Hidden Within

Hidden Within

Chapter Five - Preparations

Hermione was torn between what she thought she should do and what she wanted to. She had completely lost track of time but, surely, it couldn't have been more than a couple of months since they had started this new type of relationship. Her mind had some trouble classifying it and, especially, classifying him, since 'Severus Snape' and 'boyfriend' simply didn't sound right in the same sentence. Still, even if it had been only two months, no one could accuse them of having been an ordinary two months; the complexity of their situation ensured that. And being in one another's presence for twenty-four hours a day was bound to give them a great deal more insight into each other than if they had simply been "dating" - another word that sounded peculiar when associated with him. All in all, Hermione was having trouble explaining to herself why it was that she believed she loved him. And, most importantly, was trying to decide whether or not to tell him. She knew she wanted him to know, but she was somewhat afraid of scaring him away. He had been nothing but tender and respectful of her, and as sweet as anyone could possibly expect Severus Snape to be. She found she liked him not to be sickly-sweet, as it was common with boys her age. It made every sweet word he uttered that more meaningful. She knew he liked her - he'd said that much - but how would he react to knowing she loved him? And they had been sleeping in the same bed for all that time, and he had never tried to... could it be that he didn't find her desirable, or was he stoically living up to his word? In the end, she decided it didn't matter. She could hardly scare him too far away, given their predicament, and it was possible he would like to hear it. Then there was the other issue. It had been she who had spoken about not being ready but now, after sharing a bed for so long, she didn't think she could be much readier. She simply wanted him, and felt frustrated beyond words that he seemed oblivious to her advances during the nights she pressed closer. Embarrassing as it might seem, it was beginning to be obvious that she would have to say it aloud if she wanted him to do something. Deciding that tonight would be as good a night as any other, she asked him to accompany her to the library, then to the kitchen for her to cook dinner. It had been his turn to cook, and he cooked infinitely better than herself but, if he found her request odd, he didn't say so. He did say it, though, when she asked him to look the other way as she cooked.

"Turn around? Are you perhaps afraid I might ruin the food by glaring at it?"

She laughed. "I wouldn't put it past you! Now, please, just humour me."

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'women' but complied. She was then able to place the cooking book she had fetched from the library on the table and began cooking, praying to the powers that be that it turned out alright. Let it never be said that Hermione Granger wasn't capable of properly executing something that was accurately described in a book.

Severus was finding all of this extremely odd, from her not having shown him the book she had wanted to get to her sudden desire to make dinner, especially since they had only just had tea. He suspected, however, that whatever her intentions were, he would know them before the night was over. She had operated a deeper change in him that he would ever be willing to admit, and that was saying something. For a man who missed his brewing desesperately - unlike their food, his ingredients' stock showed no sign of replacing itself, and he had reasonably decided that he would preserve them for such a time when they were truly needed - and was often cranky because of it, she always managed to make him feel almost happy. She always put up with him with a smile. It made him wonder what, throughout all the evil he had done in his life, he had done of so good that would grant him her. Someone who could make him forget all that was wrong in the world with a simple kiss. Someone who was actually willing to kiss him, for starters. There was so much he wished he could give her, and so little he actually could... Before he knew it, she was done, whatever it was she had cooked safely hidden in two large Tupperware boxes. The smug look on her face told him she had probably managed to do what she had set out to, especially since it remained plastered there until well after they had reached his quarters.

"Why don't you take a bath, Severus? I want to take one too before dinner, but I know I'll take longer than you, so..."

A bath? He had taken one just that morning, as she well knew, and as had she. What was she up to?

His expression made her want to laugh. He was trying to figure her out.

"Oh, and, while you're at it, why don't you dress something different? Just because we're trapped here, it doesn't mean we have to like it."

Ever since they had accessed that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, well before they had embarked on this relationship, he had abandoned his usual teaching robes in favour of plain black trousers and a black long-sleeved shirt. It was neither fancy nor intimidating, but rather practical. Tonight she wanted him to look special, but wanted him to decide what 'looking special' meant.

"'Something different'? I will figure out what it is you're up to, yet," he said as he left for the bathroom.

After having rummaged through his wardrobe, trying to determine what she had wanted with 'different', he settled for his dress robes, which were, unsurprisingly, black, showing just a glimpse of the white shirt he wore underneath at the neck. All things considered, not too different from his teaching robes, only more elegant. He gave himself an overall look on the mirror and despaired at his hair. He had just washed it - again - and still it hung, lank and lifeless as it always had been. It was longer than it once had been - he hadn't bothered to have it cut since the massacre -, falling just past his shoulders and, as an afterthought, Severus produced a black velvet ribbon and tied it, feeling considerably more pleased at the result. Whatever Hermione was up to, it had better be good.

While he had been locked in the bedroom, Hermione wasted no time. She set the table with a flick of her wand and summoned a bottle of the Headmaster's finest red wine, thankful for the old wizard's endless cellar. She felt a pang in her heart, reminding her painfully of how she missed everyone she had lost. At the same time, however, she felt absolutely sure that, after everything that had happened, the Headmaster would approve. He would have been happy that Severus wasn't alone in the world, that he had someone to love him. She lit the fireplace and transfigured two quills into candles that she then lit as well. Everything had to be perfect.

Severus chose that time to announce he was ready, and he was amazed to see Hermione dart past him, in an obvious attempt not to look, and lock herself up in the bathroom with a shouted "Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right out." Resigned to his inability to understand the workings of the female mind, Severus went to the living room, where he was once again surprised. All the setting she had created made shivers run down his spine. The table was set, the fireplace was cracking invitingly, and the two lit candles lent the room a deliciously intimate atmosphere. He wondered if she was aware of how much she meant to him. Since he wasn't likely to get an answer to a question he hadn't asked aloud, he settled on the sofa after having poured himself a glass of wine. He had the feeling she would be well worth the wait.

Hermione had always been a practical girl. She usually didn't take long getting dressed, and she wasn't one to fuss over jewellery or make-up. Which was why she managed to surprise even herself when, after having tried on each and every one of her clothes that they had brought down from Gryffindor Tower, she could settle for none. She resorted to transfiguration, grateful for the skills Professor McGonagall had taught her, and for the new ones imparted by Severus, but still she was dissatisfied. For her to be able to transfigure something, she had to have a precise idea of the result she wanted, and that was proving to be the main problem. Finally, she sat down with a quill and some parchment and made some sketches of possible outfits. When, at last, she found The One, she combed her hair into an elaborate knot that allowed a few curls to come cascading down her neck. Yes, this was more like it. She only wished she had a necklace to go along. She had never wanted any kind of jewellery more than a new book, and so she didn't have any - she had been fortunately surrounded by people who chose to give her what she waned instead of what they thought she should have. Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes. Would they ever manage to leave Hogwarts? Were her parents alright, would she ever see them again? She firmly shut the door on that particular train of thought. Tonight was to be a joyous night. At least she hoped so. Of course, if Severus ran from her after hearing her confess her love... No! Damn the blasted, elusive, interfering little thing that was, for lack of a better word, haunting them! She would not fear this, she would not waver. He was damn well worth the risk. Practicality, Hermione, my girl, practicality. Hence, jewellery. Not the world's most logical deduction, but suited for the occasion. She thought for a moment. Transfiguration never worked right on jewellery when it came to her; ironic as, in a field where she excelled, everything she tried to turn into fashion accessories had a fake touch to it. She decided to forget about the necklace and put on her perfume, glancing at the mirror. The dress she was wearing was fully muggle, a beige, low-cut dress that revealed her shoulders and collar bones completely but only a minute amount of cleavage. It had long, loose sleeves that only began below her shoulders, and it hugged her form until it reached her waist, where it then loosened gradually, ending at her feet. Even the slightly heeled shoes she was wearing were only visible when she walked. She only wished her neck wasn't so naked... she had just given up when she had a sudden inspiration. In a flash she transfigured a clean sock into to produce a satin ribbon to match the colour of her dress and placed it around her neck. She was finally pleased with the end result. She placed just a touch of a brownish crimson lipstick, grateful that transfigured items did not retransfigure themselves at midnight - especially considering she had no idea when midnight actually was -, and left, a knot firmly placed in her stomach.

---

Had Severus known that, in female language, "I'll be right out" was a synonym to "Please try not to die of old age while you wait for me", he might have had different thoughts about her being worth the wait. Since he didn't, however, he had only just begun reconsidering when she walked in and, after that, all semblance of rationality abandoned him. He had told her she was beautiful before but, in all honesty, it wasn't an above-average beauty; her other qualities had been far more appealing to him, her intelligence, her wit, her loyalty, her courage, her sense of humour, her honesty... Tonight, however, she was much, much more than beautiful: she was wonderful, she was exquisite. He would never again see her as 'of average beauty'. He became suddenly aware he had been staring, mouth wide open, for more than a full minute. He shut it promptly and rose from the sofa, taking her hand.

"Hermione, you look... beautiful." Nice one Severus! You've been alive for thirty-eight years, women have mocked and scorned you for twenty-two of those years and, when one is foolish enough to go to all these lengths to please you, all you can say is 'You look beautiful'? Why, oh, why didn't you just die first?

Seemingly oblivious to his lack of eloquence Hermione smiled, an open, warm smile. "Well, you don't look so bad yourself." Arms encircling his neck, mouth kissing him deeply. Severus shuddered imperceptibly when he felt her that close. He drew back hastily, hoping she hadn't felt his obvious arousal. "Shall we eat? I must confess, my curiosity has been eating away at me as to what it is you cooked."

She nodded, a bit disappointed. Could it be that she provoked no physical reaction whatsoever in him? She wished not.

She turned out to have cooked two simple but delicious steak au café. Severus could now confirm that, once guided by a book, there was nothing Hermione couldn't execute perfectly.

Despite the quality of the food, dinner turned to be a tense affair. Hermione was trying to muster up the courage to tell him what she felt - she still hadn't decided whether to start with 'I love you' or 'Do you want to make love to me?' - and Severus was picking up on her nervousness and feeling even more nervous himself for not knowing what was causing it. She obviously had something to say, but what could it be? He calmed himself down with the thought that, if she had wanted him out of her life, she wouldn't have gone to all that trouble so, whatever it was, it couldn't be bad.

The food was eaten and Hermione sent the dishes to the kitchen with a flick of her wand. It was getting harder to delay the moment.

"Severus..." This was it.