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To have loved, and lost (was Missed Chances)	By : professorflo Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 10775 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters within. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Remebrance
- 2-2.
- 3-3.
- 4-4.
- 5-5.
- 6-6.
- 7-7.
- 8-8.
- 9-9.
- 10-10.
- 11-11.
- 12-12.
- 13-13.
- 14-14.
- 15-15.
- 16-16.
- 17-17.
- 18-18.
- 19-19.
- 20-20.
- 21-21.
- 22-22.
- 23-23.
- 5
- 6
- 7
Severus took another large sip from the bottle, noting with alarm that there now seemed to be more air than liquid inside. He was definitely going to need more if he was going to be able to drown out the memory of one of the most utterly stupid things he'd ever done.
The thought of her, wanton and needy for his touch as she had been that first night made his heart clench, just as it had done the morning he'd woken up cold and alone. Of course, back then he'd attributed it to indigestion, but now, despite the drink fuelled haze, he could view his own past feelings with a clearer eye than he'd had at the time. Even then, he'd loved her. He was unfamiliar enough with the emotion to not be able to pinpoint the exact moment his infatuation with he had become more.
He had wanted her or so long, perhaps he had confused love with obsession. After all, he had managed it the other way round for so many years. He had been obsessed with Lily, he could understand that now that he had something to compare his feelings to. But as strongly as he'd tried to hold onto his want for her, it had not been long before thoughts of his new wife had pushed the memories aside.
2 years, 5 months earlier
It didn't take long for him to realise why he'd woken up alone. Upon exiting his bedroom he'd noticed the door to the smaller bedroom at the back, his room as a child, was slightly ajar. Silently he'd approached and peeked in. What he'd seen had caused him to push the door open wide and step in. For years the room had been bare, ever since he'd cleared out the sad remnants of his childhood and moved into what had been his parents' bedroom. The memories weren't as strong there; he'd rarely been allowed to enter. Even as a young child he'd known not to go in, even if he was sick in the night, for fear of his father's anger. His own room, however, had seen so much of his own neglect, beatings from his father, years of cowering in his bed like a coward as he listened to him rage and batter his mother downstairs. He'd stripped both his old room and his parents' the summer he'd been required to stay at home by the Dark Lord, but while he'd replaced the furnishing's in the latter, he'd just vanished everything from his own room, leaving nothing but a few battered pieces of furniture, plain whitewashed walls and dusty floorboards.
But now, the room was crammed with colour, the barren remains of his childhood hidden behind bright rugs, piles of books and various knick-knacks. The shabby old bed had been repaired and was made up with deep purple covers. His old wardrobe and bedside cabinet had been similarly treated, and the former now held a lamp which he recognised from Hermione's old flat. In fact, he realised as he looked around, he remembered seeing most items before; the oak bookcase that was already overloaded, the rug from in front of her fire, a small old-fashioned writing desk now tucked under the small, pokey window.
How she'd got it all in the tiny room he wasn't sure, and he wondered what she'd done with the rest of the stuff from her flat until he remembered just how adept she was with a shrinking charm. She'd sold the flat not long before the wedding and had moved into Grimmauld Place temporarily. Clearly she had shrunk her belongings into the smallish trunk that Potter had brought over the night before the wedding.
Looking around at the space she'd carved out for herself, Severus could feel his fury mounting, not only at the fact that she was clearly planning on sleeping in the room and not with him, but that she'd changed it without permission. It was his house. He ignored the voice that reminded him that actually, no it was hers now as well. He turned quickly and swept out of the room to seek and confront her.
He found her in the kitchen, her back to him, hands still wrapped round a now-empty mug. He almost turned and snuck back out, unsure of what to say to her. But then, with a sigh, she stood suddenly, picking up her mug as she pushed her chair back. Without thinking, her name fell quietly from his lips:
"Hermione…"
He'd come in so quietly that she was startled, almost dropping her mug. She turned towards him, and his angry words died in his throat. She'd clearly been crying, the glamours he could just make out on her face not quite enough to mask the red around her eyes. But no amount of magic could erase the sadness evident in them, which was perhaps why she quickly shied away from meeting his gaze and forced a more cheerful expression onto her face.
"I made breakfast, although I wasn't sure when you'd be up so it's been sitting under a warming charm." She started to busy herself with tidying away her own plate, and grabbed his from the kitchen surface, setting it on the table. "Would you like some coffee?"
Severus watched her whirl around the kitchen from his position by the door. His new wife was clearly nervous of him. Perhaps she was worried about his reaction to her redecoration. And well she should be… It wasn't until she was laying out his breakfast on the table that he finally moved, striding across to her and catching hold of her wrist as she finished putting his coffee down.
"Hermione…" he repeated gruffly, ready to confront her about the bedroom.
She stilled, face down, offering no resistance to his tight grip. Silently he waited, and after a few moments she slowly lifted her head. He wasn't sure whether it was the spiritless look in her eyes or the way her hand trembled beneath his fingers that did it, but suddenly his anger dissipated as if it had never been. Finding it suddenly difficult to look down into her warm honey eyes, his gaze fell on the breakfast she'd made for him. It was his favourite; eggs benedict. He frowned slightly. He was sure he'd never told her that. Perhaps it was just coincidence that she'd chosen to make it for him. For all he knew it could be her favourite too.
"Severus…" came the quiet whisper from beside him, and with a start he realised that he had been squeezing her wrist harder than necessary. He let go of her, and immediately she tucked her hand behind her back, her face a pale mask. Refusing to apologise – after all, it was her fault that he was irritated with her that morning, he sat down at the table and pulled the plate towards him.
It was perfect, the eggs were the consistency that he preferred – not as runny as was usual with this dish, and the hollandaise tasted just the way he'd convinced the house elves at Hogwarts to prepare his a few years previously. It was hard to enjoy, however, when he could feel something that felt horribly like shame curdling in his stomach. He could only conclude that she'd gone to the effort of finding out exactly what he liked as a special surprise. Why she'd still bothered to make it for him after what he'd said to her the previous night he wasn't sure.
He only turned round to speak to her once he'd emptied his plate and finished the last sip of his coffee, having taken his time to decide what to say to her, but the kitchen was empty. He'd not even heard her leave.
Instead of going after her, he collected the book he was currently working his way through and retreated to his lab in the basement, where he spent the rest of the day brewing and reading – not hiding, of course. He didn't emerge until past 8, when his stomach was beginning to hurt from lack of food since breakfast. Hoping Hermione had eaten already he slipped quietly into the kitchen, intending to find something in the cupboard and disappear back downstairs until late. No such luck. How long she'd actually been waiting for him he wasn't sure, but it had been long enough for her to cast a warming charm over the large pot in the centre of the table. Again he thought of retreating, but she'd clearly heard him already, for she turned suddenly, and upon seeing him, beckoned for him to join her. Smoothing out his frown before it had even begun to form on his face, he slunk around the table and sat down. What was she up to? Why was she treating him so nicely, when his own experience with upset women told him they liked to get noisy and cry a lot?
Conversation over their meal was almost non-existent, with Hermione occasionally breaking the silence to ask him questions about the house, where certain objects were, and the way he preferred things to be done around the house. His answers were short and to the point, and often consisted of little more than him telling her what she was not allowed to touch or use. The longer they sat, the easier it was to tell just how hard she was trying to keep her emotions under control. In the lull between questions he would catch the way her carefully constructed expression would waver, and the sadness would creep back into her eyes. The topic of their sleeping arrangements seemed to be the elephant in the room, despite Severus wanting to confront her over it. But there was something about the atmosphere that he didn't want to ruin. It was a glimpse at the peaceful home life he'd never had growing up, especially if he ignored the underlying tension between the two of them, and he wanted to pretend a little longer that all was well.
It was still torture, sitting across from her and knowing that despite their newly married status, that he most assuredly would not be enjoying the delights that he would have he'd been able to keep his damn mouth shut. Even in her misery, with dulled eyes and pale complexion, he wanted her, the obsessive desire that had built up over the past years barely appeased by the one night of passion they had shared. By the time they'd both finished their meals, he was more than ready to make his escape from the temptation that she presented, and he left her clearing up the dinner while he went to ostensibly check on a potion that was simmering in his lab, but in reality he needed a break from her company to give his libido a chance to cool before he did something stupid.
When he emerged an hour later, he found her in the sitting room, curled up in an armchair with a book. Her only response to his entrance was an empty smile directed at him, before she returned her concentration to the book in her lap. He pulled a book from off the shelves and sat in his own chair to read, occasionally glancing up at his wife. A couple of hours passed in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages as they were turned. As the clock on the mantelpiece struck 11, Severus finally noticed how late it had become. He needed to be up early to tend to his potion, and after his restless night's sleep, he needed to get to bed.
Looking up at Hermione, Severus noted the stubborn set to her jaw, and he careful study of the page in front of her, although her eyes were red and bleary. Clearly she'd been waiting for him to go to bed first. With a sigh he snapped his book shut, and stiffly got to his feet. Feeling horribly awkward, he replaced the book on the shelf and headed towards the stairs, stopping for a moment at the door and turning his head to look at her. She never looked up. At the creak of the first step, however, a quiet voice called to him.
"Good night, Severus."
He froze, opening his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. Good? There's nothing good about it. He started to climb the stairs, hating the way each one creaked loudly. A quick visit to the bathroom later and he was shutting his bedroom door behind him. His dark furnishings reflected his mood. He could have been fucking her again this evening, maybe even had her several times already that day. He was surely the biggest idiot he knew, and that was saying something, considering the number of utterly incompetent students he'd had in his classroom over the years.
He heard her soft footsteps cross the landing a short while later, after he'd already crawled into bed, pausing slightly in front of his room before continuing down to the one she'd taken for hers. He strained his ears to hear any further sound but there was nothing, and he could only assume she'd put up a silencing charm, as he knew from experience that even little sounds carried far in the old house. It took him a long time to drift off that night, and when he finally did, he was plagued with restless sleep and fitful dreams.
As the first week of their marriage passed by, he began to wonder whether he was going to have to drag her to his bed to carry out the Ministry decree before the end of the second. The Ministry had insisted on the implementation of a charm that would alert them to any couple not meeting the requirements as part of the wedding ceremonies that fell under the new law. By the time Wednesday, a full week after their wedding, rolled around again, they still hadn't spoken about what must happen that evening. Severus had made sure to take some food with him down into his lab before Hermione arrived home from work, so he didn't need to go up at dinner time. He had no desire to sit opposite his wife in awkward silence as they both avoided the one thing that needed to be discussed. He was frustrated enough with the situation, having to spend so much time in her company, lusting after her, but without being able to have her. This night hadn't been able to come fast enough.
By 10.30 he couldn't pretend to himself that he could do anymore that evening, and so, steeling himself for the long awaited confrontation, he trudged up the stairs. He was surprised to find the kitchen and sitting room both dark and silent. Despite the cool April weather, it seemed as if Hermione had not bothered to light the fire this evening at all and it was markedly cooler than in the warmth of his lab. It seemed as if she'd already gone to bed. Shit… He began to climb the stairs with a heavy heart. Despite the circumstances, he'd been looking forward to slaking his lust for her, he would never be capable of forcing himself on her if she refused to abide by the law and accept him into her bed, even if it meant the two of them taking a trip to Azkaban. Hopefully she wouldn't refuse him if he knocked at her door, although the thought of fucking his wife is his small childhood bed sent him cold.
To his surprise, when he reached the top of the stairs, he found his own bedroom door slightly open, a weak beam of light crossing the dingy landing carpet in front of him. Hating the way his heart leapt – she'd come to him of her own accord once more – he peered through the gap. She was already in his bed, reclining against the pillows with a book in her lap. The nerve of her… to sit there as if she'd not eschewed his bed for the past week. Suddenly irritated, he flung the door open with a bang, hoping to make her jump, but she only looked up at him for a moment with a tight smile, before returning her eyes to her book.
As he stalked closer he could see that she wasn't as relaxed as she seemed. Her face was pale and he could see how tightly her fingers were clutching the book.
"What are you doing?" he snapped as he came to stand by the bed.
She looked back up with a feigned look of innocence. "I assumed we'd be more comfortable in here, rather than squeezing into my single bed. Unless…" She faltered when his scowl didn't disappear. "…you don't wish to… only it needs to be tonight, or the Min…"
Not wanting the reminder that the Ministry law was the only reason his wife was willing to grace his bed with her presence, his reply was harsher than he'd meant. "Don't be foolish, girl, of course tonight is acceptable. May I know when you plan to fulfil the second of our weekly copulatory requirements?"
"Oh… l I thought perhaps tomorrow evening…"
"That will suffice," he replied sharply, turning away to start unbuttoning his jacket, trying to hide the desire he knew would be shining in his eyes at the thought of fucking her. He was acutely aware of the silence behind him as he quickly undressed and pulled his dressing gown on. Just the thought of what was to happen was making hi hard, so he made sure to keep his back to her. He left the room with a muttered, "I won't be long," and disappeared off to the bathroom where he took a perfunctory shower to rid himself of the potion fumes that clung to him after a day's brewing. By the time he'd returned to the bedroom Hermione had put the book aside and dimmed the light.
He crossed the room quickly, pretending not to see the nervousness on her face, and quickly divested himself of his dressing gown and slipped under the covers. As silence reigned for a few moments Severus could only think back and compare this to the last time he' had her in his bed, full of heat and passion or him, not the cold fish that lay next to him now. For the umpteenth time, he cursed himself for not being able to lie to her about his feelings. He'd been a spy for as long as she'd been alive, for Merlin's sake, lying had been second nature to him for almost as long as he'd lived. So why had he been unable to do so to her this time?
Hermione shifted slightly beside him, bringing him back to the moment, and he rolled to face her. Ignoring the apprehensive look on her face, Severus began to tug the covers off her, realising with delight that at some point she'd rid herself of the nightdress she'd been wearing earlier. Immediately he could feel himself growing hard once more. He may not love her, but Merlin he desired her. He couldn't help but lower his mouth to one puckered bud, even as his fingers trailed across her stomach to gently cup her other breast. She was strangely tense beneath him, and at first her unnatural stillness was easy to ignore as his own need mounted, but he quickly found his pride demanded some sort of response from her. He began to lave and suck her nipple with fervour, gently using his hand to caress her and flick at her bud with his thumb.
The strangled gasp that tore from her throat made him smirk against her warm skin. He let his hand trail down her soft stomach and down between her legs, which he gently pushed apart for better access. Brushing his fingers across her opening he was pleased to find that despite her cold demeanour, she was wet already. However, when he lifted his face to look at hers he was dismayed to find her eyes full of unshed fears. Bugger… He didn't want to do this if she was really that unwilling. He pulled back a little.
"Hermione…" he started.
She clutched at him, tugging him back towards her. "Don't stop, Severus."
"I don't…"
"Please… Severus," she whispered. "Don't make me beg."
When he still held back, uncertain, she sighed gently, closing her eyes.
"Severus, I… I need you to… fuck me… now," she bit out quietly, pulling his head back down to her breast.
Pushing away his unease, Severus did as she asked. Deciding that it was pointless continuing to tease her with more foreplay he quickly shifted to lie between her legs, holding himself with one hand at her entrance, and looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, her full lips parted slightly, and at the same moment he pushed into her tight heat he impulsively leant down to kiss them. Unknowingly, at the same moment she turned her head to the side, away from him, and awkwardly he buried his face in her neck instead as he began to rock his hips back and forth.
Her hands came up to grip his shoulders, holding him tight against her as he hips tilted to accommodate him fully. Severus groaned in pleasure as he began to thrust harder. She was still so tight, and the soft skin of her breasts felt like silk against his chest. She really was exquisite, her form slender and lithe, but not scrawny, with just enough curves to be womanly instead of childlike. Not like Lily of course, certainly not as stunningly beautiful, with her red hair and piercing green eyes, and her height gave her a bearing that Hermione would never have. Oh gods, Lily, how could I have been so stupid to push you away?
And now he'd also fucked up the best thing to happen to him since he destroyed his and Lily's friendship. It seemed like he was doomed to repeat his mistakes over and over. Well, he may have wrecked the chance to have Hermione his bed every night, but at least he would be guaranteed something at least. It was still a thousand times better than his alternatives. Besides, he could pretend, like he had with all the previous women, that it was Lily lying beneath him. Not that you have done so far with Hermione… No, he'd desired the girl long enough that even thoughts of Lily had been pushed aside for some time. Such a state couldn't allowed to continue though. Lily was, and always would be, his one true love.
Hermione had begun to undulate her pelvis in time with his, causing him to penetrate deeper, although she was still silent. Feeling his climax approaching, he began to snap his hips faster in an effort to push himself over the edge, neglecting his partner's pleasure in his own blissful haze. It wasn't long before he could feel his balls tighten, and with a shout of completion, he emptied his impotent seed deep inside her, before slumping down on her in exhaustion.
After a few moments catching his breath, he was in enough possession of his wits to lift his head, and immediately realised she'd put the light out. When did that happen? Wordless and wandless though… impressive! Not that he would ever tell her. Feeling his softening cock slip out of her slick pussy, he extricated himself from between her legs and collapsed to one side, turning onto his back. Considering how he had avoided cuddling with her before, he still felt a strange sense of loss when she did not roll with him and wrap her arms around him this time. Don't be such a fucking soft touch, you idiot!
In the darkness he could hear her shifting, and the movement of the mattress told him that she'd turned onto her side, facing away from him once more. He hated the way that single motion made him feel rejected. You rejected her, you idiot, when you told her you loved Lily. Perhaps he could draw her back somehow, if only to appease his own need. He'd been uncaring of her pleasure in the heat of the moment, after all, it wasn't as if he needed to keep her happy so she would return to his bed, but now that he was sated he suddenly felt a peculiar duty to make sure she felt the same.
"Did you… " He paused, unsure how to word it.
"Did I what, Severus?" was her quiet response after a few seconds.
"Did you enjoy yourself… did you cum, I mean." The moment the words were out of his mouth he cringed at the crassness of the question.
There was silence for a moment before he hear the faintest of sighs. "No… It doesn't matter."
He grimaced into the darkness, her words wounding his masculine pride. If that's how she wanted to be, then he wouldn't bother making the effort again. See how long she could go without the frustration being too much. It wasn't like it would make a difference to their relationship either way. He was more than willing to take what he wanted and leave her hanging if she wanted to be so blasé about it, although he wasn't too impressed that their sex life would probably become monotonous fairly quickly if she was just going to lie on her back and take it.
Remembering how she had snuck from his bed the week before, he wanted to see whether she would leave once more, so let his breathing deepen and slow after a few minutes. Severus judged it to be about fifteen minutes later that she carefully slipped out from under the covers and left the room silently without the aid of a light, pulling the door closed with a quiet click. After a few moments he rolled over with a sigh, pulling the pillow she'd been using to his chest. It smelt very faintly of her shampoo, and unconsciously he buried his nose in it as he pondered just what he was going to do, but despite his annoyance at the situation with Hermione, it wasn't long before he slipped deeply into a post-orgasmic sleep.
When Severus work up the next morning with the scent still in his nose it took him a few moments to realise that his wife hadn't returned at some point, and that the warm object that he was pressing his morning hard on against was not her pert and rather lovely backside. It wasn't long before he realised that not only was he was still clutching the pillow tightly, but that he'd dreamt of Hermione half the night. Frustrated and turned on by the vague memories of some rather erotic dreams he climbed out of bed, his bad mood set for the day.
He was fairly foul to Hermione every chance he got that day; at breakfast before she left for work, the moment she got back home, all through the dinner she'd cooked for him, although he wouldn't have been able to explain why if asked. As he crawled into bed besides an even quieter and paler Hermione that night, he did wonder for a moment if he'd been trying to see how hard he could push her before she refused to sleep with him.
His last coherent thought as he insinuated himself between her thighs was, Thank Merlin she doesn't give in easily.
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To have loved, and lost (was Missed Chances)