Blossom ➵ A Snamione Fanfic

chapter sixteen

They met up for a cosy dinner away from Hogwarts's prying eyes. He had never been one for large, assembly gatherings and she was glad to follow him wherever he wanted to go.

The owl had arrived at her little classroom desk a half-hour after she had left Harry and Ron. It was an elegantly written note, even if there was hardly more than two sentences.

I have heard wonders about the dinners one can get when one threatens ones house-elf.

S.Snape

It was his way of inviting her to dinner. Not blatantly. Hermione had chuckled under her breath but hoped that Severus had not actually threatened a house-elf. To find that amusing would be going against her beliefs as figurehead for S.P.E.W: an organisation which Hermione had founded in order to stand up for the rights of house-elves.

But alas, at dinner time in the Great Hall, she excused herself,  complaining about a severe headache, and made her way to Severus's rooms. He let her in, embracing her softly as she had entered the room. He wore formal trousers as usual and had a deep green collar shirt on. She wore a cotton, maroon dress under her robes.

"I've ordered the best dinner. Only the best for my angel."

Those words had melted her insides. He was so very sweet.

After a small conversation on absolutely nothing, they both sat at his table to begin their feast for two.

A house-elf with huge, greyish-blue eyes popped into the room along with two silver platters. Hermione bombarded it with questions about the conditions of Hogwarts's kitchens and whether or not they were being paid enough. Severus raised his eyebrow and Hermione told him it was about S.P.E.W, and proceeded to explain, regardless of his pleas.

Severus was sat rigidly on his sofa in blissful torment. Hermione had decided that it would be fun, much to his dismay, to lay against the sofa and rest her head on his lap. The agony was torturous. He wanted her badly, skin on skin, flesh on flesh, mouths on mouths. How could a woman have such a hold on him?

"Severus?"

"Angel?"

"Why do you love me? What's so special about me? All the women you could have and you chose me, the know-it-all who likes house-elves a bit too much."

Severus laughed in a deep, velvet tone. Hermione sat up, leaning her small frame against his thin one. He knew for certain that she was mad, out of her wits, insane, barmy, more loony than Luna Lovegood, undeniably and totally off the trolley.

"All the women I could have!" He scoffed. "If it hasn't escaped your notice Hermione, I am the last man anyone could desire to have. Take a look at me witch! I have sallow skin, greasy hair, a sharp tongue, a stick-like figure and a sarcastic mouth which cannot resist tormenting others. Has it not come to you that maybe I should be asking that question? That maybe I should be wondering how anyone so beautiful, so calming and so, so better than I,"

He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. The pain, endless longing and the feeling that he was just baggage was overwhelming. How could she love such a man who had shielded himself from everyone causing hatred to be thrown his way? How was she not haunted by the heinous acts he had commited for the Order and The Greater Good?

"How anyone as pure you could possibly love me."

Hermione fought hard against the pool of tears that were forming in her eyes. Why was it that she could see the light in him but he only focused on the dark? Yes, she admitted to herself long ago that Severus had probably done regrettable actions but his heart must have been in the right place.