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Tidings of Comfort and Joy by StormySkize [Reviews - 6]

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Author's Notes: This was written for the HG/SS holiday exchange on Live Journal. This was the prompt I chose: #71. Fic: Post-war Hermione and Severus are both doomed to spend Xmas alone until they run into each other in Diagon Alley or London. How, why, and what happens next is up to you. Happy ending, please. Any rating. This prompt was submitted by GinnyWeasley31 and the story is dedicated to her.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Special thanks to my beta reader, JuJuJenn. And thanks to Illyria who did some Brit-picking for me. Any errors, however, are mine alone.


Seven

The next several weeks passed slowly. Every other day or so, Flitwick and Snape, along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, would make their way to the Forbidden Forest to test another of Professor Flitwick’s permutations of the Pulpa Adustum Curse.

Each failure was more discouraging than the last. Even Professor Flitwick’s ebullience seemed to be fading.


The five of them were sitting at the table in Snape’s quarters on the evening before Harry and Ron would have to go back to work. They had just returned from the Forbidden Forest after yet another unsuccessful test of the curse. They had all given their dinner order to Dobby and were waiting for the food to be delivered.

“I don’t understand why Bellatrix Lestrange would have even used this curse,” Ron grumbled. He was holding a glass of pumpkin juice in his hands, twisting it round and round.

“It used to be an Unforgivable, Ron,” Harry said. “She was a master of the Unforgivables. Maybe she just wanted to be able to say she knew – and used – all of them.” He took a sip from his own glass of pumpkin juice.

“It may have once been an Unforgivable,” Snape said, “but it was certainly not an efficient one.”

“It kills,” Harry interjected. “That seems rather efficient to me.”

“It is messy,” Snape insisted, “and although death occurs swiftly, it is not instantaneous as with the Killing Curse.”

“And if she just wanted to cause pain, the Cruciatus works quite efficaciously for that,” Hermione added. She had a cup of tea in front of her, but hadn’t yet drunk from it.

“Yeah, but you’ve got to maintain the Cruciatus for its effects to last. As soon as you release it, the pain starts to fade,” Ron said. Suddenly, there was a bright gleam in his eye.

“What if she wanted to throw a curse that would cause a lot of pain, but would kill only slowly, if at all? What if she really wanted a curse that would keep causing pain for a long time without the caster having to maintain it?”

“But Madam Pomfrey was able to stop the pain relatively quickly,” Hermione said. “Bellatrix would have known that anyone with basic medical skills would be able to stop the pain.”

Ron looked crestfallen for a minute. Then he brightened again.

“Well, what if she was trying to cast a curse that would cause disfigurement? The kind of disfigurement that a simple ‘Finite Incantatem’ wouldn’t be able to reverse?”

“Oh, well done, Mr. Weasley! Bloody well done!” Professor Flitwick squealed.

“Severus, do you have a Greek dictionary handy? I have one in my quarters but if you have one …” Flitwick was pushing his cup of tea away, making room on the table for the book.

“Of course,” Snape said as he got to his feet and moved to one of his bookcases. He found the book he was looking for and opened it on the table in front of Flitwick.

Professor Flitwick started flipping the pages of the dictionary back and forth.

“I need a piece of parchment and a quill,” he muttered, never lifting his eyes from the book.

As soon as Snape brought the requested items, Flitwick started scribbling furiously.

When Dobby and another house-elf appeared a few minutes later, Flitwick was done. He closed the dictionary, and Snape removed it from the table.

No one spoke as Dobby set the food out on the table, but as soon as the two house-elves were gone, Snape turned to Flitwick.

“Well?” he asked.

“These need to be tested as soon as possible,” Flitwick said.

“It’s too late tonight,” Snape said. “The Forbidden Forest is not the place to be after dark, especially the spot we’ve been using.”

“Ron and I have to go back to work tomorrow,” Harry said. “If you want to wait till late afternoon, we can come back then.”

“I can cast the Stunning Spell,” Hermione said. “All I’ve been doing is standing around watching the rest of you.”

“Are you sure, Hermione?” Ron asked.

“I don’t want to have to wait. I can do it.”

“That’s settled, then,” Snape said.

“I hate to ask you, sir,” Hermione said, turning to Snape, “but could you come and get me tomorrow morning? I’m not sure I’m up to Apparating so far. I’ve been coming in with Harry or Ron each day.”

Things had been tense between Snape and Hermione since the day she had discovered him staring at her while Professor Flitwick was examining the injury to her breast. Since then, he seemed unable to meet her eye, and he spoke to her only when he had no other choice. The rapport that they had established was gone. His sense of humour had evaporated. Ron had commented upon it, and even Harry had said that Snape was starting to act like a git again.

Snape scowled at her, but nodded tersely.

“Thank you,” Hermione said quietly and then bent over her dinner plate, toying with her food, but eating little.


Snape watched Hermione push the food around her plate. He had noticed over the past six weeks that she was losing weight again. There were dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she wasn’t sleeping well, either. He knew it was his fault, but he wasn’t sure how to put things right.

He knew that things had started to fall apart the first day of the summer holidays. All of his behaviour that day had been despicable. He had let her nearness in the pass-through affect him to the point where she hadn’t been able to ignore his erection. Then, he had leered at her like a … a dirty old man!

He should have apologised to her, he knew, but instead he’d simply turned away, ignoring the hurt in her eyes. Once delayed, the apology became impossible.

He sighed and pushed away his own plate of uneaten food. The situation was becoming more uncomfortable with each passing day.


When Dobby came to clear the dishes away, Professor Flitwick got to his feet.

“I’ll be returning to my quarters now, Severus. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Filius,” Snape said.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry said goodnight to the tiny Professor and watched him step into the Floo and disappear.

“We’d better get going, too, Hermione,” Ron said. “It’s back to work tomorrow for us.”

“Good night, Professor,” Hermione said.

“Good night, Miss Granger,” Snape replied. He nodded at Harry and Ron.


They nodded back, and the three young people stepped through Snape’s door and into the corridor. They made their way out of the castle and to the Apparition point.

“What’s up with him, lately?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know. Just when it seemed he was starting to act like a normal person, he gets all wonky again,” Harry said.

“He has a lot on his mind,” Hermione said, defending him in spite of the fact that she felt betrayed by the change in his attitude towards her.

“Is that why you’re acting all wonky, too?” Ron asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I’m acting!” Hermione lashed out, her behaviour disproving her words.

“Yeah, right,” Ron muttered.

“Just take me home,” Hermione demanded. “I’m not in the mood to fight.”

“I’ve got you,” Harry said and dropped an arm across her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his waist and closed her eyes.


At nine o’clock the next morning, Snape was standing outside Hermione’s back door. He’d considered sending her a message saying he couldn’t make it. He’d written it and had been about to summon a school owl to deliver it when he’d felt the tingle at the back of his mind. He’d roundly cursed Albus Dumbledore and the thrice-damned promise he’d made, but, in the end, he’d thrown the note into the fire and made his way out of the castle and to the Apparition point.

He knocked and waited for Hermione to open the door.

“Come in, Professor Snape,” Hermione said as she swung the door open. “I’m almost ready.”

Snape stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

He moved toward the refrigerator. Hermione stepped in front of him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to prepare breakfast,” he said.

“I … I’ve already eaten,” she said, not quite meeting his eye.

“Oh? What did you have?” Snape asked.

“Um … eggs and toast,” she said.

Snape opened the lid of the dust bin. “Where are the egg shells?”

“I’ve already taken the rubbish out.”

“You’re lying, Miss Granger,” Snape hissed. “You haven’t eaten this morning, and you didn’t eat any dinner last night. You probably haven’t had a proper meal in weeks.”

“It’s none of your business!”

“I made it my business last December,” Snape retorted.

“Yes, well you’ve done enough, Professor Snape. I no longer wish to be a burden to you.”

“Did I ever say you were a burden?”

“You haven’t had to. Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you treat me lately? You loathe me. I’m sure that if Harry and Ron and Professor Flitwick hadn’t gotten involved in my … my problem, you would have washed your hands of me by now.”

“Do not presume to tell me what I think, what I feel, or how I might act under other circumstances. Your Legilimency skills are not up to reading my mind!”

“I don’t need Legilimency to recognize that your attitude towards me has changed,” Hermione said. “I know you never liked me, but until a few weeks ago it seemed you had at least begun to tolerate me. Now, you don’t talk to me. You avoid me. You won’t even look at me since … since …”

Her voice caught, and she had to draw a deep breath and close her eyes to avoid bursting into tears.

“My behaviour that day was contemptible,” Snape said. “I … I have wanted to apologise, but I didn’t know how to bring up the subject without embarrassing you.”

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at him. “You wanted to leave the room when Professor Flitwick examined my … my breast. I should have let you go. If I had, you wouldn’t have been repulsed by how ugly I am.”

“You think I was repulsed?” Snape asked.

“Why else would you begin avoiding me?” She hung her head, blinking rapidly, determined not to cry in front of him.

Snape touched a finger to her chin, urging her head up.

“Look at me,” he said. When she lifted her head and met his eyes, he spoke again.

“I have been avoiding you because I did not want you to know how much I desire you.”

“You can’t desire me! I … I’m ugly …”

“Stop!” he demanded. “You are not ugly. What was done to you is ugly. It was an abomination! The pain and the isolation you have been forced to endure is ugly. The unrealistic attitude of a society that judges people on form instead of substance is ugly. You are not ugly.

“And, again, I must remind you not to presume to know what I think or what I feel. I can desire you and I do.” He paused a moment and then spoke again. “I have since the night we danced at Le Café du Marché.”

“You have a strange way of showing it,” she murmured.

“I knew there was no hope that you could ever reciprocate …”

“Why would you believe that?”

“You have said that you think yourself ugly. Well, I know I am ugly, both inside and out.”

“Stop!” she said, echoing his words. “You are not ugly. Your childhood was ugly. The way your parents treated you was ugly. The way Lucius Malfoy exploited you was ugly. And yes, your actions in the service of the Dark Lord were ugly. But, you realised your mistake and spent years making amends. You have also had to face the attitudes of a society that judges on form, not substance, just as I have.

“I have had to change my perception of you. When I looked beyond the harsh and caustic exterior you present to the world, I found much to admire. Why would you think that I could not desire you just as much as you say you desire me?”

“Miss Granger …” he began.

“My name is Hermione,” she interrupted. “You’ve never called me Hermione.”

Snape looked into her eyes and saw his own longings reflected there.

“I have; you’ve just never been there to hear me … Hermione.”

“I’ve never much liked my own name,” she said. “You make it sound different, special.”

Snape reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. She leaned into his touch. His thumb stroked her cheek softly.

“This is wrong,” he said in a harsh whisper, but he didn’t stop.

“Why is it wrong?” she asked as she reached up and cupped his cheek in turn.

“I’m old enough to be your father. You’re a former student. You’re emotionally vulnerable; I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you.”

“I’m twenty years younger than you, so I suppose that mathematically you are old enough to be my father, though my father was nearly forty when I was born. Yes, I’m a former student, the emphasis being on the word former; I haven’t been your student for more than seven years. I don’t consider myself emotionally vulnerable at all. I came to terms with what happened to me the day I decided I was going to try to find a cure. Having the support of my parents and my two best friends has been a tremendous boon to me.

“And lastly,” she said with a smile, “I hardly think that stroking my cheek would be considered ‘taking advantage’ of me.”

“This might, though,” he said.

And then he bent his head toward hers and kissed her.

It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, a mere brushing of his lips across hers.


Snape wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss. He wanted to explore her mouth with his. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to feel her mouth come alive under his. Instead, he lifted his mouth from hers and moved his head back, allowing her to decide where that small kiss would lead.

He watched as Hermione lifted a finger to her lips, as though wanting to discover if she could feel the kiss with her fingertip. Then she smiled and looked up at him.

“That was … lovely,” she said.

Snape gave her a small smile in return. “I thought so, as well.”

She reached up and took his face between her two hands, drawing his head down to hers. She fitted her mouth over his, her lips slightly parted.

He put his hands on her waist, but didn’t pull her against him. He let her take the initiative. He nearly groaned aloud when he felt the tip of her tongue flick across his bottom lip. He relaxed his jaw and let his lips open a bit, inviting her to explore, if that was her wish. Her tongue moved a bit deeper into his mouth until it touched his. She held it there for a second and then withdrew.

She lifted her lips from his, but her thumb brushed against his bottom lip.

“I … I never much cared for that kind of kissing before,” she said.

“It can be distasteful if not done properly,” he agreed.

“I’m glad you know how to do it properly, then,” she said in a soft, husky whisper.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. He draped his arms around her and held her close.

For the moment, they were content to simply hold each other.


Several minutes later, Hermione lifted her head from Snape’s shoulder and tilted it back to smile at him.

“Might I ask a favour of you?” she asked as she used her nails to rub small circles on his back.

“Typical female,” Snape said in a mock-sour tone. “The status of our relationship changed a mere five minutes ago, and already you are trying to use your feminine wiles on me.”

Her smile grew a bit wider. “Guilty as charged,” she said.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Breakfast – I’m starving!”


Forty minutes later, they were done eating and ready to go to Hogwarts to begin testing the latest version of the curse.

Filius met them in the Forbidden Forest. He was practically jumping up and down with excitement.

“I have a very good feeling about this, Severus,” he said. “I spent a good deal of time last night working on these versions of the curse, and I think I’ve discovered where we were going astray.”

“I cast the curse exactly as Galen claims to have heard it,” Snape said.

“Yes, yes, you did,” Flitwick agreed, “but when Bellatrix Lestrange modified it, she changed the basic incantation.

Kaiomai sarka, which is the incantation you used, is Greek. It means, literally, burn flesh, and when you cast it, that’s exactly what it did. The animals burst into flames. Now, depending on the size of the subject, death was either instantaneous or it occurred within seconds. An animal the size of a boar might have lived for two or three minutes. A human being would probably be dead in a minute or so.

“Miss Granger did not burst into flames when the curse was cast upon her. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t burned at all. Instead, it appears her flesh was melted, not burned. This is a subtle, but important, distinction.”

Professor Flitwick reached into an inside pocket of his robes and brought out a slip of parchment.

“Here are a number of incantations I would like you to try, Severus,” he said.

Snape took the parchment and read the lines written there. He sounded out the words one at a time preparatory to casting the curse.

“I’m ready to try,” Snape said a minute later. “Miss Granger, will you cast a Stunning Spell on one of the rats, please?”

Hermione nodded and soon had the animal ready to receive the curse.

Snape pointed his wand at the unconscious rat and spoke the incantation.

Liono sarka!”

Nothing happened. There was no flash of orange light. The animal remained unconscious, but untouched by heat or flame.

“Try the next one,” Flitwick urged.

Liono derma!” Snape said.

Again, there was nothing.

“Bloody hell,” squeaked Professor Flitwick. “Severus, are you sure you are projecting enough intent? This curse used to be an Unforgivable. You must have the proper frame of mind.”

“I have been casting Unforgivables since I was eighteen years old, Filius,” Snape chided. “I know how to form the proper intent.”

“Yes, yes, of course you do,” Flitwick sighed.

“Is my pronunciation correct?” Snape asked. “I’m not accustomed to casting incantations in Greek.”

“That’s it!” Flitwick squealed. “Oh, Severus, if you were shorter, I’d kiss you!”

“Oh, thank the gods I’m tall, then,” Snape retorted. “Now what are you blathering on about?”

“Bellatrix Lestrange wouldn’t have been any more comfortable casting in Greek than you are. I’ll bet my pointed little hat that the bloody whore modified the incantation to Latin!”

Snape turned back toward the rat in the cage and raised his wand.

Viscus fundo!” he said and had to hide the sharp stab of disappointment he felt when nothing happened.

“Try tergum fundo,” Flitwick urged. “Viscus means ‘flesh’, tergum means ‘skin’. They can be used interchangeably most of the time, but an incantation must be exact.”

Tergum fundo!” Snape said.

A beam of pale orange light shot from his wand and enveloped the rat. As they watched, the skin of the rat melted and peeled away, leaving nothing but a quivering lump of bloody flesh.

Hermione very nearly gagged, and even Snape, who had seen horrors most people could only imagine, felt queasy.

Snape quickly dispatched the unfortunate animal.

“Thank Merlin that wasn’t the incantation Bellatrix used on you, Miss Granger,” Flitwick said in a shaky voice.

“Yes, but I’m afraid that leaves us right back where we started from,” she replied.

“Is there a way to vary the intensity of the curse, Filius?” Snape asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ll need to do some more research. And, unfortunately, we will need to continue the animal testing.”


Two weeks later, Hermione and Snape were sitting on the sofa in Snape’s quarters. They had just finished dinner, and Snape was pleased to note that Hermione seemed to have gained back most of the weight she had lost. The dark circles under her eyes were gone as well.

They had fallen back into a familiar routine. Snape went to her house each morning and prepared breakfast. Afterwards, he would Apparate them to Hogwarts. They would meet with Flitwick to discuss how his work on the curse was progressing. Often, she would help him brew some of the potions Madam Pomfrey needed. Hermione was still working, so after dinner, Snape would take her home. Most nights he stayed with her while she worked. Sometimes he would read, other times he would sit beside her, absorbing information, as she worked. He was determined to bring Hogwarts into the computer age, though he knew it would be an uphill battle. When Hermione signed off her computer for the night, Snape would make tea.

They had, by mutual agreement, decided to allow their relationship to progress very slowly.


Hermione wasn’t the type to rush headlong into relationships anyway. And because of her injury, she hadn’t really been close to anyone for years. She was doubtful of her own feelings, not quite sure whether she was beginning to care for Snape for himself, or simply because he seemed to want her in spite of her injury.


Snape, for his part, knew that he wanted Hermione. He knew he desired her, physically. What he didn’t know was whether he was even capable of something more than that. He sometimes felt that his dysfunctional childhood, and his years of working as a double agent, had left him emotionally stunted. In any case, he knew it would be grossly unfair to Hermione to begin a physical relationship with her when he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to make the emotional investment that should accompany it.


Whatever the reasons, the end result was that other than the fact that when they were alone, they now addressed each other by their first names, and that they shared an occasional kiss, their relationship hadn’t changed much from what it had been before the summer holidays. They were, once again, comfortable in each other’s company.


“Severus,” Flitwick called as Snape’s Floo activated, “may I come through?”

“Of course, Filius,” Snape answered.

The tiny wizard stepped out on to Snape’s hearth. He brushed off his robes in an absent-minded way.

“I’ve got it this time!” he said.

“Really?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m so sorry that you’ve had to be kept on tenterhooks while I’ve stumbled around, too stupid to find my own arse with both hands and a torch.”

Hermione smiled at the mental picture his words painted. In contrast to his rather staid classroom demeanour, the ‘off-duty’ Professor Flitwick possessed a caustic wit similar to Snape’s, and the colourful vocabulary of a drunken sailor.

“What have you discovered?” Snape asked.

“I have been stymied by the result of the last incantation we tried. At first glance, Miss Granger’s injury looks like it is the result of a skin melting curse. Tergum Fundo is a skin-melting curse and should have reproduced the injury, but it didn’t. It did, literally, melt the skin of the animal. But, it melted it so completely, the skin was destroyed. I concluded, therefore, that Bellatrix Lestrange, that bloody, sadistic woman, had to have modified the curse in some other way. I needed to see Miss Granger’s injury again, but I didn’t want to upset and embarrass her, so I used a Pensieve and looked at my memories of the examination.

“When I revisited the memory, I wanted to kick myself in the arse for missing the obvious.”

“Apparently, you weren’t the only one who missed it, Filius,” Snape said. “What did we miss?”

“Miss Granger’s injury was not the result of a curse developed to melt the epidermis – the outer layer of skin, but rather of one developed to melt the subcutaneous or subdermal tissue – the tissue beneath the skin!”

“But, my skin is melted,” Hermione said. “It’s all red and lumpy and folded over.”

“It is lumpy and folded over because the underlying connective tissue has been destroyed. I believe we will find that the redness is due to damaged capillaries.”

“And my hair?” Hermione asked.

“Your hair was, indeed, melted by the curse. I don’t believe that damnable woman planned it that way, however; it was a side effect of the curse. Had the curse hit you in the chest, which is apparently where she aimed, the damage would have radiated outward and your hair might not have been affected at all. I believe that the curse damaged the hair follicles. That’s why new, undamaged hair has been unable to grow.

“We will need to conduct further animal tests, but I am convinced this is the answer.”

“And a counter-curse?” Hermione asked.

“Alas, my dear, that is probably still some weeks away,” Flitwick said sadly.

Hermione nodded and sat down heavily on the sofa.

“We’ll start the animal tests tomorrow,” Snape said.

“As soon as we confirm that this is the correct curse, I will begin working to counter it,” Flitwick said.

He reached up and patted Hermione’s hand. “I won’t give up, Miss Granger.”

“I know, Professor Flitwick,” Hermione said. “I’m grateful for your help.”

Flitwick turned back toward the hearth.

“The usual time, Severus?” he asked as he pulled a pinch of Floo powder from his pocket and threw it into the flames. “Flitwick’s quarters!”

“I’ll be there, Filius,” Snape said. “Thank you and good night.”

“Ta-ra,” Flitwick said as he stepped into the fire and spun away.


After Flitwick left, Snape moved to sit beside Hermione on the sofa.

“You’re not getting discouraged, are you?” he asked as he took her hand in his.

“I’m trying not to, Severus. I keep telling myself that nine months ago, I was still trudging to the Ministry library each night in a fruitless search for information. I was exhausted then – exhausted physically, magically, and emotionally. I’m so much better now, mostly thanks to you.” She smiled up at him.

“All you needed was a few good meals,” Snape said.

“That took care of the physical exhaustion, yes,” Hermione agreed. “Your suggestions about my glamour helped with the magical exhaustion. And telling my parents and Harry and Ron about my injury was the biggest step I could have made toward restoring my emotional equilibrium.”

“You needed their support,” Snape said.

“I don’t know how much longer I would have been able to go on without your help, though I’m still not sure why you even bothered that day in Grant and Cutler.”

Snape felt a small prick in the area of his mind he vaguely recognised as his conscience. Now was the time to ‘come clean’ and tell her about the promise he had made to Albus. He opened his mouth as though to speak and then closed it again without saying a word.

If she discovered that he had helped her only because he’d had no choice, she would be hurt unnecessarily. At least that’s what he told himself. He couldn’t admit, not even to himself, that losing her respect would bother him.

“I couldn’t just leave you there in that condition,” he said at last. “Even I am not that heartless a bastard.”

Liar! His mind screamed at him.

Hermione just smiled at him, and then she kissed him with a tenderness he knew he didn’t deserve.

Snape returned the kiss, and when they broke apart, he held her close and wondered, not for the first time, why his life always had to be so fucking complicated.


The next day, Hermione stood next to Professor Flitwick and watched as Snape cast the modified curse at yet another Stupefied rat.

Subtergum fundo!” Snape said as he aimed his wand at the rat. His wand emitted a wavering beam of pale orange light. When it struck the unconscious rat, the rat’s skin began to move and shift.

When they examined the animal, there was no mistaking the similarities between its injury and Hermione’s.

Snape next cast the curse on a ferret with the same result.

“We have a couple of Nogtails,” Snape said. “They’re the largest test animals we have right now. Do you want to try one of them?”

“I don’t think we need to,” Flitwick said. “I would rather save them for testing the counter-curse.”

“I agree,” Snape said.

“What do you think, Miss Granger?” Snape asked, turning to Hermione.

Hermione was leaning over the injured ferret, poking at the lumpy-looking flesh.

“This even feels like my injury,” she said. “The curse light looked like the one Bellatrix cast, as well.”

She straightened and turned toward the two wizards with a wide grin on her face.

“You did it, Professor Flitwick!” she exclaimed, and then she ran to him, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” she said, blinking back tears.

“Oh, my dear,” Flitwick managed to squeak out. “I’ve only recreated the curse. The counter-curse will be a much bigger challenge.”

Hermione sat back on her heels, releasing the diminutive wizard.

“I know you can do it, sir. I just know it!”

“I hope I can justify your faith in me,” he replied.


Weeks passed. The new term started at Hogwarts, and Hermione and Snape didn’t get to see each other as often as they would have liked. Snape had managed to make it into London the last weekend in September. They’d had dinner again at Le Café du Marché. On that night, when they danced, Snape made no effort to hide the effect her nearness had on him. Hermione had smiled at him in an artlessly seductive way that had him groaning.

They had made plans to meet at Hogsmeade near the end of October, but things had gotten busy at Hogwarts, and Snape simply couldn’t get away. They wrote back and forth on a regular basis, however.

Hermione saw Harry and Ron nearly every week. They would knock on her back door on a Friday or a Saturday night carrying pizza boxes and beer, and the three friends would sit up half the night catching up on their lives.

On this Friday night, right before Halloween, they were doing just that.

Harry was nearly bouncing up and down on the sofa in excitement.

“What’s with you?” Hermione asked as she put out paper plates and napkins.

“I’m getting married!” Harry burst out.

“Well, you’ve been engaged for years. It’s about time you decided to finally do it,” Hermione teased.

“Well, it wasn’t my idea to wait so long,” Harry grumbled.

Hermione had been a bit surprised to discover that it had been Ginny, not Harry, who had been putting off the wedding. Now that she had finished her medi-witch training and had secured a position at St. Mungo’s, Ginny was ready to settle down.

“She says we’re going to wait a few years for babies, though,” Harry said. “She wants a chance to establish her career first.”

“That seems like a good idea,” Hermione said.

“Ron’s not ready to settle down, yet, though,” Harry said as he gave Ron a friendly punch on the arm.

“So many witches, so little time,” Ron intoned solemnly, and the three friends burst into laughter.

“What about you, Hermione?” Ron asked when they got their mirth under control. “When are you going to find a nice wizard and start having babies?”

Hermione felt herself flush and hoped that her friends wouldn’t notice. She hadn’t told them about her relationship with Snape.

“I … I don’t think I’ll ever marry,” she said.

“I’ve ruined you for any other man, haven’t I?” Ron asked with a leer.

“In your dreams, you wanker,” Hermione replied with a smile.

“Then why would you say you’ll never get married?” Ron asked. “Even I expect to get married eventually. You’ll fall in love someday, too.”

Hermione blushed again, and this time Harry noticed.

“You’ve already fallen in love, haven’t you?” Harry asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione replied, but she wouldn’t meet his eye.

“What’s the matter with him, then, if you haven’t told your best mates?” Ron asked.

“Is he a Muggle?” Harry asked.

“He’s not already married, is he?” Ron asked, horrified.

“Would you two just stop?” Hermione said in her bossiest voice. “I’m not going to discuss this with you.”

She still wouldn’t meet Harry’s eye.

“Fuck it all, Hermione!” Harry shouted as he got to his feet and started pacing. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with the greasy git, haven’t you?”

“Snape?” Ron sputtered. “You’re in love with Severus Snape?”

“I’ll kill the fucking bastard,” Harry said, as he stormed towards the door. “I knew he was up to no good.”

“Where are you going, Harry?” Ron shouted. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Harry’s arm.

“I’m going to Hogwarts,” Harry said. “I’m going to kill the bastard for taking advantage of her.”

“He hasn’t ‘taken advantage’ of me,” Hermione said. “Would you listen to yourself, Harry? You sound demented!”

She turned to Ron. “Can’t you talk some sense into him?”

“It’s her business, Harry,” Ron said. “Didn’t we talk about this at Christmas?”

Harry turned and faced Hermione again. “You said you weren’t having a … a personal relationship with him.”

“At the time, I wasn’t,” Hermione said. “Things changed during the summer holidays.”

“That’s why he was acting so strangely, isn’t it?”

“We’d had a … a misunderstanding. We talked about it the day you and Ron went back to work. He came here to bring me to Hogwarts, and we straightened things out.”

Harry snorted. “How can you let him touch you?”

“He doesn’t … I mean, we haven’t …” Hermione blushed again.

“Oy, that’s more than I need to know,” Ron said.

Harry turned to Ron. “It’s not funny, Ron.”

“It’s her business, Harry,” Ron repeated. “Now, let’s sit down and finish our beer.”

Harry sat and picked up his bottle of beer. He took a sip and then turned back to Hermione. She’d also sat back down and had picked up her bottle, though she just held it and didn’t drink from it.

“Does he love you, Hermione?” Harry asked.

Hermione twisted the bottle in her hands.

“I don’t know. When we first realised that there was something between us, we decided to take things slowly, and we have. I’m not even sure if what I feel for him is love.”

“I watched your face when you were talking about him. You love him,” Harry said with a sigh. He took another swig from his bottle.

“I’m sorry I acted like such an arse,” he said.

“It’s a good job you didn’t go charging off to Hogwarts,” Ron said as he drank from his own bottle. “I’d hate to have to tell Ginny that her fiancé’s dangly bits are now hanging from his ears.”

“Yeah, well … I guess I overreacted,” Harry admitted.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your being willing to charge off to defend my honour,” Hermione said, “but I think I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know,” he said. “And if it had been anyone else …”

“Don’t say it, Harry …” Hermione voice rose in warning.

“All right, all right,” Harry grumbled. “He’s a hero; he’s a paragon; he’s a veritable god among wizards.”

“And he can cook!” Hermione added, trying to lighten the mood.

Ron laughed, and even Harry smiled at that comment.

“I’ll respect your wishes, Hermione,” he said a moment later. “I’ll even be polite to him. I still think you could do much better than him, but if he makes you happy, I’ll accept it.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said, reaching over to give him a fierce hug.

He returned the hug and smiled down at her, and things were all right between them again.


The admins here on Ashwinder have graciously extended Validated Author status to me. I am humbled by and grateful for their trust in me. Because of this added responsibility, I would like to ask my readers to be on the lookout for any mistakes that get past me or my beta. If I am notified of any grammatical, spelling, punctuation, or Canon errors, I will review and correct them as quickly as possible. I always want my stories to be of the highest quality and your help is appreciated. Thanks, Diane


Tidings of Comfort and Joy by StormySkize [Reviews - 6]

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