Hermione stared, her jaw slack, and her voice gone. She vaguely heard the sound of her purse hitting the floor as it slipped out of her hand, but even the thwack of leather against wood didn’t bring her out of her daze. His dark eyes burned into her with a subtle fire that could alone make her heart race. In the glowing golden light of the twilight, he looked… ethereal.

It was only his voice that could bring her back to reality, and even then she felt as though she was floating at least three inches off of the ground. He was here. Oh, my God, she thought, I was going to send him the… oh, shit.

"Miss Granger, close your mouth at once. You are not a fish," he said.

Hermione’s mouth closed as though with magic, though she doubted that he could do magic without waving his wand, and neither of his hands were free to wave anything, as they were both put, not shoved, mind, into his pockets. She had never seen anyone look so perfectly contradictory, relaxed but still rigid and quite on his guard underneath the casual exterior.

He was even dressed in muggle garb, and was quite fashionable, to be honest. Hermione was too willing to admit that he looked fantastic in his black slacks and white button-down shirt. Hermione smiled at the slight impression of dishevelment, with his hair windblown, and the slightest colour in his cheeks from cold, and perhaps physical exertion if he had walked here from some other apparation point.

Again, she snapped back to reality as she realised that she had to say something. "Why are you here?" she asked confusedly. Then, she mentally cringed. Real eloquent, Hermione, she chided herself.

"I had wondered if you had received the letter that I sent," said Snape, and he seemed rather uncomfortable, as though he felt incredibly stupid himself. As though he had had second thoughts about coming here. That sort of made Hermione wonder, but she didn’t want to think badly of him, no matter what he’d done. He couldn’t have meant it, this wonderful man.

"Oh. Yes. I –I had meant to send you a letter, but… I forgot," said Hermione. "Sorry." God, she sounded like an imbecile.

"Um…" How to say this without sounding even stupider? "I got the job," Hermione added.

Snape didn’t smile, but in his words the smile was apparent. "I had a feeling that you would." Oh, that felt good. It really did.

"Really?" asked Hermione. Snape looked embarrassed suddenly, as though he had said something that he shouldn’t have.

"Well, after all, you are quite the know-it-all," he said. He was the Sardonic Professor once more. Sad, Hermione thought. She’d almost gotten a compliment out of him. Oh, well.

Hermione rolled her eyes in good nature. "Oh, please." She paused, and seemed to remember something. "Would you like to come in?"

"Yes, thank you," said Snape, and he entered, looking around. Hermione noted with satisfaction that he seemed to approve. "Lovely place."

"Thanks," said Hermione, smiling. There was a silent moment when they both stood awkwardly, pretending to be looking at the living room whenever the other was looking, while they were actually secretly eyeing one another.

"You’re well-dressed this evening," said Severus, breaking into the almost childish game. He seemed awfully talkative, Hermione noted.

"I was about to go get a drink, to celebrate, I guess," she explained.

"My dear Miss Granger, I believe you are a little confused," said Severus. "One cannot celebrate alone. It fully defeats the purpose."

Hermione shrugged, and demurely looked away, her eyes falling on Soot, who was staring at her intently, reminding her so much of the gossipy girls that she had grown up around that she wanted to laugh. She then returned her gaze to the man beside her, who she noticed even before he looked away was watching her as intently as Soot. She somehow felt a wave of gratification at that.

"Well, would you like to come with me?" Hermione asked. She looked up at him hopefully. Please, please, please, she silently told him. Please say yes!

Snape’s face softened slightly. "Naturally," he said.

Hermione had never realised how spontaneous he could be, if he wanted to, and she now noticed how much it appealed to her. They had gone on a search of London for the perfect place to celebrate, and it seemed a very long search. The time had gone so fast, though, as they conversed and Hermione actually managed to make him laugh, something that caused a small swell of pride within her, as she’d never before heard him laugh. He had a wonderful laugh.

He seemed so much younger, now, or perhaps it was just the false lights of the city after dark. She had learned that people tended to look better in dimmer light. At any rate, he had more handsomeness in his actions now than allure, though that didn’t mean that he was no longer alluring. Before it had been this dark sort of attraction, and now… she wasn’t sure what it was, but he was amazing.

He was still the sarcastic Potions Master in many ways, but there was a tang of humanity about his manner, suddenly, as though the desire to hurt others had briefly gone on holiday, but left the rest of Severus Snape intact. There was no way to clearly describe it, but she knew that it had made him even more beautiful in her eyes.

An invitation to go for a drink had somehow turned into a dinner invitation, and after that search of revelations and laughter, they had found this tiny place tucked between two larger buildings, almost hidden. It looked quite lovely, though, and not at all shabby. It was a nice little Italian restaurant, small enough that it might have been family owned, and it seemed almost out of place in the big city. It was more like something that one would see in a very small town.

Anyway, Hermione had immediately fallen in love with the place, and she took Severus’ hand and pulled him inside, where it was warm and a myriad of delicious scents mingled together to create a fragrance that was positively mouth-watering. There were several tables scattered through the place, each covered with a white and red chequered table cloth, with a single rose in a vase in the centre of the table. It was simply divine.

A young woman directed them to a table near the window, and beyond the red painted words sprawling across the glass, Hermione watched cars going by. She wondered if any of those people had ever been to this place, if they even knew it existed. She had never seen it before, she sheepishly admitted, and she even lived a little nearby. It was like the restaurant had been placed here for the sole purpose of being the place where she and Severus Snape would have dinner.

Hermione ordered a huge plate of spaghetti, since she hadn’t had it in a while, and had a sudden craving for it. She couldn’t get the image of Lady and the Tramp out of her mind, when they both eat the same noodle. That movie had been one of her favourites when she was young. It was actually rather amusing, if annoying to have that scene play in her mind over and over.

Snape had gnocchi with butter and sage, and Hermione found herself envious because that sounded so good. She was afraid to ask if she could try some, even though she wasn’t sure why. Both of them had a glass of good red wine, and Hermione then let go and lost herself in the moment, listening to his soft, warm voice as he told her a story of his youth and his little brother. It was peculiar that she had always thought of him as an only child, and now found out about his brother and sister.

There was something cheery in his eyes, dare she call it a smile, and it added to that strange, new look about him. Was it just her, or was she suddenly noticing how good-looking he really was? And thinking far too often of it? Had he done something to his appearance in the several days that she hadn’t seen him? Was it the wine? Or was the old saying really true, did absence really make the heart grow fonder? She did wonder, but at the moment she was too lost in him to really think about it.

After dinner, they began a lazy walk back to her place. Hermione subconsciously slid her hand into his, and had only noticed it when his hand tightened around hers, sending shivers through her. His hand was warmer than she would have expected it to be. It seemed strangely quiet as they walked, and it was strange, like the absence of the constant conversation that had been between them that entire evening had grown into their systems, and was the normal way of things.

Still, it was perfectly fine with Hermione to simply walk with him and enjoy his presence, especially with their fingers laced together, and the comfort of simply being with him again, in such a relaxed atmosphere. She was still floating, and had been since she had first seen him. Needless to say, it was a considerably intoxicating feeling.

Of course, she thought distantly about what he had said the night before she left, and she felt a cool finger slide down her spine, but she didn’t want to ruin this perfect evening. It seemed almost taboo to talk about what happened, all of the pain that had been in that week, despite the incredible pleasure that came with the meeting of their lips, and the occasional friendly conversation.

She wanted to talk about it, and sort it out, to make sure that he hadn’t meant it. Though he had in a way apologised, she wanted to know what he really felt towards her. She wanted to make sure that she knew what he wanted, even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted. Blinking that thought away and the insecurities that came with it, she suddenly realised that they were at her door.

Their eyes met as she turned towards him, and with their gaze meeting Hermione felt a delicious tension in her stomach. She didn’t quite know what she was doing, but slowly she pulled his body to hers, and her lips were on his subsequently, killing off completely any bad emotions that had been trying to overpower the total goodness of this evening. Light and colour flowed in and around and through her mind, and the hairs of her arms stood at attention.

Through all this, his lips were present on hers, sending sensations through her that caused the delectable sort of chills that it seemed only his touch could create. The kiss remained chaste, though, as finally they both drew away. Hermione stared at him a second, and as a number of thoughts, not many of them very proper, circled in her mind, she moved her hands from his shoulders to her sides.

Just say it, she told herself. Would you like to stay? Hermione, you’re twenty-one years old. Grow up for Pete’s sake! She drew a shaky breath.

"Why don’t you –I mean, would you like to come in?" she asked. Not quite what she had planned to say, but it would work for now. At least it got him inside. She still hated how she was always tripping over her words around him, though.

It was almost as if Severus could see the inner workings of her mind, and for a moment he measured her words. "All right," he said finally, and Hermione almost sighed in relief. She had almost expected him to say no. But now there was a bowling ball of nervousness in her stomach. Here was the big moment.

She opened the door, and as soon as it clicked shut behind them, Severus turned on her. His eyes were fiery, but each movement was calm and calculated.

"Hermione, what exactly is there between us?" he asked.

"What do you think there is?" asked Hermione, behaving as calmly as he for some reason that she could not guess, and closing the space between them deliberately. She certainly didn’t feel so calm as she looked, especially since a jolt of electricity had shivered through her at her name said in his voice, as it did every time. Only now, everything seemed more accented, greater than it was. Her skin was tingling with his mere presence.

Severus gazed at her a moment, stepping imperceptibly closer to her, leaving only a few inches of space between them. That air simmered with only slightly muted desire. His hands of their own accord moved to her shoulders, and slowly moved down her arms, taking her coat with them. His eyes moved to hers, then, and he spoke as the coat dropped to the floor with a soft sound.

"I think… whatever it is, it’s undeniable," he whispered. "And I think that I’m okay with it." Hermione’s eyes couldn’t have moved from his had there been a sudden explosion in her living room.

"And I think that I’m going to kiss you now," she said slowly. Hermione knew for certain that she didn’t care about any consequences right now. She was not afraid.

She tilted her face up to his, and her hand slid around the back of his neck up into his hair. Hesitantly, their lips met, and then his arms were around her waist, and their bodies were pressed together so tightly that if anyone had seen them –which they, of course, did not –they would have been unable to discern whether it was two people or one. Hermione took his lower lip in her mouth, nibbling gently for a moment before her mouth was taken once more by his.

Their hands moved constantly, over shoulders, in hair, and over any and all bare skin possible, and that wasn’t much. In fact, Hermione decided, there was far too little skin available to her. Of course, she was dressed in this little dress, and he was completely covered. Totally unfair, she thought, as her fingers moved up to the top button of his shirt. And he had to wear so irksome a thing to remove. Good God, this was irritating.

He didn’t stop her this time, though, and that relief overcame the irritation. Neither of them bothered with the fact that they might be moving too fast, for both were far too caught up in the moment. A sweet duel of tongues began as Hermione was reaching the middle button of his shirt, and this brought on such desire that she hated even more that he’d worn a damn button-down shirt. Finally, she got him free of the thing, and she moved her hands under the fabric to caress his bare chest.

Her heart was racing, and her fingers fluttered almost aimlessly over his skin. Then, he pulled his lips away from hers for a moment, and in that short time, Hermione’s heart stopped for a second, a very strange feeling as it had just been beating a mile a minute. No, he can’t stop, she thought.

"Bedroom," he mumbled into her hair, and immediately she felt a hot wave of even greater desire course through her.

"Good idea," she replied, and she took his hands and led him to her bedroom, closing the door. After removing her shoes and letting her hair out of the bun, she then padded across the carpeted floor to him. He drew her body to his once more, gathering her against him, and simply holding her for a moment before once more pressing his lips to hers.

Hermione felt as though she was moving through warm honey, almost languid. Sweetness was in every touch, every kiss, slow and sensual. Everything had suddenly changed from the frantic movements of two minutes ago, and now it was all soft, gentle, and even more lovely, to say the very least. It was as surreal as the rest of this evening, and yet real at the same time. It was strange and new and wonderful.

Though it would seem that everything would be muted while moving in honey, everything was only more real. Her muscles were taut with anticipation, and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. His heart was nearly as noticeable, as it beat steadily against her chest. The thing that was most present in her thoughts, however, was the hot hardness pressing at her abdomen. It added to her own arousal, which was becoming liquid fire between her legs currently.

Time passed without direction or order as he unzipped her dress and let it fall quietly to the floor. His hands and lips were moving over her bare skin, and she could only let him weave a spell over her of the other sort of magic that didn’t require a wand, the magic of passion mingled with something intangible and irresistible.

At some point, they moved their activities to the bed, a better position than standing in the middle of the room. Her heart was ready to break out of its cage as he touched her in her most secret of spots, and oh, it was fantastic, just here, and why didn’t he just do it already. She moved her fingers to undo his pants, hinting at her current needs. He got the hint immediately, and apparently he was just as ready as she was.

Finally, he was naked, and she had the chance to survey him in all of his glory. Hermione realised how magnificent in every way this man truly was. As he poised himself above her, there was a quick exchange of looks, and then to show him that she was so much more than ready, she took him in her hand and guided him into her. As he slid into her –oh, God –Hermione’s mind went utterly blank. She let out the breath that had caught in her throat in a sigh of almost total satisfaction. But she wasn’t totally satisfied, yet.

It was a moment before he began to move in her, and it was simply beautiful, that he could so tightly be held inside of her. It was more than beautiful, she thought, it was heavenly. Her hands reflexively tangled in his hair, and instinctively her legs locked around him, ankles linked behind his back as his movements sped up gradually. The pressure was building in her, a heady intoxicant. The scent of wild lust filled her senses, or whatever space wasn’t filled by this sensation, at any rate.

Oh, oh, oh. This was indescribable. It was too good to be true. He pressed his face to her shoulder to muffle his own moans, and Hermione released her tension as much as she could as a string of nonsense came out of her mouth, laced thickly with obscenities.

But to release this growing tension in her entire body was nearly impossible it seemed. She was climbing higher and higher, and if he just moved here, and touched her there, then maybe she could climb just a touch higher.

Severus returned his gaze to hers as he moved in her. Hermione watched the sweat beading on his forehead, a trickle flowing down his temple. She lapped it up, and then placed a kiss on his temple, his forehead, his nose. Anywhere that was available, she began placing light kisses there. She needed something to do with herself, wrapped this much up in her desire.

Closer, closer. Oh, she was rising, and now the pressure was so great. In and out, in and out. It was bringing her higher, but when would she get relief from this pressure, dammit? She begged for release, pleaded. She needed it as one who is lost in the desert needs water. It was a painful need, aching in every fibre of her being.

And then it came, in a brilliance of fireworks and explosions. It rollicked through her entire being, and ripped his name from her lungs in total ecstasy. Muscles clenched tighter even than they had ever been, so tight around him. Her name in return was moaned into her ear, and more beautiful a sound she swore she had never heard.

Joy ebbed slowly after that, turning into exhaustion that had only become apparent, now. It had been there for a while, though she had not realised its existence. Hermione had no care for it, though, as he slid out of her and she watched his beautiful relaxed features as he slid his eyes closed. They still remained wrapped up in one another for the longest time, and she simply watched him. Neither slept, though, as if it would be wrong to. Hermione was glad of the rest though.

After all, with his eyes closed, he could never see the tears that were streaming down her cheeks.

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