A Stolen Glance
Pairing: Severus Snape / Hermione Granger
Summary: A Josh Groban Song Fic of "So She Dances". Severus Snape spies on an unsuspecting Hermione with interesting results. Short one shot from Severus's point of view. Angst/UST
Author's Note: JK's world and not mine…oh Josh Groban's song and not mine either. You guys know the drill…Hope you enjoy. I intended it as a one shot to warm up after a hiatus but review and let me know if you think I should continue. I know song fics are on the corny side, but this song's undercurrent of sexuality begs to be written of…its on his new CD "awake"
I don't know why I give into that old coot. It could be that insufferable all-knowing twinkle in his eyes, or his dratted good opinion of anything that breathes. No matter the reason, it is his fault I am chaperoning this bloody graduation ball. It is his fault I must suffer to watch her dance in the arms of peers, unfortunately Weasel and Wonder Boy Potter most often. They don't deserve her—in any sense. My eyes trace her every moment, every gesture as she bides the boys farewell to wander in my alcove of solace near the far west windows of the great hall. She sighs happily upon seeing she was alone, and begins to lose herself to her imagination. Unwilling to watch but unable to walk away, I see my angel begin to dance alone to the soft waltz drifting from the main dance floor.
A waltz when she walks in the room
She blows back the hair from her face
She turns to the window to sway in the moonlight
Even her shadow has grace
Merlin, she makes solitude so beautiful. How she twirls in the moonlight, the chiffon of her dress clinging to her delicate figure. With lithe steps and fluid motion, she glides in the arms of her imaginary partner through an imaginary crowd. Watching her from the shadows, I can hardly see the bossy Know-It-All child that once plagued my teaching career. The only resemblance is her massive hair, simply now tamed into a river of unruly auburn curls. The rest of her finally caught up with her maturity and a elegant woman took the place of the young girl I taught with that name. I hardly remember her before now; I hardly remember anything at all. Time is this moment. Life is watching her dance.
A waltz for the girl out of reach
She lifts her hands up to the sky
She moves with the music
The song is her lover
The melody's making her cry
I can't remember the moment or the instance when my feelings for Hermione began to develop into something inappropriate for a teacher to feel for a student. The potential was always there as I refused to subject myself to the Dark Lord's silly pureblood logic. I was a follower of reason, and blind ignorant hatred simply diminished my intelligence. I appreciated her ambition since her annoying debut, but if I was forced to narrow my emotions, these began the evening she tripped into me on her way from the library. Sounds innocent, but it stirred very improper feelings in my very soul. I knew the girl was clumsy, but I could never imagine a single stair could result in her body pressed flush to mine, my hands encircling her petite waist. For at that instant, I was forced to realize what I refused to admit since the evidence was physically on me. She had the curves of a beautiful woman. Paralyzed in a torrent of emotion, her youth finally ran away with her mouth—resulting in a flurry of apologizes that ruined the moment.
So she dances
In and out of the crowd like a glance
This romance is
From afar calling me silently
As graduation neared my harmless affection has bloomed into a full-fledged obsession. She invades my dreams, my fantasies now. I can just feel myself hardening as I remember my most recent "encounter". The mere thought of her soft full lips delicately wrapped around my length, bringing me to the tip of ecstasy with a throaty moan, could powerfully arouse me at given moment. It made teaching her potions class quite difficult as you can imagine. It is her hands I feel stroking me, her name I cry out. I don't know how I let it get this far. She is unattainable and should be. I could never darken her sweet purity with my tainted past. The Dark Lord may be dead, but his hold on his followers is still strong. The Dark Mark brands far more than an arm. We all joined young, so he formed certain aspects of ourselves we could never rid…mine was a sexual appetite quite frightening as I have heard in many occasions.
A waltz for the chance I should take
But how will I know where to start?
She's spinning between constellations and dreams
Her rhythm is my beating heart
Yet I watch her absorbed in the music, absorbed in her dance, absorbed in the steady pulsing motion of my hand pumping my now painful erection through my robes. I wonder, I wonder. It is risky, but I must take action after so long a silence. I must do something or be smothered by it.
So she dances
In and out of the crowd like a glance
This romance is
From afar calling me silently
I will. I must. Heaven damn us both. I must have her…or at least try.
I can't keep on watching forever
I give up this view just to tell her
Silently I approach her. With each step, my resolve strengthens. Bugger our age differences, that I am her teacher, and that we are from opposing houses. Haven't I attoned long enough has the Order's lap dog! Don't I deserve some attempt at happiness minus convention! As I drew closer, her passion is my aide. She sways with her eyes closed, oblivious to my pressence. Wordlessly, I assume the place of her invisible partner, gently taking her hand and pulling her close to me. After she registers the touch imagined to be real, her eyes fly open in fear. She has reason to fear me, I have done nothing to merit trust in her eyes. Fear I can rely on however, to quickly lead to passion. I do the only thing I could to make her understand. I step forward. I begin to lead her through the steps of a more complicated and sensual waltz, but a waltz none-the-less. My eyes capture into hers, wordless pleading she understand. She does.
When I close my eyes I can see
The spotlights are bright on you and me
We've got the floor
And you're in my arms
How could I ask for more?
We whirl together like one being with two hearts. Her skill is in step with my own, trained through many years of Pureblood balls and a dancer-mother's devotion. With her by my side, I have never felt so complete in my life. Through one simple moment in time, Miss Granger offered my existence a meaning it lacked for quite some time. We don't share love, affection, or even friendship. We simply know each other, yet she comfortable yields to my steady control, my strong embrace. Although the gentle melody soon fades and is replaced by some muggle rock trash, I am unable to release her. Our feet cease moving, but my mind is racing. I need the feel of her in my arms to last me for a lifetime. I never expected her to accept my hand so, for once in my life, did not calculate the next course of action. She must have because she does not struggle or look on in fear. Her hand, my angel's hand, slowly strokes my cheek and single-handedly stops time.
So she dances
In and out of the crowd like a glance
This romance is
From afar calling me silently
She kisses me. Not a chaste closed-mouthed kiss or the passionate dueling of lovers, her tongue gently teased my mouth and heart for entrance. This was a kiss to be reborn in. Love and the sweet purity of young lust sung through my veins as she tenderly explored my mouth with her soft gentle motions. It gave me hope, intoxicating my senses and my logic. I pulled her tightly to me, daring to trace my hands on the soft small of her back, exposed by the dress she wore. She had stroked a flame from mere embers, now my hope was will could keep it from raging into an inferno.
I can't keep on watching forever
And I'm givin' up this view just to tell her
I could make her learn to adore me. I could show her love by worshipping at the altar of her lanky hourglass frame. I could for her. Only she could cast away my sadistic dark sexual tendencies with one smoldering glance. The smoldering glance she threw my way as her eyes widened at the hardness poking her stomach. Granted I barely noticed as I was blushing like a schoolboy—praying Albus would leave us the hell alone and she would not be disgusted a man old enough to be her father was getting off on the closeness of her presence. Even through I longed to stroke her hot core, to taste her innocence, to see if I was affecting her as she did me, I refrained. I respected myself more than to debase myself to an action fitting for a Malfoy, taking advance of a young woman. She quickly entangled herself from the grasp and fled, but not before her hand firmly brushed the prominent bulge near my trousers. A light touch would have been accidental, but her pressure made it intentional. I watched her flee from the dark, smiling. She had shown me through one seemingly innocent action to an outsider all that I needed to know. Hermione Granger would be mine, and I would love her like no other on earth.