The Burning Pen

A New Beginning
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 28

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 28 ~ Dinner at Snape’s


The week went by swiftly and Hermione was feeling a bit apprehensive. She hadn’t seen the Potions master since the night he invited her to his home to celebrate with a formal dress-up dinner. Hermione had been to parties before and celebrations, but she didn’t have much experience with meals like this. Ron wasn’t particularly into sumptuous repasts though he liked to eat. Lobster was certainly sumptuous. Hermione had only had it a few times. It was quite expensive. Now she could afford it but it hadn’t crossed her mind until the Professor demanded to know what her favorite food was.

Now she stood in front of her mirror naked, staring at her body. She wasn’t too bad off, though perky breasts were a thing of the past as well as slender hips and thighs. Ron had liked her body just fine.

”Hermione, you’re beautiful. You just have plenty of cushion for the push’in,” he’d smile down at her before making love to her.

Sweet Ron.

Well, the Professor wasn’t going to see her naked, though he would see her in a nice dress. Maybe she should glamour her breasts just a bit. Make them stand up a little more so the dress would fall properly. Maybe she could trim down her hips and buttocks too. Just a touch.

Hermione didn’t allow herself to think exactly why she was doing this, why she was so concerned with her physical appearance, appearing more attractive. She told herself she just wanted to make a nice presentation. The witch had no idea Snape had already had a good look at her in the exercise room when she got into the Jacuzzi and thought she looked just fine as she was. He was a mature wizard after all, and appreciated a full figure although technically he’d never gotten his hands on one. The prostitutes were all curvy, enhanced little trollops, more geared to suit a wizard’s fantasy rather than the reality. Hermione was the real thing.

At first, Hermione thought about transfiguring a set of robes into a Slytherin green dress, but felt that would be overkill. She settled on a nice royal blue, sleeveless and slightly form-fitting. She cast the glamour and looked at her body, spinning around and examining herself critically. Yes, her lines were a bit sleeker.

She pinned her hair up and applied a touch of make-up, then added a silk shawl that matched her dress, and a pair of low heeled royal blue shoes. Some faux sapphire earrings topped the ensemble off. She didn’t know why her stomach felt so queasy. She hoped it would stop before she sat down to dinner. She wanted to be able to enjoy the lobster.

She had taken a final spin when a heavy knock sounded on her apartment door. Hermione stood there for a moment, unable to move until the knock sounded again. Taking a deep breath, Hermione headed for the door and opened it, looking up into the rather sober face of Professor Snape.

He was dressed in a nice set of black dress robes with countless buttons running down the front of it, and when the light hit it right one could see serpents embroidered in the fabric. His hair was less greasy-looking than usual, and he smelled quite nice though Hermione couldn’t quite identify the spicy scent.

Snape’s dark eyes washed over Hermione. She looked lovely, but rather . . . rather slimmer in some parts. Her chestnut hair was pinned up with tendrils framing her face and she wore make-up. Not too much however, which the wizard appreciated. He liked natural.

“Good evening, Hermione,” the wizard said to her.

”Good evening, Professor,” Hermione replied, feeling awkward.

“Are you ready for lobster?” Snape asked her.

Hermione nodded, though her stomach didn’t feel any better. The wizard offered his arm.

”Come along then,” he said, “Our dinner awaits.”

Hermione self-consciously took the wizard’s arm and he walked her through the building and out the front door, the female voice identifying them as they left.

Suddenly, Snape scooped Hermione up into his arms, the witch’s arms going around his neck reflexively as he held her as if about to carry her over a threshold.

”I believe carrying you this way will be easier on both of us,” the wizard purred at the surprised witch. “Locomordres!”

Hermione gripped him tighter as he lifted off, zooming toward the star-filled sky, Hermione clinging to him as they flew toward the mountain. Hermione had forgotten to put on her cloak and was cold. Instinctively, she shifted closer to Snape’s warmth.

“You live on the mountain?” Hermione asked him, the wind whipping around them.

“Yes,” the wizard replied, adjusting his hold on Hermione when he felt her shivering, “You forgot your cloak.”

”Yes,” she said, “I wasn’t thinking.”

”Nor was I,” he said, speeding up.

Finally he landed on a ledge halfway up the mountain. All Hermione could see was a rock face. The wizard sat her down, strode up to the mountain and opened a door. Light flooded out and Snape quickly escorted the witch in.

”Welcome to my home,” the wizard said as Hermione’s eyes fell on a room filled from floor to ceiling with books. Some of them were extremely old.

”Your library,” she breathed, “From Hogwarts.”

”Yes,” the wizard said, pressing a hand to Hermione’s back and walking her in. “I couldn’t leave my books to Hogwarts yet. Maybe after my demise.”

Snape watched as Hermione walked over to the shelves and examined the titles, letting out little gasps here and there at the rarity of some of the titles. Some of the books were banned by the Ministry.

“Amazing,” Hermione breathed, greatly impressed.

So, she liked his book collection. Snape mentally stored that little fact away. It could come in handy later on.

“Perhaps I will let you peruse a book or two after dinner,” the wizard said to her.

Hermione turned to him, an excited glow in her eyes.

”Oh, would you, Professor?” she asked him.

Snape smirked.

”Perhaps. If you are good company at dinner,” he replied.

Hermione gave him a smile. Her stomach felt much better after seeing all the books. She felt comfortable around books. It took the night back to a cerebral level, a level she could deal with.

“I’ll be good company,” she promised, taking his offered arm.

Snape walked her through another door, through his living room where there was a fireplace, two chairs and a couch, more shelved books and a large Slytherin crest on the wall. Then they entered the dining room.

A beautiful spread was laid out. Obviously Snape took the lead and the theme was definitely seafood. A lovely five-pound lobster with cracked tail and claws rested on a platter surrounded by small potatoes, a large bowl of clarified butter next to it, but there was also several selections of shrimp cooked in various ways, fish, steamed and fried with chips, two dozen oysters with condiments, a plate of corn on the cob and a large bowl of green salad.

A bottle of wine, a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a pitcher of what appeared to be apple juice rested on the table as well, the wine magically chilled.

“Oh, everything looks so delicious!” Hermione exclaimed as Snape pulled out the chair for her, let her sit and pushed the chair in. He walked around the table and sat down opposite her, pulling out his wand and lighting the candle centerpiece, then lowering the lights. Soft classical music rose in the background.

Hermione stared at the candlelight, listening to the soft music and suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable as the Potions master looked across the table at her, his dark eyes glittering. They sat there for a minute or two, saying nothing. There was something in his eyes . . .

The wizard drew in a deep breath. He was about to speak.

Hermione tensed.

“Well, just don’t sit there, eat!” Snape snapped at Hermione, pulling the oysters toward himself. “The food’s going to get cold. You can only warm seafood so many times before it gets unpalatable.”

Hermione frowned at him for a second, then secretly smirked, pulling the lobster toward her. She didn’t know why she felt so uncomfortable. Professor Snape certainly wasn’t trying to sweep her off her feet. If he were, the gods help him. The witch relaxed and dug into the lobster tail, spearing the white succulent meat, swirling it in the butter and blissfully consuming it.

She chewed as Snape watched Hermione covertly as he prepared his oysters.

”Oh my gods, Professor, this is so good,” Hermione breathed after swallowing her first forkful.

”I’ve never cared for lobster,” the wizard replied, pausing to slurp down an oyster from its shell. No crackers here.

“No accounting for taste,” Hermione replied, digging in again.

They ate in silence for a while, Hermione finishing the lobster tail then gathering shrimp, vegetables and salad on her plate. She surveyed the table.

”You know, some flowers would have been nice as well, though the candles are quite pretty. Roses. But, you don’t like roses, do you Professor?” Hermione said, opening up conversation.

”No, I don’t,” the wizard replied tersely.

Hermione looked at him. The wizard was frowning into his plate.

”Do you mind telling me why, Professor? I mean, I know people have particular tastes, but I distinctly remember you blasting roses on several occasions. Most people just . . . ignore them,” the witch said curiously.

Snape looked at her as if trying to decide whether or not to answer her. Apparently, he decided he would.

”It is quite juvenile really,” the wizard said slowly, “I witnessed James Potter give Lily Evans a single red rose one afternoon, and she kissed him on the mouth for it. I’ve hated them ever since.”

Hermione wanted to say, “Awwww” but knew it wouldn’t go over that well. Still . . .

”You really cared about Lily, didn’t you, Professor?” she asked him softly.

”Yes. Yes I did. I would have done anything for her,” the wizard said with a sigh, “Unfortunately, she didn’t feel the same about me. I thought . . . I thought no one else in the world would ever be able to understand me like Lily did. Yet, in the end . . . she didn’t understand me at all. I can’t fault her. I didn’t understand myself.”

Hermione looked at him, not wanting to pry but wanting to know.

”Has there ever been anyone else, Professor?” she inquired.

”No, Hermione. There was no room for anyone else. Lily had my heart, even after her death. My heart was full of her and rage, bitterness, the need for revenge. Even . . . even jealously,” he said.

Hermione blinked.

”Jealousy? After her death? I don’t understand, Professor,” Hermione said, blinking at the wizard.

Snape wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at Hermione.

”Yes, jealousy. But it wasn’t toward Lily per se, but her son. Harry,” the wizard said, his dark eyes reflecting the candlelight.

”Harry?” Hermione asked, puzzled.

”Yes. Harry. Every time I looked at him, I looked at a boy who I felt by rights, should have been my son,” the wizard admitted, “And it was painful. He was a constant reminder that Lily wasn’t mine, no matter how I felt about her.”

”Oh, Professor,” Hermione said, her eyes glistening.

Snape’s features sharpened.

”I don’t need your pity, Hermione,” he snapped at the witch, “I only needed to face reality. And I’ve done that, finally. I realize now that Lily was nothing more than a dream, a fantasy that I clung to, a reason for living rather than Life itself.”

”That wasn’t pity, Professor, it was sympathy,” Hermione shot back at him, a bit angry now.

“Sympathy is just a more pleasant word for pity,” he responded, putting some shrimp on his plate.

Hermione didn’t say anything. Suddenly Snape looked up at her.

”And how are you dealing with the loss of your husband?” he asked her.

”I’ve come to terms with it,” the witch said shortly.

Snape studied her.

”What does that mean, exactly?” he asked her.

”It means, he’s gone on and I have to live the best I can,” Hermione replied, “It’s what he would want for me.”

Snape nodded.

”Do you think you will ever find another love?” the wizard asked her, hoping his voice was as steady as he tried to make it.

“I . . . I really don’t know, Professor,” the witch replied, putting down her fork and looking at him, “When I saw Ron, he told me he didn’t want me to go through life alone. That he wanted me to keep myself open to the possibility of loving someone again. He said someone else might be able to benefit from my love. I promised him I’d try to do that, though I’m not looking for anyone.”

Snape nodded, poking a shrimp between his lips and chewing thoughtfully. Hermione focused on him.

”Do you think that you’ll ever find love, Professor? You loved Lily for a very long time,” the witch asked him.

”I don’t know, Hermione. I’m not exactly out and about,” the wizard replied, “There isn’t a large selection of witches to court. Only you at this point.”

Hermione flushed at this.

”Maybe it’s time for you to return to the wizarding world, Professor. Stop hiding,” she said to him softly, “Then you’ll have plenty of opportunities. You’re a hero and well off. Witches will go gah-gah over you.”

Snape snorted and bit off a bit of potato with mild violence.

”Go gah-gah over my wealth and fame more than likely. I might as well keep paying for sex,” he hissed, then suddenly his eyes widened as he realized what he said.

Hermione blinked at him.

“Paying for sex?” she repeated hollowly.

Shit. Well there was no other way to fix this than be honest.

”Hermione, I have been alone for more than two decades. Over that period, there have been times when I desired female companionship for … for carnal purposes. So I have utilized the services of Madam DeChay from time to time. As a mature adult, I hope you can understand that,” the wizard said to her.

Hermione looked at the pale wizard. Stuck here, alone, hiding out from the world. Yes. Yes, she really could understand it.

Hermione nodded.

”Yes, I can imagine what it was like for you,” she said to the wizard, then, “Do you . . . do you still . . . er . . .utilize Madam DeChay’s services?”

”Not lately. It isn’t a usual indulgence by any means. Only when . . . when it’s necessary,” Professor Snape said.

Hermione forced herself not to think of the wizard’s body and his . . .

”What about you, Hermione? You are still a young woman. Do you ever feel . . . lonely?” the wizard asked, then hesitated, rephrasing his question. “Perhaps lonely isn’t the proper word. Do you ever wish for male contact?”

Hermione colored. How had they gotten on this topic? Oh. She started it, asking if he still used Madam Dechay’s services. Damn.

“No,” she said.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

”No?” he asked her again.

“Well, I just haven’t thought about it. Ron’s gone, and he’s the only wizard I’ve ever been with,” Hermione said, “I’ve never had . . . had casual sex. I loved Ron.”

Snape nodded.

”Indeed. And I’ve never had anything but casual sex,” he said, looking at the witch, “It’s hard to fathom what you and your husband shared. I imagine however, that isn’t something that can be reproduced for you with simple physical intimacy. You would require more. Perhaps, that’s why you haven’t thought about it.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione murmured, feeling out of sorts. She fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Snape perceived they had discussed this matter far enough for one night. At least he knew that she was supposed to be open to another relationship. Whether she would be or not was the question. It was rather clear she wasn’t now.

“All right, enough discussion about our love lives or lack thereof,” he said briskly, “Are you ready for dessert?”

“Yes,” Hermione breathed, relieved they were off this topic. She hadn’t meant to discuss anything so intimate with the wizard. But he had been surprisingly open. “What are we having?”

”Cheesecake,” the wizard replied.

”Eli!”

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A/N: Ah the first meal together. I hope I approached it right. I couldn’t see Snape being obvious with Hermione at this point. He doesn’t want to appear foolish and is feeling her out. I had to laugh when I imagined him yelling at her to eat rather than saying something terribly romantic. He didn’t even compliment the way she looked. Lol. He’s got a lot of work to do in the courting arena. Thanks for reading.

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