I'm not afraid.




Hermione showed her guest to the door. He seemed reluctant to leave her. It was as if the tables had turned and she was now the uncomfortable one. Snape turned upon the threshold to look down at her. She was staring at her shoes and fingering a loose thread in her robes.


"Thank for a lovely dinner, Miss Granger," he said.


She looked up quickly, about to correct him, then simply smiled. It didn't quite reach her eyes this time. "Sorry about all that...scar business, Professor Snape. But, running into you just brought everything back and I had to talk about it." She looked down again. "Harry, Ron, Ginny, nobody really wants to talk about it!"


She sniffed. Oh Merlin, was she crying? Snape slowly pushed the door closed and leaned against it. Hermione looked up at him in surprised confusion. He could hardly believe he was doing it when he took her face in his hands and looked into her mournful brown eyes swimming in tears. It seemed to happen naturally. One moment he was on the verge of leaving, the next he was lowering his head to her waiting, parted lips.


Snape had only ever kissed one other woman in his entire life. When his lips met Hermione's in a gentle inquiring touch, it did not bring back any memories at all. Nor did Hermione seem particularly skillful, despite her having been married several years to the Weasley boy. Perhaps it was because they were kissing each other...


Like two novices, they joined their lips awkwardly, clumsily. Snape's hands were shaking as they closed over her shoulders, drawing her to him. Hermione answered with surprising acquiescence, cupping his elbows in her hands and gently tilting her head and slanting her mouth across his. When her tongue ventured past his lips in a timid, exploratory way, he was undone.


"Please, ward the door, Professor," Hermione panted, breaking off the kiss.


The dull click of the latch and hum of rising wards was the last thing of reality either of them heard as they descended into an unexplored, yet inviting, abyss.





Maybe we might give love a try
Extending the moment before goodbye
And for a gentle moment in time
We'll take what pleasure people can find.





They lay side by side, Hermione on her back, Snape on his side, staring at her ceiling-bound gaze as if he could scarcely believe what had happened. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her brow and her lips were parted as she studied the ceiling, obviously avoiding his eyes for as long as she could.


"Miss Granger?" he finally said.


Hermione slowly and reluctantly shifted her eyes to his face. She reached up and touched his cheek, molding her hand to the rough, unshaven contours and sharp angles. A small, half-amused, half-wistful smile touched her lips.


"I think, under the circumstances, you might call me Hermione," she whispered.


Snape simply stared at her in silent disbelief. It was as if he could not fully grasp why this lovely, complicated woman would want him in her bed, in her life? He let his eyes travel lower to her bare shoulders, to the edge of the sheet tucked up under her arms and imagined the beauty and mystery that lay beneath it. Their coupling had been hurried and desperate, with scarcely a moment to spare for visual delights.


Hermione watched the path of his gaze and slowly, deliberately, lifted the sheet away and uncovered her body for his perusal, holding her breath. Snape's eyes flicked quickly up to hers but he did not deny himself the feast she offered. He supped first with his eyes, then his lips, and finally his body as he again made love to her. Lovemaking. That's what this was, Hermione realized as their eyes locked and they moved together. Not sex. This was what she'd been missing all her life...


It was early morning by the time the two of them finally slept. And when the sun shone brightly through Hermione's lace curtains, dappling the lovers in shades of gray and yellow, they were both reluctant to give up the fantasy.


They dressed in silence, their hands brushing occasionally as she handed him his belt and he handed her a stocking. Sitting on opposite sides of the bed, back to back, they were hyper aware of each other and both waiting for the other to speak first.


Hermione stood up and looked over her shoulder at Snape. He was finished dressing but was still keeping his back to her as if deep in thought.


"Coffee?" she asked softly.


Snape turned quickly at the sound of her voice and his eyes nearly melted her. He hurriedly looked away again. "I have an appointment this morning," he replied woodenly. "I'm nearly late for it now."


He rose and went to the door, pausing only momentarily to look at Hermione. She was biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling. A glance down at her bare forearms and the ugly scars made his insides clench. But he had to get out of here. Get away. Clear his head. Think.


"Thank you, Miss Gr...Hermione," he murmured and then hurriedly left.


Hermione sank slowly down onto her bed, wondering just what he was thanking her for.