Chapter 3 – Close Encounters and Frustrations

Hermione shut the book she was reading in irritation. She couldn't stop obsessing over what had happened in the kitchen two days ago. It was driving her mad!

You must have been overreacting, Hermione! As if he'd flirt with you! her mind repeated. She couldn't quite believe that he had been flirting that night and so now she was frustrated. Not knowing really wasn't something she could deal with.

Standing from the chair, she wandered about her room for a few minutes, trying to clear her head, before sitting back at the desk with a 'thump' and opening the book again, a determined look on her face.

"...Oh for crying out loud!" she yelled to no one in particular a few minutes later, slamming the book closed and throwing herself face first onto her bed.

I just wish I knew what was going on! She thought, frustrated that her analytical brain couldn't figure out the motives of Severus Snape.

Part of her said it was that he was bored. After all he'd been magically housebound in this forsaken place for months awaiting a trial date, and not that many people were what you could call 'best buds' with him. Perhaps he was just trying to provoke a reaction from her? But of what kind?

It didn't help that she liked him the way she did. If she still felt like she had during her Hogwarts years, which had been respect with a healthy dose of fear, she wouldn't have a problem passing off his behaviour as mean, albeit it was an unusual method... even for him.

She shook her head, irritated by her obsessing and decided she'd better get something to eat. Checking her watch she noticed it was already seven in the evening and she'd not eaten since breakfast. No wonder my concentration's shot, she told herself.

Descending the stairs she couldn't help but wonder what the only other resident of Grimmauld Place was doing and, as she took the last few steps down onto the ground floor landing, she saw that the lamps were lit in the library. Her first thought had been correct.

She had kept her promise from that first evening and had un-shrunk some of the boxes of books, placing them along one wall of the Black family library for him to access. She'd not really seen him much over the last two days, other than in passing in the kitchen and the upstairs corridor. Mainly because you've been holed up in your room doing work and avoiding him, the sarcastic part of her mind echoed.

Moving down the corridor, she entered the kitchen and set about making some beans on toast, too lazy and too tired to make anything more complicated. Now where did I put the butter, she thought, looking first in the chiller cupboard and then the counter tops again. Hmm, maybe he used it...

Putting the toast onto a plate Hermione briefly considered going without it but she shook herself and firmed her resolve to go and ask him. Really, being afraid to ask where the butter is! Casting a warming charm over the toast, she set off to the library.

"Sir?" Hermione said softly, as she entered the library.

No reply.

She couldn't see his face because the chair had been turned toward the fire more fully and only his legs were visible from where she stood. Walking toward him Hermione noted the stack of books on the floor next to the chair with a smile. At least he'd found something to read then.

Rounding the chair, she stopped short when she saw he was asleep, his head in one hand and a book forgotten in his other.

She couldn't help but stare at him for a few moments; taking in his face at it's most unguarded. He would never win a beauty competition, but that wasn't what attracted her to him. Other than the mysterious air around him and how he pushed others away from himself, she felt attracted to him because of his bravery, his resolution, his... everything.

She knew some would label it as hero worship – she'd seen it happen enough with the girls dating Harry, and even Ron, for their fame and glory. But with Severus Snape there was just... something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. No matter how hard she tried to analyse her feelings for him, it slipped through her hands like mist.

It didn't matter to her that people saw him as mean, cruel and bitter. She understood that although those were most likely a large part of him, they were just that – parts. Hermione wanted to get to know the whole of him.

Biting her lip Hermione continued her observation of her ex Potions professor, moving one step closer to the chair. She knew that if she ever wanted something to happen between them he'd most likely expect her to take the initiative... at least at first.

Raising one hand she reached out to brush away a strand of hair from his forehead but stopped in mid air, afraid of doing so.

"You know, Miss Granger, I can't help but wonder what interest you have in me sleeping," he said, lifting his head as he spoke and grasping her wrist with one hand. Pulling her hand toward himself, he turned her arm so her palm was facing up, which caused Hermione to take a step closer.

"I was coming to ask where the butter is," she said tentatively.

"It's in the cupboard with the cans," he replied, bringing his other hand up to touch her fingertips. "Proper butter so it doesn't belong in the fridge."

"Right," she said, more interested in what he was doing to her hand than his reply.

His fingertips touched hers and then danced over her palm for a few moments, the rough skin of his calloused fingers contrasting with her smooth palm, before coming to hold the ends of her fingers, her hand open. "You're lucky I knew it was you," he said quietly. "Anyone else would have been hexed first and identified later had they interrupted my sleep. The war has left me rather prone to that kind of thing."

She nodded and opened her mouth to ask how he knew it was her, but before she could, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to her palm, closing her fingers over it afterwards.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to write a letter," he said as he released her hand and stood up. "Don't forget, the butter stays out of the fridge," he continued, before he left the room faster than she thought possible.

Hermione sat on the chair he'd just vacated as the door to the library closed, staring at her hand and looking at the place he'd kissed her palm like it had left a mark.

Hermione stretched her back and grabbed the last whole biscuit from the plate on the table. The meeting was finally over!

She had finished her latest project last week, having spent her first four days at Grimmauld Place filling in the tortuous paperwork, and had just finished the four hour meeting with the head of the department for her debriefing.

Now she had the next month to work from home on her new project. She snorted inelegantly as she packed up her bag, New! It's just one that the others have finally realised they can't solve, so are putting on my shoulders. Yet again.

Saying goodbye to the only other person left in the briefing room she headed for her next stop before going home. The central bookstore of the Ministry of Magic.

Or, in Hermione's world, Utopia.

Owning not one but three copies of every book ever published in the known world, both Muggle and Wizarding, it was the largest collection of books on every subject known to man, second only to the one in central China. Honestly it put libraries such as the Bodleian in Oxford and the British Library to shame. Well, they are Muggle, Hermione allowed as she walked toward the entrance area, so we do have an advantage...

Showing her I.D., Hermione was let into the store by a guard after storing her bag in one of the lockers. If there was one good thing about this place it was that it was secure. Only a limited number of staff were allowed as much access as she was.

Quickly looking around the main desks, she spotted Gladys, the librarian that Hermione had known since she'd started working for the department. "Afternoon, Gladys," Hermione said, grabbing a pen from the desk, as well as a slip of parchment and making a few notes.

"Hello there, Hermione," she replied cheerfully. Holding up the book in her hand she continued, "I'll be back in a second, just got to send this on its way to the right department."

Nodding, Hermione sat down and waited for a few minutes until Gladys, a short middle aged woman came back round the corner.

"Oh, yes, they said you'd be down today," she said adjusting her glasses. "I've got some of it set up for you in here. There's an awful lot you know."

Hermione smiled ruefully and followed the librarian to one of the reading rooms. It was big, about the size of the Gryffindor common room, and already half full of boxes of shrunken books. "Oh... I really am going to be here a while, aren't I?" Hermione said to the librarian looking at the teetering piles of boxes against the far wall.

"Most likely, I'm afraid. Here's the inventory list, dear, the sooner you start the sooner you can get out of this place."

"Thanks," she answered, taking off her cloak and grabbing a chair to sit on. "Could I possibly have a copy of these too, if it's not too much trouble, Gladys?" Hermione handed her a small piece of parchment with a few titles noted down in rough handwriting.

"Sure, not a problem," Gladys replied glancing at the list. "I'll bring them when I've got a minute."

"You're a lifesaver, Gladys," Hermione said as she left the room. Un-scrolling the inventory list Hermione sighed loudly. "Now I know why this project's been given to me."

Pulling out her wand Hermione set about the task of selecting the books she'd need from the ones she didn't.

"Miss Granger in today's modern world it is normal for a person to sleep in a bed," came a low voice early the next morning as Hermione half sat and half lay on the sofa in the library.

"What... what time is it?" Hermione mumbled, struggling to sit up.

"Almost six am," came the reply.

"Wha... oh, sod that," Hermione moaned, slowly trying to get to her feet. "I didn't get in until four." She'd spent almost fourteen hours in the library the night before, sifting through books and she wasn't even half done.

Snape snorted as Hermione staggered into the desk near the bookcase, walking completely in the wrong direction to the door in her daze. "Need assistance, Miss Granger?"

"I, no," she stammered, turning round toward the door. "I just... I'm... just... I...," she trailed off as she leant against the wall, more than half asleep. "So tired."

"Well far be it from me to hinder your trip to bed," he said as she slid slowly down the wall, unable to stand. Rolling his eyes he walked to her and picked her up as if she weighed next to nothing.

"What..."she started to say half heartedly before succumbing to her tiredness and leaning against him as he took her up the stairs.

She awoke again as he put her on her bed and took off her shoes. "I, oh, I'm in bed," she said dreamily. "I like my bed..."

"Miss Granger..." Snape began as he pulled the covers over her.

"I'm Hermione, not Miss Granger, and you're Severus not Snape... Severus. I like that name."

"Yes, well-"

"And you're a flirt," she continued interrupting him almost as if he wasn't there. "I like it though..."

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," he quietly replied closing the door. Hermione quickly fell asleep to the dim sound of his footsteps crossing the hall.

Rolling over Hermione pulled a face as she got rid of the hair in her mouth. She usually tied it up before bed to stop that, so...

Oh no.

She sat up and pushed the covers off herself, revealing that she was still fully dressed in her clothes from yesterday.

A frown on her face, she tried to recall how she'd made it to bed. Did I wake up and put myself in bed later on? I think I remember nodding off in the library...

Climbing out of bed she began to take off her rumpled clothes, discarding them on the floor where they fell. Grabbing her wand and a towel which she wrapped around herself, Hermione left her room quietly tip toeing across the hall to the bathroom.

"Tempus," she whispered in the dim light coming in through the window.

'17.00pm'

She'd slept almost all day! Oh well, she thought resignedly, after fourteen or so hours in that library I suppose I needed it.

Turning on the water, Hermione stepped into the hot spray, still thinking about how she'd managed to get into her bed.

"OH!" she exclaimed aloud as she remembered what had happened. He carried me up the stairs! She smiled at the thought that he'd taken the trouble to do that and how he'd obviously realised she was better off in a bed. The one thing that bothered her was what she may or may not have said to him.

It was a little known fact that if you wanted to get information out of Hermione Granger, you did it when she was tired. Really tired. She was also very forthcoming with pieces of information she'd normally hold close to her chest. Hermione hated it.

Putting her hands over her face Hermione moaned. I can't remember what I said. Knowing my luck I tried to get him in bed with me or told him just how sexy I find his hands or voice or... Crap.

Finishing her shower Hermione sat on the edge of the bath and dried herself quickly, casting a warming charm when the cold of the house finally penetrated the haze of sleep and the warmth from the shower.

It was useless to worry really. If she'd said something to that effect he'd either tease her relentlessly about it, use it to his advantage, if he likes you, her mind chanted, or he'd ignore it and pretend he never heard her.

She was torn between options two and three and decided she'd go back to bed. She couldn't do anything about it now anyway.

The next morning Hermione's mind was much more relaxed about the 'Snape carrying me to bed' event and as such had decided two things. One – that as far as she was concerned it hadn't happened and she hadn't said anything embarrassing. She couldn't remember what she'd said anyway so there was no point in worrying.

Secondly, she was going to talk to Ron.

While she and Ron had indeed dated, it had been a lifetime time ago. He was now not only engaged to be married but also a father-to-be. She liked to think that they were close friends who knew each other all the better for their failed relationship.

Right now she needed someone to talk to about the whole 'Feelings for Snape' thing as she thought of it and between Ron and Harry there wasn't much of a choice.

Harry understood all the things that Severus Snape had done for the Order and respected him for his efforts in the war but Hermione knew it would be a long time until he'd be able to understand her feelings for him.

Ron wouldn't be happy, but he wouldn't go into a rage and start making accusations to Snape either. At least she hoped not.

Either way at half past eleven that morning, Hermione Floo-called Ron while he was at work.

"Heya, Hermione," he said cheerfully, putting down his coffee mug. "You alright?"

"Hi, Ron, I was wondering if we could have a chat?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"Sure! Come on through. I've got nothing going on until later, so I've plenty of time for you. I'm on a break now anyway."

"Thanks, Ron. I'll just be a minute."

Stepping back from the fireplace Hermione grabbed her cloak and used some Floo powder to travel to Ron's office.

"So how're things at Grimmauld Place?" Ron asked as soon as she stepped into the room and set to hang her cloak up. "Snape driving you batty yet?"

"It's okay," she answered. "And Severus is really not that bad. In fact," she continued getting straight to the point before she changed her mind, "I came to talk to you about something to do with him. You're not going to like it though."

"I'm not?"

"Err, no."

"But you have to tell me?" he asked, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Well, either you or Harry, and trust me you're the one I'd prefer right now."

Ron nodded, knowing that there were certain taboo subjects with Harry even now, years after the war. "Well I suppose if you must," he said, gesturing for her to take a seat. "Spill."

Hermione smiled, Ron's impatience was as strong as ever. "I," she started but stopped, not knowing exactly how to phrase it. Sure 'I love Severus Snape' might be clear enough, but she didn't want to shock him that much.

"You...?" Ron prompted.

"I," she sighed loudly, "Fine, I have feelings for Severus Snape." There, I said it.

Ron didn't reply straight away, he just looked at her, his face not registering any reaction.

"Ron?" Hermione said after a minute or so of him just sat staring at her. "Ron?"

"Well, you're right not to tell Harry. I'd be tearing over to Grimmauld Place right now if I were him."

"Don't I know it," Hermione said. "You know I can't believe he still feels that way about him. He has let the man live in Grimmauld Place while he awaits his trial and everything."

"Yeah, which I still reckon the Ministry's delaying on purpose," Ron added, reminding her of his conspiracy theory about the Ministry and the War trials.

"Hmm," Hermione said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She realised they'd quickly left the topic of conversation. "So... Harry would be mad, but what about you?"

He put his cup down and stood, walking to the window on the other side of the room and looking out on the passers by. "I dunno, Hermione. I mean on one hand I think, great, because you've found someone you like. But on the other... it's Snape. I don't have a problem with him these days, provided I don't see him all the time that is. But I don't get it. Having dated you I know that you could be well suited in certain areas but I can't help but wonder what the appeal is."

"It's hard to explain, Ron," Hermione began, moving to stand next to him. "I mean he's always been interesting and different, even when we were at school. However mean and horrid he was," she added quickly when he opened his mouth to comment.

"But since then and what with all the things that happened during the war... and his 'resurrection' so to speak. He's just...," she broke off, unable to quite explain what she meant in words.

"So you like him," Ron answered letting her off the hook in terms of explaining her reasoning to him. He turned to her and his head tilted in thought. "But does he like you?"

She smiled. Sometimes Ron knew exactly what the problem was without needing it pointed out. Yet another reason she was glad she'd come to speak to him. "I'm not sure."

"Not sure!" he asked his voice slightly mocking. "Hermione Granger doesn't know something! The world's ending, quick call the Prophet!"

She pushed at his arm, laughing as his joke. "Ron, knock it off, you always do that."

He nodded, smiling and pulled her to him for a quick hug. "I know." Pulling her back and holding her at arms length and looked at her seriously. "So 'not sure' is rather telling. What gives you the impression that he does?"

"Well, he has been a little... flirtatious," Hermione said. Her mind doubtful now that she was actually speaking about it.

"Like?"

"Well, he... he kissed my hand, and the other night he carried me up to bed when I'd fallen asleep on the sofa," she admitted blushing.

"Hmm, well the sofa thing you could put down to him wanting the room to his self I suppose, but kissing your hand? I'd take that as a good sign." Ron said, taking a seat again.

"I can't believe I just said that about Snape," Ron said after a moments thought. "You'd better not tell him!"

"I won't, don't worry," Hermione replied, laughing at the very idea.

"Well what, you came to ask me for advice?" Ron asked sceptically.

"I think I did," Hermione admitted. "Circe knows how useful it'll be though," she laughed.

"Oh thanks! Really though, Hermione the way I see it there are only so many things you can do."

Hermione gestured for him to continue.

"Well he seems like he'd be the possessive and jealous type. So maybe if he thought you were going to go out on a date with someone he'd take action?"

Ron sat back in his chair, leaning it on the back to legs and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You could ask him outright," he said, "nah – he'd be all evasive most likely."

Hermione stifled a laugh at Ron's thinking aloud and continued to listen as he suggested various ideas. "You could kiss him... eww that's not an image I ever wanted in my head... You could flirt back," he added, looking up at her. "On second thought..."

"On second thought, what?" Hermione asked as he shook his head.

"Well... you're not exactly the best flirter, Hermione."

"I... What?! I can so flirt!" she argued.

"Ohhh? So you don't count the incident with Stephen Cornfoot and th-"

"Okay! Okay, I can't flirt," Hermione interrupted him blushing to the roots of her hair as she recalled that particularly mortifying incident almost two years ago.

Ron folded his arms as she confirmed his statement. "Well, so you can't flirt with him, but I suppose you could... be receptive to his flirting," he said.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you know, laugh at his jokes," He paused as she raised an eyebrow at him, "Okay not jokes. You could just not run off if he flirts, and let him get close to you. That kind of thing."

"Right," Hermione said, "but hang on! When he kissed my hand he left the room straight after! What am I supposed to do? Follow him?"

"Well he probably did that because he wasn't sure how you'd take it, Hermione. You know, he was looking out for himself. You're a pretty mean witch with a wand when you've got a reason."

"I suppose," she admitted. "So... what do I do then?"

"Well just try to go with the flow, Hermione. Within reason of course," Ron answered.

"Thanks, Ron. I know you probably want to go obliviate yourself now..."

"Nah, just... don't tell me anything detail wise, okay?" He said seriously. "Then I will need a memory charm."

"Okay it's a deal," Hermione nodded. "I still have sometime before I nip back into work and sort out yet more books for my project... How's Melody and the wedding planning going?"

Ron's head made a loud 'thump' sound as it met the table. Not too well then, Hermione thought amusedly.