When Severus Snape saw Hermione Granger breaking down in tears over the traumatic memories of Fred Weasley's murder and herself forced to be the one who remained centered through it all, something broke inside of him.
A wall, that had probably been there for as long as he could remember, created to protect him from the cruel, merciless world in which he lived. A wall that would dim out the screams of his mother when his father came back drunk late at night. A wall that would isolate him from his classmates calling him Snivellus, that would protect the little dignity he had left after each one of the Potter squad's visits. A wall that deafened his heart to the surprisingly inventive insults that generations of students had come up with to refer to their Potions teacher.
A wall that had come most in handy when the Dark Lord returned and he was forced to pretend to be on his side again, knowing, hearing and even witnessing the worst atrocities Lord Voldemort was capable off.
A wall that had become so solid, so engraved in himself that he had long forgotten it was there, for he had no recollections of a time in which he had existed without that protective barrier.
So why it had chosen this particular moment to come crumbling down as if it was made of sand, he probably would never know. But when the wave of Hermione's pain hit his unprepared insides, he realized that something had truly changed within him, something powerful and terrifying, something that no love filter or any kind of magic he had ever heard of could have caused.
Only once in his life had he allowed another human being to walk through the doors of his wall, and yet, it had remained in place, ready to fulfill its duty whenever it was necessary. But this wasn't like that. He was feeling her pain in all its heartbreaking glory, almost as if it were his own. Maybe because it was. The scene she was describing could have taken many forms and scenarios, but in essence, the sorrow and rage in her heart were rooted in a very familiar ground.
Maybe that's why he had finally understood why the girl seemed so determined to convince him that he wasn't as despicable as everyone had made him believe… For now he was feeling the imperative need to prove her the same. But comforting words weren't exactly his strong suit, so he had figured facts would speak for themselves, deciding to take her up to see the result of her efforts with her own eyes.
When he had understood that the infirmary wards wouldn't allow her through, he had felt a deep, guilty satisfaction upon realizing that he was being given the perfect excuse to hold her without raising any suspicions. He had never been fond of physical touch, probably because he had never received it in anything other than a harming manner… but ever since she had started crying, he had been fighting the pressing urge to put his arms around her and just press her against himself trying somehow to absorb her pain and release her of her burden. It had been an instinct, despite his brain shouting into his ears that it was completely inappropriate. He sent an inner thought of gratitude towards Madame Pomfrey for setting the wards, before carefully placing his hand on Hermione's back, noticing the soft texture of her dress, the tips of her long hair caressing the top of his fingers. He had thought that holding her would provide some comfort, some soothing calm to the uncomfortable ache within his heart… but instead, it had almost drove him mad. He couldn't let her go now, of course, or else the wards would probably eject her immediately. But every second of the eternal minute they spent next to Miss Silvermoon's bed became torture. His mind was instantly flooded with images, images that he hadn't voluntarily summoned in years, that only crept every once in a while into his dreams to finally force some necessary release from his body. But now he was awake, and to his horror, so was his body. He needed to get them out of there before she could begin to feel it.
However, he found himself incapable of letting her go completely, allowing himself the selfish luxury of keeping her hand in his, with the pretext of guiding her through the dark hallway. To his relief, she didn't seem to care at all... To his secret disappointment, she didn't seem to care at all.
Only when he was sure they were completely alone in that empty classroom, and he could tell she had effectively calmed down, his eyes truly noticed her looks for the first time. He felt a hidden satisfaction when noticing the color of her dress, which his rational mind reminded him, could not have anything to do with the color of his House… and yet, watching her in green somehow created some sort of momentarily belonging that turned him on, specially when realizing that she had worn it to a Weasley-Potter gathering, as if she had been sending some sort of non-verbal loyalty message. It was absolutely madness, of course, but that didn't stop him from wishing he was still holding her waist, and this time, not exactly in a comforting manner… but in a claiming one.
Her straight hair was also looking beautiful, though Severus realized it looked unnatural… For a moment, a flashing image of her, leaning over a cauldron, her usually messy hair even wilder with the steam and humidity, crossed his mind. And though it made no rational sense, he had to admit that it was a much more alluring view. He had dared to touch it to prove a point, but it had been too much for him. The look in her eyes as she listened to his words had been too much, and suddenly, a cold slap of reality had hit him hard.
What was he doing? What the bloody hell was he doing!? He was lusting over a woman young enough to be his daughter! When had he become so disgusting, allowing himself that kind of creepy behavior? He needed to get a grip on himself, immediately!
He gathered his composure as best as he possibly could and left that damned empty classroom that seemed to hold a strange deranging power over him every time he set foot on it.
But he didn't get too far, for a sharp, burning pain in his neck stole his breath away. He let out a loud gasp, leaning against the wall to avoid falling as his vision blurred. The burning sensation began spreading quickly through his veins, as if he had been injected with corrosive acid, and he screamed, burying his face in his arm to avoid being heard.
"Professor?" he heard Hermione's concerned voice rushing towards him. She must have followed him out of the room.
He wanted to order her to leave him alone, but when he opened his mouth, only a loud moan of pain emerged.
"What's wrong?" she asked, grabbing his arm to help him stand. "Let me get Madame Pomfrey!"
"No!" Snape commanded hoarsely, noticing how the mere touch of her hand had decreased the pain to a point where he was able to focus again. "No. This is her first night of sleep in weeks. There's no need to bother her." he said, though his breathing was still irregular.
"Are you sure?" the girl hesitated, her hand still stroking his sleeve.
"I am." Snape said, taking a slow deep breath and straightening himself. "Go to bed. Now. Goodnight." he repeated, resuming his walking.
Hermione followed him silently down the stairs, hesitating when they reached Gryffindor's hallway. But the Potions master didn't even look back to say goodbye at her as he continued downstairs, so she figured he would get to his chambers alright, and she finally entered her common room, letting out a huge sigh.
She didn't even know where to begin to process all she was feeling at the same time.
But the image of Selina Silvermoon dreaming in her sleep was the first thing that popped into her mind, as she sat on the red couch in front of the fire. She made it! They made it. Thanks to Professor Snape believing in her and being willing to try her suggestion, she had found a solution to a terminal case. The thrill this sent throughout her entire body almost made her want to grab a piece of parchment and start writing letters to everyone she knew to let them know about the exciting possibilities this could unveil.
But then, her heart sunk in her chest, remembering that the list of recipients for said letters would be awfully short. Would Harry and Ron ever speak to her again? Did she want them to? She was still too angry and too hurt to think straight about their fight… but something deep inside of her knew that whatever happened, she would never go back to what she had felt before. She remembered Snape's words, asking her if her friends loved her well… if it was a good sign that she should put so much effort into fitting in with them...
And then, she felt another sting in the pit of her stomach, from a very different feeling. When Snape had taken a strand of her hair, for a moment she had expected a compliment, a commentary of appreciation of her looks that night… but of course, he was only using it as a metaphor to prove his point. How could she have been so stupid to expect anything different? Had she really expected that a man like him would see her that way?
In all honesty, for a second, she had. Because the moment he had placed his arms around her in the infirmary, Hermione had realized that her feelings towards the Professor weren't merely intellectual, or even emotional admiration. She was attracted to him. Now that she admitted that to herself, she wondered how she had not seen it before. The way her heart raced whenever he was close, the effect his intoxicating scent or hypnotic voice had on her, the pull towards his endless black eyes… She had convinced herself that the night she had come near to kissing him had just been a momentarily slip, induced by her need of making him feel better… But now she knew that was bullshit. She had wanted to kiss him again this very night. She had wanted to do much more than that.
Nevertheless, the physical attraction was just the cherry on top of all the other feelings, however juicy and compelling that cherry was. She wanted to know him. She wanted to understand him. She wanted to explore his fascinating soul, to find out who he truly was when all those protective layers receded… for the glimpses he had allowed her to see that night suggested that, indeed, all his harshness was just a well rehearsed act. She wanted to be the one granted the honor of getting into his heart, for she knew he definitely had one… the impenetrable walls that surrounded it, only evidence of how precious it was. Maybe it was just her ego talking, but she thought of Snape's level of devotion towards Harry's mother and she felt envious. If he was capable of feeling such things, why was it so crazy to expect from him something more than cold, distant remarks?
However, she knew that there was no point in desiring all of that. Yes, Snape had shown compassion towards her tonight, probably just to get her to stop causing a scene at the castle grounds. He had proved that he was not the heartless git they all considered him to be. But that was all. Once he had make sure that she was calmed, he had promptly gotten away from her again. If not even in her most dressed up fancy attire had she been able to spark his interest, clearly she'd never will. And honestly, what did she expect? She was just an immature child to him, and she knew for a fact that the man was already blindly committed to his life-long love. If he hadn't forgotten about Lily in twenty years, he definitely wouldn't now, not for her.
She would have to swallow those feelings and bury them deep where he'd never found out about them. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that they could be friends. The small leap of joy her heart took with that perspective restored her hope. Maybe she didn't have to be so lonely… she could really appreciate a true friend right now. Befriending Severus Snape was something she had never considered before, but now it seemed so obvious that the two of them were the most kindred spirits in that castle, that she felt confident that he would see it that way too, with patience and skill on her side.
Maybe she could begin with helping him figuring out what was happening to him. She had seen him holding his neck in pain earlier, and before that, he had been so strangely cold all the time. Clearly, he was suffering some sort of side effect from Nagini's attack, and maybe that was related with the patronus that had saved him.
She remembered her idea, that had almost been forgotten again due to her fight with Harry and Ron. She would start there, Hermione decided, getting up from the couch and walking towards her dormitory. She needed to get some sleep, to prepare herself for the long day ahead.
A/N: So, I know this chapter didn't move forward in the plot but I felt it was important to go a little deeper into the characters view on what's happening to them... I hope you agree and enjoyed it, as always, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! It's exciting and very encouraging to find reviews from people that hadn't posted one before, same as hearing from those of you who keep following the story and reviewing. I'm so grateful for all of you! :)
And don't worry, next chapter will move forward in the story ;)