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Sweet Surrender	By : witch Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 3750 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: I finally have the next chapter for you, folks! I sincerely apologize for such a delay, though *hides her face in shame* However, I'm sure that a lot of you will grasp the implications of a "well-meaning mother" popping up for two visits in a row *whimpers*

Nevertheless, I am back in the game of writing and fan-fiction with a vengeance yet again! Bwahaha!

My sincerest thanks go to my irreplaceable and wonderful beta Liongirl11! *smooches her to death* And to the two of you who have reviewed! The answers to your reviews can be found at the end of this page...

Enjoy!

Ms Velvela XD

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Winds of Change

After spending the majority of what was left of the weekend simmering in contemplation and utter frustration, it was truly a relief to once again face the certainty of a busy and homework-filled week. It was no real surprise, then, that Monday morning found Hermione waking up with the solid assurance that she would dig into the matter of her friend's foolish evasion with all the stubbornness she could muster. After spending six years as one part of the so-called Golden Trio (oh, how she despised that name at times), she regarded herself as quite knowledgeable about her friend's tactics and the portholes within them.

However, once again, and one time too many, the logical solution seemed to evade her.

In opposition to everything she had come to expect, both Harry and Ron's behaviour was nothing like what she had so painstakingly been preparing herself for. Instead, it had managed to throw her completely out of kilter. They began to not only patiently wait to escort her to and from every lesson of the day, but they also somehow managed to accompany her to every meal. What was more, every morning from then on found them dutifully waiting at the doors of the Great Hall, and she knew for a fact that neither of them were of the early-riser variety.

Taken aback by such an uncharacteristic approach, Hermione found herself torn. On one hand, she would have had to have been born rather dim-witted to have failed to comprehend that she was being tactfully hoodwinked. Be that as it may, she couldn't help but feel less guarded having her two best friends back by her side again. Therefore, the trio recommenced their tentative routine, though in a much more subdued and awkward sense than ever before.

Such behaviour remained true to form until Friday of the same week.

As soon as dinner came to an end, the majority of the school's students grudgingly began to make their way towards their respective dormitories. Nevertheless, a number of them were still scattered around the Great Hall, seemingly determined to prolong the enjoyment of the extensive dessert selections that hadn't vanished off the long tables as of yet for as long as possible.

However, in contrast to the teenaged gluttony of her peers, the most Hermione could force herself to do for the duration of her dinner was to half-heartedly chase a cherry tomato with a fork around the perimeter of her plate. The piece of white bread she actually talked herself into swallowing had tasted like yesterday's ash. If things kept progressing in this fashion any longer, it would be no surprise if she soon found herself fainting out of sheer lack of appetite. The unresolved situation between her and the two boys she cared most about in the world was upsetting to say the least. Even though a number of days had managed to pass since the reunion of their trio, no significant conversations had taken place. Nothing. Zilch. In fact, silence became a new customary guest between the three of them. The Golden Trio was steadily transforming into a Golden Quartet.

To say that Hermione Granger was becoming increasingly frustrated would have been a great understatement.

Making her way out of the hall, empty stomach and all, the young witch was acutely aware of the two Gryffindors trailing silently behind her. With her nerves as taut as the strings of a violin, it came as no surprise when they finally broke with a practically audible snap as soon as her hypersensitive ears detected hushed whispering behind her back.

Enough was enough.

‘That's IT! I cannot–'

'Eh, listen, I–'

The witch in question halted with all the finesse of running into an invisible wall. Whirling around, she stared incredulously at one Ronald Weasley, who had not deigned to address her once since that memorable Great Hall fiasco. The fact that they had begun talking at the same moment was either sheer dumb luck or something else entirely.

'I wanna apologize,' rumbled Ron in a rush, before Hermione had the chance to make her half-open mouth operational again. 'I know that I'm a bloody git and everything like that. Hell, I'll probably remain one when I'm all beardy and shriveled to the bone. B-but it doesn't mean that I consider you less of a friend–never! So...well...I guess I just want to say sorry and all that for being such a complete idiot, 'Mione. You've been my best friend since we were eleven, and nothing will change that, I swear.'

When Hermione remained unmoving and uncharacteristically silent, Ron shared a slightly anxious look with Harry, who was nervously fidgeting with his tie.

As the silence continued to stretch, the youngest Weasley boy cleared his throat rather hoarsely. 'Ah...yes. And I'm also sorry for calling you 'Mione, 'Mione...oh, bloody hell!' he groaned in frustration. 'I'm sorry! It's just, you're you and it's impossible, 'cos you are–'

The rest of his speech ended with an undignified oof! as Hermione pounced bodily onto him, her right arm clutching him to her in a near-suffocating embrace. In passing, she somehow managed to grab hold of Harry's cloak as well and mashed the three of them together.

'Oh, Ron,' she whispered, surprisingly managing to squeeze something out of her suddenly too-tight throat, 'I have never doubted your friendship...your quirk for mood swings and unnatural gourmandism, maybe. But never your friendship.'

Hermione felt rather than heard Harry's sigh of relief, his palm placing itself just below her shoulder blades in an obvious sign of reassurance.

Ron, on the other hand, kept his silence. She was starting to wonder whether she was actually squeezing him too hard when his perplexed voice filled the air around them.

'What in bloody hell is "gourmandism"?'

Hermione burst out laughing in sheer delight. 'Oh, boys. I love you so much, you fools...'

Indeed, as the trio stood there hugging in a shadowed and otherwise vacant corridor of the grand Scottish castle, Hermione wished that the present feeling of contentment and utter happiness would remain with her forever. She wanted to grab the first available chance to shove this memory into a Pensieve and review it over and over again on a rainy day.

'I guess this is where I’ll have to love you and leave you, boys. But I shall see you two as soon as you return from Hogsmeade tomorrow evening, alright?' said Hermione with a smile as soon as they managed to disentangle themselves from each other.

Instead of with words, the two young men responded to her enquiry with encouraging smiles upon their faces. Even the fact that they seemed somewhat faint no longer upset Hermione. She just had to remind herself more often that she was actually dealing with boys here, whose actions were justified by their complicated gender issues.

With a parting, heartfelt grin, Hermione finally turned around towards the corridor leading to the dungeons.

Lifting her eyes from the floor, her heart momentarily picked up speed in alarm. In her direct path stood a shadowed figure, its tall, cloaked form both imposing and menacing. With her breath catching, it took Hermione a couple of moments to comprehend that what was in front of her was not a Dementor but Professor Snape. In fact, as her fleeting panic subsided, it was easy to distinguish the wizard's pale face among all of his darkness, his gaze fixed intently upon the three Gryffindors in front of him.

Silently berating herself for behaving so foolishly, Hermione gave her two best friends one last encouraging smile.

'And you better bring the Hogwarts inmate something! For those of you with short memory spans, I remind you that from time to time I do enjoy other types of quills that do not come from birds and are not meant for writing!'

Still beaming, she tentatively approached Professor Snape, who didn't even deign to give her a cursory glance. Instead, his intense eyes kept burrowing into the two young wizards standing stock-still in the middle of the corridor, whose gazes stared unflinchingly back at him with identical unreadable expressions upon their faces.

Unexpectedly, the older wizard inclined his head an inch forward, his eyes never straying from their perusal. 'Mr. Weasley...Mr. Potter,' he intoned colourlessly before turning swiftly in a whirl of robes and departing down the corridor with Hermione almost running to keep up with his long-legged strides.

Whilst briskly walking towards their joined chambers, Hermione covertly appraised the billow of her professor's cloak in front of her. All in all, the young witch surmised distractedly, it felt rather nice to be surrounded by something that was both familiar and relatively normal, even if it did revolve around the most feared professor in all of Hogwarts' history.

Thank heavens, some things did not change.

~*~

The dark tiny platform of Hogsmeade Station was, for all intents and purposes, deserted, with only a handful of witches and wizards scattered about as the skies released a merciless downpour of October rain onto the land below. Soaked individuals ran as fast as the wet ground permitted them, the howling wind egging them on until they were able to jump onto the steps of the standing train, which steadily emitted heavy bursts of white steam in preparation for its approaching departure.

Quite unexpectedly, a harried-looking couple burst onto the platform from a small path that lead towards the village. The man quickly scanned the perimetre of the station form beneath his heavy, caterpillar-like eyebrows before focusing on the whistling train itself. Absentmindedly flipping his hand in a sign to be followed, he addressed his companion without bothering to turn around.

'Come on!'

Whilst the man had no visible problems climbing the steps into the nearest coach, the woman accompanying him was another matter altogether. Dressed from neck to toe in cheap robes of dark green that held a dim resemblance to a Muggle parachute, the material only added to the bulk of the witch's paunchy figure. Clearly out of breath, she wheezed and gasped loudly as she finally waddled up to the train, her sausage-like fingers clutching tightly at the material over her ample bosom. Upon detecting the three miniscule steps in front of her, the witch stared at them with something akin to horror.

'You gotta be kidding me! At this rate I'm gonna earn myself a heart attack well before I reach London!' she exclaimed in a shrill voice.

The man, who was clearly the woman's husband if the matching wedding bands on their fingers were anything to go by, shot a distressed look around them.

'Do be quiet, Lizzie!' he barked irritably, grabbing his wife's pale hand with both of his. Gathering all of his strength, he gave an almighty tug and hauled her inside the carriage. The unexpectedly high speed of their momentum nearly brought both of them crashing to the carpeted floor, and the otherwise empty passageway of the train was instantly filled with colourful vocabulary choices.

'This is beyond ridiculous! If I'm not gonna die of cardiac arrest before we reach our destination, I will probably die of embarrassment! He did it on purpose, I swear it! Who in bl–'

'Don't you dare!'

The witch's mouth shut with a click. Giving the wizard a disgusted look from her small, deep-set eyes, she snorted once rather inelegantly. Absentmindedly running her hands along her body to make sure everything was in its rightful place, she paused abruptly somewhere in the vicinity of her chest, at which point her face adopted an expression of utter revulsion.

Mumbling something under her breath -low enough so that she went unheard- the witch threw another meaningful glance towards her companion before slowly making her way along the carriage's narrow passageway. Perhaps it was fortunate that she failed to hear the wizard's feeble attempts to stifle his sniggering at the panorama displayed in front of him. With the train already on the go, the woman's wide body easily bounced from one side of the aisle to the other, with an obvious lack of discomfort due to nature's thoughtful provision of extra cushioning.

The couple retreated to their seats with relieved sighs as soon as they made absolutely sure that the compartment's door was securely locked and the area around them magically silenced.

The middle-aged witch appeared to overestimate the true power of her bulk yet again and landed her tush upon the seat underneath her with enough force to set all of her three chins wobbling in unison with each other, causing the wizard in front of her to wince involuntarily. The image in front of him had become too familiar to him for his own peace of mind.

'Stop staring!'

'I'm not!' exclaimed the wizard in indignation but spoiling it the next moment as his body emitted another unintentional shiver.

'Argh! You see?! It's disgusting! Repulsing! Though I've no idea why you are reacting the way you are, honey-bun. You're not much of a looker either, let me tell you,' drawled out the witch in a sickly-syrupy voice, giving his protruding beer belly a meaningful glance.

'I am not complaining, unlike some others I know! Oh, and while we're on this subject, don't forget to drink your cough potion in around ten minutes or so, dear.'

'Don't look so smug, darling. As far as I remember, you have to do the same thing yourself!' was the snappy retort.

Without a doubt the bickering would have continued for quite awhile, but at that particular moment, the slow-moving train gave a particularly violent lurch as it finally began to pick up speed. Momentarily thrown about, the duo reflexively looked out of the compartment's window. And froze.

There, upon the hill that looked a stone's throw away yet in reality was an impressive distance away, stood a castle the likes of which neither of them had ever seen before and would probably never see again for as long as they lived. The gathering darkness of the waning twilight rapidly closed around the surrounding mountains, coercing a number of the countless windows to fill it with flickering lights. Two pairs of eyes stared unblinkingly towards the rapidly diminishing sight beyond their window, filled to the brink with bittersweet memories.

'Will it really work?'

No answer was forthcoming at first as the two of them continued to stare silently towards the general vicinity of the object of their thoughts once more.

'It has to, doesn't it? There's no other choice. Because otherwise...' replied the wizard broodingly.

There was no need to finish the sentence. Unfortunately, both of them knew only too well what that ending consisted of.

And as the steam train pushed its way towards London, the witch and the wizard continued to stare towards the horizon long after Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry disappeared from their troubled eyes and minds. For neither of them knew when they would be able to see its splendor again.

If ever.

~*~

Stretching languidly on top of her maroon bedcovers, Hermione let her sleepy consciousness take a couple of minutes to adjust to reality. The last thing she clearly remembered was reading under the light of her wand, as, in her estimation, there was still plenty of time before everyone returned from their Hogsmeade outing and no time was better spent than poring over a book...from her sole, but no less rightful, perspective, she might add.

Blinking groggily, her eyes managed to stay focused enough to make out the display of the wizarding clock standing proudly upon her bedside table. Upon seeing the time, the young witch uttered a soft curse before rolling out of the bed as swiftly as possible.

Leaving her rather slept-in t-shirt and rumpled jeans as they were, Hermione cautiously exited her bedroom and headed towards the living room.

Fully expecting to find Professor Snape at his usual hobby of shadowing the chamber menacingly, as was usual before escorting her to the Great Hall for a meal, she was understandably surprised to find the room empty upon entering it. Looking around somewhat perplexed, she absentmindedly wondered what could have possibly detained him. No matter what tales and myths were spun about his persona, Hermione now knew for a fact that Professor Snape took his responsibilities very seriously, almost to the point of losing his pulse in certain ways.

She, however, also stubbornly refused to accept the fact that that description also fit another person suspiciously well, and she knew her very, very well.

All those matters aside, though, the fact that she had managed to oversleep remained unchanged. First time for her, of course, though that factor did not lighten the blow to her pride whatsoever. She just hoped that Harry and Ron had not had the time to become too worried about her yet. Judging by the protective tendencies the two of them had been showing towards her lately, she was, in some measure, anxious herself about what trouble they could possibly get themselves into next if and when they found her MIA, so to speak.

Continuing to berate herself under her breath, Hermione was about to call for a house-elf and politely ask him for assistance (S.P.E.W. might have died a long and most painful death, but that did not mean her morals had done the same) when something on the floor caught her eye.

Intrigued despite herself, the young witch cautiously approached, until she was standing right above it.

It was a letter of some sort, its position and distance from the fireplace clearly indicating that someone with a connection to Professor Snape's floo had sent it through. Bending down, she picked it up. There were two rather important details in the present situation that made this action justifiable.

The messy scrawl across the face of the envelope was only too familiar to her. And it bore her name.

With her left hand locating the sofa behind her, Hermione tentatively sat on the very edge of it, unable to tear her eyes away from the object held tightly between her thumb and forefinger. An unaccustomed silence filled all corners of her consciousness when she at long last brought her other hand up and opened the envelope.

As soon as she pulled out the single sheet of paper, she felt a long, but lightweight object fall out of the envelope.

Upon her lap lay an innocent-looking sugar quill, as real-looking as any bird quill out there if not for the slight sweet aroma emitting from it.

And as soon as Hermione's eyes fell upon it, her heart seemed to cease its beating for a second before it hammered its way onwards, rapid and heavy with dread.

With shaking fingers she pried the letter apart and began to read...

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I'm such a sucker for cliffies! *cackles evilly before ducking away from the vegetables being thrown at her* I most certainly look forward to reading your reviews! Feed the muse!!! XD

REVIEW REPLIES:

winter748: yep, this story as well, unfortunatelty... *sobs in the corner* However, even that will not force me to give up on it! I am very glad that your are enjoying this tale of mine and it is my sincerest hope that this chapter did not disappoint ;) Thank you for your review! x

GlassesandWhatnot: Thank you very much, darling! It would be my greatest pleasure to show you how I'll finally bring those two stubborn and willful individuals together! The next chapter may certainly be considered as the first milestone in that category... and I hope you have enjoyed the latest chapter! Looking forward to hearing your possible opinion on that! *wink wink, nudge nudge* :)))
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Sweet Surrender