Hermione entered the Great Hall the following Saturday to find it almost completely deserted. Out of all the teachers, only Hagrid had remained at Hogwarts, but he ate his meals with Madame Maxime, his wife. Hermione sat by herself at the Gryffindor table, nibbling on toast and reading the Prophet. No sooner had she finished breakfast, Snape sat down next to her on the bench, looking slightly less pale than he did in the dungeons. Hermione observed him with admiration. When did he become so... so... good-looking? His hooked nose gave his face a harsher appearance from a distance, but up close, Hermione could see his eyes were not black as she had thought, but a very dark shade of midnight blue. How could she have missed that in six years of being his student?
He didn't smile, that would be asking too much, but he seemed less terse as he spoke to Hermione, who had stopped staring and was now stuffing the Prophet back into her school bag.
"Anything interesting?" he asked, referring to the newspaper.
"Not really. They're losing interest in the whole Vol- I mean, the final battle."
"You can say his name, Hermione. It's not like it's going to bring him back," Snape said with a smirk.
"Right," Hermione said, giving a self-deprecating laugh. "Are we starting today?"
"Yes, that is why I've come to collect you," said Snape, standing. "Also," he looked once again at war with himself, "I wanted to let you know you could have your meals with me, in my office, rather than coming to the Great Hall by yourself."
Hermione blinked at him. Surely he wasn't inviting her to socialize with him? That was absurd! Of all people to be sharing afternoon tea with, Snape had always been on the bottom of Hermione's list. That is, until she had developed an inexplicable curiosity about her mysterious potions teacher.
"Alright," Hermione said, "I guess it would give us more time to work." She didn't want to seem eager, now did she?
They arrived once again in the dungeons, which were now beginning to feel more like home to Hermione than Gryffindor tower. She couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.
"Sir, what are we going to do?"
"We're going to be doing research on curses," he said, "particularly those which are irreversible."
Hermione's jaw dropped in comprehension. "You mean like the cursed ring Dumbledore put on? Curses that can't be broken?"
Snape nodded. "I have been trying to develop a cure, a potion that will break these types of curses."
'But sir, surely someone older and more experienced than I would be better equipped to assist"-
"You are all the help I need. I trust your intellect, Hermione, and your discretion."
Hermione felt her cheeks turn pink. She fiddled with her hair for a moment, overcome by a girlish insecurity she never knew she had. "You can trust me, Professor."
"Good. Now, the first thing we must do is collect all the books from the library that might be of any use. Luckily, I've already acquired most of them." He glanced at his wand for a split second before continuing. Obviously, Snape hadn't used a library card to get the books. "I need you to double check, make sure I didn't miss anything that could be important. Two pairs of eyes are better than one."
"No problem," Hermione said, preparing to leave. Snape caught her wrist gently. Startled, she looked down at it and he let go almost as fearfully.
"There is just one more thing," he said, looking around the desk for something. Hermione's wrist tingled. Not from pain. It was his touch. His hand had been surprisingly warm. Hermione had always expected his marble skin to be ice cold, like a vampire's. She felt a strange yearning in her stomach, like something inside her was pulling her closer to the man opposite the desk. Snape's blue-black eyes met hers, and for an instant she felt a jolt of fear. Snape was a prodigious Legilimens. Could he read her thoughts without casting a spell?
"Ms. Granger?" he asked, giving the paper in his hand a slight wave. Hermione took it, realizing he had been waiting for her to do so.
"A list of the books you already have?"
"Yes," he nodded, "I hope you find something useful. Remember, this is incredibly dark magic. Chances are, you'll find the majority of what we need in the Restricted Section."
Hermione noticed a smaller paper attached to the list. A note from Snape to Madame Pince, the librarian.
They worked for hours on end. Hermione didn't know which one of them was more hungry for the answer. Snape because he owed it to Dumbledore, or Hermione because she needed Snape to be proud of her. On Christmas morning, as she skimmed through Medicinal Properties of Creatures within the Magical Realm, Hermione felt her mind drifting to a place that had nothing to do with curse-breaking. She kept glancing over at Snape behind his desk, hunched over, reading a document that seemed to be printed in miniscule letters. He had to use a magnifying glass. He has such great shoulders, so broad and...strong, Hermione blinked and tried to read. Focus, you silly little girl, focus on your work. It's the only thing that has a chance in Hell of working out!
"Fuck!" Snape said loudly. Hermione burst out laughing. "Forgive my language, Hermione. It's just that I've realized we've been going in the completely wrong direction."
"I don't follow, sir," Hermione said, still smiling.
"What are you smiling at?"
"You, sir."
"Is there something about my being mistaken that amuses you, Miss Granger?" He looked cross.
"No, Professor, I was just smiling because that was the first time I've ever heard you swear." She grinned even wider and looked down at her book.
"Oh," said Snape thickly, "I see. Yes, well, I shan't let it happen again. That was very rude."
"No! Please, swear all you want. It becomes you," Hermione replied bravely. She didn't know what made her say it.