Disclaimers: I do not own anything from the books of Harry Potter and I'm certainly not making any money from this story. Everything you might recognise belongs to J K Rowling, her editor and Warner Bros. (Though as far as I know, the plot, and some minor characters, are mine.)
Summary: One usually says that "bright minds think the same", but do they listen to their hearts – especially when the minds are as stubborn as those of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger?
Author's notes: Hi, it's me again. I've actually managed to update! Severus and Hermione has been given me quite a grief, but we've finally managed to reach an agreement.
I'd like to thank all of you who has reviewed (I'll try to start answer them, I promise) and those of you who are still reading this. You are amazing and you're making me so very happy.
Something else, someone who called her-/himself … left me a review partly in Swedish. I've tried working out if you are someone I know, but I haven't managed. If you read this could please give me a hint (I'm very curios). Thanks :-).
Finally, I hope you're going to enjoy the chapter and as I've already told you; You make my day when you tell me what you think. Oh, and though I do not know when I'll next be able to update, know this: I've written the epilogue so there WILL be an end to this story (though there are more chapters to come).
Bright Minds Think the Same
Chapter Twenty six – An answer
Severus stood looking after Hermione as she for the second time in less than twenty four hours stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her as she left. 'Damn that bloody woman!' he thought while gathering his books and paper in a pile that was a far cry from his normally impeccable ones. He gathered the stack in his arms and swept down the aisle. Reaching the end of it, he slammed the door open, much to the surprise of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years that stood waiting outside the classroom.
"What are you looking at?" he barked, "Get inside, NOW! I will be back shortly and you do not want to find out what will happen to those who are not sitting silently in their seats when I return." He turned on his heal and stalked down the corridor, black cloak billowing behind him as the first years scrambled inside the classroom, wondering what had gotten into their Potions professor.
Severus didn't slow down until he reached his chambers where he unceremoniously dumped his load on the coffee table before continuing through the sitting room and out through the hallway towards the bathroom. Stepping into the room, he turned the tap for cold water. He leant heavily on the sink for a short while, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. Taking a deep breath, he filled his hands with the cold water that poured out of the tap and dipped his face into it. Once again leaning on the sink he let the water trickle down his face as he locked eyes with his reflection. 'Excellent, why the Hell did you say that for? Get a grip, Severus! I thought you had better control than that. What a feeble excuse of a human being you are. How utterly pathetic – turning into some kind of lovesick fool every time she's around. Get your large mouth back under control and get back to that bloody classroom. You have a class to teach – if you think you can manage.' He yanked a towel down and angrily dabbed at his face.
At about the same time Hermione, slightly out of breath, entered Snape's library. He hadn't been in the classroom and he hadn't answered the door to his office, but she was desperate to talk to him and so she all but screamed when she realised that she didn't know the password to the rest of his chambers. Collecting her wits about her, she walked over to where she was almost sure that the door had been that morning after she'd spent the night in his armchair, and started to knock loudly on the shelf.
Disturbed by the insistent knocking, Severus swept out of the bathroom, still drying his face, to find the reason to the disturbance. Quickly deciding that the sound came from the library he opened the door and was met by the last person he had expected to see, though perhaps it wasn't after all. "Miss Granger, shouldn't you be in class?" he said rather brusquely.
So he was back on Miss Granger. Though Hermione didn't let that deter her, she was a Gryffindor and she had to talk to him. So, not paying any attention to his question, she said, "Did you mean it?"
Slightly taken aback, though he made sure it didn't show, he found nothing to say but, "Did I mean what, Miss Granger?"
"What you said in the classroom?"
For once in his life he had no idea whatsoever of how he was supposed to respond so he simply looked at her, silently demanding an explanation.
As an answer to his unspoken command Hermione continued. "Please, Sir, I have to know. I realise that things probably would be complicated, but I didn't just imagine myself in love with you. You have to believe me. I know what you were and who you are and I'm in love with you despite that. I'm in love with you because of that. And I know that you said that you are my teacher, but you're really not since I've completed my NEWTs so, please, just answer me." It probably wasn't her most eloquent speech, but hopefully she had been able to convince him that she knew what she was getting herself into.
His thoughts were a blur that travelled through his brain at lightening speed. He couldn't fathom what the young woman in front of him had just said. He could feel all his righteous resolve come crashing down. She had to get out of there or he would do something utterly unforgivable and so, in an attempt to reach safe grounds again, he lashed out at her. "Miss Granger, you are fifteen minutes late for class. If you don't get out of here immediately I'll be forced to give you detention." and he closed the door in her face before sinking down on the floor, the towel falling from his open hand.
So, the witch wanted to know if he meant it. She would get what she wanted. He would show her. He would show her exactly what he meant. Severus quickly rose and stalked into the living room, grabbing some floo powder from the jar on the mantelpiece. Throwing it into the fire, he called out 'The Forge' and went through.
"There is fire in your eyes, Master Snape." The title was said in such a way that there was absolutely no doubt that the speaker did not in any way mean it as anything but a formality. "Of how may we be of service?"
"Send out the others." Snape ordered.
"You come here, giving us orders, human. We do not like that."
The Potions master ignored the comment. "I have a request for you."
When he had finished, the other one spoke. "What you ask of us is very difficult, Master Snape, very difficult indeed. Especially when you give us so little time. Almost impossible."
"So, you can't do it then?" Snape said, an eyebrow raised sardonically.
"As you very well heard, I said almost. Of course we will be able to do it." He said the last words with utter distaste. "We are after all the best."
"Ah, so it's a matter of the price then. Well, you know I do not care for that. Have it finished by tonight and I will pay your price."
"Of course you will; there is no other way for your kind."
"No, of course not. And you will do what I have told you to because there is no other way for your kind." He swept across the room to the fireplace, the black cloak billowing behind him, and as he stepped into the fire, he heard the one he had spoken to call for his three brothers to return and light the magical fires around the room.
Some hours later Severus sat in his library. His classes where long since over, but he simply could not bring himself to start correcting the tests that lay waiting for him on the table. He was looking out into space wondering what he had started by placing what had been delivered to him on the nightstand of his most intelligent student. He had no doubts as to whether she would figure out what it really was. Perhaps he had even meant for her to do so on some level even if he now wished ardently that she would not. He rose from his armchair and started to pace through the room, aimlessly moving things around.
'What have you done, Severus? Nothing good can possibly some out of this. If anyone finds out what you have done she'll be shunned by everyone. What were you thinking, believing that she really was interested in her old, greasy haired Potions master?'
He knew that the most likely scenario – the only likely scenario – was that she would throw it at him in the Great Hall at breakfast tomorrow. Such a classic fool he was, already an old lecher. Severus laughed bitterly. The old, perverted teacher falling for his much younger, beautiful student. It was laughable, no, it was sick. Even if she would have accepted what he had placed in her room and even if the age difference had been accepted by their society, it still wouldn't have mattered. They would never have been accepted because of what he was.
But she knew. She had even said that she accepted it. With a dull sound he threw a pile of books on one of the dark chairs and continued to pace.
Hermione entered her room shortly there after. Walking over to the wardrobe she changed her uniform for jeans and her grey, knee long cardigan and as she put it on, not bothering to button it over her white t-shirt, her eye caught something on the nightstand. On closer inspection it turned out to be a tiny box made of black velvet. She approached it cautiously and finding a piece of parchment beneath it, she slowly pulled it out and unfolded it. She read the words with growing surprise because in a spidery scrawl, familiar from more than six years of potions classes it stood,
Believe me, it will be complicated.
Sitting down on her bed she took the box and slowly opened the lid. At first she didn't understand what she saw. Inside was a eight-pointed crystal star – at least she thought it was crystal because it couldn't very well be diamond, could it – almost an inch wide between its points and hanging from a thin, twisted silver chain. She was sure that it held some kind of message if she could just find the key to solve it. She gingerly lifted the elegant necklace from its box and held it up in front of her, studying it carefully. Suddenly the light caught in something on the silver hanging. Looking closely she realised that it was an inscription of some kind, an inscription that in flourishing letters read Nescit Occasum. 'It knows of no setting.' she translated in her mind. So the star had to signify the Polar star, but why give it to her? She lay down on the bed, still holding the pendant in front of her.
Suddenly she sat bolt upright, her heart hammering wildly against her chest, 'It's the answer! It's his answer to my question!'
"Oh, Merlin!" Now that she had been given the answer she had wanted for so long, she was suddenly terrified. Did he really mean it or was everything just a dream or cruel joke? What was she supposed to do? Did he expect her to come down to his chambers after receiving the pendant or did he expect her to hold a straight face and wait until they next met, or until he contacted her? Suddenly very nervous, she whished that she had dated a bit more or at least listened when the other girls gossiped, though, on the other hand, it probably wouldn't have helped. After all, Severus was nothing like the boys in school, whatever their house.
Thinking back what had happened after she'd left the classroom, she wondered what had really made her go searching for him. She had been walking towards Transfiguration, irritated by his behaviour and once again confused. Then it suddenly had hit her like a blow. He had said that he was in love with her. It might not have been very romantic, it might not even have been nice, but he had said it. And not just that, he had, in an even more awkward way, confirmed it. Was it just his inebriation or did he really mean it? Though, what was it he had said? That truth comes from wine. She had practically no experience with alcohol, but everything she'd read pointed towards the fact that the old Roman saying was correct. Alcoholic beverages lowered a person's defences and made him or her more relaxed, hence more likely to speak his or hers mind.
Hermione suddenly felt both hot and cold. She shivered at the same time as she felt as if she was burning. Fighting a sudden wave of nervous nausea, she laid back down on the bed. Breathing deeply, she heard her heart in her ears so loudly she pressed her hands against them. Focusing on her breathing, trying to keep her breath from shuddering, she slowly calmed down.
What was one supposed to do after declaring ones feelings? They had both said it. Did that mean they were a… A what, exactly? An item, a couple? It sounded ridiculous. Despite what she had told him in the library, she still didn't know what to do. Yes, she, Hermione Jane Granger, Head girl and resident know-it-all, was in love with her professor. Well, since a few weeks former professor. It didn't really matter. It still felt unreal – it still felt slightly wrong. And so Hermione sought refuge the only way she knew – she went to the library.
The library was practically empty when she entered ten minutes later. With confidence she steered her steps towards a dusty bookshelf labelled 'Etiquette and Proper Behaviour'. The shelf did not contain that many books and Hermione easily found the one she was looking for. The title on the cover read 'Wizarding Etiquette from the Founding of Hogwarts and Onwards' and it was one of those rare books that added text when something changed. After pulling it out, she simply sat down on the floor following the titles in the index with her finger until she found an appropriate one. "Receiving Gifts, page 1678." she mouthed before deft fingers started to flick through the thick volume.
Skimming through the chapter, she first found nothing of interest, but then suddenly a footnote caught her interest. 'The tradition of giving your betrothed a gift on the morning of the wedding is thought to originate from the ancient costume of Swain's gift, se page 3086, 'Courting'.' She nervously flipped forward until she found the right page.
She'd never paid much attention to this chapter, she had first read it when she was eleven and then only skimmed the pages, thinking that she would read it more carefully if the need arose. But she had never felt that need – until now that was. Chewing on her bottom lip, Hermione started to read the paragraphs.
'Swain's gift (now days more often referred to as Suitor's gift) date from the twelfth century and even though the tradition has been practically obsolete since the end of the eighteenth century, it is still in practise among some of the oldest wizarding families.
According to legend the first lady to ever receive a Suitor's gift was the Lady of the Fountain. The tale tells that Owain, one of King Arthur's warriors, after slaying the Lady's husband, the Black Night, had become practically imprisoned in the night's home, the Castle of the Fountain, but with the help of Luned, the Lady's faithful handmaiden Owain managed to successfully plead his case to the mistress of the house. After this the Lady of the Fountain appeared as the fairest, wisest, noblest, most chaste, most generous woman in the world to Owain, who fell in love with her. But since he had slain her husband he had to press his suit with care. Once again Luned came to his help. She reminded her mistress that the realm required a strong guardian and sent forward Owain with a gift of a beautiful golden wreath, which she placed on her head as recognition of his proposal.
A Suitor's gift is according to tradition the only proper way for a gentleman to declare his attachment to a lady. The gift is surrounded with much symbolism; It should first and foremost stand as a symbol for the gentleman's feelings towards his intended, but it should also prove that he is able provide for her by symbolising the income of his family. Thirdly there should also be something that symbolises the gentleman's hope for the relationship should she accept the gift.
There are no rules according to what the bequest should be, but though jewellery is the most common gift, engagement rings are strongly discouraged. There are also several local traditions; so are for example love spoons the most common ones in Wales.'
Hermione paused, looking at the necklace she still clutched in her hand. Was that what it was? A Suitor's gift? She didn't want to read too much into this, but could not help but looking at the pendant from the points that the book described. The symbol of love – no, this was ridiculous, he might be in love with her, but that was definitely not the same as loving her. Anyway, the symbol of love was easy enough. It was after all written in plain letters, though she had to admit that it was rather clever the way the pendant matched the message. The symbol for his ability to provide for her – how utterly archaic – must lie in the silver and crystal and the wonderful handcraft, but what about his hope for a relationship? Looking closely, the young woman noticed something she hadn't seen in her room. The two entwined chains where so spidery thin that one did not see it unless one looked very carefully, but they were actually of two different materials.
"One chain made of silver and one of white gold entwined in a never ending circle." she whispered, her heart hammering wildly. Had it not been for the fact that the difference of nuance was so subtle, the symbol had almost been disappointingly clear. Turning back to the thick tome in her knee, she continued to study the text.
'As to the lady receiving a Suitor's gift there is traditionally a very strong decorum concerning the proper way to respond. Upon receiving the endowment, she should respond before the sun next descends this because the sun symbolises the hope the gentleman puts into the gift. Tradition also offer that the lady should respond 'in the spirit of the gift', meaning that she, if she so chooses to do, should acknowledge it in a way that suits the present given.
By placing the gift at the feet of the giver, she tells him that his addresses are unwelcome, though by giving it back to him, she tells him that though not entirely disagreeable to her, she is not yet ready to accept his advances. (There are also a few known cases in witch the lady has been known to publicly throw the gift at her suitor to humiliate him.) Should the lady however which to accept the gentleman, there are two ways of doing so. By acknowledging the gift in public she tells him that she is ready to accept an official courting. If she on the other hand chooses to acknowledge his gift in private, she tells him that though she accepts his proposition, she does not yet wish for it to be publicly known. A clandestine courtship is on the other hand accepted.'
Hermione quickly skimmed the last paragraphs and closed the book. A knot forming in her stomach, so hard she felt nauseous, she slowly rose and took her first few steps towards the door. She crossed her arms in front of her to keep her hands from shaking. The walk to the dungeons felt like the longest one she'd ever made. What if she had misunderstood the necklace? What if it didn't mean anything?
After what felt like an eternity, she reached a familiar part of the dungeons. She pulled her grey cardigan tighter around herself in an attempt to stop her shivering, before reaching a hand out to knock on the door. No, she simply could not do it. He would laugh at her for assuming that the necklace had been… No, no, no… She turned on her heel, fully intending to walk back to Gryffindor Tower and the safety of her Head girl's room.
Though halfway to the stairs, Hermione stopped. She couldn't walk away. She was the one who had wanted this, wasn't she? The pacing woman turned around again, hand raised, fully intending to walk back and knock on the door.
When she however reached it again, she once again stopped, the knot in her stomach growing. She couldn't, she just couldn't. She turned around again, walking a few steps before turning again, chiding herself as she for the third time that night walked towards her professor's door. 'Where's your Gryffindor courage, girl? You know you want this. March yourself back and knock on that bloody door.'
Taking a few steps forward, she suddenly stopped and turned again. 'No, I can't. I have misinterpreted everything. He didn't mean anything by it.'
Suddenly, a bang sounded followed by a drawling voice. "Miss Granger, the floor has survived nearly a millennium of being trampled upon hence I am reasonably certain that you won't be able to wear it down. However much you try." He had spoken mostly to keep himself on familiar grounds.
At his voice, the young woman jumped, letting out a small cry of surprise. Turning around so that she faced him, though she didn't look at him, and the now opened door, she whispered, "No, Sir."
In an attempt to prevent his much unwanted nervousness to shine through, he continued to drawl, "You know, I very generously gave you the password to my library. Am I to take this," he gestured up and down the corridor, "trotting around as you have decided that this was a good place for exercising or have little Miss Know-it-all actually forgotten something?"
"Neither, Sir." Hermione practically stuttered. "I… I wanted to talk to you."
"Indeed, in the hallway?"
Oh, how that man always managed to reel her up, but as her irritation grew, so did her courage. "Of course not." she snapped. "Let's get into the library then, shall we." And with a look of triumph on her face, she stepped in front of him, clearly stating "Docendo discimus." But as the door closed behind them, her courage failed her and she nervously bit her bottom lip.
At the same time her professor had taken up her behaviour from outside and was now pacing, though his face was as perfectly calm as it always was.
After a moment of silence, dragged on to eternity, the Potions master spoke, his voice suddenly soft, "I believe you wanted to talk to me."
"Not really." she whispered, holding her hand out in front of her, opening it so that the necklace came to hang from her fingers. For a moment she saw his mask fall, but it was back so quickly she was sure that it could have been nothing but her imagination.
Why did he suddenly felt like his stomach had turned into lead? He – was – not – nervous! He knew why she had come. Well, at least it was better this way than in the Great Hall, at least for her sake.
With fumbling fingers, she held it up in front of her, the fire making the star glitter, and with shaking hands, she opened the clasp. Then suddenly everything happened so fast. Severus opened his mouth to speak, but before he had managed to even form the words, Hermione had put the necklace around her neck and beneath her fingers she could feel the clasp fade into the chain.
"You silly, stupid woman! What have you done?" he raged. "I though you were more intelligent than this! Don't you realise what you have done? Of all the stupid, thoughtless things to do! Don't you realise that putting on that necklace equals signing a magical contract? You are bound to me now! Don't you see? Don't you understand that for the next quarter you won't be allowed to be involved with any male but me? That you have accepted, no forced me to court you?"
She held a finger to his lips. "Yes." she said calmly. For a few seconds he seemed to have completely lost all ability to speak, even to think. Then she continued, her voice now raised. "And why in the name of Merlin did you give it to me if you didn't want me to accept it?"
He caught her wrist in his hand, practically shaking her as he all but screamed, "Because I wanted to scare you! Because I wanted to show you exactly what kind of conservative, chauvinistic, prejudiced, pure blooded" he practically spat that word "society you are getting yourself in league with! Because I am frantically in love with you!" He stopped dead in his tirade; Admitting that last part had definitely not been a part of his plan.
"And I am in love with you, Severus." His arm fell to hang limp along his side and she took the hand that had just held her so violently, looking into his eyes. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. It doesn't matter to me that I will be bound to you for the next four months because I don't want someone else. I knew what I did when I put on that necklace, I still do, and I wholeheartedly accept you as my suitor."
Hermione tried to look down at the floor again, but he captured her chin, making her look at him again. Stroking her cheek with one of his fingers, he whispered, "Are you sure, Hermione? I don't want to force you into something you are not ready for. Are you sure that this is what you want? It will…"
"Will be complicated." she finished for him. "Yes, Severus, this is what I want." She rose on her toes and placed her hands on his shoulders, he vaguely noticed that they felt cold, even through his robes, and leant into him, placing a soft kiss on his lips.
Author's notes: Well, there are quite a few things to explain in this chapter, I think. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, you might be wondering what 'The Forge' is and to whom Snape was speaking. Well, you'll have to keep on wondering because it is a part of the plot that won't be clear until later.
Secondly, I'm referring to quite a few traditions and myths in this chapter so I thought I'd tell you what is true and what is invented by me:
Swain's (Suitor's) gift is nothing that exists to my knowledge, but is something I've made up as an (almost extinct) tradition in the Wizarding world.
The tradition of giving your betrothed a gift on the morning of the wedding is partly true. In my country the man gives his new wife something called a 'morning gift' the morning after the wedding. I simply altered it for the Wizarding world because I thought it worked better with the whole 'originating from Suitor's gift'-thing. (I don't know if our tradition is common in other countries.)
The legend of the Lady of the Fountain and Owain is a Celtic myth, which I've twisted a little by adding the golden wrath. (Except for that it follows the legend, or at least the version I know.)
The mentioning of love spoons is actually very true. As far as I have understood when I visited Wales (please correct me if I'm wrong) they were historically given as a proposal gift from a man to the woman he asked to marry him. They are usually carved in wood with patterns and details which symbolise wishes for the future (now days they are mostly given at weddings, christenings and birthdays).