severus pressed her closer and hissed, "What do you think you are doing?"

Hermione raised her head, and Severus was taken aback by the haunted look in her violet eyes. "Bellatrix," she rasped. "It's her. I have to kill her."

Alarmed, he turned them so that he could follow her line of sight. On the opposite side of the ballroom, with her back to them, stood a tall woman in a form-fitting black dress, her long, ebony hair flowing down her back. From behind, she did indeed resemble Bellatrix Lestrange, but Severus knew it could not be her.

"Bella is dead, Hermione," he murmured, his right hand stroking her back in an attempt to calm her.

"No. It's her, and I have to kill her." She tried to pull her hand from his in order to gain access to her wand, but Severus held firm.

"Hermione," he warned, but she appeared to be in some sort of trance and unable to hear him.

She struggled against him. "Let me go!"

"No."

Hermione abruptly went limp in his arms, and Severus breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps now he could talk some sense into her.

With a pop, Hermione Disapparated.

Damn it.

She reappeared behind the dark-haired witch, her wand already drawn.

Shite!

There were too many people; he would not be able to reach her in time if he attempted to manoeuvre through the crowed ballroom. He had no choice. He Disapparated, reappearing behind Hermione just as she grasped the unknown witch's shoulder and spun her about to face her.

It was a stranger.

The woman said something in Bulgarian, her expression one of surprise and bewilderment. When a dazed Hermione shook her head, the woman said in heavily-accented English, "I am sorry. Do I know you?"

Hermione took a stumbling step backward, her confident façade beginning to crumble under the realisation that she had almost attacked an innocent person. Severus moved near, pulling the increasingly despondent witch into his arms.

Thinking quickly, he said, "I apologise, madam. My niece was orphaned during the war in Britain. I am afraid you bear a remarkable resemblance to the woman who killed my sister and her husband."

Comprehension and sympathy flooded the woman's face. "I see. I am so sorry for your loss, my dear."

"Thank you," Severus said, still holding Hermione to him tightly. "I believe my niece needs a moment to compose herself. Please, excuse us."

The woman nodded her understanding and after a compassionate look toward the witch Severus held in his arms, she returned her attention to her companions.

The other guests whispered and stared as Severus gently led an unresisting Hermione from the ballroom. Krum rushed forward, offering his assistance, but Severus assured the young wizard that Hermione would be fine after a few moments' rest. As they reached the doorway, Apperson appeared.

"Is she all right?" he asked, his face a mask of concern.

Severus gritted his teeth. He needed to get her out of the room ... immediately. "Just a bit of a fright, Hugh. One of the guests resembled the blood traitor who killed her parents." Bellatrix is rolling in her grave at being even remotely referred to in such a manner. That thought brought a small measure of grim satisfaction.

"Ah," the portly wizard said. "And of course, she is upset. If you'd like, you may take her to the blue drawing room until she is feeling well enough to return to the ball."

Severus nodded his appreciation, and as soon as Apperson turned away, he scooped Hermione up into his arms, the full skirt of her gown trailing along the floor, and carried her down the hallway to the blue drawing room.

After they entered, he kicked the door shut behind them and then eased Hermione onto the settee. Her face was splotchy and tear-streaked. Severus sighed and then cast a series of privacy spells to ensure their conversation would not be overheard.

"Hermione?"

She would not look at him, but Severus could clearly see the tiny droplets which stained the silk of her dress as her tears dripped from her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I just ... I saw her, and she looked so much like Bellatrix. I was frightened and angry. I was certain it was her, and all I could think was that this time I was not wandless...I was not defenceless. And I wanted to make her pay for what she did to me. I wanted her to suffer the same way she caused me to suffer." Hermione took a shuddering breath and raised her head to look at him; the pain in her eyes was heart-wrenching. "That woman ... I almost ... I almost .... Oh, gods!"

Severus sat down next to her, awkwardly holding her in his arms as she cried. He stroked her hair, encouraging her to lay her head on his shoulder. He remembered the Calloways gleefully informing him of what had happened to "that Mudblood Granger," how Bellatrix had repeatedly used the Cruciatus Curse on the eighteen-year-old girl in a vain attempt to gather information about the Gryffindor sword. Severus knew he was partially to blame, since it had been he who had suggested hiding the false sword in Bellatrix's vault, he who had given the real sword to Potter ... and now it was he who felt the guilt gnaw at him once more.

You see? Even she is but another of your victims, another child who was tortured due to your actions.

"Stop it."

Severus' gaze snapped to hers at her sharply spoken words. A solitary tear leaked from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek, but her expression was resolute.

"It wasn't your fault. The only ones to blame are Voldemort and Bellatrix. And to a certain extent, Professor Dumbledore."

Shocked by the amount of vitriol she infused into the name of the man he believed she had greatly admired, Severus demanded, "Explain."

Her hand smoothed across the folded material of her skirt. "He was a great wizard, and we owe him quite a lot. But he was also very manipulative. Much of what happened was set in motion not only by Voldemort but by Dumbledore himself. And some of the decisions he made ... well, I don't agree with many of the choices he made in regards to Harry. And to you."

Severus brow furrowed in confusion. "How so?"

She buried her face against his shoulder. "How could he have asked you to do such a thing? To ask you to kill him! I understand he wanted to spare Draco Malfoy from having to commit such a heinous act. But did he even once consider the consequences for you?"

"And my soul?" Severus remembered asking. Dumbledore's placating response had been less than comforting.

"And to leave you utterly alone afterward with nothing to explain your actions, nothing to prove that you were entirely loyal to him .... It was unconscionable. If you hadn't given Harry your memories, what would have become of you?"

Severus could only stare at the witch, his mind replaying her words, trying to make some sense of them. Surely she did not mean such things? In his entire life, no one had ever defended him above all others; yet Hermione had done. Why? What did she expect of him? But even as the thought entered his mind, he knew that it was ludicrous...Hermione had always been honest with him, and she had no reason to deceive him.

Slowly, he moved his hand to her face and placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her head until she was looking directly into his eyes. It seemed as though an eternity passed as they stared at one another, until Severus broke the silence with one word:

"Hermione."

Her eyes closed briefly as though savouring the sound of her name from his lips. "Severus," she breathed and began to lean toward him ....

"No!" Severus gasped as he realised she had almost certainly been about to kiss him.

She flinched as though he had physically struck her and began to stand, but Severus grabbed her by the arms and stilled her movements.

"Not here, not now," he whispered, hoping that she would understand his meaning; the drawing room of the person they were investigating was no place for a romantic tryst, especially when they were posing as uncle and niece.

Her eyes widened in understanding, and then she offered him a small smile in acknowledgement of his unspoken message. "Later?"

Choosing to allow her believe what she would, Severus remained silent and took her hand in his as he stood. "Come. Perhaps we can salvage the evening by playing the sympathy card with Apperson. We can use your supposed hatred for blood traitors to our advantage. He will almost certainly find our story compelling and may even approach us for a donation to the cause this evening. If so, we will have all the evidence we need to be done with our portion of this case."

"Severus?"

He stopped walking and turned to face her.

"Thank you," she said, and she rose to her toes to place soft kiss upon his cheek and whisper in his ear. "Until later."

~o0o~

They Apparated back to the villa they had rented, both more than ready to go inside and remove the glamour charms and fussy clothing, and just relax. Apperson had not approached them during the ball as they had hoped, but he had invited them for a private luncheon the following week. They were positive he would ask them at that time, giving them the evidence they needed to draw their part of the investigation to a close. Kingsley would be pleased; the situation could be handled before the New Pure-Blood Party had truly organised itself in any meaningful way.

The villa was dark when they finally entered, and they immediately removed the glamour charms, returning them to their true appearances. The only sound came from the rustling of Hermione's silk skirt as she walked to the sofa and collapsed, letting down her now curly hair. She groaned as she removed her shoes and began massaging her stockinged feet.

"Until later." The words echoed in Severus' head as he lingered in the hall. Perhaps it had been one of those moments that once passed, would never return.

"Severus?"

Her voice broke him of his reverie, and he saw her watching him bemusedly.

"Are you all right?"

Severus nodded but did not move. She smiled at him softly and rose to her feet, waving her wand as she approached him. The lilting strains of violins and a piano filled the room as she reached him.

"Dance with me."

Her stared at her, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of holding her in such close proximity when they were alone. "We've danced all evening. Aren't you tired of dancing?"

She shook her head, that soft smile gracing her features once again as she reached for his hand. A trumpet was now playing the melody, and Severus recognised the tune as La Vie en Rose, although the arrangement was unfamiliar.

"Dance with me," she said again.

He was unsettled by her request but allowed her to lead him to the centre of the living room. Rather than the formal dance posture he had expected, she placed his hands at her waist, wound her arms about his neck, and pressed her body against his, swaying slightly as she whispered, "Hold me."

Unable to do anything else, Severus wrapped his arms about her and slowly began to move. He buried his face in her hair as she rested her head upon his shoulder. Hermione's contented sigh was as much music to his ears as the song that continued to play as they danced.

For all his self-confidence as a wizard, it was here that Severus faltered. He knew what she wanted; he just didn't know if he was able to give it to her. He had never so much as kissed a woman, other than a rather embarrassing moment with Lily Evans during the summer before their fifth year at Hogwarts. It had been clumsy and awkward as neither had known what they were doing. No other witch had ever shown that sort of interest in him, and Severus' fanatical obsession with Lily's memory and discomfiture with women in general had kept him from actively seeking out a romantic relationship of even the most casual sort ... until now.

As the music drew to a close, Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder but did not release him. Instead she moved even closer, her gaze fixed firmly on his mouth as she rose up on her toes and gently brushed her lips against his.

Warmth suffused his body, and he swallowed hard at the unfamiliar sensation in his stomach, as though a thousand Snitches had taken residence there.

She was staring at him, and he realised she was waiting for his response. He brought his hands up to cradle her head, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, and feeling completely out of his depth, he pressed his mouth to hers. Her arms tightened about his neck, and her hands found purchase in his hair. Severus could not stop the moan that escaped his throat as she tangled her fingers in the lank, oily strands, nor the gasp that ended the chaste kiss as she began to massage his scalp.

Hermione took advantage as his mouth opened and began to suckle at his thin lower lip, an action that seemed to have a direct response in his groin. Severus' heart was pounding in his chest as he felt her tongue tentatively enter his mouth and touch his own.

It was too much.

Severus released her so abruptly, she almost stumbled as he backed away from her.

"My apologies, Hermione," he said, hiding his vulnerability in the familiar cloak of formality.

She blinked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion, and he felt his breath catch at the hurt shining in her brown eyes. "Why?"

He turned away, unable to look at her any longer. "This is neither the time nor the place for dalliances."

"Dalliances?" she echoed incredulously. "But at the ball you said ... and just now .... I don't understand. Don't you want me?"

"No." The lie exited his mouth before he could stop it, but now that he had said it, perhaps it was for the best. They were here to complete their assignment, and that was all. A romantic relationship between them would only interfere. Keep telling yourself that, old man. But you know perfectly well that the only reason you're denying her is for the sake of your foolish pride.

"I see." Her whispered words fell upon his ears as if they had been shouted.

Severus listened to the soft rustle of her skirt and the quiet click of her bedroom door before he dared to turn around again. He stood in the middle of the living room, staring longingly at the barrier between them until he finally retired to his room and his cold, lonely bed.

~o0o~

He was dreaming again. Warm fingers were lovingly stroking his jaw line, his brow, even his beak of a nose. The phantom hands moved down his chest, unbuttoning his black cotton pyjama-shirt and peeling the material away from his sleep-warmed skin. And then he was being kissed, gently and softly coaxed, until his lips parted and ....

He awoke with a start.

It was no dream. Hermione was seated on the edge of his bed, still in her ball gown, and her hands were caressing his bared chest as she thoroughly but tenderly kissed him. Just as he was about to wrench himself away from her sensual ministrations, she ended the kiss.

"What do you think you're doing?" Severus had intended to sound outraged at her high-handed behaviour, but the effect was ruined by the groan he emitted as she lightly sucked and nipped at his neck. Dear gods.

"Since you will not make love to me, I am making love to you," she murmured as she continued to kiss and caress any bit of skin her wandering mouth and hands could find. It was both heaven and hell.

"Hermione, you don't understand. I've never..."

"Shh. I know. I worked it out. It's all right. Just let me."

The hand on his chest began to slide lower, and Severus felt as though his heart was going to burst as he realised her intention. His head fell back against his pillow with a soft thump as her hand slipped inside the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. Her warm fingers brushed against his now straining erection, and he surrendered himself to the sensations.

With the lightest of touches, she explored his length until he thought he would surely go mad with desire. Finally, she took him in her hand and began to stroke, setting a slow, steady rhythm. The experience was heightened by her mere presence, and he revelled in the smooth feel of her palm around him rather than the familiarity of his own callused skin. Of their own volition, his hips begin to move, and soon he was thrusting eagerly into her hand. After only a few moments, he felt the telltale tingle along his spine, and his movements became less coordinated.

"Severus," Hermione whispered. "I've got you. You can let go."

And he did. His climax roared through him, and she continued the gentle rhythm until he was completely spent.

Severus lay still, waiting for his breathing to return to normal and feeling more sated and relaxed than he had ever known was possible. As his euphoria waned, he became aware of the sticky discharge coating his abdomen and most likely her hand, as well. His face flushed crimson, and he stared resolutely at the wall wondering what in Merlin's crystal cave he should do or say now and cursing his emotional ineptitude.

Once again, Hermione took the lead. "Tergeo," she murmured, and Severus felt the gentle tickle of magic as his skin was cleansed of the drying residue.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and was about to speak, when he felt her rise from the bed. Turning his head to question her departure, he was shocked to see her standing just a few feet away with her back to him, her fingers fumbling at the back of her ball gown with the stays which secured the corseted bodice.

She was undressing. In front of him.

Merlin have mercy.

It seemed like hours before the ties loosened and the material of the bodice separated, leaving her back completely bare. Severus felt light-headed as he watched her shimmy and wiggle her way out of the dress, the fabric falling in a heap of silk at her feet. Hermione stepped out of the gown, pushing it aside with a small nudge of her foot. She was nearly nude, standing before him wearing only her tiny black knickers and a pair of sheer hold-up stockings. His eyes raked greedily over her pleasing form as she peeked at him over one smooth shoulder.

"Do you want to look at me?" she asked shyly, her cheeks pink even as she boldly stared at him. She was an intriguing contradiction, one part innocence, one part siren.

He could not possibly speak, so he nodded slowly, his dark eyes widening as she turned to face him.

She was perfection personified.

Her skin glowed in the moonlight, pale and flawless, and his eyes travelled down her form from head to toe before returning to linger at her high, firm breasts. They were lovely, full and lush with rosy pink nipples, hardened by desire and the chilly night air. He was quite certain they would just fill his hands. He wanted to...no, he needed to touch them, to taste them ... now. He was attempting to rise from the bed to do just that when she spoke.

"No. Stay there."

Had he been any other man, Severus would have groaned or even whinged in disappointment. But he wasn't any other man, and so he settled back into the bed to await her next move.

He was not to be disappointed.

Slowly, Hermione lifted one leg until her foot rested next to him on the mattress and then in a leisurely fashion, ran her hand from her ankle to the lace band that encircled her thigh. With painstaking care, she removed the stocking, rolling the silky fabric down and off her leg. She then repeated the process with the other leg until she stood before him wearing only her kickers.

With a blush and an impish grin, she then stated, "You, sir, appear to be over-dressed."

Severus felt his lips curve into a small smile, and he hastily removed his already unbuttoned shirt. Under the privacy of the bed linens, he shucked his pyjama bottoms, kicking them away with the fervent hope he would not be putting them back on any time soon.

When he turned to look at her once more, he caught barely a glimpse of her fully naked form before she was slipping into the bed to lie next to him.

Hermione turned onto her side so that she faced him. "Don't you want to touch me?" she asked softly, and she grasped his hand, placing it on her bare hip.

Having been given permission to touch and explore, Severus did just that. He encouraged her to lie on her back, and then he proceeded to touch every square inch of satiny skin ... and then he began the erotic journey over again. He desperately wanted to please her, the breathy moans and sighs escaping her throat spurring him onward. He was fascinated by her breasts and spent an interminable time fondling and caressing them. The noises she made as he ran his thumbs over her hardened nipples was so encouraging that he began to try various techniques in hopes of hearing more. He tweaked and pinched and rolled ... and then he tasted. He leant in and placed a kiss first on one tip and then the other before he took her into his mouth and suckled.

The feel of Hermione writhing beneath his hands and mouth was empowering, and he became more confident in his attentions, his touches becoming bolder, his kisses more ardent. As his mouth pleasured her breast, his hand drifted down over her stomach past the triangle of curls guarding her sex. His fingers stroked down her cleft, causing her to cry out ... so he did it again and again. She was warm and slick with her arousal, allowing his fingers to slide easily against her skin. He knew enough about female anatomy to seek out her clitoris, and he was just barely able to contain his crow of triumph when his fingers brushed against the small bundle of nerves, eliciting a low moan from Hermione. He varied his touches, learning what afforded her the most pleasure and enjoying the feel of her undulating under his hands.

As Severus became familiar with her body, Hermione was doing the same with his, her questing hands lighting a fiery path wherever she touched.

Ready for more, he gathered her into his arms, shifting them until she lay beneath him. This time, it was he who took the lead, lowering his head to hers and eagerly thrusting his tongue into her mouth, her sweet taste flooding his senses. His hips rocked against her, the feel of her skin against his flesh setting his blood aflame.

He felt her fingers wrap around his aching erection as she guided him to her entrance. Severus closed his eyes in concentration and pressed forward, his eyes rolling back into his head as little by little, her heat surrounded him. He had never dreamed it would feel like this, hot and wet and tight. His hands gripped the coverlet on either side of her head, and he groaned as Hermione writhed beneath him.

"Stop!" he ground out, shaking with the effort to remain in control as his body adjusted to the feel of her. "Don't move. Just let me," he said, repeating her earlier words.

She stilled...thank Merlin...and he was able to hold back his impending orgasm. He knew he wouldn't last long...his body was unused to such intense sensations...but he wanted her to find at least some modicum of satisfaction along with him. With his eyes screwed tightly shut, he began to move, clumsily at first, until he found a rhythm, and his strokes became smooth and deep.

Hermione began to move with him, lifting her hips to meet his, and he felt himself slide even deeper within her.

"Oh, gods. Hermione." He could feel the tension building in him, expanding, overtaking his rational mind.

He opened his eyes and watched in fascination as her hand snaked down her body to where they were joined, her fingers stroking in time with his thrusts until she cried out, her inner walls rippling as he continued to move within her.

His control snapped as she unexpectedly contracted around him, and he was flung over the edge, emptying himself into her with a guttural moan.

Severus held her to him as he rolled onto his side, resting his cheek on the top of her head as he caught his breath. He pressed his mouth to her temple, and he felt her snuggle closer before she lifted her head to kiss him.

They lay there for some time, kissing languidly until, exhausted, Hermione drifted off to sleep. Severus, however, remained awake, his thoughts and emotions a confusing jumble as one word repeated itself in his mind in an endless refrain:

Mine.

~o0o~

It was their last night in Bulgaria, and Severus sat impatiently on the sofa in the living room of their rented villa waiting for Hermione to finish dressing for dinner. Apperson had finally solicited them for a contribution to his cause, drawing their part in the investigation to a close. Severus had insisted on going to Muggle Varna so that they could celebrate as themselves...and he also planned on asking Hermione to return with him to his home in Majorca rather than go to London. It was a lot to ask of her, he knew, but he was not ready for their time together to come to an end. The past three weeks had been the best Severus had ever known, the days spent bringing the investigation to a close, the evenings in engaging conversation and laughter, followed by passion-filled nights as he tapped into the sexuality he had suppressed for so long. And all of it was with Hermione.

Since that first night, he had relished every moment, every conversation, every kiss, every touch. His affection for her had deepened into something more .... Well, he wasn't certain what it was. It could be love, but then he had thought he loved Lily Evans too, and he had managed to bollocks that up thoroughly.

Lily. She had been the love of his life, or so he had believed for many years. He had loved her, he was certain of that, but it had been an immature emotion, that of a lovesick boy pining for his unrequited love. After the abrupt and painful end of their relationship, she had become an obsession. The circumstances surrounding her death had led him to use her memory as a sort of touchstone...his driving force during his years as a spy for the Order.

Seven years removed from the war, however, he could clearly see that Lily had been far from the perfect Gryffindor princess he had once believed her to be. She had been beautiful, yes, and overall, she had been a good person, that much was certain. But she had also been petty and vengeful and unforgiving. One mistake...a mistake he had pleaded with her to forgive...and she had thrown away years of friendship. He would have forgiven her anything...had he not continued to be her friend even after she remained on friendly terms with Potter and Black after they had tried to killhim? She had been painfully aware of his pathetic home life, of his lack of friends, and yet she had deserted him. He had wondered over the years if she ever regretted not accepting his apology, but that did not matter anymore; he had been able to let her go and to begin living his life for himself rather than for a ghost from his past. In the end, Severus had a few fond memories of his otherwise dismal childhood thanks to Lily, and for that he would always be grateful.

Hermione, however, was a different matter all together. She obviously cared for, desired, and trusted him in a way Lily never had. He felt possessive of her much in the same way he had Lily, but the accompanying feelings of mistrust and jealousy were conspicuously absent. He trusted Hermione...and unlike Lily, Hermione returned his affection.

Apart from having been a Gryffindor, Hermione had very little in common with Lily. Not only was she not as beautiful as Lily had been, she was bossy and opinionated, an insufferable know-it-all whose intelligence might just surpass his own...not that he would ever admit such a thing. She also had a kind heart and an amazing capacity for putting the needs of others before her own. Hermione was a witch of few friends but was fiercely loyal to those she did have. If Ronald Weasley, that irritating, ginger-headed prat, were to ever call Hermione Granger a Mudblood, Severus had no doubt that given enough time, she would forgive the idiot ... although she would most certainly hex the boy first.

How different she was from Lily. Thank Merlin.

"Severus!"

He was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of Hermione calling his name. She was standing in the middle of room, appearing quite annoyed at having been ignored.

"Forgive me. Did you need something?"

Her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you all right? I called your name several times, but your mind was obviously elsewhere."

"I was just thinking. Nothing important," Severus replied as he rose to his feet to kiss her cheek. "You look lovely."

She blushed prettily and ran a hand over the skirt of the demure black dress. "Thank you. I just need to put my hair up, and then we can leave."

Severus entangled a hand into the curls at the base of her neck, placing the other at the small of her back and pulling her to him. "I like your hair down," he murmured as began to place a series of kisses along her jaw.

"You do?" Hermione asked breathlessly, tilting her head to the side to allow him easier access to her neck.

"Mmm." He could never get enough of her taste, her smell, her skin. He brought his mouth to hers, confidently slipping his tongue between her lips. With a small whimper, she pressed herself against him and returned his kiss, tangling her tongue with his.

After several minutes, they parted, and Severus rested his forehead against hers until they both caught their breath.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said. "We still have to get through dinner before I can ravish you properly."

She laughed as she stepped out of his embrace and teasingly scowled at him. "You are incorrigible. Now I have to repair my make-up."

"You're perfect just as you are." It was true. She was absolutely breathtaking with her hair slightly askew and her lipstick smeared from his kisses.

Hermione shook her head at him in exasperation and walked toward the bathroom.

"Oh, Severus. I forgot about my earrings. Could you get them for me? They're the small diamond ones in the black velvet bag in my nightstand."

"Of course." The domesticity of the moment pleased him, and he was feeling quite smug as he walked to her bedroom...which was now mostly used to store her clothing...to retrieve her jewellery.

He rummaged through the drawer, wondering how one woman could have collected such a massive amount of clutter in such a short time, until he found the small black bag. After unsuccessfully searching by feel, he turned the bag over, the contents spilling out onto the bed.

"Diamond earrings," he muttered as he picked through the items, but the earrings did not appear to be among them. Then, he noticed a small, black velvet box. Certain that the earrings must be inside, he flipped open the lid.

Nestled against the white satin lining was a ring...not just any ring, but by its appearance, an engagement ring. Severus plucked it from box and examined it further as a cold tightness settled in his chest. It was a small diamond solitaire of questionable quality, set in yellow gold. Turning it over, he saw an inscription on the inside of the band. Squinting to decipher the tiny print, he read, HG Always and Forever RW.

Rage and pain coursed through his veins. All this time, it had meant nothing to her; he was merely a fling, someone with whom to sate her lust until she could return home to her fiancé.

His anger and hurt were so acute that he could not see how implausible his assumptions were. He could only see history repeating itself; Lily with Potter, Hermione with Weasley. And himself, once again left alone to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.

He should have known it was too good be to true.

Dispassionately, he placed the ring back in the box and then returned everything to the bag. He swallowed the pain, the rage, until he felt nothing but the familiar numbness that had seen him through his years as a spy.

The Severus Snape who left the room was not the one who had entered it.

As he walked into the living room, Hermione was exiting the bathroom. "Oh, there you are. I found them. They were on the bathroom counter. Are you ready to leave?"

He stared at her, his eyes cold and hard.

"Are you sure you're all right? You look odd. Are you ill?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

Severus continued to glare at her as she raised a hand to touch his brow, as if he were a child. Disdainfully, he jerked away from her touch and stepped around her to the drinks table where he poured himself a glass of Firewhisky.

"I am fine. However," he said as he turned to face her, his expression carefully schooled to indifference, "there is something we need to discuss before we leave tomorrow."

The hopeful expression on Hermione's face both confused and irritated him.

"I must thank you for relieving me of my cursed virginity," he stated bluntly. "As a man of some years, I had learned to ignore that facet of my humanity, and I find that I am ... grateful," he all but spat the word, "for your tutelage."

"Wh-what?" she stammered, visibly hurt and mystified by his unkind words and harsh demeanour.

Ignoring her query, Severus ruthlessly continued, "Now that we are leaving Bulgaria, however, there is no need for us to see each other again."

Her face blanched, and her body went rigid with shock. "What did you say?"

Who knew she could be such an actress, he thought, infuriated by her wounded and incredulous tone. He sneered at her, his tone dripping with disdain as he replied, "Must I repeat myself? There is no need for us to see each other again."

He watched impassively as tears filled her eyes, and he viciously squelched the desire to beg her forgiveness for his coldness. She had toyed with his affections and would have left him eventually for Weasley. It was better to end it now before he did something stupid ... like fall in love with her.

Hermione was not one to give up so easily, however. "Why are you being like this? Have I done something to upset you? Talk to me. Please!"

He ignored her pleading inquiries, the need to escape her presence overwhelming him. He downed the Firewhisky in one burning swallow. "I don't believe I will be going out for dinner after all. I shall be gone first thing in the morning. I bid you adieu, Miss Granger." Paying no heed to her stricken face, Severus strode to his bedroom, closing the door with a resounding click and then warding it to prevent her from entering.

He could hear her broken sobs as she ran to her room and then the door slamming; the eerie silence which followed indicated that she had cast a Silencing Charm. He stood by the window, staring unseeingly at the back garden and steadfastly ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind that whispered perhaps it wasn't as it appeared, that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong.

In the morning, he Charmed a pillow...her pillow...into a Portkey and left for home. The solitary existence that had once been so appealing was now forever ruined.

A/N: One more chapter to go ....

My unending thanks to my beta readers, Subversa and DeeMichelle, and to my Brit picker, LettyBird. You all are incredible, and I am so lucky to have you!