Not Yet (A Hermione Granger fanfic)

Chapter 20

A/N: Dear reader, I know you weren't happy with me for making the last chapter so short. But it just didn't go with this one, and I really wanted you to have it. I should have made the scene part of Chapter 18, but alas, it wasn't in the stars (or in my computer). To make up for frustrating you, here's a longer chapter. Sincerely, mjwho. ;)

********Chapter TWENTY*******

The twitter of birds outside wakes Hermione before it's really light. Severus is sleeping across the room, his back to her. Last night comes back to her in a rush, and her whole body flushes. She'd worried that she'd regret their actions in the morning, but her doubt was needless. In fact, she can't help but wonder if he's going to do it again.

Sixty seconds.

A whole minute.

What was that about? Was he worried about getting carried away? Did he really think their relationship that inappropriate?

Hermione sighs, then drags herself out of bed, padding over to the stove to make some tea. She sets the kettle on (rather hard) and then steps outside.

The camp is a mess.

The storm tossed everything about; limbs are down, the table (which they forgot outside) is overturned and sitting against a tree trunk. Everything is wet. And it's cold. Hermione shivers and accios her cloak from inside the tent.

A grunt and muffled curse from within. Hermione goes in to see Severus fighting with her cloak. It's wrapped around his back, dragging him toward the tent door. She must have summoned it just as he was getting up. Hermione stifles her laughter and goes over to help.

The cloak puts up a good fight, thwarting Severus's attempts to step out from around it. It's just gathering up around his neck, as if to escape him by going over his head, when Hermione grabs it. At her touch, it sags down onto the floor.

Severus glares at her. "Of all the . . . Couldn't have looked in before you summoned it, Granger?"

"Sorry," she say and grins. Not too sorry.

He raises an eyebrow.

"We're a little bit even now," she explains, "after that dragon dung potion you made me drink yesterday."

He smirks. "How are you feeling?"

"Ummmm . . . Good. A little bit in shock that it actually happened. And a little weird about it, but in a good way—"

Severus gives her a strange look that interrupts her rambling. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. "I meant your shoulder."

"Oh."

Hermione shivers, remembering why she wanted the cloak in the first place. She avoids Severus's gaze and makes a show of straightening and flipping it around. But he takes the cloak from her hands, and with it her excuse for meeting his eyes. He shakes it out and wraps it around her, his hands brushing her shoulders as he draws it around under her chin.

His hands linger just a moment longer the necessary, and an unasked question hangs between them.

Do we pretend like nothing happened?

They exchange looks, but neither is willing to bring it up, it seems.

Severus lets go. "So your shoulder is better."

"Yes, so much better I forgot I was even injured."

"Obviously," he smirks.

"Thank you again."

"You don't have to keep thanking me."

The kettle's whistling saves the moment from becoming awkward, and Hermione goes to shut it off. A couple of minutes of cleaning up camp, and then they are eating a cold breakfast at the table, stealing glances at each other when they think the other isn't looking.