* 25 *

Hermione was happy.

It was a beautiful January, and Christmas break had been rejuvenating, as she, Harry, and Ron had spent a lot of time together at the Burrow. But to top even all that off, she was now receiving extra instruction in two classes: Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The teacher of the latter was none other than her best friend Harry Potter, of course. She had pestered him until he had agreed to relay his knowledge of ways he had defeated Voldemort, though he was quick to attribute his past successes entirely to luck. This "class" with Harry allowed her to explore Dark Magic, something Hermione had surprisingly historically not been too adept with. The Potions lessons, however, allowed her to explore something wholly incommensurable.

It was a Thursday, and she was set to meet Professor Snape after their only class, Potions, that day. They would finally be restarting their extra lessons together. She paid an excessive amount of attention to her breakfast that morning in the eyes of her friends. She was distracted, and her non-school-appropriate thoughts were constant. The only kosher thought she was able to muster was "What will I be making with him today?"

Harry looked at her, concerned. Despite his being male, and thus relatively bewildered about the ways of females, even he could tell something was wrong. Ron, on the other hand, was nowhere near as observant, and thus Harry hid his question for Hermione from him by speaking in low tones.

"Hermione," he whispered, "are you alright? You've been acting weird lately."

"Oh, have I?" Hermione asked stupidly. She knew that she couldn't hide her ruminations forever; they distracted her mind far too much for her to be able to control something as inconsequential as her facial features. They were what had given her away to her friend.

"Yes, I'm quite fine." While she was indeed not depressed or worried, she wouldn't quite describe her mental state as truly being "fine", unless sporadic heart palpitations and inexplicable sweaty palms were a normal part of that. She was tremendously preoccupied and thus uncharacteristically careless, and her stomach was sick with butterflies.

Harry was not convinced in the slightest. He eyed her through his periphery, but given that she did not want to talk about what was bothering her, he gave up without protest. For now.

But Hermione did want him to know that his genuine interest in her well-being did not go unnoticed. "Thanks, Harry, but trust me, everything's quite all right." She smiled.

"Good. That's good to hear, then," responded Harry, reverting to his usual volume and happy that she had actually elucidated a bit instead of lying that she was perfectly okay.

"What are you lot whispering about?" demanded Ron of the two chatterbirds finally, his loud, cow-like mastication having ceased.

"We're discussing how you're a complete bonehead." Hermione eyed his sloppy plate and added, "And you eat like a pig." She looked disgusted.

"Oh, alright then," Ron acquiesced, eyebrows raised in indifference, apparently having not a thing to say to the contrary. He took a swig of pumpkin juice, completely unbothered. Hermione bristled in frustration, and Harry just smirked between the two of them.

Just then, a dark cloaked figure entered the Great Hall, and Hermione realized with a jolt that it was Professor Snape.

"Why has he only just now come to breakfast? He's got to be at least twenty minutes late!" she wondered.

"'Mione," Harry called.

Hermione stared for quite a few more seconds, watching his cloak billow out behind him majestically as his swift steps propelled him forward.

"Hermione," Harry called again.

She still hadn't heard Harry. Then, all at once, her acoustic memory caught up with her, and she shook her head to snap out of it. She turned to her four-eyed friend, bracing herself. Hermione was sure he had followed her eyes and saw precisely who she was gawking at. "Yes, Harry?"

"Why are you staring at Snape?" Harry asked quite predictably. His face was screwed up in honest concern. At the sound of this, Ron's head immediately snapped around to look at her as well. He apparently had not wanted to breach the subject himself, but now that it had been brought up…

"I…was just wondering why he arrived so late to breakfast, is all," she justified, waving her hand as if this was no matter at all.

Ron eyed her and was the one to ask her a question this time: "Yeah, it is a bit odd, but why did you have to stare at the old bat for a full ten seconds?"

"I was trying to think of why he would come in late!" Hermione's volume was rising and it took everything she had to keep herself calm. If she said too much, or even too little…or anything at all…or perhaps nothing… Hermione was confused, but she knew that if she said something the wrong way, they would know.

Harry looked slowly back to his plate, but his eyes were unfocused.

After another minute, Hermione heard Harry take the opportunity of Snape's oddly belated appearance to speculate about Snape being on The Dark Side, as he was wont to do every other bleeding moment. And for once, Hermione could say she was happy that he did so. It saved her from having to explain that there was indeed another reason she would be staring at him like that.

Ron was now thankfully joining Harry in his outlandish conspiracies instead of musing longer about Hermione's conspicuous stare-down. Sure, Snape being suspicious could be one reason to watch him for that long, but Hermione was grateful that her two friends were boys – they did not easily notice in particular the way she had been eyeing him, looking him from head to boot, feeling him with her eyes and remembering how glorious it felt to kiss him and have him wrap his arms around her to pull her closer flush against him…

Hermione only had to pretend to act her usual irritated self when the boys started accusing Snape of malevolent wrongdoings. She had ceased being roused by their nonsense anymore, since she knew more of the real Snape than they could ever hope to. Hermione scoffed, folded her arms self-confidently, and turned her nose upward, begrudgingly listening to them with an air of haughty disdain for the rest of breakfast.