"You're early."
"You didn't give me a specific time."
"No," Severus said, conceding the point. "I suppose I didn't."
He waved Hermione into his office, shutting the door with a flick of his wand. Draining the last of his tea, he rose from his desk, gesturing at the lone portrait that hung on the wall.
"Sublime artistry, wouldn't you agree?"
It took her a minute to spot it, half hidden between towering shelves. It was a small, crude etching, occupied by a sour faced wizard with a bulbous nose.
"Um, yes, it's very nice."
"Five points from Gryffindor."
"What?!"
"Five points," he repeated. "Now tell me what you really think."
"It's…"
"Yes?"
"It's the ugliest portrait I've ever seen."
"A fair assessment. Five points to Gryffindor."
He heard her mutter under her breath, quite certain she'd just called him a git. That only added to his amusement, his lips twitching as the painting huffed in protest.
"Ugly? How dare you…"
"Not just ugly," he told the portrait. "Positively hideous."
"If you don't like it," Hermione said, "why do you keep it here?"
"Not for aesthetic appeal, I assure you. Revelio."
"Bugger off."
"Revelio," he repeated, brandishing his wand for extra emphasis. Mumbling a flurry of obscenities, the portrait slid aside, revealing a spiral staircase.
"What's that?"
"My personal lab. Come."
They descended the stairs, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Hermione. Of course, he wasn't surprised by her reaction. Unlike the Potions classroom, his lab featured an impressive array of equipment, fine pewter cauldrons gleaming beneath the floating candles. It was the one luxury he'd afforded himself over the years, a hidden sanctuary he could escape to whenever circumstances allowed him to do so.
"Have a seat," he said, plucking several jars off the shelves. "This won't take long."
Brewing was intimately familiar, though it had never ceased to be hypnotic. His entire consciousness was reduced to the task at hand, chopping and stirring, measuring the precise amount of ingredients. Only when he'd set the cauldrons to simmer did he remember Hermione, puzzled by her uncharacteristic silence.
"Miss Granger?"
"Yes, Professor?"
"You're… unusually quiet this evening."
He glanced up, frowning as he noticed her expression. Her eyes were scanning a slip of parchment, her lower lip trembling.
"What is that?" he said, taking a step closer. "Another threat?"
"I wouldn't call it a threat. It's…"
She trailed off, hesitating before she held it out to him. He dropped onto the bench beside her, his stomach tightening as he spotted the familiar lines of script.
What you did to them was unforgivable. You might as well have killed them.
"Where did this come from?"
"I found it under my door this afternoon."
He nodded, scanning the rest of the note. "And I assume this is in reference to…"
"My parents."
"I see. Well, whatever you did…"
"I erased their memories," she interrupted, her voice catching on a sob. "I made them forget they even had a daughter. gave them different names, sent them to Australia, I…"
He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly, her head was resting on his shoulder. The weight of it made him feel strange, panic mingled with a flurry of other emotions he couldn't seem to identify. He forgot how to move, how to speak, sitting there frozen for several endless moments before he forced a few words out of his mouth.
"Ah, so that's where they went."
"You knew they were gone?"
"I'd heard about their disappearance," he responded, willing himself to relax. "Knowing that the Dark Lord wasn't responsible, I naturally wondered…"
"I only did it because I had to. They were…"
"They were sitting targets. If you hadn't acted on their behalf, they would've been slaughtered."
"So it wasn't unforgivable?"
"Unless you think they would've fared better in the clutches of Bellatrix Lestrange…"
She shuddered in response, prompting him to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Bewildering though it was, it seemed like the right thing to do, her body relaxing against his as she sniffled somewhere close to his ear.
"I'll never see them again."
"You can't know that."
"Even if I found a way to reverse the charm, they'd never forgive me. How could they?"
"You had no other choice."
"Maybe not," she said, "but they won't understand that."
He tried to summon up an optimistic remark, though that proved to be a useless endeavor. Offering comfort had never been one of his strengths, probably because he had little experience in such things. When was the last time anyone had turned to him for reassurance? He couldn't recall such an occasion.
"Professor Snape?"
The formality seemed odd when she was sitting so close, her body nestled beneath the crook of his arm. Still, there was something to be said for observing protocol, a touch of familiarity in an otherwise bewildering situation.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"There's something I still don't understand."
"What is it?"
"How did they know about my parents? Other than Harry and Ron, I've never told anyone."
Severus hesitated, losing his train of thought as she lifted her head to look at him. Their faces were inches apart, so close he could see golden flecks in her eyes. He hadn't been this close to anyone in… he couldn't even remember, deciding it was irrelevant as his gaze was drawn to her lips. He'd never realized how inviting they were, soft and pink, parting ever so slightly as he leaned closer, so close that his breath mingled with hers.
"Severus!"
He jerked back, whipping his head around to see where the voice had come from. To his relief, it was only Minerva's Patronus, informing him that he was needed upstairs.
"Wait here," he said brusquely, flicking his wand at the cauldrons as he hurried from the room.
Hermione shook her head, struggling to wrap her mind around what had just happened. Had Snape really put his arm around her? Yes, but that wasn't all. If they hadn't been interrupted, she was almost sure he would've…
She shivered as she remembered the intensity in his eyes, his body leaning toward hers like she was some kind of magnetic force. For that brief, baffling moment, she'd forgotten about everything else, her heart pounding furiously as her nerve endings tingled with anticipation.
Could she really be attracted to Snape? It seemed absurd, yet even now, part of her wished he'd come back and finish what he'd started. Or what she'd started? Either way, she hadn't wanted it to stop.
Letting out a shaky sigh, she rose to check on the potion. She removed the Stasis Charm he'd placed on the cauldrons, letting them simmer for a few more minutes before she turned down the heat. By then, she felt more settled, focused on the task at hand as she gave the potion a final stir.
One by one, she filled the vials, arranging them neatly on the counter. She'd just sat back down when he finally returned, sweeping into the room without so much as glancing in her direction. He did notice her handiwork, however, shaking his head as he stared at the empty cauldrons.
"Did I instruct you to…"
"Professor Snape?"
"What?"
"A simple 'thank you' will suffice."
He snorted, relieving the tension somewhat as he handed her a couple vials. Tucking them in her bag, she frowned as she studied his profile.
"Something happened, didn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Professor McGonagall? She sounded like something was wrong."
Finally, he gave her a cursory glance, waving her in the direction of his office. She followed him upstairs, waiting quietly as he settled himself at his desk.
"There was another… incident."
"Incident?"
"Someone took it upon themselves to dress up one of the statues." He paused, taking a deep breath. "It was clad in full Death Eater regalia."
"Are you serious?"
He inclined his head. "Unfortunately, we couldn't find the culprit. We even questioned the ghosts."
"Do you think…" She tried to choose her words carefully, hoping she wouldn't offend him. "I don't mean to make accusations, but could it be one of the Slytherins?"
"It's certainly possible, though I haven't noticed anything suspicious."
"Me either," she said. "Besides, a Slytherin wouldn't have known about my parents."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean there are few secrets in the Wizarding world. You of all people should know that by now."
Did he intend for his words to have a double meaning? Either way, she couldn't help thinking about that strange moment of intimacy they'd shared. No doubt there'd be consequences if anyone suspected him of being involved with a student. He might even lose his job.
Meanwhile, she still had Ron to consider. Their relationship hadn't been easy these past few months, but that didn't mean she was willing to cheat on him. How could she, knowing how much it would hurt him if he ever found out?
"It's getting late," Snape said abruptly, rising from his desk. "I should escort you to your room."
Severus added an extra layer of security to Hermione's door, muttering under his breath as he headed downstairs. Boundaries. Yes, boundaries were good, something he needed to be more mindful of in the future. Guarding her against unidentified threats wasn't enough. No, he also needed to protect her from his own foolishness.
"Idiot."
Why had he allowed himself to get so close? Why hadn't he recognized the risk involved in doing so? He was only a man, after all, one who'd spent most of his life deprived of intimate contact.
There were a few exceptions, nights long ago when desperation had driven him to seek out the only companionship he could find. He'd purchased it somewhere deep in Knockturn Alley, trading a handful of Galleons for much needed release.
Was that intimacy? Perhaps not. He hadn't even known who they were, their faces shrouded in darkness as he'd lifted their robes and taken what he'd wanted. Those encounters had been brief, temporary relief followed by an inevitable sense of shame. It was the latter that had made him stop, long before the Second War, loneliness replaced by a grim determination to manage on his own.
That had been easier than he'd expected, helped by Potter's timely arrival at Hogwarts. Following that, he'd had neither the time or the inclination to worry about sex, constant stress causing his libido to plummet. Soon enough, it had disappeared entirely, eclipsed by more urgent matters.
Play your part. Do what needs to be done.
For as long as Severus could remember, that had been his singular focus. Whatever he'd done, everything he'd said or thought or felt… it had all been in service to that cause. When he'd eaten, it hadn't mattered whether he'd enjoyed the food. He ate to keep his body strong, to make sure he was up to the task at hand. Getting enough sleep? A well rested mind was a sharp one, a necessary asset when dealing with two of the most brilliant wizards the world had ever known.
Truly, it was no wonder he felt lost. He'd forgotten how to live for himself, hadn't dared to want anything for his own sake. He hadn't needed it. Hadn't deserved it, really. What did it matter, anyway? He'd been living on borrowed time, convinced he'd be dead by the end of the war.
Indeed, he'd expected to die alone. He'd certainly lived that way, assuming such a fate would be easier to bear after so many years of solitude.
He'd been wrong.
Severus shuddered, recalling that dreadful night in the Shrieking Shack. Only then had he understood what "dying alone" truly meant. Bravery had given way to terror, futility and desperation mingling with a lifetime of regret. In that moment, all his facades had crumbled, replaced by raw, aching need. It wasn't just the wounds that had left him gasping for air. No, it was that terrible need for comfort, an inexplicable hunger to hear just one kind word as he'd lain there dying.
And he had died. He knew that now. True, his body had survived and his mind was relatively intact, but some part of him had never left the Shrieking Shack. He'd left it on that floor, a mess of preconceived notions about who he was and what he was supposed to want.
But where did that leave him? What was he supposed to do now that his previous life had ended? He couldn't go back to the way things were before, years of isolation followed by a solitary death.
Years? No, he had decades ahead of him. Just the thought of spending all that time alone…
Perhaps his former self could've managed it, but he knew better now.
The alternative? He didn't know what that was yet, but he'd felt hints of it with Hermione. Indeed, he'd been intoxicated by that feeling, the warmth of her body pressed against his as she'd rested her head on his shoulder.
That was a type of intimacy that couldn't be found in Knockturn Alley, one he didn't even know he'd been craving until he'd experienced it. Suddenly, he'd found himself imagining what it would be like to have a companion, a partner, something he hadn't allowed himself to consider in more than two decades.
Of course, that didn't mean Hermione could be that partner. Not only was she half his age, but she was also one of his students. He'd been foolish to let the thought cross his mind, even more of a fool to let her get so close. What he needed was someone older, more appropriate, someone who wasn't…
Severus stopped in his tracks, frowning as he spotted a scrap of parchment under his boot. Once again, it had been slipped under the door to his quarters, the handwriting eerily familiar.
You do have a thing for Mudbloods, don't you, Severus? Think this one will let you fuck her before you inevitably get her killed?
Chills skittered up his spine, his hands shaking as he sank into his armchair. Just the thought that history might repeat itself in such a hideous way…
But it wasn't just that.
No, whoever had written the message must've been there. They had to have seen what had happened in his private lab. But how?
That was the first, most obvious question. How had they gained access, bypassing all his security measures? How had they managed such a thing without him detecting their presence? There wasn't anywhere to hide down there, so how in the hell…
Yes, he wanted to know how, but more importantly, he needed to know why. Why were they doing this? What was their motivation?
And then, of course, there was the biggest question of all.
What could he do to stop them?