Author's Note: Welcome to another of my crazy stories. I promise an eventual happy ending but plenty of angst...I tried to minimize the angst, but unfortunately, it's just the way I write. Thank you for reading and let me know what you think! This story is going to be longer than "Away from the Sun" if you are familiar, in terms of length. This story is finished in raw form at 25 chapters and over 145,000 words. I promise this fic is not as dark as "Enjoy the Silence", although there are some dark themes, they are brief and get resolved, so in the end things are happy it's just as realistic as I believe life is sometimes.
The room was dark and smoky, she didn't think Rosmerta allowed anyone to smoke in The Three Broomsticks anymore, but here they were, fogging the place up. Before she could even order a drink, one appeared at her hand, from a lad down at the end of the bar, obviously unaware who she was or what her purpose was in the bar that evening. Still, she bowed her head to him and took an inventory of the drink, tapping her fingers on the edge making sure there weren't any toxins or multi-purpose lust or love potions in the mix. When she was sure there nothing in the drink, she downed in one gulp. It didn't matter how many drinks she consumed, she could still smell his scent on her arm, the feel of his fingers on her own, and most disturbing of all, the tiny spot behind her ear where his mouth had planted the gentlest of kisses, inhaling her scent as he did, sending unbearable chills down her spine. The headmaster certainly knew what he was doing.
A second drink appeared next to her hand, from a different gentleman who did not meet her eye. The same routine, different hand signals for different toxins, but this time it glowed a particularly interesting shade of purple; she looked to the man two down from her and saw his smirk; did he really think she would drink it without testing it for toxins? She'd been drugged before and this was not the night. Although she wouldn't have had the drink in the first place, the juniper berries on the rim being an immediate problem as she was allergic, she knew that the toxins in the drink would do far more damaged if an effort to play the damsel in distress, she pretended to drink the rum and simply cast a spell turning the liquid to oxygen as it hit her throat. She wasn't the smartest witch of her age for nothing.
"Rosmerta, firewhiskey please." Hermione walked over to the gentleman who'd given her the laced drink, her arm laced through his.
"Thank you for the drink, that was awfully generous." But as soon as he turned to her, she knew it was a losing battle. The man was already gone, so drunk he could barely form a complete sentence. Rosmerta handed her the firewhiskey and she pretended to understand everything the drunk wizard said.
"That is fascinating." She replied to his inane babble. It was better than being alone in her rooms, pretending to ignore the odd and uncomfortable behavior from the headmaster and her own feelings towards him. When the drunk was ready to leave, she accompanied him, but not to shag him or even to find any sort of comfort, instead she hexed him and placed a charm on him, covering his arms with, 'I drug women for sex.'
"Perhaps you'll rethink your efforts in the future, disgusting pig."
At least he'd been a distraction, at least she was obsessing about something else instead of the man she knew she'd see bright and early in the morning in the Great Hall, her boss Headmaster Severus Snape. It was all too confusing; he'd barely spoken more than a few sentences or words to at a time her since she'd come back to teach potions while Horace Slughorn was on sabbatical. He was mostly polite, perhaps curt was a better term, but he didn't go out of his way to be cruel to her as she'd felt he had during her time as a time. It hadn't hurt that escaping the wooing of her friend Ron Weasley had made the decision quite easy, to come to Hogwarts and teach. It wasn't that she didn't love Ron, she did, but not as a spouse; they fought far too often and about things that were important for her to ever agree to marry him. She wished he hadn't asked at all, especially now that things were awkward between them, but she might not have broken it off with him otherwise.
The crunching snow between her feet broke her thoughts for a moment. She became immediately consumed with thoughts of Severus, his hand on her shoulder then her neck, moving her hair out of the way, and placing his rather warm lips behind her ear, sending shockwaves down her spine. Maybe she'd misinterpreted his actions, he might've been removing something from her hair, steadying her hands while she worked, holding her arm to help her reach for an ingredient. It didn't have to mean anything if she didn't dwell on it, but as she rounded the cobblestones to the gate, he was there, watching her. They'd almost kissed twice in their reacquaintance, years before at Grimmauld Place for Christmas when Ron had laced the pumpkin juice with a mild lust potion he and George had been developing, which had immediately backfired on him when she had eyes only for Severus Snape, whom she had to admit was a much kinder man since surviving the Final Battle. And then, once more they'd almost kissed two nights into her moving back to Hogwarts to teach. As though it were a habit, she'd stood on her tiptoes to tell him goodnight after they'd shared tea, his way of welcoming her and trying to smooth any awkwardness there might be since they hadn't spoken often following her efforts to save his life after the battle. When she'd interviewed for the position, she'd spoken mostly with Deputy Headmistress Aurora Sinistra and not Severus, so he'd some to make amends and show her that he could be amiable. She hadn't expected it, and when he'd risen to leave, she stood on her toes to kiss him as though he were Ron, immediately blushing and apologizing but noting that he hadn't seemed too put out by the action, and had seemed almost forlorn that her kiss had planted on his cheek instead of his lips. Stepping into the gates, she felt the heat of his breath on her cheek as she turned to speak to him, his eyes swept over her in alarm.
"I've hexed a villager for trying to seduce me with rum, in case it's in the Daily Prophet tomorrow." His eyebrow raised, but he didn't say anything straight away, instead he closed the gates as she came through and walked steadily behind her.
"I didn't intend to bring any attention to the school, but I cannot tolerate a rapist." Still nothing, he simply walked behind her, his shoes tapping against the stone in time with hers, though her legs were quite shorter than his and she struggled to stay ahead of him, lost in thought again thinking about the kiss.
"We have plenty of wine and whiskey here, Professor, perhaps next time you feel like escaping into the village, you ask an elf to supply you with toxin free alcohol?" His voice was low and deep- did he normally wait up on professors who were in Hogsmeade for a little rest and absence of teenagers? His tone was not reproachful nor cruel, but she did feel rather like her father was giving her a stern talking to.
"I'll take that under advisement, Headmaster. Anything else, or am I free to go to my quarters?" She felt chastised, talked down to like she'd been when she was his student. It never occurred to her that when she became a professor at Hogwarts, that his candor would not change. But, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed as though he was being protective and not chastising her at all.
"As you are aware, my own quarters are in this direction, you are under no scrutiny from me." But she could hear it in his voice, the sneer on his lips. He was normally curt, not tenaciously kind, but still pleasant enough for the Governors to keep him in command. Suddenly, she couldn't get the thought of his hands on her shoulder, one in her hair turning her head slightly, as he moved closer to her, laying one kiss behind her ear and saying nothing. She hadn't made it up, it did happen, yet here they were, saying almost nothing as they walked through dimly lit hallways to the dungeons. Had she imagined it? Had she imagined all the pleasant things he'd done? Her thoughts drifted, perhaps she was losing her mind.
"Goodnight, Headmaster." Hermione said charmingly, wanting somehow to undue the tone she'd taken with him before. It had seemed that he was looking out for her at the gates. Before she could turn her doorknob, he stopped and watched her, the light illuminating the small smile that played on her lips and the glow of her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes.
"Stay safe, Professor Granger." And he stalked away, but not before putting his hand on her door as he passed, once it was safely closed, of course.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Severus Snape was not a romantic, he was not a particularly kind man most of the time, though he did have his moments, but there was something about Hermione Granger that weaved a spell through his mind. She was not traditionally beautiful, sure she had a nice body and it had not proven worse for the war, but it was her attitude, her thirst for knowledge, the thing he'd broken her down about many times- he could no longer deny how much he wanted to talk to her, to woo her as it were, but he didn't allow himself for fear of not only rejection but the impropriety of it all. Instead, he stole moments with her, even when he allowed himself to go too far, like kissing her in the potions laboratory. Stolen moments were better than nothing, especially with the woman who'd saved him and given him another chance at life. It had surprised him when he'd reached out to her for the potions job; she was in limbo at the ministry and rumored to be engaged to Ronald Weasley, but he tried anyway. Her NEWT score in potions, and all other subjects, rivaled his own and Slughorn's, her abilities on record as well.
Every time he'd tried to thank her, he'd fallen flat. How do you thank someone who has saved your life? There was no adequate gift or admonishment; the six years which had passed served only to leave him desperate to do something for her, but had also increased his need to be around her, if only to show her that he wasn't wasting her gift. Admittedly, he had not been a good person, he'd believed for many years that purebloods were the only appropriate magical members of society, he'd killed and watched others be killed, he'd been unable to save his first love, he killed his predecessor; and yet she'd still thought enough of him to save him, even before she'd seen the memories. She still sat near him at staff meetings or even at meals, sometimes chatting him up even he appeared disinterested. Some days it took all he had not to yell at her, to tell her that her morning conversations were unnecessary and unwelcome, even if he didn't completely believe those sentiments. His anger and indifference boiled up in him, a life lived with the absence of affection or true stability, except for the stone wall of Hogwarts; he didn't know how to temper himself in her case and there were many times when he was thankful he had not, she was getting too comfortable or too close, and even though he longed for her company, he didn't know how to approach her or have a stable companionship with someone who wasn't a maniacal killer or supporter of said maniacal killer, or staff at Hogwarts.
Sighing, he dimmed the lights in his quarters and lay still on his bed, rubbing his temples and wishing he'd not waited at the gates. She was a free woman, no head of house, she could leave the caste unattended whenever she wanted, but he didn't want her to or at least not without him. His conflicting feelings kept him from sleep for a further three hours before he finally gave in, turned the lights out with a simple flick of his wand, and burrowed under the covers. Perhaps he could try to be pleasant in the morning?