Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery

Chapter 41 ~ The Split

The next few days showed a cessation in snarky activity between Severus, Raucous and Hermione. Crookshanks however was still on the prowl, waiting in dark hallways for the Professor to pass, sprinting out and rubbing against his robes, leaving an amazing amount of cat hair. He also left moist gifts for him in various places in his potions classroom, such as his chair, his parchment drawer and under his desk. Severus showed a surprising amount of restraint. He took the cat’s actions as a kind of penance and stayed true to his word. He didn’t hex the cat and was very careful where he stepped, sat or what he slipped his hand into.

Raucous had ceased attacking Hermione. His master’s emotional condition naturally affected the bird, and although Raucous felt no guilt, he did know that his continued attacks on the witch had somehow come back to hurt his master. He didn’t want to make Severus’ situation worse. So when an unsuspecting Hermione passed by him, her shining chestnut hair begging for decoration, Raucous resisted his urge to plant one on her, and let her pass unscathed.

Hermione went about her duties as usual. Potions class was difficult. Severus called on her to assist him, but no longer gave her horrible duties to piss her off, choosing to handle the grossest jobs himself. He caught himself watching her marking papers, her amber eyes lowered in concentration as she did so. Every now and then her eyes would lift and meet his, but only for a moment…then return to whatever she was doing.

The Potions Master tried approaching her to talk, but she always told him, “I’m not ready, Severus,” and walked away.

Severus was frustrated, but he had no one to blame but himself. Not only did he miss fucking the witch, but also found that he missed her conversations and the intellectual arguments they engaged in. She was brilliant and challenging. He had to come with strong logic in order to win any concession from her that he was right. The Potions Master also missed her warm silences. Sometimes after he engaged her, she wouldn’t fall directly to sleep, but would lay beside him quietly, twirling her finger in his hair, facing him as he lay on his back, satisfied, his eyes closed and listening to her breathing. He could feel her love wash over him at those times, and it comforted him.

The Potions Master had returned to his old solitary ways of spending the evenings, grading papers, showering, dressing for bed and sitting in front of the fire. His thoughts would turn to Hermione, and he thought that if he could get hold to her, he’d like to fuck her slow and easy, face to face, tasting her lips and feeling her shudder in his arms as she orgasmed. Watch those amber eyes heat up and soften as she looked up at him while he buried himself inside her, getting as close to the witch as was humanly possible.

Severus was sorry for what he had said to her. For how he had made her feel. He wondered if it was because he hurt her or because he missed her that he felt so badly. Was it true remorse or selfishness again? Were they finished? Would she ever look at him with love again?

It was equally hard for Hermione, if not more so. She was hurt, but she still loved the Potions Master. She knew in her heart that he had not meant to hurt her, that he had said something to her that wizards had been saying to witches from the beginning of time in order to get under their robes. But it didn’t hurt any less.

Maybe it had been unreasonable for her to demand that he not hex Crookshanks when she blasted Raucous ever chance she had when he attacked her in some way. Maybe she was trying to control the wizard to some extent, attempting to force him make a real concession for her and show her what she felt mattered. Maybe that’s what she had been reaching for, hoping to happen, rather than talk to him directly about how he felt about her. She was afraid of driving him away if she did.

But now, they were apart anyway. And she missed him. Missed his passion, his manipulative ways…the hunger in his eyes when he took her. But he had questioned her love, tried to use it against her to get his own ends. But…wasn’t that what he did anyway? He didn’t love her, but fucked her because she loved him.

But no…it was more than that. Maybe initially he decided to take advantage of her feelings for him. She had wanted him so badly and he was a man after all. To be honest, she had worked on him until she seduced him to do exactly what he was doing to her. Hermione had put no conditions on Severus…she was just thankful to be with the dark wizard, that he let her into his life to that extent. Yet there was a difference in him now when he took her. He was still very dominating, demanding and rough with her, but there were more moments of connection, when she could feel him drawing her close with something other than lust. She could see it in his eyes sometimes when he felt her slipping towards orgasm beneath him, a kind of tenderness beneath the rage of his possession. It mattered to him how he made her feel. It mattered to him that she wanted him. She was sure of this.

Her body craved him as well. Some nights she ached for him and was tempted to knock on his door, asking for admittance to his rooms and to his bed. Wanting to feel his hands on her body, his lips on her skin, his cock beating out an age-old rhythm inside her. Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Hermione asked herself this question thousands of times. She could tell he missed her and wanted her back in his bed. It could be that despite her acceptance of the wizard as he was, she really wanted more. Her love for him wanted an answering love, and had asserted itself. But that wasn’t part of the deal.

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One evening Hermione walked behind Severus as he headed for the dungeons. The Potions Master was so deep in his thoughts, he had no idea she was behind him. There was a small high ledge against one wall in hallway. The witch witnessed Crookshanks leap from this ledge, land on the Potions Master’s back and shred his robes straight down to the floor, fleeing down the hall before the dark wizard.

Hermione watched as Severus drew his wand, pointed it at the cat, then faltered, lowering it then returning it to his pocket. His pale hand reached around his back and felt the torn fabric and he sighed loud enough for her to hear, then continued on to his rooms. It was when he stopped to let himself in that he noticed her, his dark eyes leveled at her for a moment, then turning back toward the door as he let himself in wordlessly, closing the door behind him. He had given up approaching her. She always turned him away. If he had tried this time, she would have talked to him.

Hermione scowled as she let herself in her rooms. If Raucous had done even a quarter of the damage to her that Crookshanks had done to Severus, the raven would have lost some tail feathers at least. She had noticed the raven didn’t bother her any more. It was as if the bird also honored the split between them. Only Crookshanks continued, harassing the Potions Master at every turn. But the cat got his due from Raucous one morning as he slunk across the grounds.

Raucous had swiped a water balloon from some students and dropped it on the unsuspecting cat after he had shit just outside the Potions Master’s door, and Severus, running late, stepped on it and slipped, falling painfully against the office door, hitting his head. He had been forced to return to his rooms and tend to his cracked head and smeared robes before he could continue with his day. Crookshanks deserved more than a soaking.

Hermione began to watch her pet more closely and saw exactly how much the cat troubled the Potions Master. Hermione would have turned him into a furry cap if he did half as much to her as he did to Severus.

She made a decision.

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Severus noticed that he hadn’t stepped in cat shit for nearly two days, nor had he been covered in cat fur, or pounced on.

He saw Hermione leaving her rooms one morning, steeled himself for rejection and called out to her.

“Hermione, a short word please? Nothing personal, just a question,” he said, preparing for her to walk away. But she didn’t. She stood in front of her doorway looking at him.

“What is it, Severus?” she asked him.

The Potions Master’s heart leaped in his chest. She wasn’t avoiding him. He walked up to her quickly, forcing himself not to intrude on her personal space.

“Are you heading for breakfast?” he asked her, “If you are we can walk.”

Hermione nodded and started walking, the Professor at her side.

“I’ve noticed my doorway devoid of cat shit the past couple of days. I was wondering if Crookshanks was all right,” he said.

“Crookshanks is fine,” she replied, “I took him back to my parents’ flat. I liked his company but it really wasn’t working out.”

“I see,” Severus said, inwardly relieved the aggravating cat was gone. The creature had been getting on his last nerve and he had seriously been considering making it disappear.

The couple continued walking in silence.

“How is Raucous?” Hermione ventured, “I’ve also noticed a lack of bird shit in my hair.”

“Raucous is fine. I imagine he decided to give you space because of the situation between us,” the Potions Master said, “Raucous really isn’t all bad.”

Hermione said nothing, but thought Severus might be right. Crookshanks continued in his harassment of the Professor, but Raucous had given her a break.

“You know, he does it for me,” the Potions Master said quietly.

“Does what?” Hermione asked, not understanding.

The Professor looked at her. The witch felt her belly warm at his dark gaze. She had missed those eyes. She swallowed and looked straight ahead.

“Raucous harasses you because he knows I like to see your dark, vindictive side come out. It appeals to the Slytherin in me. That’s also why I never stopped him. I liked seeing you enraged and on the hunt,” he confessed. “Raucous brings out the Slytherin in you, for me. He helped me see there was more to you beneath your Pollyanna surface.”

“Pollyanna? I was never a Pollyanna!” Hermione said, outraged.

Severus’ eyes glinted a bit.

“I see that now. I just didn’t see it then. There were a few instances when you were a student that made you appear to have a backbone, but it might have been a collective fluke. You were always so pleasant, so willing to please …” he said.

“What do you mean? I argued with you about my grades constantly,” she snapped at him, “and took you to task about taking house points from me more times than I care to remember.”

“I took your bravado as a combination of impertinence, coddling by other teachers and youthful stupidity. You lost more points than you won back whenever you confronted me…though I have to admit, you had an admirable temper, though were quite easily cowed,” he said.

Hermione was becoming quite animated

“Easily cowed? I was not ‘easily’ cowed! I had to back down then, you were a teacher,” Hermione seethed, “I would have hexed you on several occasions if I wasn’t worried about being expelled for it.”

“Really?” he said silkily, as if he didn’t believe her.

“Yes, really,” she retorted, her brows forming an angry border above her eyes. “I hex the hell out of you now when you piss me off, don’t I?”

He looked at her for a moment. Then stopped walking and turned to face her. Hermione stopped and looked at him.

Severus put his hands up, his black eyes focused on her.

“I wish you would hex me now Hermione,” he said softly, pointing to the space between his eyes, “hit me right here with a blast. Two blasts. Three. It’s less than I deserve, but hopefully it would satisfy you enough to give me at least a chance to try and fix what’s wrong between us. It would certainly be less painful than what you are doing to me now.”

Hermione stared at the wizard offering himself up for punishment.

“I don’t want to hex you, Severus,” she said softly, starting to walk again.

Severus caught up with her.

“What can I do, Hermione? To make this right? To make you come back to me? I am willing to do just about anything. You have no idea how you haunt me, no idea how the emptiness inside me swallows me down every night. How the darkness inside me tries to force my hand to come to your rooms in the dead of night and abduct you against your will just so I can feel you around me again, hear my name dripping off your lips, sweeter than honey. I miss you, Hermione. I realize I hurt you, and I am so very, very sorry I stupidly questioned your love. I didn’t want you to deny me. Not even for one night. It was an idiotic thing to do, but…but…strong emotion will make one say things they don’t mean to say,” the Potions Master said.

Hermione looked at him.

“What kind of strong emotions, Severus?” she asked him.

Severus blinked at the witch several times, and swallowed, running his finger around his collar. It was getting hot in the corridor.

“Emotions, Hermione. Strong feelings,” he said, nervously.

Hermione sensed that he was hedging.

“What kind of feelings are you talking about, Severus?” she pressed, her heart beginning to pound.

“Desire. Need. Fondness!” he said with relief. “Yes, a deep abiding fondness.”

“So, you have a deep, abiding fondness for me?” she asked, a bit skeptically.

“Yes. Very deep. Very abiding,” Severus agreed, his heart feeling hopeful. He could feel sweat on his brow.

Hermione lifted one eyebrow at the perspiring wizard. Then she stopped walking, put her hands on her hips and faced him.

“Severus, I have NEVER heard of a deep, abiding fondness in my life! What is that?” she asked.

“It’s what I feel,” he replied, “a strong preference for you, a powerful inclination, a liking for you, a great regard.”

“You sound as if you are reciting from a dictionary. You haven’t said the right word yet, Severus,” she replied.

The wizard paled. He looked scared to death.

Hermione had never seen him look like that, and gave him a small smile.

“Don’t worry. It’s not ‘Love.” she told him, though she felt a tiny ache inside.

“Not yet anyway,” she thought.

Severus visibly relaxed. Love. That was a big, big word. One he still couldn’t wrap his lips around. His brow furrowed as he looked at her, trying to figure out the word, thinking if he did, maybe they could begin again.

They started walking again, the Potions Master deep in thought. Hermione was waiting expectantly…hopefully as she walked beside him. She hoped he would figure it out. She missed him. She just needed this one admission.

They turned into the Great Hall in silence, then down the corridor that led to the staff entrance.

“Affection,” Severus said.

Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide.

“What?” she asked him, her heart swelling.

“I feel affection for you, Hermione. A strong affection that puts you before all other women,” he said, hoping, almost praying that was the word that would loosen her resolve. “I haven’t felt anything for a woman in many, many years.”

He looked at the witch, and his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry it’s not a stronger word,” he said gently, “but it is all I have at present, Hermione, and much more than I began with when you came to me. I began with lust. Only lust. It is significantly different now. Can you accept my affection, Hermione? Will you?”

Hermione looked at him. Looked at the intense, sincere look in his dark eyes.

“Affection is good,” she said quietly, giving him a wan smile and opening the staff entrance and stepping through.

Severus stood there a moment, the door swinging closed.

What did that mean? Her reply sounded good, but was it acceptance? Had she taken him back? Why were women so fucking oblique?

He walked into the Great Hall and had his breakfast.

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Severus didn’t see Hermione for the rest of the day, and decided that maybe affection wasn’t enough for her. He could have said he loved her, but it would have been a lie. He didn’t want to lead her on with a lie, no matter how badly he wanted her back in his bed.

The end of the day found him sitting in front of the fireplace, dressed for bed and sipping a firewhiskey. It was still early, only about eight o’clock, but he had nothing left to do. He had marked all the student parchments, and did lesson plans for the next month. He had no more filler left. So he stared into the flames, sitting side by side with his loneliness.

There was a knock on his office door. He scowled. It wasn’t nine yet, and probably some pain-in-the-ass student wanted a word and waited until the last minute.

He set his glass down, stood up and made sure his robe was tied securely, then walked to his study wall, opened it and stalked into the office. Whoever the student was, he’d be sure to give him or her a good dressing down for waiting so late to come to his office. He pulled the door open, his face black.

Hermione stood there, in her night robe, her wand in her hand.

“Affection is good,” she said quietly, looking up at him.

Severus blinked at her a moment, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. Then his pale hand shot out, caught her by the arm and yanked the witch into his office before she could get away.

Then he closed, locked and securely warded the door.

It wouldn’t open until morning.

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A/N: An abiding fondness?? Lol. He danced around the L word with all the finesse of a flamenco dancer, didn’t he? Well, they missed each other. I couldn’t keep them apart. We need growth, and more lemons after all. Please review this chapter. Thanks

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The Burning Pen

Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery
by Ruth Solomon

 

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence. Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately. You are not welcome here. The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 42

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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