Contemplation
By Tycho
Disclaimer: These characters all belong to J.K Rowling. No infringement is intended and certainly no money being made.
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Hermione watched the eastern sky grow slowly brighter through the broad windows of an unfamiliar room. It had always interested her that this pale light that heralded the coming of the sun was so reflective of the inner nature of human beings. If one was to wait just a little longer, to look past the first impression gained on meeting someone new, then one could find that who that person truly was. That there was far more to them than you initially thought, and that they were worth far more than your scorn and dislike. Perhaps they were even worthy of love?
Hermione turned her head to look at the man sleeping peacefully next to her and gave a soft smile. Yes. This man was worth her love, and she hoped she was worthy of his. Watching the rise and fall of his chest she cast her mind back over the past months to try and determine when exactly it was that her feelings for this man had changed. She distinctly remembered her opinion about him at the end of the previous term: that he was stern, unsociable, curt to the point of rudeness, unreasonably biased. In fact, at the time she would have been hard pressed to say something nice about the man. Except that he was competent, of course. He was, after all, a Master at his craft.
She would have liked to have thought that it was some climactic event that triggered the events of the previous night, or perhaps the result of some long repressed passion on both their parts confessed in the heat of argument. But, alas! Such things were the subject of fiction, and sadly damsels in distress and unrequited love fared poorly in real life. Instead, theirs had grown slowly and unnoticed with no sudden declarations of love or those awkward moments brought on by an accidental touch. Rather it had been about . . . comfort. And being at ease with each other.
Again Hermione smiled. Who would have that I would be describing Severus Snape as comfortable? Not anyone who knows him, that's for sure. And certainly not I, that first day.
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Hermione Granger, the new Head Librarian of Hogwarts, stood outside a door she'd once hoped to never have to approach, and yet now was her salvation. Within resided a being that regularly terrified young children and gave the older ones pause. Even she, at the age of twenty eight, did not relish crossing that threshold. And yet she must, for she could not bear the alternative. Hermione was, of course, about to enter the personal rooms of Professor Severus Snape. Gathering her courage, Hermione raised her right hand, curled it into a light fist, and rapped sharply twice on the oaken panel. A moment later, the door opened perhaps a foot. The room within beckoned, so she took a deep fortifying breath and entered.
Had the room been empty, most would have considered it to be spacious, especially for a bachelor living alone. But it was so cluttered that there seemed to be very little space at all, as if nature truly did abhor a vacuum and wished to fill it with anything that happened to be handy. At second glance, perhaps cluttered, was the wrong word to be used. Oh, admittedly there were books and scrolls and devices and Merlin knows what else scattered (and in some cases piled) all about, but they were arranged in such a way that it seemed as if everything had its place and everything was in that place. Which, considering the owner, was probably accurate and may all the gods help anyone who dared disturb that order. The phrase organised chaos seemed to fit best.
In fact, if one looked closely, one could see the pathways that intricately wound themselves around the furniture and between the four doors crowded by bookshelves. And it wasn't as if there was no space at all, more that the room was just very full and space was a precious commodity. A fact that seemed supported by the room's occupant as he seemed to unfold himself from the deep armchair he'd previously been ensconced in to greet his visitor.
"Yes, Miss Granger? What can I do for you?"
Well, at least he's being polite. That's a start, isn't it? "I was wondering if you'd like some company, Professor Snape? I've barely seen you in the two weeks since the end of term, and what with all the other staff absent I thought you might . . ." Hermione trailed off, recognising that argument as a lost cause.
"Are you afraid of being alone, Miss Granger?"
He'd seen right to the heart of the matter, of course. Hermione sighed, "Not so much being alone. I've spent entire months without seeing a single solitary person. As long as I have my books I can survive that. But before, there was always the sense that other people were around. But Hogwarts is such a huge place, and even larger when it's empty. Sometimes it's like you're the only person in the entire world, like everyone else had just up and left without telling you. Heh. Which is probably just the way you like it." Hermione turned and made to leave. "I guess I am just afraid of being alone. I'm sorry for bothering you. You probably think I'm just a silly fearful girl . . ."
"Nonsense, Miss Granger." Hermione turned to find Professor Snape clearing a stack of scrolls off the armchair across from his own, "I may not like people very much, but even I need human contact from time to time. Please, sit. Pull out whatever book I'm sure you have with you and sit down." He perched the scrolls on an already precariously full shelf and resumed his own seat. "As long as you don't interrupt my own work, I don't mind keeping you company."
Hermione was momentarily stunned, then quickly remembered herself. Manoeuvring herself to the chair, she sank into its embrace and simply said, "Thank you."
With a slight smirk, he replied, "Your welcome."
Hermione withdrew the not-so-slim shrunken volume from a pocket in her robes, enlarged it, and lost herself within the pages.
Hours later, Hermione finished reading. Placing the now closed book on the arm of the chair (she didn't dare disturb the contents of the side table) she stretched out the kinks that come from being in one position for too long. A common occurrence for anyone who spent long hours involved with a book. Glancing across at her companion, she noted that he was still smirking, before catching a glimpse of the clock behind him. "Oh, my! It's after nine! We've completely missed dinner!"
"Nevermind, Miss Granger. Missing dinner is a common enough past time for me that the House Elves usually keep something on hand for when I finally determine that I need to eat. I daresay that they would be willing to do the same for you. Shall I call up some dinner for us?"
"Oh, yes please. If it's no trouble."
"Not at all." He snapped his fingers twice and gave a few instructions to the house elf who appeared. The creature seemed somewhat disturbed by the constant smirk that the Professor was maintaining. For that matter so was Hermione. A smile of any sort was an unfamiliar sight on the face of the Potions Master, and for one to have been there all day?
As they sat down at the small (and now uncluttered) table, Hermione finally grew tired of not knowing the reason for her companion's apparent good humour. "It would appear that you find something amusing, Professor Snape. Care to share the joke?" she asked him archly.
"As you wish. Since you walked in here today, I've been envisioning Minerva's face upon her return."
"Oh?"
"Yes, the look she will give me when she finds out that it only took you two weeks to seek out my company will be priceless."
"Oh?" Hermione said again, frostily.
"Yes, you see Minerva usually only lasts about three days." He deadpanned.
The ice melted and Hermione couldn't help it. She chuckled.
Snape continued, "Why do you think she encouraged you so much to stay on this summer? It was so that she wouldn't have to."
"Is she really that bad?" Hermione asked in disbelief between bites.
"Well, let's just say that the first summer I spent here was also the first, and only, time Minerva attempted the cute and cuddly cat routine with me."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Only time? Professor Snape! What did you do?" She struggled to stifle the amusement that threatened.
"I refuse to go into details, only that it involved about a bucketful of water. Without the benefit of a bucket."
"Oh, you didn't?"
"I did. Mind you I didn't come away unscathed."
"She didn't scratch you did she?"
"Only with the sharp side of her tongue. I learned to curse fluently in Scottish that day. Although I must say I don't know where she learned it from. It must be the influence of those dreadful Gryffindors she associates with."
Hermione wasn't sure whether or not to laugh or be offended. Eventually she chose the former, but resolved to get in a good dig about Slytherins later.
And so the remainder of the evening passed, until Hermione determined that she was sufficiently tired to retire to her own chambers. She made her apologies to her host and made to leave. As she reached the door, she turned and said, "Thank you, Professor, I must say I enjoyed this visit."
He nodded in return, "Likewise, Miss Granger. And anytime you feel the need, or even the desire for my company again, feel free to drop by."
Author's Note: After having the persistent memory of having read this somewhere I instead discovered that I had written it on New Year's Eve while disgustingly drunk. As a result I have no real idea as to how it was going to get from where it began to where they obviously ended up. I don't think I can finish it but it is too good to leave in my W.I.P. folder. Of course if anyone thinks they can complete it, feel free to let me know.