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...After Happily Ever After	By : Lissa & snowblind12 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25739 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of these stories. This is just fun for me.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
AN: I just want to let you three ladies (below) know that you're the reason this chapter is here today, I've been not feeling it the last couple days and have been bummed about limited reviews. I woke up this morning with two new, lovely reviews and my motivation came back in a snap. Thank you!

Nightstar: THANK YOU!! It means so much you took a moment to review!

DLH: Thank you for your kind words of support. I won't give away what's to come, but we're getting fairly close to the darkness of this story. I'm so glad you like Lizzie! She's fast becoming near and dear to my heart. Here's another chapter!
BA89: Well, then. I hope this chapter was right up your alley! Thanks for reviewing!
Chapter Fifteen
November 1998
Hermione had been gone for a week, and Snape was going ruddy mad. He knew she was well protected, flanked day and night with a half dozen Aurors, as she went through the motions of laying her parents to rest. He wanted to be with her, but it was impossible without arousing suspicion. He had been required to attend the funeral with her friends as their escort. It had been painful being so close to her, knowing how vulnerable she was, knowing she needed him, and not being able to act on their desires for closeness and comfort.
The strength of his feelings for the Gryffindor girl were overwhelming at best, downright terrifying at worst. When she looked at him with those sienna and oak colored eyes, everything in his being pulled him to her. He had only been able to get her alone for five minutes at the wake, and the tender kisses and long embrace had done little to settle his need to protect and comfort her. She had assured him of her understanding, that she knew they needed to play it safe. She missed him, she said. She wished he could stay with her. He’d played it as cool as he could without being cold. The hope he’d been fighting since the beginning of September was an ever-present weight on his mind.
While she had been gone, he and Minerva had constructed a room for her adjacent to his suite. The entrance was inside his office to the right, while his chambers were to the left. The bathroom was in the middle of the two bedrooms. True to her word, Minerva had found a charm that when one door was opened from the outside, the other locked and then unlocked when that door was opened from the inside. There would be no accidental walk-ins in the middle of the night. Not that the feature would be needed. Severus had every intention of Hermione sharing his bed for the remainder of the school year.
He had gone through the motions, agreeing with Minerva that the burgundy and gold wall tapestries, the ornate fireplace, and the golden sconces that flocked the four-poster double bed decked in Gryffindor colors would make Hermione feel at home, even if they made him nauseated. He recommended she put a desk against the far wall, even if it would deplete the limited space. He told the Headmistress he hardly expected someone as dedicated and studious as Miss Granger to cease studying after curfew, especially when N.E.W.T.s were upon her. She had agreed wholeheartedly and expressed her pleasure and surprise when Severus transfigured an old coffee table into a beautiful mahogany desk and an old stool into a comfortable chair to sit behind it.
It was late Monday night, November 9^th, and he was impatiently waiting at the gate for Hermione’s Auror escort to return her to the school. The funeral had been Friday. She had to wait through the weekend to meet with her parents’ estate lawyer late this afternoon. He could only imagine how frazzled and overwhelmed she would be. She had no older adults in her life, both sets of her grandparents were dead and only one aunt who lived out of the country and was unable to make it back for the burial.
Finally, the lights of several lit wands were visible on the path that came from Hogsmeade. He sighed in relief.
“Dawlish.” Snape greeted coolly as the Auror stepped to the gate, there were three others, obscuring Hermione from view. Snape muttered an incantation at the gate and the chains curled away. He pushed the creaking iron opened and his curly haired enchantress made her appearance, giving him a very tired smile. Moments later she was through the gate. He was disheartened at her appearance. She looked like she had lost at least a stone while she had been gone. Weight he felt she could not afford to lose, she had been slender enough beforehand. The purple smudges under her eyes only confirmed to him she was not sleeping. Or at least not sleeping well.
“Good evening, Professor,” she murmured, slipping past him.
“Miss Granger.” He returned with a nod, taking her face in as if it were water and he had been wandering the desert for forty days.
“All went well.” Dawlish told him through the bars snapping the Potions Professor out of his unguarded appraisal of the young girl. Snape quickly set himself to reengaged the wards on the gate. “We had no incidences.”
“Thank you.” Was all Snape replied. With a quartet of loud CRACKs! the four Aurors turned on their spots and disapparated.
The moment they were gone, she was in his arms, face rubbing against his chest, breathing him in. His arms came around her tightly, one around her shoulders the other cupping the back of her head, holding her to him. He dropped his cheek to the top of her head, breathing in her sent. Lavender and vanilla had never tempted him so much.
“I missed you,” she breathed, her body relaxing for the first time in days.
He said nothing, just held her tighter. She hadn’t expected him to return the sentiment. Severus Snape was not a sentimental person. “Come,” he said after a moment. “I will show you your new chambers.”
She looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?” She pulled away, but slid her slender fingers into his palm before lacing them with his.
“Headmistress McGonagall is worried about you being alone in the Head Girl suite at night.” He tried to hide his devilish smile, thinking she might find it inappropriate, but was unsuccessful. His grin pulled a real smile to her face for the first time in days. It felt strange. “She insisted on setting up a chamber for you in the dungeon. Opposite mine.” He looked down at her, quirking one eyebrow high.
He could not stop his outright laugh when her face went so scarlet he could see it in the dying light of twilight. “Why, Miss Granger, you’re blushing.”
She brushed off his laugh and forced a stern look on her face. “How did Professor Snape react to this predicament? Being stuck with one of his least favorite students?”
“He was appropriately outraged, but relented to his boss’s overactive whims,” he sneered. “He also insisted there be measures put into place so you would never run into him in any state of undress, or vice versa.”
The laugh that bubbled out of her sparkled around the grounds sending a thrill through Snape. Oh, he had missed that sound the last handful of days. She pulled him to a stop and he turned to face her. “So, you’re telling me we’re going to be living together for the remainder of the school year.”
“Yes, but in much closer quarters then Minerva intended.” He leered at her, and she felt heat spread through her body. The undiluted lust in his pitch-black eyes made the rest of the world melt away. Oh, she had missed him. “I want you in my bed every night. That is, as long as you want to be there.”
He grabbed a hip and pulled her closer. Her breath sped up as his mouth touched hers in a gentle, chaste kiss that belied the heat in his eyes.
“Yes,” she answered against the hard lines of his mouth.
Malfoy was struggling. Struggling with his courses now that he no longer looked forward to study sessions with Lizzie and Granger. Struggling with his reputation now that the whole school thought Lizzie had dumped him for that idiot Weasel.
It had hurt to see her wandering to the basement hand-in-hand with Weasley a couple of weeks ago and it had made him struggle with his mood because…well, because he missed her. As cheesy as sounded, she had become his closest friend in their time together. He didn’t talk to anyone the way he had talked with her. Had never talked to anyone the way he talked to her. Not even Parkinson in the two years they dated prior to the war.
He saw her everywhere, and she was always with that blasted Golden Trio and the little Weaslette who was sewn to Potter’s hip. His mind growled over the term that had been coined to describe Potter, Granger, and Weasley. How nice it must be to be them. He let out a long, defeated breath.
The last thing he was struggling with was what happened in that secluded corridor the night he walked away from her. The guilt and confusion he felt over what had happened tore at him every day. He wanted to talk to her about it more, to apologize again. To get her real forgiveness, not just the wide-eyed, terrified, and confused nod of acquiescence she had given him that night.
He had tried to figure out where he had gone wrong, but it wasn’t until he asked Zabini to borrow the pensive he had inherited from his grandfather and had taken the memory out to examine it from a different point of view did he realize how many times she had asked him to stop. He couldn’t blame her for biting him even a little bit.
His mind had been buzzing with her returned ardor. She had kissed him with as much abandon as he had felt. Not wanting to be told no, he’d refused to hear it and had somehow made his mind think her struggles against him were frantic touches of returned lust.
The pain of her bite had left him furious until he’d seen the look on her face. He never would have wanted to be the cause of that look, it sliced through him like a million blades. The agony of her distrust after all he had shared with her over the course of eight weeks was unbearable. He was furious with himself for the way he reacted. Instead of closing down the way he had, he wished he had manned up and talked to her. He wished he had fought for her. Reputation be damned. After two weeks of no contact with her, he realized she was worth fighting for.
He now appreciated she could probably never forgive him for what he had done. She wouldn’t be able to trust him. In the same breath, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be back with her if she was going to listen to all the whispers around her. She had promised him during their first encounter she would form her own opinion, but she hadn’t. She had let other people’s words cloud her assessment of him.
He gave a deep sigh and turned back to his locker in the Quidditch locker room to finish putting on his leathers. Yet, he didn’t blame her for this after watching what he had done in the pensive.
Slytherin was playing Hufflepuff today and he was not looking forward to being one on one with Lizzie at all. After she had made Seeker and before their break up, he had been looking forward to the heat of their rivalry on the field, knowing she was a stellar match for him and it would be a phenomenal game. Now he wasn’t so sure he could even compete against her.
After only half listening to Flint, who had also returned for an eighth and final year at Hogwarts, give a pep talk about how the Hufflepuff’s new Seeker was really good and to go for her at all costs to keep her out of Malfoy’s way, he made his way to a set of bleachers behind the pitch to wait out the remaining time until the game started in about twenty minutes in relative peace.
He was shocked to feel someone tug his arm from under the material surrounding the stand, and even more dumbfounded when he came face to face with a flushed Lizzie Williams. He threw his guards up and snarled at her.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was clipped.
He looked at her for a long moment before giving a brief nod. “So, talk.”
“Don’t you dare go easy on me out there today.” She poked a finger into his chest pads and he stepped back in bewilderment. “I’m here to play a fair game. You best give it your all.”
“Why do you think I’d go easy on you?” he growled, getting back into her face to intimidate her. He knew it wouldn’t work. She was too fierce, too stubborn, too…perfect. And regardless as to what she thought, she knew him too well.
“Guilt?” she questioned, raising a beautifully arched golden eyebrow, and giving him a … seductive look? That threw him.
“What do I have to be guilty about?” He invaded her personal space, wanting to make her as uncomfortable as she was making him. It apparently didn’t work because she moved closer to him, her breath hot on his ear.
“We both have things to be guilty about.” It tickled his neck and sent a surge of blood to his groin. He bit back a groan. Whatever this heat was between them was maddening. It left him completely barmy.
She pulled back and retreated a couple of steps – did it affect her as much? “But I will never forgive you if you don’t put forth your best game today. Promise me.”
He looked at her with his stone mask in place, but she could see the glazed look in his eyes.
“Promise me, Malfoy.” She purposely used his surname to bring him out of his reverie. It worked, his eyes cleared and he looked at her icily.
“You’ll never know what hit you,” he snarled.
The game was almost boring. The Chasers on the Slytherin team were much better than those on the Hufflepuff team, and the Slytherin Keeper definitely had more skill. After two hours, the score was Slytherin 270 to Hufflepuff 100.
Draco played hard and tough; he was an excellent seeker. Lizzie had expected nothing less of him. She was frustrated with her inability to find the elusive Golden Snitch today, though. Normally she had at least seen it a half dozen times even if it had disappeared again with the length of the game they were experiencing. Today, though, she hadn’t seen it even once. She wondered if the garish yellow robes of Hufflepuff were obscuring the damn thing.
She dodged a bludger and twisted out of the way as the Hufflepuff chasers exchanged the quaffle while barreling through the center of the pitch, a Slytherin Beater and two Chasers on their broom tails. That’s when she realized Draco must have seen the snitch, because he dove. “Fuck!” she muttered under her breath and spun herself around to pummel after him. He had seen it and was within feet of the damn thing while she was still a couple of meters behind him.
“Having a good game, Malfoy?” She screamed above the cheers, it was enough to startle him for just a second, but that was all she needed. She angled her broom and dove beneath him and the snitch, quickly turning to pluck it out of the air, while he reared the broom back to avoid crashing into her. They were only a few feet from the ground, and she had known they were going to crash when she decided to make her move.
She prepared herself for the impact. It was hard, but not as hard as it should have been. She realized why when she felt strong, wiry arms around her, protecting her as they slammed into the ground. Instead of smashing into her, Draco had grabbed her off her broom and rolled them in mid-air so he’d take the force of the fall on his back with her cradled to his chest. She was shocked even as the air left them both with a loud “Oof!”
He looked at her in a mixture of amazement and fury while trying to reestablish his breathing. “You’re a nutter!” He heaved out at her once he could draw air into his lungs.
She gave him her dazzling grin, placing the hand that didn’t clutch the snitch on his chest and pushed herself up to straddle him. “Yup!” she exclaimed before shoving her fist in the air to show the crowd who had the snitch. The Hufflepuff section roared to life even while the Slytherin’s celebrated their win. The final score was Slytherin 270, Hufflepuff 250. All Draco could concentrate on was the way her body felt against his. The look he gave her was almost reverent, and she swallowed past the desire that grew in her belly.
She rolled off him as her teammates came pouring down to the field to embrace her and give good natured pats to her back and shoulders. Malfoy sat up slowly resting one arm on a raised knee and stared after her in bemusement as she was swallowed into a swarm of classmates. Then scowled to himself. Bloody Elizabeth Williams.
“What the hell was that?” Flint snarled in his ear a moment later, as he and another team member gripped him underneath the elbows and hauled him to his feet.
“She got there first,” Malfoy shrugged indifferently, pulling his arms away from his teammates.
“No, what the hell was that move at the end?” Malfoy realized he was being taunted. “Looked like you were going to shag her in the middle of the pitch.”
He felt his face go hot and red. “What would I want with her?” he demanded, keeping his voice laced with its normal poison.
“Don’t be an idiot, Malfoy.” Another teammate scowled at him. “The whole school knows you want that filthy little American Mudblood.”
It took every ounce of strength Draco had not to throw a punch. “What’s it to you?” he demanded.
“It matters to us if it’s going to get in the way of the ruthlessness we’re used to seeing from you on the pitch, Malfoy,” Flint said, raising his hand at the other members of the team to back off. “If you had just run her over like you should have, she might have been out the rest of the season.”
“Pomfrey would have been able to put her right, and I didn’t feel like spending the night in the hospital wing,” Draco retorted coldly.
“Right.” Flint obviously didn’t believe him and Draco glared at him.
“Sod off,” he countered and, without bothering to look at anyone else, stormed off the pitch.
- 15
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...After Happily Ever After