Chapter 7
Il Regalo
(The Gift)
Hermione's 19th birthday was fast-approaching. The second Thursday of term arrived quickly, with all of her week's potion lessons more enjoyable than usual, mainly due to the fact that every time her professor spoke she was remembering the way he had kindly offered to help her restore her parents' memories. Even though their next private potions lesson wasn't due until the following Friday, she couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of having an extremely talented and intelligent wizard helping her discover a new potion, one that would, hopefully, change her life for the better. She was pulled out of her excited daydreams of finding a cure that she barely heard her professor announce that they were done for the day. Shaking her head dazedly, realizing she had let her mind wander after having completed her assignment fifteen minutes before the end of class, she began putting her things back into her school bag.
"Miss Granger, a moment…please."
Her head snapped up in surprise at her professor's lazy drawl, accompanied by a word she knew he was still getting used to using. "Of course, Professor," she replied. Turning to Ginny she told her friend she'd meet up with her later.
"Yes, Professor?" she asked once she had reached his desk.
"I need to reschedule our first Defence lesson. Would you be available for Saturday at eleven-thirty?"
Making what she knew was a risky move, she decided to let her curiousness, and boldness, get the better of her. "Is there a problem with having our lessons on Friday as we planned?"
He surveyed her shrewdly and she could hear her heart thudding in her chest. In the past, he would have dismissed her question. Would he do so this time?
"While it is none of your business, I can see that your curiosity is at its peak, and my answer may, perhaps, have some barring on our future private lessons." He continued to stare her down, causing her to feel quite nervous. What did he mean, his answer may have some barring on their future private lessons? He must have decided that he had dragged out the pause long enough for he continued, "I have been asked by the headmistress to run an errand that will take up most of my time tomorrow from noon until late into the evening. As you do not have a free period earlier than that time, I cannot tutor you as we planned tomorrow, but all other Fridays should be suitable. With that said, do you agree to meeting me at eleven-thirty on Saturday?"
Now she really felt nervous. "Um… well…" The witch didn't want to miss out on their first Defence lesson, but she also knew that her three friends had planned a surprise birthday picnic for her at noon. She had accidentally overheard Ginny and Luna whispering to Neville about it in the returning seventh-year student's hallway.
"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" he asked, his right eyebrow perched in mild curiosity.
"I… um…" she didn't know what to say. Would it be acceptable for her to request a different time?
"Just spit it out, Granger, I don't have all day," he drawled, looking back down at his parchment and continuing to drag his quill across its yellowed page.
"Saturday is my birthday," she admitted, lamely.
His quill stopped abruptly. He brought his eyes to hers again, a dark look replacing what had been curiosity moments before. "Ah. I see. I suppose you are implying that you will be engaged?"
"Well, I, erm… Ginny and Luna and Neville have planned a surprise picnic for me at noon… would we be able to have the lesson later in the day?"
He continued to stare her down but did not respond.
"I don't want to miss out on the first lesson, especially since you were so considerate as to take time out of each week to tutor me," she added in a rush.
Snape smirked. "No need for that, Miss Granger. I was just attempting a mental run-through to see if I would be available at a later time. I suppose that the evening would be suitable, if you are not otherwise expected to attend a surprise dinner party as well? Say… eight o'clock?"
She balked, openly. When she didn't reply he asked, "Have I rendered you speechless, or are your temporarily incapable of a 'thank you, Sir'?"
"Th—thank you, Sir!" She didn't let herself smile, in case he looked up from the parchment and became annoyed. "I'll see you Saturday at eight."
She turned to leave, allowing the small smile to cross her lips. Either he was doing her a genuine kindness, or he was just playing nice so as not to stir up her emotions, as he had now seen her in her most fragile state yet. No matter the reason, she was relieved that she'd be able to keep her promise to her friends… they were one of the brightest sparks to her life, in addition to her private lessons, and she didn't want to let them down in any way.
.Beat.
Of course she'd be wanting to do something to celebrate her birthday. It was on a Saturday, after all. And, of course, she'd have friends who wanted to celebrate with her. It was so obvious, and so normal, yet his insides were burning.
Severus was pacing back and forth in his private sitting room, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. It had been an hour since Granger had left his classroom, practically prancing with happiness on her way out. Since then, he had been battling feelings of jealousy, irritation, and overall frustration. He had been giving in to the girl too much, he knew that. He should have just told her they would have to cancel the first lesson altogether—that he couldn't tutor her on Saturday at any other time except the time he had allotted. Instead, he had indulged her.
He could only remember having one friend who knew his birthday, let alone desired to celebrate it. That had been Lily. But their frivolous frolicking together had ended abruptly in his fifth year, after having said something to Lily that to this day he continued to regret. Since then, not a single person had offered to celebrate his birthday with him. Albus and Minerva had both sent him a card and occasional gift, but other than that, not even Lucius or Narcissa had taken the time to address it, and certainly none of his other colleagues.
But yet, even in her sixth year, Miss Granger had been the center of her friend's adoration on her 17th birthday. It was, of course, an important birthday since seventeen is the age when witches and wizards come into adulthood by wizarding law.
Snape remembered it as if it were yesterday; during their private lesson during her sixth year, when Potter, the two youngest Weasleys, and Miss Lovegood had interrupted their lesson to wish her a happy birthday. They, of course, didn't know it was a private lesson, as he had told Granger not to breathe a word of their lessons to any student. They were under the impression it was a detention.
He could still remember the newly-seventeen witch's cheeks flush in embarrassment, but her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise. He had scowled and glared, of course. But that didn't deter her friends from hugging her, Miss Lovegood placing a tiara made of daises on top of the bushy head of hair, and them all assuring her they had gifts to give her as soon her detention was done. He remembered he had then snapped at them, threatening separate detentions for each of them.
They left quickly, being there barely for a couple minutes, leaving with glares at Severus and smiles at Granger, and he couldn't help but notice that his student's entire presence had changed. She moved lighter, seemed brighter. She wouldn't meet his eyes, but apologized for her friends and their interruption, claiming it had been entirely unnecessary. While he was irked, he had also been touched. Not by her friend's display of affection, but because of the way his student had positively shone with happiness. In that moment, he remembered when he had seen Lily light up like that when they had been friends together.
But the feeling vanished almost as quickly as it had come. He remembered snapping at Granger then, saying that he would be deducting five points from her house for the disruption, and that she should immediately proceed with her assignment. She deflated slightly, but not even his harshness seemed capable of bringing her down completely. She continued to wear the flower tiara proudly and he found himself scowling at it, and her, for the duration of their lesson.
He hadn't indulged her then. So why had he now? It infuriated him. Was it because Potter and his dunderhead side-kick were no longer at the school? Was it because he was just too tired to waste the effort of snapping and scowling and deducting points? It could be, but… he felt there was more.
Because he had the shameful desire to spend time with her on her birthday. That had been one of the reasons he felt so jealous—but more importantly, irritated with himself for even harboring the desire. She is my student, he told himself firmly. Aside from their lessons, he had no reason to spend time with her. That was what friends would do and… they were not, could not be, friends.
He slammed his fist into the wall. A few books toppled off it and fell to the floor at his feet. Breathing heavily, he bent down to pick them up with the hand that was not throbbing in pain. Bringing the books up to the shelf, he got an idea…
.Beat.
Hermione was walking to her Advanced Ancient Runes class the following day on the first floor, heading for the front doors as she knew their lesson would be held outside that day. As she walked past the hallway that lead down to the dungeons, she suddenly heard what was unmistakably an explosion followed by a loud shout.
Drawing her wand, Hermione ran down the long corridor that she knew lead to the potions classroom and the Slytherin House common room. She could see an acidic green gas wafting out from a door to her left that she had never entered before, across from the potions classroom. She heard another shout from inside and grabbed the door handle, but it was locked. Without giving it a second thought, she cast the Alohamora charm to unlock it and it swung open, letting out more putrid, green smoke.
"Fuck!"
The swear had come from a very angry, very loud, and very male voice.
Hermione entered the room, lighting her wand tip to try and make out the man who had emitted the swear word through the darkness and green haze.
Snape, his shoulder-length hair tied back, his regular black robes and frock coat nowhere to be seen, was furiously trying to stop what appeared to be a potion gone horribly wrong. His face was contorted with rage, or more than likely frustration and disappointment (as Hermione had experienced the same expression on her own face before). But because she could now see his sharp cheek bones and strong jawline, she couldn't help but stop in her tracks and just...stare. Not only was his face fully revealed, as opposed to being partly concealed by raven hair, but he wore only his black dragon hide boots, black pants, and a thin, loose, button-up, collared white shirt that was apparently drenched in sweat. The top of his sleeves clung to his arms and she was able to discern his biceps and shoulder muscles under its thin fabric even from where she stood in the dim light. She could also make out bright red, fleshy-colored lines along his upper neck and back. Had he received those due to the malfunctioning potion?
"Professor, are you alright?" she found herself finally asking, able to speak at last.
His entire body tensed and he righted himself, spinning towards her with more agility than she had thought him capable. His eyes met hers and she was surprised to see that they seemed shocked. Shock quickly turned to anger and...something else she couldn't quite place.
"Do you need help?" she squeaked, despite the look in his eyes causing her blood to turn icy with fear.
He hurled himself towards her, grabbing her by the arm and steering her, roughly, out of the room. With a flick of his wrist the door slammed shut and they were both standing in the dungeon corridor. He was breathing heavily, his entire body seeming to move up and down with his breaths.
"What the devil did you think you were doing, Granger?" he snarled.
"I heard an explosion and a shout," she explained, trying not to show any discomfort at his vice-like grip on her arm, but it was rather painful.
"So you come bursting into a room that was obviously the source of said explosion? Your survival instincts are that of a flobberworm!" Snape snapped.
She could feel hot tears well up in her eyes. She yanked her arm out of his grip, causing him to momentarily look stunned. Perhaps he had not registered at how tightly he had been gripping her. "I thought someone was hurt!" she yelled, refusing to back down when she knew her intentions had been to help.
"You put yourself in considerable danger!" he shouted.
"Not like I've ever done that before!" she shot back, matching his volume.
"You had no right to—"
"No right? No right?!" she threw her hands up and let out a sarcastic bark of a laugh, which sounded strange even to her own ears, but she was fed up with this. She was fed up with him being kind and tender to her one day and then assaulting her the next. "I have every right to help whomever I think needs help. I have the right to break down every door in this castle if it means saving someone. I have every fucking right to tell you that you are an insufferable git who can't control his temper even when he knows he just made a colossal mistake that could have," she looked at the cuts that trailed up the back and sides of his neck and corrected herself, "that did cause him harm, and that I was only offering assistance to help spare him more pain."
She was heaving now, her body shaking with anger and frustration and Merlin she really just wanted to slap him across his sharp cheek bones and cause his pale skin to turn red.
"What pain is it that you think I have endured, besides my own pride being plundered?"
Hermione faltered. "Your...those... those cuts didn't come from just now?" she asked, her eyes pointing to what she could make out of his injuries.
Snape's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "No."
"I... but..."
Snape sighed and turned his head to the right, away from her. Then, as if coming to a decision, he turned his back on her, opened the door he had slammed shut, and walked back inside the room that had moments before been suffocating in smoke. "Follow me," he growled at her.
Intrigued, she allowed herself to follow him, but cautiously.
"Close the door behind you," he muttered.
Hesitating, she drew her wand but did not follow through with the spell.
"I assure you, Miss Granger, you are permitted to leave whenever you like. I, on the other hand, would rather our conversation be as private as possible."
Even more intrigued, she spelled the door closed and came to stand beside him where he was cleaning up the mess that his potion had caused.
"If you wouldn't mind assisting me," he said with a wave of his hands towards the disaster before them. The cauldron was melted, the desk smoking green, an awful smell permeated the air around them, and the vials and indiscernible potion ingredients were covered in a thick, dark green, almost black, smoking paste.
Together they began casting spells to clean up the mess, both trying to preserve anything that could, potentially, be salvageable.
"I apologize…" The potions professor began quietly as he syphoned some of the sickly paste into the thickest copper cauldron Hermione had ever seen, which her professor had summoned only moments before from one of the cabinets. The substance did not melt the copper cauldron as it had with the pewter one. "For my shouting and anger and…" he paused.
"Rough handling," Hermione mumbled softly, but she saw the edge of his lip turn up ever so slightly at her choice of words.
"Yes. I apologize for that. I don't mean to attempt to excuse my actions, however this potion is… very volatile at this stage and for a frantic moment I feared for your safety. I had been brewing this in my private lab particularly to keep it away from any of the student body. When I saw you had made it past my room's enchantments and had come so close to the spill just before I had the chance to contain it, I…"
"Nearly shat your pants?" Hermione supplied.
Snape's eyebrows shot up and he turned to stare at her in alarm, but when she broke out laughing his expression softened and he seemed to allow himself a small grin. Yes, she was pretty hacked off that he had treated her the way he had, but if he was telling her the truth, it had been because he had panicked in worrying for her safety.
"Apology accepted," she told him. "However, I was very tempted to slap you right across your pretty cheekbone." Realizing that she had let those words slip out aloud, her face reddened and she quickly turned away from him, unable to face his reaction.
"Pretty?" There was a hint of surprise and amusement in his tone.
Continuing to flush, Hermione spluttered, "Anyway, what was this potion, er, supposed to be?" she asked, desperately trying to steer him off the topic of his pretty cheekbone.
Luckily, he took the bait. "I was attempting to brew a potion that would temporarily relieve the drinker of unwanted memories."
"Why not just extract the memories and store them somewhere?"
"Because for less skilled witches and wizards that can be a complicated task. I am attempting to brew something that would not be so complicated—something that would help many a person, including children, who may not want to go through the discomfort of having a memory, or memories, extracted from their mind by wand."
"Memory extraction is painful?" Hermione inquired, having never experienced the sensation herself.
"It is not painful, per say, but it is a very unnerving feeling to those who have not grown themselves accustomed to it. And it is often more than not for young children to experience pain and or anxiety at new magical experiences, especially one as invasive as memory extraction."
"I...see. And the potion is not going well, I take it?"
He scowled at her. "No. It is not. And it is maddening."
Her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "What prompted you to begin trying to brew one?"
He hesitated then, his eyes flickering away from her and instead resting on the now empty cauldron.
"Is it...is it because you wish to not have to relive certain memories?" she pressed, tentatively, knowing she was taking a huge risk. She wanted so much for him to open up to her as he had allowed her to do with him. But she also didn't want him to become angry.
He raised his sable eyes to meet hers. "Do you truly believe me to be so selfish?"
That stung. "I don't think that would be selfish of you, Sir. There are plenty of memories I wish I could mute or pause to come back to at another time, when I felt braver, stronger, more prepared, to face them."
"And that is exactly why I began to attempt this daunting task," he muttered, more to himself it seemed than to her.
She felt her mouth fall slightly open. "You… you started this experiment because of… me?" Before he could answer she rushed on, "Professor, you've already done so much for me, by allowing me to take extra lessons with you every week, and for vowing to help me discover a way to help my parents. You don't need to do anymore on my account."
He didn't answer her, so she averted her eyes and finished cleaning up her portion of the table she had been helping him repair. When she straightened back up and chanced a glance at him she froze, noticing that he was staring intently at her. They locked eyes for a few moments and she was keenly aware of her heart thundering in her chest. All thoughts of cleaning, of how she was missing her Advanced Ancient Runes class, of how he had hurt her in his desperation to take her away from the failed potion, fled her mind as his eyes, shining like hematite, bore into her own.
"Wait for me here." Even though he didn't say please, she could tell it was still a request, not an order. However, had she wanted to leave, she would have found her legs too weak to move. He disappeared into a doorway off to the left of his private lab, his form seeming to become one with the darkness.
Feeling nervous for reasons she wasn't entirely willing to analyze, or admit, she rested her hand on the side of the repaired desk to steady herself.
He returned sooner than she had expected. She noticed he carried something in his right hand. She immediately recognized the shape being that of a book. Letting out a slow breath, not realizing she had been holding one in, she felt relieved. A book. That was all.
He stopped in front of her, closer than they normally stood when working together, and held the book out for her to take. Her fingers brushed up against his long fingers, as they had done her first day back, in the library. She was pleased to find that his hand was just as warm as it had been on that day. She looked down at the cover and read the title The Deadly Art of Defence. As her eyes found the last word she felt a soft, warm gust of breath next to her left ear.
"Happy birthday, Miss Granger."
His warm whisper seemed to travel through her, burning her insides in an incredibly pleasurable way. Her cheeks flushed, her spine tingled, her hands grasped the book tighter, her head felt dizzy. But his mouth next to her ear was gone as quickly as it had come and he was turning away from her, towards the copper cauldron he had used to collect what was left of his potion.
"Th—thank you, Professor," she whispered.
"And thank you, for helping me clean up my mess." He picked up the cauldron and headed back towards the door he had disappeared into moments before. He reached the door and turned back, his face unreadable as he said, "You may find the first page particularly agreeable."
With trembling hands, Hermione looked down and opened the cover of the book. What she saw caused her to gasp, her eyes widening in amazement.
The most beautiful baby sea turtle had been painted, with magic, onto the first page. It swam over the page, over onto the inside of the front cover, the whole time trailing behind it bubbles of the invisible water it swam through. Its shell was shimmering with colors that invoked a sense of warmth and tranquility. Its movements were so realistic that Hermione was tempted to touch the painting, to see if it felt real, too. As the sea turtle twirled back around to return to the first page, the bubbles it trailed began to spell out a message.
Hello from Australia! See you this summer!
Hermione looked up, tears in her eyes, ready to thank the man who had obviously put so much thought into this gift for her.
But he had gone.
A/N: Sooo I know it's been a bit warm and fuzzy the last 3 chapters. Hopefully that isn't killing it for any of you. But, never fear, as in any good story, there must be conflict. We're getting there ;-) In the mean time, I hope you enjoyed this last chapter. Thank you for the follows, faves and comments/critiques!
