drabble (100 words) * female character * the morning after
A.N. - I listened to the song "Colorblind" by Counting Crows on permanent repeat while I wrote this piece. PLEASE listen to the song, too! It sets the mood for the story, which was only meant to be a hundred words, but ended up being a little over a thousand… Got a little carried away, but it's one of my favorite pieces that I've written. Hope you enjoy it!
The Morning After
Hermione slowly woke up in a room that wasn't hers, faintly aware of the fact that she was not alone in the bed. She remembered every part of the night before. She hadn't gotten drunk, and, in her memory, neither had he. She turned towards him, staring at his sleeping form, and a small smirk crossed her lips.
It had been pure hedonistic pleasure, and she felt a warm stirring inside of her as she continued to stare. Who would have thought that it would have been the two of them together? She had thought that it would have been someone else, a certain redhead, perhaps. But now she realized that it never would have worked. She slowly started to sit up, feeling her bladder telling her, urgently, to go to the bathroom.
She slid from beneath the covers, padded across the floor to the door, and quickly took care of her morning rituals, noting that they had made it to his room at Grimmauld Place, instead of her own.
As she walked out of the bathroom, she briefly wondered as to whether or not she should leave…and smiled. She slipped back beneath the covers, and then grinned as he shifted in his sleep and slid his arms possessively around her waist.
As a way of celebrating the end of the war it had been rather perfect… She honestly couldn't think of another way, and she had to admit that the two of them definitely deserved it.
She let herself settle a bit closer to him and relished in the heat that his body emanated.
But then the thought occurred to her…what if he regretted it? Would he wake up and be disgusted by what he had done? Sleeping with a previous student?
At that thought, she felt herself inwardly cringe and she silently prayed that he would not react that way. The truth of the matter was that she had no idea how he actually would react. She barely knew anything about him. And he barely knew anything about her, as well.
They were essentially strangers…but at the same time, she couldn't find any bit of the situation awkward.
His body had fit into her own just right, as had his hands against her skin.
Hermione slowly lifted her fingers to his lips, just barely caressing them, remembering how perfectly they'd molded to her own.
In every way they had seemed to complete each other. And now that she thought about it, they really were a rather good match. His Slytherin guile to her Gryffindor bravery, his icy cold fury to her own slow burning rage, his dark past to her potentially bright future, his pessimism to her optimism…though the war had tempered her down to realism.
They were opposites in just the right places, but they had just the right things in common to keep from bickering. They were both fiercely loyal, incredibly intelligent, and they both had an insatiable hunger for knowledge and experiences. She had watched him long enough to realize that he, too, had a driving need to find the true meanings and intentions behind everything, much the same way that she did and would always do.
He moved slightly and she found herself being tucked in closer to his body, and she smiled. Apparently Severus Snape was a closet snuggler.
He had a tendency to be very self-deprecating and seemed to have severe mood swings, which she felt that she could handle with her strong and willful nature. She wasn't blind to the fact that she could be a bit…emotional, but the both of them seemed to have learned patience along the way, which could only help.
That was when she realized that she was thinking about a relationship with him…did she want that after just one night with the man?
She looked over at his dark head and a soft smile crossed her lips at the sight that greeted her.
His hair fell back from his face, revealing his hawkish nose, but otherwise very elegant profile, which was graced with high cheekbones and a sensuous mouth. His face was relaxed, and for once she was able to see the youthfulness of his thirty-eight years.
Most of the time she had seen him stressed or angry, neither of which helped his usually dour countenance, but with all of that stripped away…she could see him.
He was striking, which for her was better than roguish good looks or a rock hard body. She had tried that before, and found it lacking.
His face suited his personality perfectly, and she couldn't help but touch his lips once more.
Severus Snape was brilliantly intelligent and had everything she idolized in a man. He reminded her of black coffee…rich aroma, heady texture, but with a harsh, bitter edge. But when you drank it, you savored the bitterness because without it, it wouldn't be what it was.
That was how she saw him.
Suddenly, he shifted in her arms and she watched with growing trepidation as his eyes fluttered open. Black eyes met with soft brown ones, and she held her breath as he realized who was lying in his arms.
He stiffened for a moment, but she let a smile cross her lips, letting him know her feelings, and he relaxed slightly.
They stared at each other for a long moment, and he finally spoke.
"Do you…regret it?" His voice was gravelly and she felt something inside of her break a little when she heard the uncertainty in his tone, as though he was expecting her to throw him from the bed, leaving him to find his dignity somewhere on the floor.
Another grin crossed her lips and she shook her head as well as she could while lying on her side. At that moment, there was nowhere else that she wanted to be. Something similar to a smile crossed his own lips and he moved slightly so that he was propped on one arm above her, his free hand touching her shoulder, his thumb softly tracing a small circle against her bare skin, and she felt a small spark from where they were connected.
He hesitated before breaking the silence once more.
"Neither…neither do I."
She reached up her own hand and covered his, rubbing her thumb reassuringly across the backs of his fingers, imitating his motions on her shoulder.
He leaned over and barely brushed her lips with his own, and even though they had just had a night of passion, it was the most intimate thing she had ever shared…and she was glad that she had shared it with him.
He pulled back slightly, giving her enough room to touch her fingers, yet again, to his mouth. He gently kissed them, almost reverently, and she felt an inexplicable urge to start shouting from the rooftops about what was happening to her. It was…an overwhelming internal feeling that she simply couldn't put words to, even with her own extensive vocabulary. She was frozen, unsure of what to do, but he chose for her, and pulled her to him in a warm embrace, allowing her to fit herself to his side as he sat up and leaned against the pillows on the bed.
He allowed her to wrap her arm around his torso, and she took the time to breathe and try to understand what was happening.
Was this what it was supposed to feel like? No awkwardness, just this sense of, of…of complete and total peace? It felt like everything in her life finally was where it was supposed to be…as though everything in her life had led up to that moment.