Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Last 24 Hours of Severus Snape	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 17390 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
A/N: Thanks for the continued feedback...we are closely approaching the end, though I believe there are another two or three chapters yet to come!

While Hermione was not particularly fond of any variety of chess, she had found it strange that he had requested a simple muggle board. Most wizards, at least those she’d come in contact with over the years, had never understood that muggles also played chess, albeit, far less spectacularly. It had taken her three tries out in the front room to procure a chess board that was not magically enchanted, but once she had, she’d brought it into the main room and he had seemed satisfied. And so she found herself seated on a beanbag chair, another of his requests, opposite him with the chess board set up between them on the floor. At his request she’d also dressed; donning her bra, knickers, socks, the tank top, the yoga pants, and a jumper for good measure. And adding to the peculiarity of the situation he’d requested boxer shorts and socks, as well as an undershirt and a jumper to go with the sweatpants that he’d never taken off.

                “I have always found the game to be rather amusing,” he said, laying on his stomach across the transfigured beanbag chair. Another simple request that had blown her mind when he’d asked her for it. The transfiguration was easy enough, but wrapping her mind around the fact that he had such a desire to lay upon one was a different matter. She had settled into the squishy beanbag on her bum, leaning up on her knees gazing down at the lifeless chessboard. Hermione knew how to play the game, and she supposed with practice and effort she was a few levels above rubbish in her skill, but all and all she’d spent little time thinking on it over the years.

                “Well if nothing else I am here to amuse,” she said with a bit of a grin. She’d found it odd that he requested she dress fully, but after the temptation she’d put him through the last thing she wanted to do was drive him mad. If he wanted a game of chess, then she would play chess.

                “It is a game of deep strategy, great intellect…it shows skill,” he said, eyes carefully taking in each piece. He had opted to be black, leaving her the honor of playing white, and playing first. “The amusement I suppose comes from its lack of proper use.”

                “What do you mean by that?” she asked, gazing at the board, pondering her first move. There were only so many moves one could make when starting a game, a pawn forward, perhaps a knight leaping outward. She tried to anticipate how he might respond if she boldly brought her knight out first, wondering if he would mimic her in response or if he would simply shift forward a well-intentioned pawn.

                “People often discredit the game without meaning to,” he paused a moment, thoughtful eyes glancing up at her. “Gambling on trivial games that are based in luck and chance rather than something that is so heavily entrenched in knowledge and skill.”

                “Gambling?”

                “Yes,” he said after a moment, letting his eyes meet hers for the briefest of seconds. “Card games or roulette…rarely involve strategy the way a game of chess involves strategy, and yet have you ever heard of someone placing a bet on a game of chess?”

                Hermione thought for a moment, trying to take in what all was being said. “No, I suppose not.”

                “I wager that could be changed.”

                Her eyes drew up in curious confusion. Was he asking to bet on the outcome of the game? For what reason she couldn’t fathom, but if he wished it, she would allow it. Whatever it was he wanted, she would give it to him regardless if he won, but perhaps the thrill of being able to win whatever it was he wished to wager was motivating him to make the proposition. “Alright,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”

                He scoffed slightly. “You’re going to think me daft after everything I’ve just told you…after…” he gestured up to the bed where they’d been sitting not but a few moments ago. “But I find myself rather fond of the notion of wagering you a game that involves losing your garments as you lose your royal court.”

                For a moment his request hung in the air. So eloquently phrased; it rattled around inside her mind for a brief instant before she realized what exactly it was he was asking. “Strip chess?”

                Severus nodded. “Purely for selfish aesthetics…there is something uniquely…enthralling about watching a woman, such as yourself, lovely as you are, lose her modesty in the face of superior intellect…” his lips curled into a slight smirk, fading from his face before she could properly acknowledge it.

                Hermione stared at him. Too many thoughts were racing about in her mind; the fact that she’d been naked but moments ago, the fact that he had denied himself what he wanted from her naked body, and now was attempting to get her naked once more. But for a much different reason, or at the very least, a different motive behind the reason. Watching her lose her modesty in the face of superior intellect; in a sense she felt insulted, was he so certain that he would win? Though as she considered this, juxtaposed against her ability, or lack thereof, in regards to chess, she supposed he had ever reason to be confident.

                “Alright,” she said after giving it another moment’s thought. “The court pieces…each one captured results in the removal of a garment, yes?” she asked to clarify. “For you as well should I succeed in capturing your pieces?”

                His lips were pursed as if to refute her question. Severus nodded his head. “That sounds fair. Though at present I am only wearing six garments…and there are eight court pieces.”

                She took stock of her own clothing. “I’m only wearing seven…”

                “It will do,” he said and then gently rolled over off the beanbag chair. “A deal then?” he said.

                “Strip chess…garments lost one per court piece…a deal.”

                “And to the winner?”

                Hermione frowned. There was also meant to be a prize? She was certain that offering her body up for however he would have her wouldn’t suffice since he’d spent such a long time trying to refuse her. A conundrum indeed. “If you win…what would you have?” she asked, wondering if he had some predetermined prize in mind.

                “What would you want if you were to win, Hermione?” he asked, deflecting.

                This gave her great pause. Mulling it over she tried to be rational. “I don’t really know…” her voice trailed off and then her eyes grew wide and a broad grin slithered over her lips. “Should I win…you’ll let me give you a present…a present that you can’t deny yourself, alright?”

                Severus’ brow furrowed. “Only in so much as that present is not you trying to sit astride my lap whilst we’re both naked,” he said his voice wavering only slightly as he spoke.

                Hermione let her smile fade just a little. No sense in making him suspicious. “Deal,” she said and then extended her hand over the chessboard as if to shake on it, but then she quickly pulled her hand back. “And what if you win?”

                His eyes twinkled in the firelight of the room as he met her gaze. “If I win…” he still seemed uncertain as to what to ask for. “If I win I should have you dance for me…perhaps naked perhaps not…we shall see.”

                Dance? She tried to keep her facial expressions neutral; why on earth would he want to see her dance? But it didn’t matter, he’d laid out his terms and so had she. Extending her hand once more over the chess board she smiled when he gripped her fingers and they shook on it. “Right then, my move…” she said and picked up her left knight, arching it up and over the pawns in the accepted L-shaped pattern. “Now it’s your turn.”

                Watching him think was a rather fascinating thing to behold. The way each move and several moves ahead of it played out momentarily in his eyes, never going so far as to fill his face with much expression; but enough so that she could see the gears working in his mind. He was clearly a man of strategy, though given his double life she had expected nothing less. And it had not taken long for him to capture both of her rooks, one knight, one bishop and several pawns. Along with both of her socks, her jumper, and her tank top. Hermione sat staring at the board in her bra, knickers, and yoga pants, having managed to collect only his socks and one of each of his bishops and rooks. She sighed, a slight frown creasing her features as she debated on whether or not to move her only remaining bishop in to capture a pawn or to sally forth with her own pawn and leave what little remained of her court pieces to guard the king.

                Her fingers curved round the spire of the bishop but then she released the piece, leaving it as it stood beside her white king, opting instead to shift her knight back toward the queen. He was silent as he laid waste to yet another of her pawns, leaving her with only two, but exposing his other rook. This made her grin as she quickly captured the little black tower and took it from the board. “One garment of clothing please,” she said, holding out her hand expectantly.

                Severus nodded his head, despite her minor victory over his remaining rook he still had the advantage. His fingers tugged at the material of the jumper he wore, pulling it up over his head and handing it to her. He was still for all intents and purposes fully dressed. The game continued on, pawns shifting and court pieces sliding about until in a rather unplanned upset Hermione laid siege to his queen and earned herself his undershirt, as well as one of his knights and his trousers, all within three turns. This had leveled the playing field considerably leaving him in just the boxer shorts and with only his king, a knight and a bishop in his possession.

                But the tables were quick to shift again, and Hermione found herself standing to peel out of the yoga pants as he claimed her remaining knight. “This is not boding well for me or my clothes,” she said after another series of moves cost her the queen and her bra. It was only a matter of moments before she found herself naked, a lone king and two pawns her only hope remaining.

                Severus smirked, gazing appreciatively at her naked figure. “I was right…I have more than enjoyed watching you lose this gamble…” he noted the subtle pink flush of her breasts and the way she rubbed her thighs together, trying to keep herself somewhat modest in his eyes.

                A turn of events had her practically giddy as one pawn crossed the threshold and tapped back to the other side. “I shall have my queen back, thank you,” she said with a rather smug look upon her face. For a moment she thought to ask for a garment of clothing back as well but dismissed the idea and then gazed at the board, watching his every move with keen precision.

                It happened so quickly she wasn’t even sure how. One moment she was certain he had her in for mate, but the next, with the return of her queen, and the careful positioning of her lone two pawns, she had his king surrounded. “I believe, Severus,” she said gesturing over the board, despite her own nakedness, “Checkmate.”

                He stared for several moments at the board before nodding his head. A point of concession, he bowed his head and stood, though he still wore his boxers. He’d rendered her naked in their gamble and yet she had come out the victor. “Your present?” he asked, standing from the beanbag chair. It had indeed been pleasurable, laying atop it and watching her shed her clothing, each little triumph on the chess board reflected in the amount of skin revealed.

                Hermione stood slowly from the chair as well and then picked up her discarded knickers. One leg at a time she slipped into them, making a deliberate show of covering up her womanhood before she moved to stand over by the bed. “Come lie down,” she said, nodding at him, hands hanging idly at her side. She kept herself naked, otherwise, but to ensure that she would not be attempting to tempt him and that her present would uphold her promise, she’d allowed herself the modesty of panties.

                Severus moved slowly over to the bed and gazed at her, a spark of curiosity swirling in his eyes. They were both in their underwear, chests exposed, bodies otherwise bared to one another. And it was a peculiar thing, but he said nothing as he did as she asked and reclined down onto the bed. His whole body stiffened as she slowly climbed over him, straddling his hips on either side with her legs, nestling herself down against his crotch. “What are you doing?” he asked, though he did not make to push her off of him.

                “I’m not naked,” she said, shifting her body so that her breasts pressed down slightly against his chest. “And neither are you,” she added before stroking a few stray strands of his hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “But I do wish to give you a present…” her voice trailed off as she gazed down into his eyes. She wondered if it were overstepping, though judging from the heat radiating up off his body he was enjoying it well enough. She had no intentions of forcing herself on him, or even really tempting him. He’d made it clear that touching her would have to be enough for him, though he’d never said that she couldn’t touch him in return.

                Hermione lowered her face until her nose was gently brushing the tip of his nose. “You are a brilliant man, Severus,” she said; a reference to the chess game, certainly, but a genuine truth and compliment as well. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before she pressed her lips against his; letting them rest there for a moment. Slowly she slipped her tongue around his lips, pressing delicately for entry to the heat of his mouth. It only took a moment before she was able to deepen the kiss. His lips moved ever so softly against hers; his tongue, though timid, met hers for the briefest of moments before she felt him pulling back.

                She was met with a rather puzzled look in his eyes, her breathing shallow as she held his gaze. “Was that your present?” he asked, his voice trembling with that hint of disguised lust she had heard earlier.

                “Maybe…” Hermione pressed her lips to his once more, a simpler kiss, both hands coming to cup his cheeks. “Part of it…” She could feel his body tensing beneath her; the way he shifted his hips trying to pull himself further down into the mattress. “You’re supposed to let me give you this without denying yourself…” her words were airy as she spoke, her lips hovering just an inch above his own.

                “What are you giving me that I’m denying myself?” he asked; a clear strain now present in his voice. Hermione could feel the way his body tensed again, as if drawing breath were a painful exercise that he was trying to fight. His eyes searched hers for a moment before he let his hand slide slowly up the side of her body until he was cupping her cheek. “Your kiss was lovely but I dare not have another…”

                She closed her eyes and pressed her lips once more to his. “Then let me kiss you somewhere else…” Hermione slowly trailed her lips back across the length of his jaw, a warm wet streak of her tongue against his skin before she pressed a slow full kiss against the juncture of his face where his jaw met his earlobe. “Here…” and then she was trailing her lips, warm and wet, down over the smooth skin of his neck, pausing at the pulse point of his jugular. “Here…” her tongue slipped easily over his flesh until her lips were hovering over his Adam’s apple, another full deliberate kiss. “Here…” and then she let her lips slip to the hollow of his throat, inhaling before kissing him. “Here…”

                Hermione began to slide her body gently downward, her lips never leaving his skin as she placed kiss after kiss all along his collarbone, and then began a heady descent of full, wet kisses against his chest, trailing her way down his torso, kissing his naval, and pausing only when she’d reached the elastic waistband of his boxers. Settled between his legs, her own hanging a bit off the end of the bed she lifted her head and gazed up at him. “Let me kiss you…” she lowered her head and pressed her lips against the cotton boxers, the hard bulge of his erection but a thin layer of fabric from her tongue. “Here…”

                Severus’ body went fully rigid as she mouthed his erection through his boxers; the warmth and wetness of her tongue penetrating the cotton and driving him wild. “You…Hermione…” his voice was quaking as he spoke.

                “My present…” she murmured against his cock; her hands now stroking up and down the side of his hips, catching the fabric of his boxers enough to drag them down just slightly. “Not breaking any promises…I’m still not naked…” she reminded him, knowing full well it was a flimsy technicality, but so far he hadn’t made her stop. It was more than obvious that he wanted her, wanted the contact, the pleasure, the stimulation. And if he’d let her she’d give him something that would allow him to have all of that without robbing her of her innocence, stealing his energy, or leaving him to the vices of his own touch.

                “Hermione…” he repeated her name, gazing down the length of his body at her, his thighs now trembling as he felt her fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxers. Severus closed his eyes; his whole body set on edge by her ministrations; the way she’d breathed kisses over his skin and was now practically taking his rigid length into her mouth, despite the fabric that separated flesh from tongue; it was enough to be his undoing. “Please…I don’t…”

                “You don’t what?” she asked, feigning wide-eyed confusion as she glanced up at him. Her nipples were straining for touch, her own arousal coating the insides of her thighs, but she was determined in that moment more than anything to give him pleasure; to give him what he was so clearly craving but forcing himself to deny. “You don’t think I can do this with your boxer shorts on?” she asked, trying to smile, hoping it didn’t seem lecherous. “I don’t think I can either.”

                “There are better uses for your mouth,” he said, forcing himself to sit up, though it did not dislodge her from where she rested, her lips still moving over his length. The cotton of his boxers now beyond damp, clinging to his rigid erection that was straining to be freed.

                “Yes…” she whispered, raising her head for a moment and shifting up so that her lips were pressing once more against his. Hermione brought her hand between his legs and gripped his bulge firmly; squeezing and stroking upward which earned her a low hiss from his lips. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and kissed him; deeper than before, exploring the heat of him, the way his velvety tongue slithered around hers. Panting, she pulled back, eyes hooded with lust. “There are…but since you won’t let me use the rest of my person to achieve what I intend to with my mouth…” she shrugged and then slid back down his body, her lips once more moving over his boxers.

                Severus was sitting up, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tangled his fingers in her hair, half tempted to pull her up and then push her away from him all together. “Why can’t you— oh Merlin…” he hissed feeling her hands now cupping at his balls through the fabric. “Hermione…please…this isn’t….” he could feel himself losing purchase over his conscious mind. He arched his hips up against her lips, his body stiff and yearning. “Merlin that feels…” he sharply drew in a breath as he felt her hands sliding down into the elastic of his boxers. “Hermione.”

                “Severus just relax…” she purred, her fingers now more fully pulling his boxers down until she’d managed to free his erection entirely. It took a moment to get his boxers down around his ankles but it had been well worth it. He was rather large; a good eight inches in length and rather thick as well. This made her lick her lips in a most wanton; albeit unconscious, manner. Just the thought of how tightly he would fill her, how deeply he would penetrate her; if he would allow himself such pleasure, had her whole body tingling with pleasure. She was so caught up in these notions that she hadn’t felt his spindly fingers digging into her shoulders, yanking her upward until she was straddling his lap. “Oh!’ she cried in surprise, their bodies mashed together; chest to breast with hardly an inch between their faces.

                His thin lips were upon hers; his tongue, not quite so timid as before, had slipped between her lips and was now dueling against her own. There was a frantic need, and she could feel his cock pulsing, grinding almost, up against the sodden fabric of her knickers. His fingers were tangled in her hair; the slender bony digits tangling and tugging her locks as he kissed her. It all but stole her breath away, the intensity and suddenness of it all. She could feel her nipples pressed hard into the flesh of his chest; the way their bodies seemed to meld together making her head spin.

                She could feel him breaking the kiss; his lips pulling back only to press fervent kisses against her face, all over her mouth and her cheeks and her chin before his hands fell from her hair and clutched around her back. Hermione was pulled forward, her head forced down against the crook of his neck and she could hear him panting, feeling him trembling as his tight embrace wound its way around her form. His body was shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps and for a moment it panicked her, though there was little she could do to free herself from his vice-like grip. She could feel her own heart racing in her chest, felt his echoing hers, and felt one arm stiffen around her back, his other moving up to clutch at the back of her head.

                “Severus…” she tried, her voice uncertain. Though she realized as she spoke that he clutched her to him as if she might vanish. Only that’s exactly what she was going to do; not intentionally, but in a short while he would be taken from her and she from him, and he would die. A sinking sensation rose in the pit of her stomach and she closed her eyes, feeling the start of tears forming there. It was then that she realized his ragged breathing was not only the excitement of the moment, but a desperate attempt to keep himself from crying. She could feel it in the way his chest shook with each inhaled breath. He clutched her firmly, her lap still astride him, her legs on either side of his; their bodies still tightly pressed together. “Oh…Severus,” she whispered, blinking back her tears.

                “You are too kind,” he forced his words to coherency. “You mean well, Hermione Granger,” he whispered, his body beginning to tremble just a bit less as he spoke. “But how horrid would it be to feel such pleasure…your mouth…you…” he tilted his head to the side and kissed the back of her head, which was still against the crook of his neck. “To feel those things and know that only hours later I’d never feel them again?” He shook his head slowly and then released the hand that had clutched at the back of her head. Slender trembling digits drew her chin up from his shoulder until their eyes met and he was once more gazing into her. “I’d rather never know such divinity than to be tormented with knowing I shall never have it again.”

                The first words he’d spoken since coming back to himself that truly made her weep. The resignation was more than apparent, he resented it. And it took all she had not to collapse forward in his arms like a ninny, blubbering about the injustice of it all. She held his gaze, hoping that her tears weren’t terribly obvious, and slowly nodded her head. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, Severus,” she said with a deep apologetic tone. “I had only thought—”

                Severus placed a slender finger against her lips, effectively silencing her for the moment. “I know what you thought,” his voice was low, steady and even but just barely a whisper. “And it was incredibly wondrous of you to think so…and believe me it was tempting,” he admitted, shifting his hips slightly so that she could feel just how much of an effect she’d had on him. “And if things were different…” he trailed off, turning his head away just slightly, as if the thought of the two of them outside these circumstances were too much to bear. “But we shan’t dwell on different things,” he said after a moment and then let his hands slide slowly over her figure until he was cupping her breasts once more. It brought a blush to her cheek and he smiled a faded smile. “You still blush…”

                Hermione nodded her head. “It’s not every day that someone like you does…” her blush spread across her cheeks. “Well…this…” she nodded at his hands, realizing just how perfectly her breasts seemed to fit in his palms. “I’d give you whatever you wanted…” she offered once more.

                “I know,” he said, giving her breasts another gentle squeeze before releasing them. “But a man condemned should not be tortured with the blissful memory just before he can remember it no more.”

                There was a heavy truth in his words, a truth that she tried to ignore. But he was right. How torturous it would be to experience such bliss; even just the feeling of coupling with another, however briefly, and then to know that each remaining hour was one hour closer to never feeling that pleasure again. She shifted slightly in his lap, once more laying her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and sighing. “What would you have of me, then?” she asked.

                The soft chuckle that resonated up through his chest disturbed her peace and she lifted her head to look at him. “So eager to please…I am pleased to see that after all these years, Hermione Granger, that part of you has not changed.” This warranted a blush of a different type. It was another compliment, such words she was certain she would never grow used to hearing, particularly not from him. “I think I shall have a dance from you,” he said and mussed his fingers through her hair. “Though I think I wouldn’t mind it if we were both to get dressed…something comfortable, maybe you in something pretty,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve often fancied the notion of watching you dance, petty as that sounds, but your body does move so very lovely…”

                “Watching me dance?” she said curiously, her lips teasing into the faintest of smiles. “You know I’ve never been terribly fond of dancing, I’ve always had clumsy partners…total rubbish at dancing, but I think I can make the exception.” Hermione pressed her lips gently against the corner of his lips, a delicate chaste kiss before slipping out of his lap and sliding down the bed, standing alongside it. “What would you have me wear?”

                “A dress?” he shrugged his shoulders and with a slow reach down his legs he retrieved his boxers and carefully slid them back up his body until he was covered once more. Hermione had wrapped her arms around her chest, carefully covering her breasts to remain slightly modest. It wasn’t that she felt uncomfortable around him naked, just moments ago she’d practically had him in her mouth. But she didn’t want to tempt him to something he was so clearly struggling with. Now that she understood his resistance, she wanted only to make things easier for him. She nodded her head as she moved back toward where her shirt was on his side of the chessboard.

                “Anything in particular?” she asked, picking up the garment and slipping it over her shoulders. Panties and a shirt would suffice for the moment as she gathered his clothes and walked them over to the bed. He was sitting up on the edge now, his pale torso still exposed to her eye. “A style or color?”

                Severus shrugged his shoulders once more. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about styles when it comes to ladies dresses, Hermione, but something in an emerald hue I think,” he said, his lips turning upward slightly. “Would be nice to see you in that color.”

                At first she merely nodded her head. The request, after all, was a simple enough one. A green dress; how hard could it be? And then it dawned on her that he’d specifically requested an emerald shade, a hue not unlike his former house colors and this twisted her stomach with a twinge of guilt while at the same time twisting her lips into a slight smirk. So long ago was that their lives, house colors and points. He the formidable Slytherin master, and she just a student of Gryffindor crimson and gold. As she glanced over her shoulder, knowing she would need to visit the outer room to summon such a garment, she let her lips smile more fully. “Should it have silver accents as well?”

                He scoffed. “If you wish,” he said and then stood from the bed. Severus ignored his clothes as he moved over to stand in front of her, one hand raised to cup her cheek. He felt the way she stiffened against his palm and carefully lowered his hand, letting the tips of his fingers trail down the side of her neck, over her shoulder and down her arm before his hand fell gently to his side. “And I think I’d like dress robes,” he added. “I want a shower…you’ve managed to work me up a bit…” he confessed, his voice as calm as it had been before he’d broken down clutching her. “Perhaps you could conjure up something simple, black is fine,” he said. “Nothing terribly formal, just something…nice.”

                Hermione nodded her head, eyes beginning to water once more, so she was grateful when he slipped away from her and into the bathroom. Already she could hear the water running and knew full well that he had started the shower. She wondered for a moment if he were relieving himself of his arousal by hand, or if he simply intended to use the cold water to make it go away. She supposed it didn’t matter, and she left him to his shower as she stepped out into the little foyer space, having retrieved her wand from the pile of clothes. Tapping it against the wall she managed to summon a rather dashing set of formal, but simple, black dress robes, lined with hints of emerald and silver. High collared and cuffed the way she’d seen him wear dress robes at Hogwarts’ more formal events.

                It was several moments of debating and deciding before she summoned forth an elegant full length emerald evening dress. It was accented with a black waist sash and the little straps that pulled it up over her shoulders had threads of silver running through it. The dress itself wasn’t terribly flowing and didn’t have a train, but she figured for dancing it would do. With a few careful cleansing charms, Hermione cleaned herself up and shimmied into the dress, using her wand to zip the gown up the back. It fell low, dipping beneath her shoulder blades leaving a good deal of her skin exposed. As she debated on how to style her hair, she sent the dress robes she’d summoned for him zipping into the bathroom so that he could change at his leisure. The dress fit her snugly but not so snugly as to make her uncomfortable, and for a moment she felt giddy. She could not recall the last time she’d worn something so lovely; perhaps Bill and Fleur’s wedding, though she had not liked that dress nearly as much as she found she currently liked this one.

                Deciding that sweeping her hair up off her neck into a simple yet elegant bun was the way to go, Hermione used her wand once again to do so, leaving her neck bear. The dress cut downward over her bust line in a little heart, dipping between her cleavage, which was personally a little more than she would have normally been comfortable showing, but giving all she’d just presented him with, she figured there was no harm. Feeling done up she stepped back into the main room, having completely forgone the notion of shoes; Hermione stretched her toes into the carpeting and then quirked her lips to the side. Not particularly ideal for dancing, but a few quick transfigurations would fix that easily enough. She set to work, clearing the bed, sofa, and table back against the walls, leaving only the fireplace where it stood, even though it was already against a wall. And with another few swishes and flicks she’d transfigured the carpet into a dully polished wooden floor. Dousing whatever lighting charm the room had, she smiled as the only light now casting its glow across the space was that from the fire, which she stoked with her wand to be a brilliant orange blaze.

                A brilliant thought struck her and she quickly slipped back out into the front foyer, the sound of the water coming to a stop signaling to her that he’d finished with his shower. It took a great deal of effort and concentration but after a few attempts she managed to produce several long strings of glowing paper lanterns. Their hues were soft whites and muted periwinkle but the glowed with a lovely brightness, and were even easier as she waved her wand about, letting them float idly near the ceiling. She smiled at her handiwork, hoping that it would be too his liking, though he’d said nothing of atmosphere and space. She presumed that it would make dancing that much better for him, knowing full well she was a rubbish dance partner.

                “I see you’ve thought of everything but the music,” he said.

                Hermione turned suddenly, his voice having startled her just slightly, but as she laid eyes upon where he stood, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. More accurately the figure of him silhouetted in the ambient lighting took her breath away. He fit perfectly into the dress robes, his emaciated figure now hidden by the crisp black cloth, hints of rich green and silver accentuating the cuffs and collar. And he’d tied his hair back at the base of his neck; though with what she hadn’t the slightest idea. He looked dashing; there was simply no better word for it. Her cheeks flushed just the tiniest bit as she acknowledged him. “You look—”

                “You…” he began, his voice a soft whisper that floated delicately across the room to her ears. “You, Hermione, look a vision…” he said. Severus had walked over to where she stood and pressed his lips ever so slightly against her cheek. “Should a man have to die…to see you as you are before he does so…then he can certainly say he has died happy.” He stood in front of her and nodded down at her. “I always did think green was much more your color.”

                She let the cheeky compliment ease the terrible sorrow that was threatening to well up from inside of her. All of his talking of death and knowing he was about to die, it gnawed away at her, but she was not about to tell him that he couldn’t talk of what they both knew was inevitably coming. She would not restrict him, regardless of how sad it made her to hear the truth so readily accepted from his lips. “You do clean up nice,” she said and then took a step back from him. “I should get us something to dance to.” Hermione slipped quickly back into the foyer, wondering if muggle conveniences would work inside the room, but deciding not to chance it she summoned an old-fashioned gramophone. It would do; and she could easily transfer any bit of music from a more modern medium onto the record if need be. Returning a moment later she found him standing in the middle of the cleared room, also in bare feet, gazing up at the lights as they loomed overhead. “Do you like them?”

                “They are indeed a lovely touch,” he said, turning his eyes to her. “A bit romantic, but thoughtful just the same.”

                Hermione dismissed the notion that they were romantic, she hadn’t thought that they might spark notions or feelings of romance, and for a moment she wondered if they made him uncomfortable. But he didn’t protest, if anything he had complimented them and so she left it alone. “I wasn’t sure what to pick…so I picked a song that my gran was quite fond of,” she confessed. “And I can always get something else if you don’t like it…or find some classical music—”

                It was the slight wave of his raised hand that silenced her. And he smiled noting how she had fallen quiet at his gesture. Despite the circumstances he still had quite the effect upon her. “I think whatever you have selected will do just fine, Hermione,” he said and then lowered his hand, offering it out to her.

                She blushed, the slight tinge of pink creeping across her face making her cheeks glow warmly. “Alright then,” she said and with a tap of her wand set the gramophone to playing. At first just the soft hiss and cackle of the needle moving neatly across the grooves of the record filled the room. She took a step toward him and placed her hand in his, their bodies drawing up against one another as her other hand came round his back. He seemed rather practiced in exactly how to hold a dance partner, one hand coming round her waist, the other hand gently lacing his fingers with hers. “You’ve done this before?” she asked, looking a little surprised.

                “It has been quite some time, but I do suppose that one does not so easily forget,” he said with a simple nod of his head. “Though I have never had so pleasant…or so lovely a partner before,” he confessed, eyes gazing into hers as the music began.

                She had picked a lovely slow tune. The keys to the piano plinked ever so carefully and the voice of the man on the recording began to sing a lovely melody. Hermione could feel them slowly beginning to sway and she felt butterflies once more in her stomach. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine why such a simple act like dancing was making her nervous but she did her best to smile at him, hearing the subtle soft tones of a saxophone joining the piano in the song. “It was one of her favorites,” she smiled. “My gran’s…”

                Severus nodded his head, gently moving back and forth with her. “It is lovely…” he said, carefully listening to the lyrics, which sounded as if they were plucked out of time. It was indeed a beautiful song, if a bit sad, though he found it fittingly appropriate. “What’s it called?” he asked.

                “Once Upon A Time…though bugger if I can remember who sings it,” she confessed sheepishly, gazing up into his eyes, though she hadn’t really stopped looking in his eyes from the moment he’d begun dancing with her. She felt him guiding her around in a circle, a slight sweep about the space. He moved with a subtle fluidity and grace that she had always known him to posses, but had never thought in her wildest dreams that she would experience so personally.

                The song had come to a musical interlude, the piano keys gliding away with the saxophone now wailing the bittersweet melody without the vocal accompanist, and she was struggling to resist the urge to lean forward and lay her head against his shoulder. But he must have sensed this within her, the hand that had previously been laced within her fingers coming up to gently press against the back of her neck. Locking eyes with him for a moment longer, and perceiving a subtle nod of sorts, she slowly brought her head forward, resting her cheek against his shoulder. He smelled clean; a hint of male about him, but otherwise just like the soap that had been in the bathroom. She closed her eyes and exhaled, feeling his hand gently resting against the back of her neck, idly stroking his fingers across her skin.

                She could feel his heart beating; steady and slow, her own chest pressed quite closely to his. “You dance much better than you let on,” she heard him whisper. Slowly Hermione lifted her head up and gazed once more into his eyes, a soft smile on her lips, her eyes twinkling in the glow of the paper lanterns.

                “I guess you don’t forget how to dance after all,” she said and then straightened up a bit, placing her hand once more on his shoulder. It was slightly more formal than it had been when she’d laid her head against his shoulder, but already she could hear the final remnants of the song echoing across the room. “The song’s nearly over,” she said, though neither of them stopped moving. “I could get us another…or replay this one…whatever you like,” she offered.

                He seemed to think on this for a moment as the silence of the room was filled with the dull sound of needle grooving in the emptiness of the end of the record. As he glanced down into her eyes and held her gaze with his she noted the way the light reflected in his eyes; hiding everything that he wouldn’t say; what he couldn’t say. And it made her stomach knot tightly. It wasn’t fair; but she couldn’t dwell on that now, as she knew time was dwindling down. It was his subtle words that brought her attention back to him. “Perhaps…Bye Bye Blackbird…” he said.

                The irony or perhaps kismet of his song selection was not lost on her as she gently pulled away from him. Moving over to the gramophone, she plucked up the record, tapped it with her wand and muttered a series of intricate spells, hoping she’d remembered her musical charms from muggle studies with enough proficiency to make the transfer from song to song. Placing it once more back on the spinning table, with her enchantment around the cranking arm, she threaded the needle down on the record and them moved back to him, taking up his hand once more, slipping her body up against him as they had been just moments before.

                “You are the perfect dance partner,” he mused after a moment, the song having started; the rendition by Diana Krall, a voice he knew well from his own personal collection. “You fit as a woman ought to against her partner’s body,” he whispered.

                Hermione didn’t know whether this was a compliment or if he were insinuating how well they fit together, but either way she smiled. She would smile for him, even if the music was sad, this song much more so than her selection. But he had asked for it and that was that. She laid her head once more against his shoulder, nuzzling her nose against the soft cotton of the dress robes. And again she closed her eyes. “There is something terribly comfortable about you,” she whispered.

                He chuckled softly. “Terribly comfortable…words I never thought I’d hear anyone speak in any regard when it came to my body…” the hand that had been gently perched at her waist slowly slithered around to the small of her back and drew her closer. “There is something wonderfully inviting about you, Hermione,” he whispered, gently tilting his head to the side so that his lips brushed her forehead. “I think that even if I had my rathers and a last dance was offered…were it not with you, I would have to decline.”

                This gave her pause, though she didn’t show it. While it wasn’t customary to offer a death row prisoner any sort of last anything, words and meal aside, she wondered if she had not been provided to him, if she had not chosen to be at his side until his final moments if he would have dared to request her. He seemed to take quite a liking to her, though she was still trying to determine if that was because he was grateful to not be alone in his final hours or if it was because he was genuinely fond of her. All of these thoughts jumbled about in her head as he continued to gently spin her around, moving slowly with the music until the last note of the song was once more upon them.

                The music stopped though he made no motion to let her go. Nor did he even really stop his subtle shifting about, dancing now to the silence of the room, interrupted every so often by a hiss or crackle rising up from the fireplace. Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. “Do you want more music?” she asked, feeling the heat of his hand radiating through her dress and into her back. “Or would you care to simply dance without it?”

                “I’m feeling oddly sentimental, and will hope you’ll indulge this old fool’s notions…” he trailed off watching as Hermione pressed a finger to his lips.

                “You’re hardly old, Severus, far too young…” she blinked and then bowed her head slightly to hide both her tears and her blush. “And you’re hardly a fool…but I’ll indulge whatever you like,” she whispered and then lifted her head once more to gaze into his eyes. She’d succeeded in holding back her tears, there was no point in falling to pieces when they still had time left.

                He nodded his head and then cupped her cheek. “I would love to dance another song if you’ll have it…there’s a lovely jazz number…I’ll Be Seeing You…” he searched her eyes, surprised to find the spark of recognition there. “You know it?”

                Hermione nodded her head. “Yes,” she said and gently pulled back from him. It was a particularly sad, and rather poignant song, all things considered. But if he wanted it she would deny him nothing. Moving once more to the gramophone she worked her magic and then carefully set the record spinning beneath the needle before returning to his arms, this time naturally falling against him. But he tilted her chin up as the music began, holding her gaze with his own. “I’ll be seeing you…” he whispered, letting his voice give way to the sweet dulcet songbird on the record.

                They moved slowly around; the music filling the rooms as they danced. The tragic melody and even more sorrowful lyrics seemed to ring all too true and it took all she had not to cling tightly to him. But she kept her eyes staring deeply into his, her smile gentle, her fingers threaded warmly with his. For a moment the world had stopped; time itself had stopped, and only the music and their dancing continued on. There was no execution, no countdown; the world was theirs for that one moment of pristine beauty. No one would come and wrench him from her arms, no one would come and guide her to a seat in the observation booth where she would watch as they stripped him of his dignity, his clothing, his hair, and then his life. For that one blessed moment the music played, and they danced as if they had always danced together; as if they always would dance together.

                As the music faded she felt him slow and then stop dancing all together. He stood there, still and motionless, holding her close, the hand that had previously laced in her fingers now tenderly cupping her cheek. She blinked several times, just gazing up into his eyes. “Yes?” she whispered, feeling a world of unspoken words hanging between them.

                “You danced divinely, Hermione,” he whispered and then slowly drew his lips to her cheek; a chaste but lingering kiss against her skin before he stepped back from her. “And you look beautiful.”

                Hermione tried not to frown though she would have been lying to herself if she said she was bereft when his touch was gone. There was something quite comforting about him being so close; even though there was nothing sexual driving it; the sensual intimate undertones had made her feel warm inside; as if simply being pressed against his body could right all of the wrongs that were about to happen. “You danced rather splendidly yourself, Severus,” she said and then bowed to him, a mingled gesture of bowing and curtseying. “And you look dashing.”

                His smile was weak; faded at best before he nodded to her and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve absolutely no idea what to do now…” he confessed and then frowned slightly. “Have you any idea of…” he gestured. She had come to recognize that gesture; he wanted to know how long they had left.

                Stepping over to the fireplace she plucked up the timepiece from where she’d laid it face down on the mantel. More time had passed than she had realized, when last she’d checked he’d had fourteen hours. Though they had played a rather long round of chess and then there had been the awkward bit of involvement on the bed. She supposed that perhaps he had held her to him in that terrified embrace a good deal longer than she’d realized. And then there had been the dancing. She closed her eyes with a fond smile; he was certainly living up the time, if nothing else. Returning to him she took his hand and squeezed it. “You’ve eight hours…they’ll be here in eight hours.” Her voice was firm, reassuring, as if conveying a simple message, though she knew her words held much more than that.

                Severus did not nod his head, nor did he speak. He simply held her hand and squeezed it in return. After several moments of silence, he exhaled deeply and sighed. “I think I should like coffee…perhaps with brandy, if that is permissible?” he asked. “And if you are willing…I would like to share…” he trailed off. “There are things that perhaps are best left unsaid, but if you could provide me with a pensieve,” he asked uncertain.

                “I will provide you with anything you wish,” she said with a hopeful smile, trying to reassure him.

                Severus smiled. “Then perhaps…” he trailed off, gazing down once more into her bright eyes. “Perhaps the pensieve can wait…just the coffee…we’ll forego the brandy for the moment, I think I’d just like to bask in your lovely company a while…perhaps you can tell me a little of your life, I find that there are so many things I wish to know of you and yet so little time to know it all in,” he confessed. “And the prospect of just sitting beside you while you look so lovely…if you’ll have it, that would please me a good deal.”

                “Sure, Severus, whatever you like,” she said and then drew her wand to summon the sofa back toward the fire. “Let me get us some coffee,” she said and then kissed his cheek before moving out to the small foyer for coffee, leaving him standing in his lovely dress robes, alone with his thoughts.

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The Last 24 Hours of Severus Snape