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A Change Of Pace	By : FJH Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 3268 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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people have gotten on at the last stop and have pressed rather closely to us. I
am forced to inch closer to her. Her perfume wafts stronger than ever, and I
fold my hands under my armpits, trying to make sure my elbow isn�t taking up
too much of her space.

�You can
relax, you know,� she says, which only increases my discomfort. �No, seriously,
I don�t mind.� I wish she�d drop it already. However, I let my arms go to hang
at my sides, and she tucks her left arm in my right.

I feel
her snake her arm down until she is clasping my hand. I stiffen with surprise.
She whispers my name and I turn to her. I can�t really read her eyes, but I
have the distinct impression she is drawing me closer. My heartbeat quickens.
Are we about to kiss?

No; she
merely encircles me with her arms� and suddenly feeling more at ease, I do the
same to her, laying my chin on her collarbone. The scent of perfume is very
heady now�perhaps by now I can also detect the unique scent of her hair, her
skin. She smells clean, vibrant, and very, very feminine. I relax considerably.
I could hold her like this for hours, no matter if this is a crowded subway
car. And she seems to be completely free of reservations.

�See?� I
can just hear her whispering in my ear. �I told you. You�re all right.� Her
breath tickles me. Then I think I feel a different kind of tickle�she might
have brushed her lips against my ear but I�m not sure. I dare to let myself go
and just rest my head on her shoulder. She lets out a soft sigh.

Then
comes the voice from the ceiling, �Piccadilly Circus!�

�That�s
our stop,� she says, abruptly pulling away from me. We get up with, it seems, a
million Muggles and file out of the gap, onto the platform, up a long moving
staircase (an �escalator�, she calls it) that seems to go on forever, and
finally out the exit.

The sky
has taken on the deep, electric blue of the moment immediately after sunset.
Due to the sun�s absence, a huge sign, a little taller than the buildings
surrounding it, casts a dominating light on the crowd below. It is curved and
bears a few names I don�t recognize.

�That�s
just a big advertisment,� she says. �Cool, isn�t it?�

�Hmm.
Very interesting. However, I find it far more interesting that you would use a
word like �cool�.�

�What
makes you think that?�

�Well,
you�re ever the studious one. It wouldn�t be completely far-fetched to see you
looking your nose down at people who use slang.�

�As if I
didn�t have a better reason to look my nose down at people?� She has a big grin
on her face.

�I just
think you sound a lot like Potter and Weasley.� Well, she should. After all,
she�s been their friend longer than she�s been yours.

�Yes, I
do think they kind of rubbed off on me,� she says. �However, what with both of
them married and Harry having a child on the way, they seem to think they ought
to be more, shall we say, mature�� She snorts.

�What?�

�As you
can imagine, that course of action is having some� fascinating results,�
she says. �I think they�re going through withdrawal symptoms, or at least
growing pains.� Her eyes are full of laughter, which brings an overwhelming
feeling of� tenderness over me. I try to fight it down, but to no avail.

That�s
the trouble with Hermione; ever since we�ve gotten close it�s been a lot more
difficult to col myl my emotions. Stay with her too much longer and you�ll
end up manic-depressive, Severus.

We
stroll along, taking in the bustle of the crowd around us. I find I am
contented, even though I�ve never exactly been fond of crowds. I always did
like to people-watch though. And it�s nice to see that she likes it as well.
Another little thing we have in common.

�Do you
know it�s been over twenty years since I�ve been to this part of London?�

�Really?
You didn�t even catch the theater?�

�No,
although I suppose I should have. It would have been a nice diversion from the
rigors of my job. I don�t know why I didn�t��

�Just
never occurred to you?� she says.

�No, I
guess not.�

I am
embarrassed about the last time I came to London. I had acted so completely
unlike myself. I had gone to Soho Square and picked up one of the girls there.
At the moment I thought, this is what Sirius Black has and you don�t, it can�t
hurt to get a little of it yourself, it might make you happier and less
uptight.

And for
a moment, I did feel freer, more powerful, more desirable. But only for a
moment. Afterwards, it just seemed so� cheap. So common. No matter that I had
the intelligence to prevent any accidents from occurring, it just didn�t seem
right. Where was the rush of ecstasy I had expected?

So
either I was hopelessly entrenched in who I was, or Black was putting on an act
all along. Probably both.

We pass
a group of about ten Muggles with countrified, almost nasal accents. They are
ducking into the McDonald�s we are strolling by at this moment.

She
rolls her eyes. �Now, that�s something I don�t get,� she sa�The�They�re from
the States. If I were an American in London, I would not be going to
some place I could go to anytime. I would be trying something new.�

�Well,
what, exactly, is there worth eating in England?� I can�t resist smiling at
her. �Not much.�

�You
just haven�t gotten out much, Severus. There�s all these Indian restaurants, tea
rooms, Pret A Manger��

��which
is the British equivalent of McDonald�s,� I say.

�I like
it though. Have you ever had their coronation chicken sandwich? Really hits the
spot. Only I�m not very hungry now� I�ll take you next time when I am.�

We pass
by a row of shops, all closed now. We have arrived too late for much of
anything except the pubs and discotheques. We pass by a small boutique and I
notice a beautiful dress on the mannequin. It is long and strapless with an
empire waist and a full skirt, and is the palest lavender. I find myself
thinking how gorgeous that would look on her� with a silk scarf of the same
color draped around her shoulders�

In the
next window is a mannequin wearing a white dress and a veil. Damn. It�s a
bridal boutique. No need to get that into my head.

We turn
the corner and I see her look up suddenly. �Hmmm. We�d better get in before
people starting queuing up, or we�ll have to wait for an hour��

�What?
Queuing up?� I look up as well. �This is Haagen-Dazs.�

�Yes.�

�I
thought you said you weren�t hungry.�

�For a
meal, no. For dessert� I think I can manage.�

�I don�t
like ice cream.�

�You�ll
like it here.� She takes my hand again and pulls me in. �Come on! There�s an
empty table left!�

Ten
minutes later, our sundaes arrive as we are sitting in comfortable chairs at a
table made for only two. True to her form of making all my decisions tonight,
she has also ordered for me.

�It�s a
Bailey�s sundae,� she says.

�You
mean like the liqueur?�

�Yes.
It�s delicious. At least, I think so.�

�I�m
skeptical of anything you call delicious,� I say. �Bailey�s? What do you think
I am, a drunkard?� I dip my spoon into the ice cream and take a taste. To my
surprise, she is right.

�So?�

�Hmmm. I
have to give this one to you, too, Miss--- Hermione, sorry.�

�I
thought you would,� she says. She takes a bite of her sundae�similar to mine,
but with coffee-flavored ice cream, I think she said. �I�m not kidding about
the queuing up. The theatergoers like to come here after the shows, and the
place fills up quickly, so often times you can stand outside for close to an
hour.�

�Only
idiots would wait an hour for ice cream.�

�Well,
call me duncey, because I�ve committed that crime before,� she says. She takes
another spoonful. �Are you still considering prosecuting me?�

I
consider this. �I think all kidnapping charges will be dropped. However, I may
still have a case against you for stupidity and gluttony.�

She
laughs. �I can plea-bargain.�

I dig
into my sundae, eating perhaps faster than I should� definitely faster than I
should, for within a minute I get a terrible headache.

�Uh oh.
Eat too fast?� She is grinning.

�Let me
remind you that this is your splendid idea,� I say, in agony. �I told
you I didn�t like ice cream.�

�Just
eat it slowly, like me,� she says. As usual, she is right, so I press my fist
to my forehead and ride the headache out. I resume eating, more carefully this
time as she has instructed. It really is delicious. She has good taste.

�Have
some of mine,� she says, suddenly holding a spoonful very close to my lips.

�I�ll
poison you with my germs and bad breath,� I protest, but by now I know better
than to refuse her, so I open my mouth and she slips the spoon in. I close my
eyes and savor for a minute. That�s what her mouth tastes like right now� What
can I do but the same? I hand a spoonful of my own dessert to her, and after
she swallows she says, �That tastes even better than before.� I open my eyes�
and I swallow, too, but for a different reason.

She has
a strange, dreamy look in her eyes as she takes a rather large spoonful, and
some of it dribbles out the side of her mouth. Her tongue comes out to lick her
lip, and then to lick her spoon. Her licks are so smooth, soft, and� sensual.
I�m glad she�s not one of those women who picks at her food, who never orders
dessert, who obsessively counts calories.
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A Change Of Pace