* 21 *

The week passed by agonizingly slowly for Snape. He could not wait until Thursday when he would see Hermione again. After having been submerged for more than half a year, his latent excitement finally burst at the seams in full force. He was finally eagerly awaiting something again.

He wasn't expecting to be able to keep her close to him as he did last time, but he did look forward to having a full class's worth of time to sit back at his desk and watch her, this time without worrying that she disliked him. The students were normally too busy after the instructions were put on the board to notice where their professor was looking, and this thought relieved Snape's nerves about his line of sight being linked to the bushy-haired girl in at the back table.

And then it came. Sweet Thursday.

Snape awoke an hour earlier than usual in his eagerness and decided to utilize the extra time to take a stroll on the castle grounds. It was quite chilly outside, so he wrapped two dark gray scarves snug around his neck and dug his hands into the pockets of his flowing black cloak. He descended the stone steps and traced the snow in a straight line in front of him with his eyes, alert to every twinkle and impression in the morning twilight. He could picture Hermione's face in the glittering snow, turned up toward his and giving him a shy smile. He grinned, feeling jittery as he walked further.

He would be able to see her today before lunch. It was amazing the ramifications this knowledge had on his state of mind. He felt again as if he had purpose, and he was far less irritable than was his norm. He may spend today slowly waltzing about his class as per the usual, but he didn't have the heart to criticize everyone, especially not the Gryffindors, as harshly as before. He was coming to realize…that there was really nothing innately wrong with Gryffindors.

Perish the thought, his mind accused.

Snape stopped for a moment in the snow, his eyes glazing over with shock as he turned his concentration entirely to what was being debated now in his mind. Did he really feel that Gryffindor was no worse than any other House? Was this due only to Hermione, or had it also come about because he had stopped searching so desperately for something to poke fun at in every Gryffindor's cauldron, and thus their mistakes blended in with those of the others in the room who had made tantamount errors? Or had Hermione been the one to make him notice this to begin with?

But more than anything, Snape was shocked that he did not mind his hatred of Gryffindor melting away. The snake began loosening its hold around the poor griffin's neck, for the griffin was now no more unappealing than the badger or the raven, whereas before it had possessed menacing, red eyes and sharp, poised talons, always ready to swoop down upon him. Such was the demeanor of the Marauders in Snape's youth, and since then, he had come to associate the entire House with their treachery and malice. But was this association fair?

He began walking again, now wholly encased by his thoughts, and not intending to return to Hogwarts until it was breakfast time. Not until he figured out…just how much Hermione had changed in him with a single, long-awaited touch.

Snape was still immersed in thought even after breakfast had ended that morning. He remained that way even in his dungeon. There was so much to rethink, so much to analyze, and so many old memory connections that needed to be broken for newer ones to be forged.

He looked up just as the clock chimed to tell him his Hermione was on her way to his classroom. He stood up instinctively, not wanting anyone to block his view as he stared out the dungeon door to catch that first glimpse of her telltale hair as she walked in.

The minutes dragged on, but then, it happened. She entered and, not even bothering to hide it, smiled at him. The heart of his that had already been beating frantically now slid back on its haunches and began performing nothing short of back flips.

How could he teach today? He couldn't even muster the few words required to tell the students to read the board. Thankfully, after having been in his class for so long, they started their assignment even despite the somewhat uncharacteristic silence that pervaded the room.

As if he had never seen them before, Snape glided through the tables in the classroom and inspected the progress of his students, in earnest. Finally, he assessed them without bias based on their House: he did not even allow himself to look into their faces before he mentally graded their cauldrons as he went along. As he both did and did not expect, the Gryffindors were on par with the rest of the class. He had simply given them more of a devil of a time in the past, without much justification.

It was as if a whole new world opened up to him. He was beginning to think semi-positively about the downtrodden Gryffindors.

Hermione must have noticed some change in his behavior, because she was eyeing him with a smirk. The sly look she gave him electrified him. It was mischievous and satisfied, as if he had been completely smitten under her spell exactly according to plan. Or maybe he was just imagining things.

Without even bothering to ensure he wasn't being watched, he grinned back, running his eyes once over her unabashedly. Reluctantly, but giving her a widening grin first, Snape turned around and focused on the work of the students in front of him instead of ogling the girl in the back.

It felt beyond words to be able to socialize – even through silent body language – with Hermione again. He couldn't believe it. He knew now that the last thing he wanted to do was chastise her for something stupid as he had in March, causing the feelings that had plagued him for the past eight months to resurface. He should be able to control his tantrums, especially when it came to a person so clearly precious to him.

One would think he would have learned the first time.

It was as if he had gained a tremendous amount of confidence from their most recent, benign interaction. He began to oversee his class in a new light: Hermione was remarkably the only one looking at him, when he had been sure in the past that eyes had been glued to him due to his nerves.

This time, however, there was an utter calm that soothed him and made him truly alert to how unobservant the students were about their professor's actions and feelings. He was able to spend the entire period gazing at her and studying her progress without any curious eyes flitting to him. His students were perhaps even afraid of meeting the eyes of Severus Snape. He had never noticed the superior, imposing aura he gave off in his classroom as much as he did now, when he was least concerned with its presence. The nebulous worries that had lingered in his mind for so long evaporated, and the world felt as if it were his.

Snape couldn't understand this abrupt, pulsating surge of energy and confidence, but he didn't care. He suddenly knew now that he wanted to make Hermione, the girl who had made him realize so much in such a short time, his…no matter what it would take, or how much others would object.