He'd taken root in her mind like a stubborn weed: first he wedged his way into some remote recess, then was nourished by the occasional arguement and her desire for recognition of her talents. She was good at Potions, dammit! Ultimately he crept to the forefront of her mind, tendrils tangling her brain so that she could not quite think straight when he was around.
She'd catch glimpses of him in the main hall during meals or sometimes see his black form gliding around corners. Or at unbidden moments like now when she couldn't help but conjure him to her mind. It was usually the silly little things that bade her think of him, like certain herbs or scents. 'Or the gorgeous full moon outside the window,' she mused, turning from her homework with a sigh.
The moon was singularly bright. She wished she could walk with him, hand in hand beneath it...
Hermione slapped herself back to reality. She had homework to do. "He" was not just any boy, but a professor. One that did not seem fond of anyone, let alone a young Gryffindor. And she really had a lot of homework to do. Not to mention that he was at least twice her age and then some. Even though he moved so swiftly and gracefully. But his eyes displayed his age. Dammit, she had homework to do! And if either of her two best friends knew that she fancied "The Greasy Git," they would ... Well, she wasn't sure what they'd do or say. But it would be bad. But there was something about him, that was for certain.
Restlessly, Hermione's eyes refused to focus on her homework. Outside seemed nearly as bright as day under the illumination of the full moon; its light was rich and soft, practially begging her to come outside for just a little while. A little walk around the grounds wouldn't hurt she rationalized, as she slipped on her cloak and moved through the common room. Whether or not she'd run into him, exercise and fresh air would do her a world of good.
Ron and Harry were sitting by the fireplace, playing a game of Exploding Snap. "Hey, 'Mione," Ron called to her, "where are you going at this hour?"
"Just out for a walk," she called back airily, quickly disappearing through the portrait hole and down the hallway before either of the boys could follow her.
The view from outside was even more beautiful than merely seeing the moon through her panes. Hermione ran through the lush grass of the grounds, the crisp night breeze gently caressing her skin. This had been a very good idea, she decided. The sky was indigo, and there were still a few pinpricks visible despite the brightness of the moon. She flopped down on her back in the soft grass, simply admiring the night and letting her mind wander.
He was the first thing she found, naturally. He would come and lay beside her, and they would talk about anything and everything while just holding hands. Stolen moments were the sweetest after all; they could have a million moments like these and they would keep their relationship a secret until everyone else was ready to know...
"Like a moth to the flame," a voice cut into her thoughts. Hermione's eyes snapped back into focus to find a rather displeased Severus Snape - flesh, blood, and ebony hair - looming over her. "Miss Granger, I didn't know you were so foolish as to be prone to letting your mind wander like that."
Hermione gasped. How long had he been there? Had he been reading her thoughts? "Like...what, sir?" she squeaked.
"I simply mean that you would allow yourself to be so vapid and vulnerable, laying out here alone and staring up at a sky which will not do your homework for you. I believe I assigned you an essay that is due tomorrow?"
"I'm already done, sir," she smiled.
'Insufferable Gryffindor,' he thought to himself, trying not to admire the hue the moonlight cast on her skin. "Well, I suppose that you'd at least be able to tell me the main uses for asphodel?" Reaching into his pocket, Snape casually dropped a small blossom into her lap.
"Its one main use, as I'm sure you know, is that the flowers are used for drawing love to you." Hermione wondered at his choice of question, smiling to herself as she fingered the petals. She dared not breathe, or hope that this was a dream come true, lest it crumbled.
"Very good. Five points for Gryffindor."
"I... What?"
Snape contorted his lips into what could arguably be defined as a smile. "I would think that you - if anyone, Miss Granger - would recognize that most of my pomp and sarcasm is a direct result of the dunderheads that I am forced to interact with. You at least have some intelligence." He looked at her for a moment, following up his last thought by saying "though don't expect me to admit to that with any more than an audience of two nearby. But I would like to reward you for it when I can."
Hermione blinked. This was certainly a side of Snape she had never seen before. "Um... Professor..."
"Yes?"
"Thanks." She didn't really know what else to say, and was terrified of ruining the moment.
Snape nodded to her. "It's getting late, Miss Granger. It would be wise to return to bed before I am forced to enforce your curfew, and possibly give you detention." Neither knew whether the idea of detention was a threat or a promise.
"But it's so gorgeous out here!" Hermione protested. "Just look at that sky!"
"Yes, the moonlight was very useful for picking certain herbs by. But it's not good for much else."
"Oh, doesn't it make you want to walk with someone, holding hands-" Hermione cut herself off when she realized what she said. She had as good as admitted her feelings to Snape for the second time that night.
He raised an eyebrow to her. "Of all people, Miss Granger, I would have thought that you would be sensible enough to not become some moonstruck filly. I will pretend I didn't hear that and escort you back to the castle now. It is getting quite late."
Despite his pomp and sarcasm Snape offered Hermione his hand, helping her up off the ground. She took it and neither pulled away once she was standing. They headed back toward the castle; she shivered slightly at the energy flowing between them. "It is a shame to waste the moonlight," Snape conceded quietly before releasing her hand when they reached the main entrance. "Straight to bed with you now. Goodnight, Miss Granger."
"Goodnight, Professor." Hermione skipped off to bed, but when she got there her eyes refused to close.
'Thank Merlin for the little things,' she smiled to herself while hugging Crookshanks. He let out an indignant squeak when she squeezed him a little too tightly, but put up with her ministrations. He was purring almost as loud as Hermione was to herself.
