Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.
Author's Note: Thank you polywolly for BETA-ing. Sorry for the delay! Exams took place this week; I'm sure you can imagine how tired I've been! Plus the migraines don't help. So, sorry, please forgive me.
Chapter Seven - Fascination
As the week progressed, I became more and more used to the detentions Snape had given me. Admittedly, the tasks he set me were not entirely difficult; most of them allowed my mind to wander. Strangely enough, I often found myself thinking about him. My mind often posed questions I wanted to ask him – but of course, many of them I couldn't even imagine myself asking. During these detentions, he was normally completely silent, but I soon began to realize that Snape was a very thoughtful person. I don't mean to say that he was kind, well, not really – I simply mean that he was a person who thought very much.
I could see it even in the way he would grade even the simplest of papers. He went at a painstakingly slow pace and he would usually pause and look around his classroom, apparently lost in thought. Sometimes he would look around until his eyes landed on me. Sometimes I pretended not to notice, but other times, I would look up to find him watching me with a rather curious expression on his face. I couldn't help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking.
I would never look at him on these occasions, but continue with the task that he set me, willing my mind to concentrate.
Amazingly, Ron had gotten enough courage to talk to Lavender. It seemed as if they were together again, but a lot less attached than last year. The truth of the matter is, I'm quite sure that Ron had matured over the summer in ways I hadn't noticed. Or possibly, he was taking special care for my feelings, which was sweet of him I'm sure, but it wasn't that big of a deal to me anymore. Harry seemed rather keen on talking to me when Lavender was around, although usually she was simply sitting with Ron on a couch doing homework or talking. Nonetheless, Harry was being extremely nice to me, and I was grateful for that.
"Snape giving you any problems?" Harry asked a Friday night after I had returned, some two weeks into my detentions. I smiled.
"No, no, everything's fine," I assured him. "Actually, he doesn't talk all that much."
I fell silent, once again wondering what I had wondered for the past two weeks –
"I don't understand," said Harry, seeming to read my mind. "Snape would normally jump at the prospect of making a Gryffindor miserable for a month. He's not acting like…himself."
While it's true that I was just thinking of this, Harry's words still upset me a bit. I fished for a response.
"Well…well maybe he's not the man you thought," I said.
Harry shrugged, looking over at Ron, who was doing homework with Lavender.
"I mean," I insisted. "Honestly, we don't really know him. He might be foul sometimes but…"
"Ah, Hermione, save it. I know how he can get. Maybe you've hit his soft side. You never know," he said, grinning.
I laughed. "Oh yeah, right Harry. The 'insufferable know it all' has hit Snape's soft side."
"Yeah, I see your point," Harry mused, nodding slightly. He looked over at Ron and Lavender again, looking slightly sad.
"What's the matter?" I asked him quietly, watching him closely.
"Oh, it's nothing," Harry said quickly, beginning to blush.
"What is it?" I persisted.
Harry shook his head. "You'll only laugh at me."
"Oh Harry, come on. You know I won't."
Harry sighed. "It's just…I've always wanted that, you know…" he said, looking over at Ron and Lavender.
"Wha –" I said, but looked where Harry was looking. "Oh."
Harry looked at me apprehensively, as if he expected me to scold him for ever thinking such a thing.
"Well…" I said, trying to think of what to say. This had taken me by surprise. "Why don't you…go get that?" I asked. "I mean – you are the 'Chosen One' and all." I was, of course, merely teasing him, but my words seemed to be closer to the truth than he would have liked.
"That's the thing, Hermione. You don't understand. Girls like me because I am the Chosen One. But…I want them to like me for who I am. I want them to think of me as Harry, not The Boy Who Lived, or the Chosen One."
I sighed at this. I had thought on this in the past, of course, and now Harry seemed to realize this too.
"Harry…you're famous. What did you expect?"
"I never asked for this," he responded, in a slightly hurt tone.
"Nobody said you did."
"They act like it."
I was quiet for a moment, trying to decide again what to say. This seemed to be a very delicate subject for Harry, but I couldn't tell if he wanted my advice or for me just to listen.
"Harry," I began quietly. "Things in life happen that you can't explain…things you can't control…but I believe that there is always a reason. Yours is just harder and more difficult than most, but…you're a hero, Harry. Of course girls want to be with you, of course people look up to you."
Harry was quiet at this, but he appeared troubled still. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "It's all Snape's fault."
Something inside of me felt angered by this. "Harry, he had no idea –"
"It doesn't matter," he shot at me. "If it weren't for him, I'd have parents. Sirius would be alive. We wouldn't be having this damn discussion."
His voice was quiet, but it was quivering with anger. I was at a complete loss for what to say.
"Harry, I –"
"Snape ruined my life, Hermione," Harry said. I could tell he was forcing his voice to be as calm as possible. "Whether he did it purposely or not…he still did it."
"Harry, I – I don't know what you expect me to say…"
"You don't need to say anything. It's just – Hermione," he glanced at me, a sort of pleading in his voice. "These things bother me every single day." He blinked and looked away.
"Harry…I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't be," he muttered. "It's not that important."
"Yes it is!" I said fiercely. "It's very important! Harry, please. You can't let these things eat away at you."
"Who can I turn to, then? Dumbledore doesn't even talk to me anymore," Harry snapped, seeming surprised at this himself.
I was extremely hurt by this. I looked down at my hands and said, "You could have turned to me."
I looked up just in time to see the hard look on Harry's face soften.
"Oh, Hermione. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
I shook my head, but I still felt hurt.
"No, no…don't worry about it…" I made for gathering up my things, but realized that I had none. "I – I'm tired. Goodnight, Harry."
"'Night, Hermione," Harry said quietly. I made my way to the girl's dormitory, trying to understand why Harry's words upset me so much.
At Snape's detention the next day, I had resigned to asking him something. In all honesty, I couldn't decide which question I wanted to ask him more. There were so many floating around in my head; I couldn't pick out the most logical one. After the conversation that I had had with Harry the night before, even more questions had managed to appear, but these were in fact much more personal.
"Good evening, Professor," I said as usual when I entered his classroom.
"Good evening, Miss Granger," he responded briskly. "I've decided to give you lines again, but this time, we're punishing you for your lateness on those two very unfortunate occasions two weeks ago. Write, 'Classes are not dates; therefore, being fashionably late isn't at all fashionable.'"
I wanted to laugh at loud. Whenever he set me lines, he always gave me something (in my opinion) both witty and borderline funny.
"Yes sir," I said, and sat down at the desk I usually sat at for lines and began with the parchment, quill, and ink he provided me.
Classes are not dates; therefore, being late isn't at all fashionable, I wrote, smiling slightly. I began to feel a prickle as if someone was watching me and looked up to see Snape indeed watching me with an odd expression on his face. Usually, I would have looked down and continued whatever I was doing, but tonight I felt rather brave.
"What is it, sir?" I asked quietly.
Snape was quiet for a moment.
"You…fascinate me," he said finally.
Well, I'm sure you can imagine how taken aback I was! Snape continued to watch me, but I finally found words to say.
"What do you mean, sir?" I asked timidly.
"I mean to say that you never cease to amaze me. You're a very smart young witch, which I'm sure you have realized by now."
"Why – thank you, Professor," I said, beginning to blush.
Snape was quiet again; he was inspecting one of his hands absentmindedly. His dark eyes flickered upward and landed on me.
There was something extremely strange about this glance. It was unlike any of the others he had given me. My breath caught in my throat and I felt heat rising to my face. I quickly looked down at my paper and began to write again.
Classes are not dates; therefore, being fashionably late isn't at all fashionable.
He was still watching me. I tried to convince myself that it was because he was lost in thought.
Classes are not dates…
I had such an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.
…Therefore…
"Miss Granger, you are excused," Snape said abruptly.
I looked at him. I hadn't even been there twenty minutes.
"But, Professor –" I began.
"Miss Granger, do not make me repeat myself," Snape said in a low voice.
I stared at him, and then slowly, almost painfully, returned the quill and parchment to him. I stopped short at his desk. He was not looking at me – it seemed as if the pattern of the wood in his desk was much more interesting.
I very much wanted to say something to him. I wondered why he was making me leave. I had a strange feeling that it had something to do with the look he gave me.
"Professor, may I ask – did I do something wrong?" I was watching him closely, my brow furrowed.
Snape appeared to stop breathing. The silence was pounding on my eardrums.
"No," he responded quietly.
"Then why are you making me leave, sir?"
Snape finally looked at me. He no longer looked confused, but there was intense questioning in his voice.
"Are you suggesting that you like these detentions Miss Granger?"
"I –" my voice failed me. We were staring at each other. Snape shook his head slightly; I sighed and looked down at the floor.
"Professor –"
"No, Miss Granger. Don't talk. Just leave."
I didn't move. I was watching him still. He stood up and walked to a bookshelf and took out a thick volume. He began to flip through it, his back to me, but I could tell he had no specific destination.
After about a minute, he stopped flipping.
"Why are you still here, Miss Granger?"
I was silent for a moment, still watching him. I took a deep breath, not believing my daring, and said, "Because I want to be."
Snape turned around, his face uncertain.
"What sort of joke is this?" he asked.
"No joke, sir."
There was once again another silence. Snape seemed to be contemplating the situation; not daring to believe what I had said was true.
"Why would you want to be here?" he asked slowly. The book was resting in his open palms, forgotten.
I smiled slightly.
"Because you fascinate me."
MY FIRST CLIFFIE. Reviews loved.
