Chapter Text
It was the first week of December, and the festivities at Hogwarts were already in full swing.
Large, beautifully decorated trees lined the Great Hall, while cheerful Christmas songs echoed from the suits of armour, stood to attention in the corridors. Tinsel, twinkling lights and evergreen garlands hung from the ceiling, while magical snow gently drifted down in the deep stairwells.
And, as was to be expected, the students’ excitement was already ramping up. At this trajectory it would become nearly unbearable, before the holidays finally began.
Professor Hermione Granger picked her way along the hallway, swaying to avoid the rushing crowd of loud, rambunctious children.
“Don’t run, please!”
She called out in vain, at the back of three Ravenclaws, disappearing up the corridor.
She glanced down at her watch, letting out a little breath of surprise, when she realised how close it was to dinner time. Clutching the marked assignments she had in her arms to her chest, she picked up her pace, pushing past another gaggling group of girls.
Finally able to escape the crush of the main throughway, she turned into the quiet cloister, that led towards her Arithmancy classroom. Her long, dark green skirt catching against her legs, as she took long strides.
Looking down, she caught at the heavy wool, holding it a little out of the way.
And found herself brought to a sudden stop with an oof, her armful of essays fluttering to the floor around her, as her shoulder and side collided with the shoulder and arm of another, very tall person. She knew instantly, from the unique, musty smell of him, just who it was.
And it only took another split second – as she glanced sideways at the arched doorway they’d both tried to pass through at the same time, as she looked up in horror, above them – to understand just how much worse her day had suddenly become.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered, tiredly.
“Language, Granger,” he sneered.
Knowing she couldn’t put off the inevitable, she crossed her arms across her chest determinedly, in the foot or so of space, between them. She disliked having to tilt her head back to look up at him.
Her annoyance only growing at the smug, amused smirk, on his drawn, craggy face.
“Don’t try me, Snape,” she warned, quietly. “This is the last thing I need, today.”
His diversion was clearly visible, the smirk on his lips getting a little wider, but only on one side. It was surprisingly distracting, stood as close as she was.
“No need for dramatics,” he told her, gesturing with his hand at the papers around them. “It won’t take you long to sort them again.”
He was speaking the truth. She only needed to cast a quick spell, to recover her papers. But that wasn’t the main issue, as they stood here, in this doorway. And his grating, pedantic tone, like she was still a student of his, was getting right up her nose, as per usual.
“The essays aren’t the important factor, here,” she countered, hotly. “And this wouldn’t have happened, if you’d have been paying attention to where you were walking.”
But her attempts to scald him only seemed to amuse him more, much to her annoyance.
“You’re the one who seems overly perturbed, by such a minor situation,” he retorted, his tone airy, infuriating.
The fact he considered the situation they were in to be minor was unsettling, to say the least. She felt the tenseness in her jaw, couldn’t seem to relax it, her teeth grinding.
“The fact you can be so flippant is equally unnerving,” she bit back.
He actually laughed then, damn him. A deep, rich chuckle, the sound of it absolutely fascinating, surprising her.
Though how he could laugh at such a moment was beyond her.
“If it’s that important to you, I shan’t insist on an apology. You may go, Professor Granger.”
Stepping just a little to his side, and gesturing again, with his large, slim hand.
All of a sudden, she realised that he didn’t know. That she found herself with the upper hand. And for the first time since she’d dropped her papers, she started to see the humour in the situation.
“Oh, no,” she said, managing to keep her face straight. “After you, sir.”
The honorific really wasn’t needed. She’d not called him that in a long time. But it added, immeasurably, to the pleasure of this moment, as she carefully stepped aside to let him pass.
The smug way his smirk slipped even wider, his jaw tilting up arrogantly as he strode confidently forward, was the icing on the cake. He was instantly knocked back with a shower of sparks, the force surprising him, his legs scrambling and his long arms waving wildly, barely staying on his feet. A breath of laughter escaped her. She couldn’t help it.
“What the –” he exclaimed.
Putting his hand out, gingerly touching the invisible barrier in front of them, gently enough that it didn’t spark.
And, finally, he thought to look up.
She watched him, amusement positively welling in her, as he stared up at the large bunch of mistletoe, laden with milky berries, tied with red and green ribbons, above them.
And she couldn’t help another giggle escaping her lips, as he stared at her with wide eyes, looking up at the mistletoe and back at her again, as he finally understood the full weight of their predicament.
His forehead furrowed into a very deep frown.
“You’re laughing?” he asked, his tone cold, cutting. “At a time like this?”
Her shoulders were shaking so much she could barely speak.
“Yes!” she managed, gasping.
His annoyed frown got deeper, his forehead furrowing, as he glared at her. She pressed her palm to her lips, in a desperate attempt to stifle her immense amusement.
“This is no laughing matter,” he snapped.
“I beg –” she hiccupped, “to disagree.”
The situation strangely delightful to her, now, his obvious annoyance to be expected, from a Scrooge like him.
He never was able to see the funny side.
But her giggles died rather quickly, as he took another step, voluntarily colliding with the magic surrounding them, testing it. The barrier was briefly visible, in sparks of green and red, as it shrunk in around them, as it had done the first time he’d bumped into it. Slipping across the floor, taking almost a whole inch, from the precious foot of space, still between them.
“Stop moving,” she told him, firmly.
To his credit, he instantly froze, at her tone.
“It will keep shrinking, if you knock it,” she said.
He stared at the invisible wall behind her, his head shaking distractedly, as his dark eyes gazed up at the offending bough, above them.
“What is it, even? A Balfour trap?”
She shook her head, quickly.
“No, Diablo Snarus. With a shrinking proximity perimeter, and an unbreakable modification.”
He shook his head again, slowly, still looking up.
“Dear Lord,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “Whoever would approve such a thing?”
She gave him a rueful smile, and opened her mouth to reply. But he’d guessed anyway, speaking just before she did, his deep voice washing over her.
“Albus.”
He rolled his eyes, when she nodded, in confirmation.
“I should have known. As if this holiday wasn’t ridiculous enough, without risking the bodily safety of the students.”
He took a deep breath in, his shoulders rising, and let it out in a frustrated sigh. She wasn’t sure what to do or say, then, and it seemed to be the same for him. They stared at each other, for a short, but very charged moment.
“Surely you can do something to get us out of this,” he said, then.
“Me?” she retorted, indignantly.
Bringing one hand up to her chest, in a disbelieving gesture, and inadvertently knocking her elbow into the invisible forcefield.
“Goddammit,” she cursed.
As their cage shrank again, another sliver of precious space, disappearing. She crossed her arms against her chest, again, carefully, as she glared at him.
“Why do I have to come up with a solution?” she asked him, frankly. “I can guarantee you have more experience with snares than I do.”
He was frowning at her again, and she could feel herself frowning back.
“Diablo Snarus is an algorithmic curse, is it not?” he asked, witheringly.
She drew her lips into a firm line. He quirked an infuriating eyebrow, at her.
“Yes or no?”
She glared at him a moment more, before she answered.
“Yes.”
At least she wasn’t cowed, by his trademark look, as he scowled at her. In fact, these days, in only made her want to punch him in his stupid, mocking face.
“And, if I recall correctly, you are an Arithmancy professor, yes?”
It was even more annoying that he was right, damn him. Her teeth were grinding, again.
“Yes,” she repeated, muttering.
He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to. His smug smirk said enough.
She felt a curl tickling at her forehead, and she puffed it back with an exasperated sigh, as she glanced up at the innocuous-looking plant. Her mind working, as she recalled the equation for Snarus curses, the functions racing in her mind, as she pictured the potential patches. After a few moments, an idea came to mind.
“If we can find out the perimeter’s frequency, we could maybe disrupt it, if we tune our severing spells to match,” she suggested. “We could maybe tear a hole. But it will be hard, since the frequency will change, if the circle decreases again.”
“Then don’t knock it,” he snapped, unhelpfully.
She couldn’t help scowling at him, again. He seemed unfazed.
“How do we find the frequency?” he asked her.
She just about managed to stop herself waving her arms, in frustration.
“I have no idea,” she snapped back, just as frankly. “I don’t happen to have an oscillostone in my pocket, right now.”
His dark eyes stared into hers, as he considered something. His cutting retort, no doubt.
“Oh,” he said, instead.
His tone odd, like something had surprised him. He drew back, as best he could in the confined space, and he slipped his left hand inside his robes and into his front trouser pocket.
“I might have one, actually,” he mumbled.
And then it was her turn to be surprised, as he pulled a handful of large, unwieldly objects, from his deceptively sized pocket. He shuffled through them awkwardly, slipping an hourglass and two pencils into his right hand, as he poked about.
“Aha!” he said, then, obviously pleased.
Reaching out towards her. She looked at the jumble of things in his hands, not seeing what he’d apparently seen, an oscillostone at precisely the right moment, as unlikely as that seemed. She held her hand out, and after another awkward few seconds of fumbling, he managed to drop a smooth, white pebble, into her palm.
She stared at it, couldn’t help it, was blinking in surreal disbelief, as he slipped the rest of his random collection back into his very deep pocket.
“I can’t believe you have this,” she murmured.
Her fingers stroking idly at the smooth surface, and a wry smile on her face, as she considered how very pathetic they were being, at this moment. To be trapped in this situation, and working to find the most complicated of solutions, between them.
“But we might as well try it out, now we’re here,” she added.
Carefully withdrawing her wand from her sleeve, she tapped the stone to wake it, and cast a couple of spells, to calibrate it. When it was ready, she very slowly, very carefully, reached out her hand, the stone clasped between her fingers.
“Careful,” he said.
Suddenly, surprising her, and her hand jerked enough for the stone to just brush the forcefield, sending off the merest of small, red sparks. Luckily, the small circle barely shrank, this time.
She glared at him, over her shoulder. He raised his hands, palms up, in what seemed to be a gesture of admission. Almost an apology, unheard of, from him.
Turning back to her task, she held her breath, as she slowly reached her hand out again. Focusing intently, as she felt the subtle hum of the invisible magic, as she got close. Gently, very gently, she pressed the edge of the stone against the proximity spell, and – thankfully – it didn’t spark or shrink.
The magic of the spell flowed through the stone, showing on the smooth, white surface, as a single line of cyan light, wiggling in a tight wave form. After a moment, more light gathered, in a small collection of symbols.
Her mouth moved a little as she muttered, functions and calculations whirling in her mind, as she converted the reading.
“Two-hundred-and-twelve hertz,” she said. “It probably needs to be so high, to appear invisible. But it seems stable, for now, at least.”
She looked up at him, surprised again, at how close he was. She was momentarily sidetracked by the smell of him, of laboratories and maleness, and the woody scent of his mellowed aftershave. The hint of his smile – well, smirk – still lingering on his lips seemed to reach his eyes, as he held her gaze, and nodded at her.
“Alright.”
He reached inside his robes for his wand, too, taking a moment to push back the long, rather cumbersome sleeves of his robes. The clear sight of the line of black buttons, along the tight cuff of his black jacket, the long sleeve not quite covering the white of his shirt beneath, the line of both against the top of his pale, attractive hand, did something strange to her insides.
“I’ll try a Causus Severus,” he suggested, smirking again. “It seems fitting.”
She grinned at him.
“Is that one of yours?” she asked.
“No,” he said, coldly, his smile disappearing.
She covered her mouth with one hand, to hide another grin, as he got ready to cast. But she couldn’t help holding her breath again, and he muttered the spell, the bright yellow light of his magic hitting the barrier with barely a spark.
For a moment, it seemed to be working. She could see the spell cutting into to the barrier, a small slit of the unimpeded corridor beyond, beginning to show.
But though his spell was as expertly cast as was to be expected, his modulation of the frequency obviously perfect, she saw the edge of the yellow spell flicker, for a split second.
Only a split second, but it was enough, to cause the barrier to spit a few sparks of red and green, the perimeter shrinking a little, the frequency changing along with it.
The forcefield reacted instantly, shockingly, red and green sparks chasing around them like lightning, the small space they were in starting to shrink alarmingly.
“Stop!” she cried. “Stop!”
But Snape had stopped casting before she even spoke. Despite that, sparks of his Causus Severus still burned in the glitching barrier, yellow light sparking with green and red. Panic raced through her.
“The frequency is still fluctuating,” she gasped.
Feeling the proximity spell pressing insistently at her back, the soles of her buttoned boots sliding across the floor, as she was pushed closer to him, bit by bit. Though that was the least of their worries, right now.
“It could go critical!”
If the severing spell and proximity spell continued reacting, it could collapse in a chain reaction, almost certainly destroying anything inside it.
Including them, being pushed, unavoidably, together, the last few inches between them disappearing.
In a moment of desperation, with no other idea coming to mind, she cast out the universal inhibitor. The potent name of the rune that meant nothing, the power of zero.
Miracle of miracles, it worked, the buzzing sparks around them diminishing, disappearing, in flickers of light. The only indication of the barrier spell still around them, was an almost silent, menacing hum.
And the fact that they were, awkwardly, very much in each other’s space, barely an inch between them. She swallowed, as she stared at his neatly tied necktie, desperately trying to stop her body from brushing against his.
“Don’t move,” he said.
His deep voice washing over her, louder, now he was so close to her. Her body was trembling with the strain of staying still, her knees feeling wobbly for some reason, and she couldn’t help shifting. She gave a little squeak, as her elbow bumped the perimeter.
And she squeaked again, as she felt his long arm wrapping around her waist, tugging her closer, the last of the distance between them disappearing, as the circle got even smaller. She wrapped her hands around his skinny torso, beneath his robes, holding on tight, so she didn’t accidentally knock the damn thing again.
He leant his palm, gently, against the magical barrier, just above her. Pressing back, like he could stop the spell from shrinking further, with the sheer force of his will alone.
“I said, don’t move.”
His voice so deep it cracked, his hot breath chasing against her ear and her neck, as he leant into her. As they leant into each other, trapped, in this confined space.
But she didn’t have to worry about following his instructions, now.
She was suddenly, absolutely still, frozen in place by the unfamiliar warmth of his body, seeping through his many layers of clothes. Was hypnotised, by the feeling of his arm around her waist, his big hand spread across her back.
Swallowing again, she looked up, and met his deep, dark stare. An intensity to it she wasn’t used to, a humanness about him, that made her breath catch.
“There’s…”
She hesitated, her voice rough, her throat dry.
“There’s another, obvious solution, that would get us out of this bind,” she managed, eventually.
His dark stare positively burned into her.
“I’m very aware of the fact,” he murmured.
She could swear she felt his arm tighten, just the smallest fraction more, around her.
“It’s a choice I’ll leave up to you,” he added, quietly.
But it wasn’t really a choice, was it? They didn’t seem to have any alternative, after all, other than hoping someone might find them in this rather scandalous position. Which sounded decidedly unappealing.
While the alternative, on the other hand, seemed – inconceivably – the complete opposite.
She studied him in the pressing moment of silence, his nose, his lips, the fine lines at the corner of his eyes. The way his dark hair fell against the side of his face on one side, as he leant forward, looking down at her. Meeting his eyes again, desire chasing through her, very aware of precisely who he was, and very aware of what she was considering doing with him.
He seemed amused, again, his wry smile pulling at the side of his mouth, as his dark brown eyes searched her face, too. Seeming to be able to read her emotions, in whatever mad look she had on her face, as they considered each other.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Granger?” he asked her.
His smile slipping a little wider, as he leant ever so slightly closer, his dark gaze lingering on her lips for a moment, before meeting hers again. Fire burned through her, at the look in his eyes. She slid one hand around to his chest, resting it against his heart, feeling his deep, shaking breaths.
“Yes, or no?” he whispered; his voice low.
God, it’s Snape, she couldn’t help thinking. It’s Snape, asking her if she wanted him to kiss her.
And there was only one answer.
She slid her hand up to his shoulder, her heart absolutely racing, in her chest.
“Yes,” she whispered.
The word barely leaving her lips, before he pressed his against them, and the last of her breath left her in a little mmph of surprise. Her eyes fluttering shut, as his hand slid, deliciously, into her hair, and he angled his head. She went with him, her mouth opening, pleasure burning down her spine like fire, as her tongue met his with a soft lick.
Then she couldn’t think at all, other than how long it’d been, since anything in her life had felt like this. Fire burning in her, between them, as their kiss became instantly hot, desperate. Wondering if she’d not been honest with herself, when it came to him, drinking down the taste of him, a hint of spearmint. Wondering if this might’ve been creeping up on her, without her noticing. Because now it was happening, she really didn’t want it to stop.
Luckily, he didn’t seem to want to stop any time soon, either. His arm definitely tightening around her, now, as he pulled her against him, his lips never leaving hers. She ran her hands up into his hair, and lost herself in him, in this moment, absolutely exceeding anything she ever would have imagined.
But it had to end, eventually, and she gave in to the inevitable, as the kiss ended, their lips dragging slowly.
She took a tiny, wobbly step backwards, as she tried to find her balance, staring up into his dark brown eyes.
Then she took another step back, only another little one, when she realised she was no longer confined.
“Oh!” she said.
Putting her hand out, no longer meeting an invisible, magical forcefield, reaching out into the corridor instead. He did the same, his hand palm up, a smile pulling at his lips.
Their eyes met again, and they smiled at each other, softly.
But then she was taking a small step towards him, as his dark gaze focused very obviously on her lips, once again.
And the distance between them disappeared for a second time, as they pulled each other into another kiss.
This one was different from the first, one, though. It started slower, softer. She tried to breathe, as his lips teased hers, the pleasure instantly back again, chasing through her, but softly, this time. In waves. They lingered in it, together, this feeling that was completely unexpected, almost overwhelming.
And though it started slow, it was inevitable that this kiss would get more heated, too. Their hands switching from slowly stroking to grasping, clinging, as they held on to each other. Her body was burning for him, aching, needing to be touched, taken, something she’d not felt in so, so long.
She broke this kiss, had to, keeping her eyes closed as she panted for breath. She felt him rest his forehead, gently, against hers.
Slowly, lazily, she opened her eyes. Finding her vision mostly filled with his large, unmistakable nose.
And she suddenly realised what the fuck she was doing.
----------------------
Severus was starting to wonder if perhaps a cauldron had exploded in his classroom and rendered him unconscious, without his knowing. Wondering if perhaps this wasn’t all some sort of sordid dream.
But no, his dreams weren’t like this, like her, right now. So real, so warm, her breath chasing pleasure across his skin, as she kissed him deeply.
Feeling drugged, hypnotised, as she ended their kiss. He couldn’t help but lean his forehead against hers, as he fought for breath. He opened his eyes, had an unhindered view of the fiery amber of hers.
And, in a horrible moment of clarity, the reality hit him, all at once.
Who he was.
Who she was. This was Granger, he recalled. This was…
He pulled away from her, felt her pulling away from him, at the same time. They both took a step back, and then another, putting more distance between them.
But he couldn’t stop staring into her eyes. Watching them staring back at him, with a look of absolute horror on her face, an expression he fully suspected was mirrored on his own features.
A horror that was only increasing, with each excruciatingly slow second, that was crawling past.
He swallowed against his parched throat. It didn’t help.
“I –” she started, trailing off.
But it seemed to break the spell between them, at least, as she awkwardly brushed her – now messily arranged – curls behind her ear, and quickly stooped to collect her wand, which had ended up on the floor, somehow.
He remembered the feeling of both of her warm hands in his hair, her fingers chasing against his scalp, his painfully hard cock still uncomfortably arranged in his boxers.
Feeling so sick with guilt he felt he might throw up.
She didn’t look at him, as she cast a spell to collect all of the scattered papers around them, and he watched the furious blush on her cheeks, as she gathered them together in her arms. He tried to think of anything that he could possibly say, and came up short.
This was a fucking mess, that’s what it was.
More than a mess, a thing he instantly wished had never happened, knew he would continue to regret for the rest of his days.
“Well,” she said.
Casting a last quick, awkward glance at him.
And without another word, she tipped up her chin and left, striding with an impressive pace, along the draughty cloister.
He couldn’t help thinking how awkward it would keep being, from here on out. Their conversation hardly easy to begin with, and destined to be close to non-existent, now. He dreaded the idea of inadvertently running into her in the staffroom, with witnesses present.
Dreaded, more, the idea of having to explain himself, if asked.
Having to explain how much he didn’t want her.
He brought his hand up to his forehead, rubbing with his thumb and forefingers, his breath leaving him in a deep sigh.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, tiredly.