Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

"Unanswered Prayers"	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 26252 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own HP, nor the characters from it. I don't make squat from the writing of this story. I do lose sleep, tho'...

Chapter List
- 1-"Unanswered Prayers"
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9a
- 10-9b
- 11-9c
- 12-10
- 13-11a
- 14-11b
- 15-11c
- 16-11d
- 17-11e
- 18-11f
- 19-11g
- 20-12
- 21-13
- 22-14
- 23-15
- 24-16
- 25-17
- 26-18
- 27-19
- 28-20
- 9
- 10
- 11
“Compliments of the chef, sir.” came to them in French.
The maitre de maison extended an expensive and rare bottle of champagne towards Snape. After a quick glance, Hermione’s escort nodded.
“Please extend my appreciation to the chef for such an erudite choice.”
“The chef also extends his compliments to the lady. Seldom has someone so beautiful graced our establishment.” came in English.
Snape smiled on the inside as a full blush made its way up from the décolletage of her dress to her subtly made up face. She’d let her hair grow, pulling it into one long braid most days. As a gift for her efforts as his caretaker, he’d created a potion to loosen her tightly-curled locks and received an energetic thank you of hugs when she used it the first time. Tonight she’d applied the product liberally so her hair fell in loose curls down her exposed back. A single silver barrette pulled the hair framing her face back into a low ponytail.
So little awareness of her own beauty… Snape acknowledged then clamped down tight on that part of his brain. Their situation remained serious; he’d find a way to free her once they returned to civilization. Tonight would be his farewell and thanks to Hermione Granger.
The sweet sparkling wine, a “blanc de blanc doux”, delighted Hermione. She consumed one tall flute-worth and was well into her second as they perused the menu offerings.
“Severus, I’m overwhelmed,” she admitted, chuckling into her wine, “Everything looks wonderful.”
“With your permission, then, I will order for both of us.”
“Thank you.”
Dreamy, wine-heavy eyes took in his confident handling of their order. In French.
“When did you learn French?”
“A potion I invented — Lingua Franca. It provides translation and speaking skills.”
“Impressive, Professor. And your knowledge of gourmet dishes?”
She’d been teasing but regretted her question when his expression darkened.
“I’ve spent most of my life among wealthy and aristocratic Death Eaters. Like you, Hermione, I’ve always been a rapt student, curious and acquisitive.”
Impulsively she laid her hand over his on the table, massaging the tension away with her thumb.
“Severus, I meant you impressed me. Everything about tonight has been wonderful and it’s just beginning.”
“You’ve sacrificed almost a year of your life to repair me.”
“And I’ve gained more than I’ve given. Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been sneaking upstairs to the workshop for months to do your own potions work without my mistakes and constant questions.” she laughed.
“I’ve taken no healing potion that wasn’t made by your hands.”
The thought startled him for an instant. Was that how she’d inadvertently created the bonding spell — after all, what was a spell but a collection of words and a magical act. He’d need to discuss it with Dumbledore who, though dead, remained the most brilliant potions master in the wizarding world.
“Severus?”
“Nothing. An idea to strengthen a potion came to mind. Your ‘intrusions’ tend to be my best inspirations of late.”
“Glad to be of service, Professor.”
“Please, call me Severus — at least until we return to Hogwarts.”
“So Severus, what did you order for us tonight?”
“For hors d’œuvres we’re having ‘Noix de Saint-Jacques Gratinées à la Persillade’, halved sea scallops braised in garlic-infused parsley butter and…”

“Let’s get you inside. It’s -20 on this porch.”
“Did you see the colors?” Hermione asked like a four-year-old at the museum for the first time.
“Hermione, you’re a witch — one of the most brilliant of your or any generation. While I will admit that the natural display has some appeal, you’ve seen more vivid pageantry at the Quidditch World Cup.”
“Maybe the company here made it special.”
“Maybe someone had one too many flutes of very expensive sparkling wine.”
“I don’t care — I can’t remember a better time, not even the Yule Ball. And we haven’t finished the wine.”
Stepping out of her shoes she padded gracefully over to the couch and curled up in a corner, her legs tucked demurely underneath her. Leaning forward, she retrieved the glass with her lipstick still painting the rim.
“Where did you get the wine, by the way?”
“Albus gifted it to us in commemoration of the approaching new year.”
Hermione chose to misread the annoyance laced in his answer; the evening had been perfect so far and she had no intentions of changing its direction. A shiver moved through her as she rested the empty wine glass back on the sofa table.
“You are cold?”
“A bit. But I’m too relaxed to move.”
The quilt from his bed floated out and draped itself around her.
Snape watched her through the quiet and noted her continued shivering under the quilt.
In an instant a magically-conjured fire blazed in the hearth. Her chills persisted.
“Sit next to me until your chills have passed,” he offered.
Snape couldn’t be blamed for his sharp intake of breath when Hermione landed, covered in quilt, in his lap.
“Hermione…”
“This is sooo much better.”
She stretched, extending her legs across his lap, and her soft bottom grazed his trouser buttons.
“Hermione, this is highly irregular…”
The wine and the woman in his lap had him light-headed.
Did that old busybody slip something by me?… fleetingly traipsed through his murky thinking.
“I’m cold, Severus, and I’m fully clothed. I promise — if you grant me this one indulgence I’ll go to bed like a good girl when I feel warmer.”
She hid her grin at the scowl on his face before adding the final inducement.
“Please?”
A resigned sigh communicated his defeat.
She’s not a legilimens, thank Merlin…
“How are your N.E.W.T. studies going?”
School usually roused her energies and telescoped her attention; Snape sincerely hoped it would focus his away from the witch curled against him with her head laid on his shirt over his healing chest.
“Satisfactory,” she answered with no enthusiasm, “I received ‘Outstading’ in Transfigurations and Arithmancy.”
She hadn’t left the cottage since Poppy’s offer of employment.
“When?”
“Sorry… forgot to tell you. Harry petitioned Professor McGonagall on my behalf. Apparently he provided her a pensieve of his testimony to the Wizengamot then had a talk with her. The teachers voted to pass me.”
“You must be pleased, not that you’re unused to superior grades. I’m sure that clumsy oaf Hagrid will assign you a similar grade. Herbology has never been a particularly challenging class for you.”
“No…”
“Hermione, what is troubling you?”
“I’m not ready…”
“Not ready for what? To take your Herbology N.E.W.T.? I sincerely doubt that. Your texts cover my work surface upstairs in the workshop. Or is it Poppy’s offer you’re unsure of?”
“All of it.”
“Let’s get you sorted out then. Where will you live?”
“Hogwarts, I would imagine. At least until I finish my N.E.W.Ts. Then my parent’s place. I still have to locate them in Australia and restore their memories. They’ll think me a horrid daughter once they realize what I’ve done to them.”
Tears dampened his dress shirt.
“Use that brain, Hermione. Delay any action until the worst of Voldemort’s followers have been incarcerated in Azkhaban. Collect muggle news source materials — I can provide the Prophet — and calmly show them what happened to the magical and muggle communities during the war. I’m sure Potter would relish the opportunity to regale them with his exploits.”
“Ron’s more inclined to do that than Harry. Harry’s more an ‘Evans’ than a ‘Potter’.” Hermione chuckled.
“You may be correct…”
“I’m not ready to go back and face it all. The press, school, what kind of employment to take, what to do with my life, Ron…”
“You are betrothed.”
“We were a couple. I’m not sure what we are now…”
Merlin, grant me this: Pray let her be happy with him; let him love her as she deserves… as I would love her…
Sparks like stars unexpectedly danced in the flames of the hearth then died down suddenly, reducing the heat from the fire. Snape repeatedly struggled and failed to get the fire back to its former size and warmth which had the undesired effect of increasing Hermione's snuggle into his body.
“I can’t remember when I didn’t love Ron, or at least like him. I’m not certain who he is anymore. I’m not sure who I am some days. He fought with me about you; he didn’t think I should care for you.”
“Weasley’s smarter than his magical skills would indicate if he realized that you, consigned to a remote cottage with me, could cause issues.”
“It wasn’t jealousy. More like… control? He told me he intended to catch up on his shagging while I was gone.”
“Sounds like Weasley. I suspect, given his low intelligence, that his response came from a bruised male ego. Potter seems to have managed rather well with Weasley’s much smarter younger sister.”
“They’re married. Have been since September or October.”
“Now Hogwarts will have the spawn of Harry Potter running around. I’ll have to thank Albus for my role in this.”
The word “spawn” triggered an association in her subconscious.
“Severus, was it you who found Harry that night?”
Nestled under the quilt she missed the blank stare and the unshed tears.
“You really are the brightest witch of your generation. Yes, I did…”
“You found Lily, too…”
His nod tapped his chin into the top of her head twice.
“Hermione… if you love Weasley, tell him. I only found my courage as Lily lay dead in my arms. Tell him while you can.”
“Ginny’s pregnant.”
“The school has been informed?”
“No.”
“I will make a point of forgetting I know this."
“Severus?”
“Yes?”
“What’s it like to make love?”
“Look at the time! Off to bed with you.” tumbled from his mouth as he tried to rise without her cooperation.
“No! Answer me first.”
“Wouldn’t Mr. Weasley’s answer be more… desirable?”
“Shagging is just sex.”
“Why do you think I have that knowledge?”
“I don’t know… You’re very passionate. You try to hide it but it’s there. You’ve loved Lily Evans for a lifetime. Even if you haven’t ‘done’ it, you’ve thought about it. We’re similar that way…”
“I would suggest that the experience will provide more accurate feedback than anything I could tell you. I’m flattered you consider me a font of information on ‘hot sex’.”
“I’m not interested in sex; I’m interested in love. I’m afraid…”
“You needn’t be. I’m sure Mr. Weasley will perform adequately without harming you.”
“That’s not what I mean, Severus. The first time should be special… memorable. I'm afraid I’ll be disappointed.”
“You are a virgin?”
“You don’t have to say it that way. I’m not saving myself for the Druid Winter Solstice. I want whoever I’m with to love me, not shag me.”
The fire flared again, twinkling embers dancing across the tips of the flames in a showy display reminiscent of the aurora borealis. Severus experienced calm seldom possible without potions.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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"Unanswered Prayers"