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Chapter Thirty Seven
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Hermione was numb. Even her academic interest (obsession?) could not keep her attention fully focused on the chaos surrounding them. The moment the initial shock had passed, Professor Snape had strode out into the hall and grabbed --literally-- a passing student --a second year Hufflepuff-- and sent the poor boy scurrying off to find the headmaster and the deputy headmistress. The kid had left at a dead run, as if the very hounds of hell were chasing him.

Now, with both school leaders present, as well as the influx of other professors, the library was as loud as she had ever heard it -- though Ron had assured her it was louder the day Voldemort died. She shuddered in remembrance of that day. It may have ultimately been a day of celebration for most of the wizarding world, but for her, it would forever be the day her world had fallen apart.

Right now, the headmaster was turning to question Harry, having completed his questions to Draco.

As she listened, she grew profoundly saddened by her best friend. Why, Harry? she wondered miserably. Why didn't you tell anyone? She knew he had finally spilled his secret to Draco, but that was months after it had started. And why Draco? She couldn't help but be a little hurt that he had confided in the Slytherin before either of his two best friends. Then, she shook herself. Right, and when would have been the appropriate time? she asked herself scornfully. When you could barely stand to be in the same room with him? When you were obssessing over this vile pregnancy? And Ron? That's a laugh. It was his sister that was in question. She sighed, silently acknowledging that Harry couldn't have come to either of them. It wouldn't have been even remotely fair to mention it to Ron, not when Harry had been so sure, for so long, that it was nothing more than his over-active imagination.

"You okay?"

Draco's voice, immediately to her right, startled a jump and a squelched screech out of her. She blushed bright red as half the room turned toward her at the sound. "Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed beyond belief, "got startled is all." She was hugely relieved when everyone's attention turned back to the problem at hand.

"Sorry," she said again, this time quietly, and directed to the Slytherin beside her.

He shrugged. "It's all right."

Hermione hadn't missed the quickly hidden pained expression, nor the lingering -- though, fairly well masked -- unease. Having just waded through a gross misunderstanding with Professor Snape, Hermione was unable to let this one lie. "It wasn't you," she offered softly.

He scoffed, the, 'yeah, right,' clear in his dubious expression.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "I didn't even realize it was you until after I'd screamed." She took a deep breath, feeling like she was about to jump off 20 foot high cliff, without knowing what was at the bottom. "I--"

You're confiding in Draco -- the ferret -- why? she asked herself in utter astonishment.

"--I don't handle the unexpected very well. Sudden sounds, people taking me by surprise; that kind of thing makes my skin feel like it's literally trying to crawl away. I get this flash through me, of pure unadulterated terror." She paused. "It only lasts a split second these days, but it's. . . ."

"Unpleasant?" Draco suggested quietly.

Hermione snorted in genuine amusement. "Yeah, you could say that." Maybe he really has changed, she thought, amazement shooting through her -- a far more pleasant sensation than her earlier reaction, she had to admit.

"So," Draco began again, "you okay?"

She nodded absently, then really looked at the blond beside her. The answer to her current dilemma suddenly staring her in the face. She wondered if she could do it. Could she talk to him about this? Probably. The big question, though, was whether or not he could be trusted far enough to keep his mouth shut about it. It wasn't something she wanted broadcast around the school. She knew what would happen to her if anyone found out -- social suicide. She almost laughed. It's not as though she was exactly a social butterfly to start with. That didn't really bother her. What did bother her, was she was pretty sure the consequences to Professor Snape wouldn't be good, either. It wasn't as if he'd done anything, though. In fact, she was pretty sure he didn't even feel any differently toward her than he ever had.

He would probably be glad to see the end of her annoying and demanding presence once she graduated. That thought brought a wave of aching sadness that swamped her with its intensity. It took several deep breaths to wade through it. Even as she calmed herself, her inner debate grew. She well knew how people could misconstrue anything -- even if what she was feeling wasn't his fault -- and she didn't want to do anything that might inadvertently harm him.

She snorted, drawing an odd look from Draco. Unless, acting like a decent human being for a change, made it his fault. She could see it now. 'Yes, it's all his fault. It turns out he's actually human under all that snark and bitterness. When I discovered that, I fell in love.'

Her thoughts froze, instantly. She had not just thought that! She couldn't be that stupid, could she? She was the top of her class. She could not possibly be stupid enough to actually fall in love with a professor. She winced. It was even worse than that. She was a Gryffindor student falling for Professor Snape. She had to admit, now that she actually thought about it, that once a person got past his outer-most defensive barriers -- and dangerous ones they were -- there was a lot there to love. He was intelligent, well-spoken -- when he bothered to show it -- simply brilliant in potions, and certainly no one could claim he wasn't extremely brave.

Isn't my life complicated enough? she whined silently.

Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, she continued staring at Draco, trying to decide what to do. Her sudden epiphany making her even more uncertain, especially about sharing. She stared so long, he began to shift uncomfortably.

"What?" he finally asked.

Decision made; though, she was pretty sure she was going to keep the word 'love' out of the conversation. "Could we talk?" she asked very quietly, not wanting anyone to hear. "Privately?"

Astonishment written in every line of his face and posture, Draco nodded slowly. "Certainly," he replied, rising; going so far as to hold out his hand to assist her to her feet.

She allowed the assistance, giving a small, grateful, half-smile as he released her hand. Then, sparing only the briefest of glances toward the rest of the room -- to assure herself that no one needed either of them -- she spun around and headed out of the library. She stayed silent until she found an open, empty classroom to slip inside, and as soon as Draco closed the door behind them, she cast privacy spells.

Draco arched a surprised eyebrow out her, then smirked. "If I didn't know better, I'd be getting certain . . . suspicions, right about now," he said, his words heavily laced with laughter.

Hermione rolled her eyes; though, she laughed, too. "Boys," she accused drily.

"I take exception to that," Draco retorted. "I'm very much a man, thank you very much."

Snorting, Hermione didn't bother responding to that claim. "I need the advice of someone who thinks Slytherin," she said bluntly.

Draco grinned at her, hitching himself up to sit on one of the tables. "You need tutoring in thinking like a Slytherin, do you?" he asked, laughing slightly.

"Something like that," she replied easily, leaning against the table closest to Draco.

"Okay, you've successfully peaked my interest. Why would you, the epitome of Gryffindor, need to think like a Slytherin?"

Hermione hesitated, biting her lip nervously. "I don't know how much you know about what's been going on around here, about how I've been . . . moving beyond what . happened," she said carefully.

Draco's laughter fell away, his expression suddenly serious. "Not much," he replied evenly; though Hermione could tell he was tense and wary. "You seem to keep to yourself a lot, even more than you used to."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, with one exception, I've even been avoiding the professors -- except in class, of course."

Even with the subject matter Draco let out a short laugh. "Of course," he agreed wryly, then cocked his head to the side curiously. "Who's the exception, Professor McGonagall?"

Hermione shook her head fervently. "No!" she exclaimed. "That woman alternates between being a hovering mother hen, treating me like I'm about to shatter, and hemming and hawing like she has no clue what to say."

Draco winced. "That would be . . . irritating."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, you could say that."

"So, who then?"

"You won't believe me."

He smirked. "Try me."

"Professor Snape."

He blinked twice before responding. "You're right. I don't believe you."

She laughed. "Hard as it is to believe, he's the only adult who doesn't really treat me like damaged goods."

Draco's eyes lost focus, as if in deep thought. After a couple of moments, he nodded. "I can see that. He may be nasty to you, but it's a taste of normal."

Wow! He understands. "Yes," she breathed aloud, amazed. "That's it exactly." A shared moment of silence descended before Hermione shook herself and broke it. "That's how it started."

Draco's eyebrows lifted to his hairline, his eyes widening almost comically. "Started?" he squeaked, cleared his throat and repeated, "started?" swallowing heavily.

"Not that!!" she exclaimed instantly. "Sheesh! Boys; always have one thing on their minds!"

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Draco breathed. "You scared me for a moment there."

Hermione chuckled softly, then launched into a narrative of the changes in her perceptions of the snarky professor, and the incidents that had lead up to those changes -- leaving out only a couple things, most importantly, any hints that might lead Draco to discover what she more than suspected had happened to the professor. That was not her secret to reveal, and there was no way she was going to betray him like that. She watched Draco carefully as she continued, amused to notice that his shock returned slowly, growing with each new revelation. "He has become a friend," she concluded quietly.

Draco remained silent for several long moments, then began to speak slowly, carefully. "Are you certain that you're not reading more into this than is there?" he asked.

"No," she replied bluntly, "I'm not. I'm sure of only one thing. He feels like a friend, and until proven otherwise, I'm going to continue to treat him like one."

"Right," Draco said with finality, as if telling himself to just accept it. "So what's the problem?"

"Earlier today, I managed to put both feet in my mouth, up to my knees," she admitted morosely. "I accidently insulted him."

Draco winced.

"Yes," she agreed; though, Draco hadn't verbalised anything. He hadn't needed to. Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead, recounting the entire scene from just a few hours ago, leaving nothing out -- including the professor distrust of the younger Slytherin. She was afraid Draco might be insulted or hurt by it all, but couldn't leave it out and still get across just what had happened to make her so angry. She even brought back up the incident where the professor had initially made the comparison -- carefully edited, of course.

Draco winced several times during the course of her narrative, uttering a heartfelt, "ouch," when she finished.

"Yeah, like that helps!" Hermione snapped irritably. "Sorry," she continued immediately.

"And you need help from me because you want to get back in his good graces?" he asked. "Assuming you were there to begin with."

Hermione nodded. That was it in a nutshell. "I want to apologize for the misunderstanding, to let him know I was intending it as an insult, merely that I understand what he'd been trying to tell me all along. But most importantly, I need him to actually listen to me, or I can't do any of those things."

Draco nodded, thinking. "I saw a poster once," he said, out of the blue. "It took me a couple seconds to work out what it meant, but it's stuck with me ever since."

"Okay, and?" she asked neutrally, frowning, not sure what this had to do with her dilemma, but certain it did somehow.

He smirked. "Ready?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione nodded. "Yes, lay on me your great wisdom," she said sarcastically.

"Oh, ha, ha," he replied, then took a deep breath. "I know you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."

Hermione blinked, mentally slowly down his words. She grinned the moment it clicked. She nodded then, laughing. "That'll make anyone stop for a second."

"Exactly," Draco replied. "And once you have that single moment, then this is what you do," he continued, leaning closer and whispering conspiratorially. As his instructions continued, Hermione's grin grew slowly. By the time he was done outlining what she needed to do and the basics of what she needed to say, Hermione was doubly glad she had given in to the impulse to confide in the blond Slytherin.

She was ready. Now she just needed the opportunity.

She walked over to him, laying a gentle hand on his forearm. "Thank you, Draco," she offered.

"You're welcome," he grinned, hopping down from the table. "Just one thing, well, two, actually."

"What's that?"

"One: If this backfires on you?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't have anything to do with it."

She laughed. "Deal. And?"

"If it does work out?"

"Yes?" she prompted warily.

"I never want any of the details."

"Draco!" she exclaimed huffily, blushing despite her best efforts. "I told you--"

"Look, Hermione; I'm definitely a bloke, but I'm not thick."

Hermione slumped. "Is it really that obvious?" she asked, beyond mortified.

He shook his head. "No, not until you started talking about the whole thing. I'm sure no one else knows, or even suspects, for that matter."

Sighing in relief, Hermione tried to smile. "Good." A sudden thought had her frowning again. "I don't want you to think that he's done anything to m--"

"I know."

"Good, because he hasn't."

"I know."

"In fact, I'm pretty sure this is all one-sided, doomed from the beginning."

"I know."

Nodding slowly, Hermione headed for the door. Just as she reached it, she turned to look over her shoulder. "I hope it isn't," she whispered, darting out the door.

"I know that, too," she heard him say almost as softly.

TBC

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