Chapter 4 - Anger Overheard?
From the top of the astronomy tower, the landscape stretched out all around, vague shapes in the darkness. The waxing moon gave very little light, so the stars were bright and clear. Hermione placed a cushioning spell on the stone floor and lay back, looking up at the sky. She had a lot to think about, and had wanted somewhere to be alone.
She had had sex before … twice … with Viktor Krum. Uncertain fumbling in secluded areas of the school grounds, leading to pleasurable but unsatisfying experiences. Satisfaction she had had to learn for herself, exploring her own body and learning how to please herself. There was nothing uncertain or fumbling about what had happened tonight, and Snape had known just how to move within her to bring her to a climax so much more powerful than anything she had experienced alone. Tonight had been fervent, passionate … as Snape had said, "intense." It had been a wonderfully physical experience. Their bodies had been hungry for each other, enjoying the carnal pleasure of abandon and impulse.
But had it been just physical? Would it have been possible for her to have been so turned on by his kisses and the way he made her body feel if she hadn't also been aroused by his mind?
That hardly mattered, though. His actions afterwards made it clear that it was something he considered over and done. For him, it had been entirely sexual - a physical attraction that he had to 'get out of his system'. Perhaps he was right, and this was something they just needed to get over.
What was the alternative? She could hardly want a relationship with Snape. Despite the attractions of his intelligence, he was still unpleasant. His manner of 'dismissing' her tonight had been cold and his attitude heartless and offensive. His sudden disregard had made her feel small and used, with whatever feelings she might have had being brushed aside.
"What did you expect, girl?" said a voice inside her head. His voice. "A declaration of undying love? Happily ever after?"
She lay for a long time, going over the evening in her memory and trying to disentangle her thoughts. His voice sounded in her head again - not the impassive voice of his parting words, but the soft huskiness of her name whispered in her ear.
As she lay staring at the stars, tears of anger and confusion began to roll from her eyes. By the time she made her way back to the Gryffindor tower, cold and exhausted, the common room was deserted and she slipped quietly up to her bed.
The plan had been for Ron, Harry and Hermione to spend Saturday evening after dinner getting some work done. Professor McGonagall had set them a long essay on achieving detail in surface textures when conjuring, which Hermione had agreed to help the others with.
"Where were you?" Ron asked, the following morning. "It's bad enough that Snape would call you to his office at the weekend just to talk about your project, but he can't have kept you for that long!"
Hermione hated lying to her friends, but she really felt she had no choice. "No, but there was something else I remembered I needed to work on, so I went to the library."
"We didn't see you there," Harry commented. "We checked."
"You must have just missed me," she said, evasively. "Did you get any of your Transfiguration essays done.?"
"Nah," said Ron, "but I made a start on some work for Hagrid. "He wants an outline for my project by the end of next week, so I figured I'd better decide what I want to do."
She was amazed. "You haven't even decided, yet? What about you, Harry?"
Harry looked guilty. "I've decided, but I just haven't worked out the details," he muttered. "We're not all as eager as you to get to work on this, Hermione."
"McGonagall wants this essay by Tuesday, though," said Ron, grumpily, "so I suppose we'd better get working on it now that you're here."
Hermione was glad of the distraction that the essay gave her, and wrote three feet more than Professor McGonagall had asked for. Her time would have been better spent working on her project, but that would lead her mind back to the dungeon, from which she was trying to keep her thoughts.
Harry and Ron, meanwhile, were suspicious. "Where do you think she was last night?" Ron wondered as they headed up to their room that night. "We were in the common room till almost midnight, and she definitely wasn't in the library when we checked there."
"She didn't even have her bag with her when she went with Snape after dinner," added Harry. "There's definitely something she's not telling us."
Since the first week arriving at Hogwarts, Potions had been Harry's least favourite subject and it had failed to move up his popularity list at any time since. Snape's mood was foul, as always. He wore a scowl on his face and he was pacing the dungeon like a caged tiger. Unusually, though, his mood seemed to be causing as much of a problem for the Slytherins as for everyone else. Malfoy, for instance, was the recipient of a growled "Stupid boy!" for being unable to name the three basic uses of Gillyweed, and Theodore Nott lost Slytherin ten points for spilling his potion into Pansy Parkinson's bag. He was more horrible than ever to Wayne Hopkins, but amazingly, Snape actually paid a compliment to a Gryffindor. Harry never would have believed it, but he heard the words "Excellent, Ms. Granger," as Hermione's potion turned to the grass-green hue that was required.
Hermione, however, was also in a peculiar mood and had been grumpy since breakfast, saying that she hadn't slept well. She scowled into her cauldron and did not acknowledge the compliment at all. Harry turned to Ron in puzzlement, but his friend just shrugged.
When Snape began quizzing the class on memory potions, the bizarre behavior continued. Harry had discovered, the previous year, that an amazingly successful tactic to avoid being asked a question during this class was to look like he knew the answer. It was so successful that Harry had even taken to putting his hand up when he didn't have a clue, just to be certain that he wouldn't be asked. Thankfully, this was not one of those occasions as, unbelievably, Snape picked him, then answered with a terse "Correct!" Hermione's hand was not in the air, which was odd in itself, but Snape chose that time to ask her a question. Her answer was, of course, perfect, despite its curtness, but Snape paused for a moment before his rumbled "Correct," then moved on.
The rest of the class went ahead relatively normally. Snape sneered at Ron's gray mixture, bubbling in his cauldron, and took 20 points from Hufflepuff when Hannah Abbott added too much shredded bat wing, causing her concoction to release clouds of black fumes. At the end of the lesson, he assigned them a particularly difficult essay to be handed in by Friday. As the class packed up, Snape's voice cut through those of the students, "Ms. Granger. I need to discuss your project with you. Return here for a few minutes after your final class of the day."
She must have heard him, but gave no indication of it as she left the room, followed by a puzzled Harry and Ron.
Hermione was furious as she stormed down to the dungeon after her last class. "What the hell was all that about this morning?" she demanded. "Do you have any idea how suspicious my friends are already, without you acting the way you did?"
Snape's voice was icy. "What?" he rumbled, dangerously.
"Do you realize that since the first day I arrived at Hogwarts, that's the first time you've ever done anything but sneer at my work in class?" she fumed. "What are people supposed to think?"
"They are supposed to think, Ms. Granger," - Snape's voice was ominously low - "that I expressed satisfaction with the work of a student. I believe that, as a teacher, I have that prerogative?"
"Not when ... "
Snape interrupted. "As for my behavior, I hardly think you are in a position to criticize, considering your own little display. Did you think that your refusal even to acknowledge me would avert attention?"
"I was just trying to cover for your mistake!"
Snape's voice until now had been quiet, but now it rose with impatience.
"Then how am I supposed to act around you, if today was a 'mistake', as you put it?" His anger brought out the worst in her.
"Well, maybe you should consider that kind of thing before you have sex with students," she snapped.
He pulled out his wand and she drew in a sharp breath. He flicked it at the door, which slammed with a bang that reverberated around the dungeon classroom.
"That is not something I make a habit of" he barked. "Do you really believe that there has ever been another student who has made me feel like this?"
"Well now that you've got me 'out of your system', you'd better figure out a way to handle classes, because another lesson like this morning and anyone with half a brain will start wondering what's going on."
He gave a mirthless snort. "You think you're out of my system?" He glared at her. "I have spent every moment of the last two days thinking about you."
Hermione stared at him, feeling the anger beginning to drain from her. She had not moved from the back of the classroom since she had arrived, and she stayed there, somehow feeling that they needed to stay apart until certain things had been said.
"You acted like you didn't care," she said quietly. "Like you couldn't wait to be rid of me."
His face darkened. "I was trying not to care. This … whatever it is that is happening between us … should not be happening, but I cannot make it stop." He took a deep breath. "And I don't want to make it stop. I don't want to …"
The knock at the door made both of them jump. It opened and in stepped Professor Dumbledore. "Ah, Greetings, Miss. Granger. I'm sorry to interrupt - discussing your History and Potions project, I presume - I just wanted a word with Professor Snape." His genial face showed no indication that anything was amiss.
Hermione forced herself to smile back. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore. I was just leaving."
Snape's voice followed her as she reached the door. "We will continue this discussion very soon, Ms. Granger."
"Yes, Professor Snape." She stepped out of the dungeon.
The door to the dungeon classroom was left slightly ajar as the Headmaster exited, leaving the Potions Master alone.
Dumbledore had not been there long. He had called in to discuss a matter relating to inter-house co-operation between prefects - something with which the Slytherins appeared to have a great deal of difficulty. He had said nothing relating to Hermione.
What had Dumbledore heard? It could have been part or all of their earlier conversation. If the headmaster had been on his way into the classroom at the wrong moment, he could even have heard Hermione's statement about them having sex, and had the door slammed in his face! Visions of being fired and banished from the castle filled his mind. He felt his stomach knot. This was exactly why he had tried so hard to ignore his feelings about her, and not let anything happen between them.
And yet - nothing had been said about it once Hermione had left. The door had been closed and, towards the end at least, they had been speaking quietly. Maybe Dumbledore had heard nothing, and what Snape was feeling was simply paranoia.
But this was Dumbledore! The wizard had a way of knowing things that he couldn't possibly know.
No. If Dumbledore had heard anything, he couldn't have ignored it. He would have confronted Snape at once.
He sighed. What did it matter? He had tried ignoring his feelings for Hermione to no avail. He did't think he could push those feelings aside, whatever the consequences.
"You fool," he told himself. "Prepared to risk everything for an infatuation with a student? You don't even know how she feels about you."
Hermione had headed to the Gryffindor common room and tried to get some work done before dinner, without much success. Over and over, she repeated the exchange in her head, picturing Professor Dumbledore's horrified face outside the door as he listened to the conversation he had inadvertently interrupted.
What had he said to Snape after she'd gone? Maybe he had wanted to confront him about it without her there. Maybe even now, Snape was packing his bags to leave the castle. No, surely he would have talked to her before firing him.
She had to find out.
She headed towards the Great Hall with Ron and Harry at dinner time, but stopped in the doorway. A glance showed her that Dumbledore was there, but Snape was not. She made a quick excuse to her friends about not being hungry, and hurried to the dungeon.
Hermione rushed into the classroom, quickly checked that the teacher was the only one there, and turned to lock the door after her. Snape had been pacing, and he hurried to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"What did Professor Dumbledore overhear?" she demanded, breathlessly.
"Maybe nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "He said nothing."
"I was worried he might have fired you," she sighed in relief.
Snape took a deep breath, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "Hermione, I don't know what this is that's going on between us."
"I don't know, either," she said softly, "but I want to find out."
Gently, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. It was not a kiss like before - full of hunger and passion - this was a kiss of tenderness. His tongue caressed hers softly and gently. It relaxed rather than aroused her, making her feel secure and warm. She had never felt like this before. All thoughts of Dumbledore and their earlier anger disappeared in the peace of the embrace.
Their lips parted and she rested her head on his chest, enjoying the feeling of being held by him.
"Severus," she whispered. "Where do you live?"
He paused, then said, "Let me show you."