Once again, thank you so much for your reviews!
If you like to listen to music while you read, I should tell you that I listen to Maria Mena and Lana Del Rey pretty much non-stop when I write this fic. They really are two amazing singers!
In this chapter, I tried really hard not to include any form of sexual tension or romantic attraction (it was difficult, believe me), if the nature of their friendship (that's what it is at the moment, nothing more). If you think it is a bit blurred towards romance, please let me know and I'll try to tone it down a bit. When Snape thinks about Hermione deserving a good man, I really do mean that he thinks about other men with her, not himself.
Merry Christmas!
Andrea xxx
As Hermione got ready for bed that night, she could not stop thinking about Snape. The sad look in his eyes was not a good sign; it reminded her of how she had felt when she had mourned her parents. She wondered what he was up to right now. After washing her face and brushing her teeth thoroughly, her parents had been dentists after all, she entered her bedroom. Her bed was cold so she performed a quick heating charm on herself and sighed contentedly. It felt strange thinking about Snape in this way, she had not realised that she cared for him this much. Of course she had been aware that she cared for him like she did any teacher or order member, but now it felt different. In only two weeks time he had seemed to move from the "teacher group" to the "friends" one. Or at the very least, he stood with one foot in each. She imagined him sitting in his chair, getting more and more inebriated as he finished the bottle of brandy. Or perhaps he had already passed out drunk on his bed. Or he was back in his laboratory, trying to focus on something else.
Hermione was unsure as to how she reached her decision, but she found she could no longer bear not knowing if he was all right or not. She stepped out of bed, pulled on a cloak over her pyjamas and stepped into a pair of loafers. It was well past midnight when she left her room and so the corridors were empty. Five minutes later she was outside his office, wondering if coming down here had really been such a good idea after all. She reconsidered her plan for a moment, before she came to the conclusion that she might as well relieve her worried mind now that she had walked all the way down here in the middle of the night. Two whispered passwords later she had entered Snape's sitting room through his office. What she then saw came as a shock. Snape was sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, crying. He was so caught up in himself he didn't notice her before she had crossed the room. When he finally sensed her presence, he put a hand over his face and began to stand up.
"No," she whispered, gently putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down to the floor. She sat down next to him, so that their sides touched, and leaned her back against the sofa. For a moment she was lost as to what she should do as he just looked at her strangely. She took his left hand in a smooth grip and ran her thumb over it. He tensed immediately at the contact and she decided to look at the floor, trying to give him the space of not being watched. After a minute or so, she felt his hand relax in her grip and she kept up her soothing movements. As the time passed, his crying became quieter and quieter until it was nothing but small, silent sobs. He had pulled up his legs and his head had sunk down on his knees, his right hand covering his face. His left hand did, however, remain in Hermione's.
The Gryffindor was at a loss as to what she should do. Her heart ached at seeing this proud, private man break down so openly in front of her and she could only imagine what was going through his mind. She had no idea what it was that he had done nineteen years ago, but she realised it must be something so terrible that he loathed himself for doing it. It was probably something he had done on behalf of Voldemort, but Snape no doubt put all the blame on himself. She wanted to ask him what it was so that she could comfort him, but she knew that he would have to tell her on his own terms, there was no point in pushing him. Her train of thoughts was interrupted when she noticed that he had raised his head from his knees and was looking at her with a strange look in his eyes. Whilst he did not look completely guarded the way he usually did, his guard was not let down as much as it had been when she had first entered.
"You are still wearing your glamour," he said in a raspy voice.
Of course, trust him to notice that, she thought dryly. Her mind must have been too focused on Snape when she had walked through his office, as that was when she usually removed it. She sighed and removed her glamour wordlessly.
"Trust you to notice that," she said with a bitter smile. To her surprise she felt him squeeze her hand gently, as if to reassure her that showing her scars was all right.
"Someone has to. They really don't look as bad as you think," he said seriously and looked into her eyes, trying to get his message through.
Hermione was quiet for a few moments as she tried to take in what he had said. She wondered if she should tell him the whole story, but felt scared of how he would react upon hearing her other problem. Then again, he had obviously come to terms with dropping his guard in front of her, so she figured she might as well do the same.
Snape let go of her hand but made no attempt to move away from her, their sides were still touching. He ran his hands through his hair and relaxed his legs so that they were stretched out on the floor.
Snape's POV
It had been a long time since he had felt this confused. The last time he had displayed his feelings this openly for another human being was too long ago to remember. He felt embarrassed and shameful at the same time as he felt a certain amount of warmth at not being alone. A large part of his feelings consisted of contempt for himself. He really did not deserve to be comforted by her or by anyone for that matter. What he had done had been unforgivable; hence he was not to be forgiven. He had come to terms with that many years ago, but the event still hurt, as though it had just happened, every year. He looked at the young witch next to him and wondered what was going through her mind. It disturbed him that he didn't know what else was troubling her.
"I'm sure you remember, the reason I can't stand seeing the scars is because then I think about the other curse and I've yet to come to terms with the consequences," she said softly and looked at the floor.
Snape was quiet, waiting for her to continue. He gave a simple nod, showing her that he had acknowledged what she had said.
"The other curse rendered me infertile," she continued with pain in her voice, which had turned into nothing more than a faint whisper. Had Snape not been sitting right next to her, he would not have been able to hear what she said.
So that's why, he mused. Her actions made sense to him in some ways and in others not. Children were very important in the wizarding world and wizards and witches were almost expected to produce at least one child in their lifetime, thus ensuring that their kind did not die out. For a witch not to be able to conceive was considered a great sorrow. Then again, he was a strong believer that not everyone was meant for parenthood and that one could have a complete life without children. The Gryffindor, whilst not a conventional beauty, was an attractive and highly intelligent witch and was sure to find someone who wouldn't care that she could not conceive. And if she really wants children, there is always adoption. He wanted to do something aboutthe pain he had heard in her voice but was unsure of what to say. Comforting was not his strong suit.
"It's not that bad," he settled on saying, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth.
Hermione looked up at him with an incredulous look in her eyes, almost as if she was angry.
"Not that bad?" She repeated, her voice sharp as a dagger.
"Forgive me," he cut in quickly, wanting to explain his words before she went off on a rant. "I did not mean it like that," he continued slowly. "I simply meant to say that you could still have a complete and happy life even if you never have children. And there is always adoption," he said, deciding that this conversation was quickly getting out of his hands. He had no idea if children were important to the young woman sitting next to him and so he felt like he was on thin ice.
"That's not the problem," she said softly, still staring at the floor. "Look, I shouldn't have told you, it's not your burden to bear, I'm sorry for dragging you into this in the first place," she apologized.
"Nonsense," he silenced her. Next thing she'll apologize for being hit by the curses, he thought dryly. He was aware that this was a very sensitive subject to her and wanted to somehow reassure her that everything was and would be all right. "Hermione," he began and she looked up from the floor, "what is the problem?"
"You'll think I'm pathetic," she began and was quiet for a few moments. "I'm not sure I want children, but I do want someone to share my life with, and what wizard is going to want to be with a witch who can't conceive?"
Snape felt a strange sensation inside him, almost like an ache. She should not have to feel like this. He made a silent vow that he would do what it took to make her feel better. She deserved a normal life with a handsome, clever and decent man and he would do everything in his power to make sure she believed she had that right. He was surprised at the strong emotions he felt, usually he did not care much about others' misfortune, especially not if they were students of his, but there was something about this woman that made him want to act as her protector.
"There are plenty of men out there who should want to be with you, regardless of the fact that you are unable to bear them children. And if they don't, they don't deserve you," he said and realised, appalled, that his voice sounded almost paternal.
Snape was surprised when she looked at him with a small smile on her face.
"Thank you," she replied gently. "You are a good friend, you know."
Friends? Is that what she thinks we are? Strange. Though it would explain his protective feelings towards her – he had always been very protective of his friends, probably because he had only had a few in his life. Yes, that made sense. They had entered a partnership as student and professor and now they had become friends.
"Is that why you came back down here? Because you see me as a friend?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Yes. The look in your eyes when I left worried me, and I do consider you to be a friend. When I worry about my friends, I try to help them," she replied with a small smile.
"I see." It felt odd to have someone worry about him, the only one who had done so in the last twenty years was Albus and he had been dead for a year and a half now. "My back is starting to hurt, how about we move to the sofas?" He suggested and stood up. As he walked over to one of the sofas he realised that he might as well let his guard down completely, since that was what she had just done. It seemed unlikely that she would tell anyone about it. He stretched out on the sofa in a lying position and watched her do the same on the other sofa. Whilst he realised it was not appropriate for a student to sleep in a professor's sitting room, he didn't want to ask her to leave. Her presence was soothing in some strange way. And if Minerva found out, he would just show her the memory, a bit edited of course; it was not like they were having an inappropriate relationship after all. And so he conjured to blankets, sent one levitating her in her direction and put out all the lights in the room.
"Good night," she whispered softly and yawned.
"Good night," Snape replied and for the first time since 1978, he fell asleep before dawn on the morning of 11 December.
