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Sick by Britomart [Reviews - 68]


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"Professor Granger, if you cough one more time, I'm going to send you straight to the hospital wing," said Headmaster Severus Snape.

Hermione took another bite off her dinner plate. "Don't be absurd. I'm perfectly f--" She interrupted herself with a violent fit of coughing.

"Precisely, Professor. Madam Pomfrey!"

-----

"Professor Granger, I hope you realize what a terrible lot of trouble it was teaching your class this afternoon."

"I'm sure it was perfectly awful, Headmaster. I know how you detest Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said, hoarsely, but with discernible sarcasm.


"Obviously. What a pity," Severus added, kneeling down beside her bed, "that you will have to miss the Ministry's annual Holiday Ball tonight."

Hermione glared at him.

"And I, of course, will have to miss watching you flirt with your usual flock of dancing partners. A pity," he said again.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I do not flirt with them," she said. "It's a ball. You're supposed to dance. But obviously no one ever told you that, Headmaster."

Severus glared back at her. "Did you ever stop to consider, Hermione, that dancing requires the consent of two?"

"I've considered it numerous times. What are you hinting at?"

"Some people, Granger, do not look at the annual Holiday Ball as an opportunity to show cleavage in hopes of catching a husband."

"I sincerely hope that you do not have cleavage, sir."

Severus shook his head in exasperation. "And other people, Hermione, willfully misunderstand their superiors."

"Only when her headmaster persists in despising everyone."

"You're sick, Professor Granger. Get your rest."

-----

Severus entered the hospital wing later that night and found Hermione asleep. He leaned over her bed and lightly touched her shoulder. She didn't move. He tapped her shoulder. "Hermione..."

She opened her eyes slowly and smiled. "Severus," she said. She blinked. "What do you think you're doing here, waking me up like this?"

"I brought you some punch from the ball, you little chit."

"You went without me?"

"Don't I always go without you?"

"Well, yes... But not really without me."

"You're still under the influence of Poppy's cold medicine, aren't you?"

"Maybe." She laughed.

"Well, I didn't stay long," he said. "I brought you some cake, too."

"How sweet."

"I thought it might help you get better faster," he retorted. "I certainly don't fancy having to teach your classes for the rest of the term."

"No? What time is it, by the way?"

"Nine o'clock."

"The ball's still going on," she said wistfully.

"Come now, Professor, I know it's the highlight of your social life, but must you really be so starry-eyed over it? I suppose you miss all your dancing partners."

"If you must know, Severus, I rather miss getting to dress up."

"Oh, that, of course. Well, your nightgown is certainly far more modest than... whatever it is you were going to wear."

Hermione smirked. "You know that dress I wore last year wasn't any worse than what any other woman was wearing. Fleur Delacour's had no back. And very little front."

"I didn't notice."

"Oh, didn't you?"

"Certainly not. And why, pray tell, do you keep calling me Severus?"

"I'm sick. And that's your name, isn't it?"

"Are you going to eat your cake?" Severus handed her a delectable-looking slice of chocolate cake on a platter.

"I'm really not hungry," she said archly, setting the plate on her nightstand.

"Do you want to listen to the music from the ball?" he asked quietly, ignoring her. "It's on the Wizarding Wireless."


"Sure," she said. Severus pointed his wand at the wooden box in the corner and the charmingly fuzzy transmission of a classical waltz began.

"I suppose this is the part where some handsome young man like Ernie Macmillan asks you to dance."

"Ernie's not that handsome."

"My, aren't we particular," Severus answered in a cryptic tone. "I'm sorry I can't provide that part of the ball for you."

"Are you really, now?"

"No, not at all."

"I suppose you'll have to do, you greasy old jerk."

He looked a little stung before he caught her meaning. "As you wish, Granger," he said, offering his hand to help her out of bed.

She took hold of it with little hesitation. "Although, on the other hand," she said shakily, trying to stand up, "I'm not sure I'm quite up for a waltz."

"Oh?" Severus asked, grasping her hand a little tighter. "I suppose you might go back to bed, then?"

"No, no, this will do," she said, slipping her hand behind his neck. Severus placed his hand on her back to keep her from falling.


So they danced--just barely--two feet from Hermione's bed.

"Really, Severus, I thought you'd never ask," Hermione finally said.

"I didn't want to impose," he said quietly, understanding. "I didn't want to take you away from the others."

"So you always wanted to ask me?" she asked girlishly.

He pulled her a little bit tighter, and she could feel his head nodding. "Maybe I did, silly woman." Hesitantly, he made a quick circle in her palm with his thumb.

Hermione shivered.

Severus, who had been slightly shifting his feet, stood still. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, you paranoid man. Keep dancing."

After a while, the waltz shifted into a fast jazzy piece.

"Maybe next year, Sev, I'll be well enough to really dance to this kind of music. And maybe you'll have to guts to dance with me."

"I'm dancing with you now, aren't I?"

"Sort of. It's not the way Ernie Macmillan would dance, though. Or Terry Boot, for that matter."

Severus sighed. "You see, Granger, this is exactly why I never asked you before. I knew you'd compare me to that kind of man."

"Of course I would," she said, then lowered her already hoarse voice to a whisper, "but the secret is, sir, you come out ahead."

Severus nearly jumped. "Please explain."

"You see, Ernie--or Terry--would be attempting to slip his hand just a bit lower than yours is now, Severus. Meanwhile, I'd be continually moving his arm to force it back up, and Ernie, you see, just won't take the hint. You men are like that sometimes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. And I bet you don't have a clue how my head ended up tucked underneath your chin, either, do you, Severus?"

"I suppose you put it there," he said.

Hermione backed away so he could see her rolling her eyes. "You know, it would be okay if you asked me out some time."

Severus pulled her back toward him. "And why would I want to do that?"

"I have no idea," Hermione answered.

They danced in silence until the music shifted again, this time to a slow love ballad.

"What a terrible song," Severus said, sneering.

"It is rather sappy, isn't it?"

"Would it be okay if I just kissed you some time?" he asked suddenly.

"Well, I'd have to--"

With that, he pecked her quickly on the lips and then looked at her rather triumphantly.

"--think about that, sir, but only if you agreed to--"

She pulled his face closer for a longer kiss.

"Marry you? I suppose I might have to, otherwise I would be in violation of the 'No dating faculty members' rule."

"Of course you wouldn't, Severus, you aren't even going to ask me out. And besides, why would I be dating a man stupid enough to kiss a sick woman?"

"Oh, shut up, Hermione," he muttered. "I have a perfect immune sys--"

Severus coughed.

Hermione smirked.

He cupped her small face--a dear little face, really--in his calloused hand and laughed. "You've infected me."

He kissed her again, with little thought of germs or Ernie Macmillan. His lack of awareness might have been attributed to the fact that he knew little of one and despised the other, but it might, for once, have been because he was far more pleasantly occupied.



Sick by Britomart [Reviews - 68]


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