Hermione jumped as Snape slammed a basket down beside her, several dead bats skittering across the surface of his desk. He reached in the top drawer, handing her a knife before he dropped into his chair.
"What do you expect me to…"
"Disembowel them."
Her eyes widened. "You can't be serious."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
She'd hoped he'd calm down on their walk to the dungeons, that perhaps he'd even apologize for overreacting. Clearly, those hopes had been futile. He was every bit as angry as he'd been when they'd first run into each other, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the wall.
"Get to work, Miss Granger."
"No."
For the first time, he looked directly at her, his eyes burning with anger. "What did you say?"
"You heard me."
He shook his head, snatching an empty jar off the shelf. "This is large enough to hold fifty bat spleens. I expect it to be filled within the next two hours."
"Well then," she said, keeping her tone light, "you'd better get started."
It was the first time she'd ever rendered him speechless. He glared at her for several minutes, nostrils flaring, until finally, he thrust the jar across the desk.
"I have no tolerance for impudence, Miss Granger. You will…"
"I won't."
"You're not leaving this office until…"
She rose from her chair, hearing a sharp intake of breath behind her. For a moment, she thought he might actually block her from leaving, though nothing prevented her from turning the knob. Finally, he spoke, his voice so low she could barely hear it as she opened the door.
"If you refuse to serve your detention," he said, "you will be expelled."
"Expelled?" She looked back over her shoulder, staring at him in disbelief. "For what?"
"For your defiance."
"Fine," she shot back. "Go on and try to expel me. We'll see what Professor McGonagall has to say about…"
"Ah, yes," he said softly. "Gryffindor privilege rears its ugly head."
"Privilege? How the hell have I been privileged? I spent half my childhood fighting in a war, lost more friends than I can count, not to mention my own parents. If that's privilege…"
"It's a bloody picnic compared to what some of us have been through."
With that, she closed the door, returning to her seat at the desk. Maybe she was giving in too easily, but something about his expression, the haunted look in his eyes… she couldn't help picturing him bleeding out on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He did have a point – few had suffered more under Voldemort's regime.
"Professor Snape," she said, making an effort to keep her voice gentle. "I'm sorry for what I did. Really, I am. But you can't just punish me whenever…"
"Whenever you break the rules? You're still one of my students, Miss Granger, which means I have the authority to…"
"You don't treat me like a student," she said quietly. "Not anymore."
The color drained from his face, his eyes darting around like he'd just been accused of a crime. For the first time since she'd run into him in the hall, he didn't look angry. He seemed panicked, the muscles in his throat working convulsively as he opened his mouth to speak.
"If I've behaved inappropriately…"
"No," she said. "You've treated me like the adult I am, which I appreciate."
He sniffed, recovering somewhat. "Yes, well, I can hardly treat you like an adult when you insist on behaving like a child."
"A child? All I did was try to go to the library!"
"You disobeyed my orders."
"Fine," she said, "but don't you think your reaction was a little excessive?"
He hesitated, sighing heavily. "Perhaps twenty bat spleens would've been more appropriate."
"No bats."
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, then."
She shook her head.
"Miss Granger," he said, "this isn't a negotiation. I'll concede your point where the detention is concerned, but the House Points stand."
"You don't get it, do you?"
He leaned back in his chair, cocking one eyebrow. "I understand that you wish to thwart my attempts to punish you. Beyond that? You'll have to enlighten me."
"This isn't about punishment," she said, "or at least, it shouldn't be. If you're unhappy with something I've done, why can't we just talk about it? Reason with me, help me understand why it bothers you."
"I tried that," he pointed out. "I made it abundantly clear that it wasn't safe for you to venture out into the halls by yourself. You refused to listen."
She shook her head. "I did listen. I've been in my room every night, long before curfew. The only time I was even a little bit late, I had Professor Flitwick walk me up. I've been very careful, believe me."
"Except for today."
"Except for today," she conceded. "But it was the middle of the day, and I just needed to grab a book from the library. I figured I'd be okay, especially since nothing's happened in weeks."
"Yes, well…" Snape hesitated, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That isn't exactly true."
She frowned. "Another note?"
"No."
"What did they…"
He shook his head, rising from his chair to pace the room. "It doesn't matter what they did. The point is that this person, whoever they are, is still very much a threat. This isn't the time for any of us to grow careless, nor for you to take your safety for granted."
She studied him more closely, noticing the rigid set of his shoulders. Suddenly, she understood why he'd reacted the way he had, recognizing the fear beneath his anger. Could he have handled the situation better? Yes, especially since she'd had no way of knowing that another incident had occurred. That said, it wasn't difficult to forgive him. At least he was attempting to communicate with her like an adult now – really, that was all she'd wanted.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"I really am sorry about what I did. If I'd known, I would've never…"
"I know."
He didn't apologize in return, nor did she expect him to. As far as they'd come over the past few months, she knew it still wasn't easy for him to admit when he was wrong. It was enough that he'd abandoned his attempts to punish her, stuffing the dead bats back into the cabinet before he resumed his pacing.
"Will you tell me what happened?"
He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does. If it happened to you, it could happen to me."
He paused, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the desk. "I don't think it's anything you need to worry about. Well, unless you have a paralyzing fear of snakes."
"Snakes?"
He nodded. "That's what I was greeted with when I woke up this morning. Hundreds of snakes."
Immediately, she understood the implications, cringing right along with him as he explained what happened. She was glad the snakes had only been illusions, but that didn't mean he hadn't been traumatized. Even now, she could see him shaking, his eyes haunted as he stared at the opposite wall.
She rose to her feet, driven by some impulse she barely understood. It seemed like madness, and yet she couldn't bring herself to stop, holding her breath as she slid her arms around his waist.
She wasn't surprised when his body went rigid. What shocked her was the moment he gave in, his arms wrapping around her so tightly she could barely breathe. She realized then that this was exactly what he'd needed. He clung to her like a lifeline, fingers digging into her shoulders as his lips brushed her neck.
"This is… highly inappropriate."
She barely heard him, caught off guard as he pulled back to scrutinize her face. His eyes were filled with some unknown emotion, so deep and intense that she felt herself shiver in response. She knew what was about to happen, but she did nothing to stop it, closing her eyes as he brought his lips to hers.
She'd been kissed countless times, but never like this. It didn't matter that Snape didn't seem to be particularly skilled in the art – he made up for it with a passion that stole her breath away. No one had ever kissed her more deeply, more thoroughly, his heart pounding against her chest as he buried his hands in her hair. She knew her heart must be doing the same, her senses reeling, a soft moan escaping her throat as he…
She opened her eyes, utterly bewildered. All of a sudden, he was halfway across the room, refusing to even look in her direction.
"Professor?"
"Miss Granger," he said, his voice strained. "You should get back to your room."
What the bloody hell was happening to him?
He'd been working at Hogwarts for almost two decades and never, not once, had he behaved this way toward a student. He'd never even considered it, maintaining the strictest boundaries at all times. But Hermione…
She'd broken through all his barriers.
Not only that, but she'd refused to let him put those barriers back up. She'd become immune to threats or intimidation, demanding that he treat her like an adult. And what had he said? What had he done? He'd allowed her to get away with it, not deducting so much as a single House Point.
Why had he given in so easily? He was still in a position of authority, well within his rights to discipline her as he saw fit. He could've given her ten detentions, could've taken as many points as he pleased. So why hadn't he…
Because he hadn't wanted to.
As much as Severus hated to admit it, that was the truth. He hadn't wanted to punish her. Oh, the impulse had been there at first, anger driven by underlying fear. As soon as he'd calmed down, however, he'd thought better of it, reluctant to do anything that might earn her resentment.
He'd never felt that way before. Indeed, he'd never given a damn how his students felt about him or his disciplinary measures. But Hermione was different. It hardly made sense, but… he wanted her to trust him, to see him as fair and reasonable. That made it difficult to maintain the upper hand, running roughshod over her the way he'd done with so many others. She'd made it necessary to communicate, to compromise, which had somehow become preferable to the alternative. It allowed them to approach each other as equals, not teacher and student.
Was that equality appealing? Yes, though it was also frightening. He'd come to rely on her in more ways than he'd realized, expressing his fears on a level he couldn't imagine doing with anyone else. Lowering his guard, allowing her to see his weaknesses…
The fact that he'd done that was unnerving enough. The way she'd responded?
He couldn't recall the last time anyone had attempted to hold him. Perhaps it had never happened at all. Either way, he hadn't been prepared for it, her eyes full of sympathy as she'd drawn him into her arms. In that moment, the last of his defenses had been shattered. He'd clung to her desperately, like she was the only thing preventing him from tumbling into a pit of werewolves.
Of course, it hadn't ended there. What happened next…
He shouldn't have done it. Severus knew that, yet there was no denying that she'd wanted it, too. That, he supposed, was why he'd found it nearly impossible to stop, her lips parting as she'd kissed him back with equal fervor. The warmth of her body, the taste of her mouth… he still didn't know how he'd managed to pull away, cursing himself for his restraint as he'd retreated to the other side of the room.
He'd been right to put a stop to it. He knew that now, even if his body disagreed. She was still his student, and besides…
Besides what? He couldn't seem to answer that question… at least, not in his current condition. What he needed was to clear his head, whether that involved a cold shower or a quick wank. Unfortunately, he wasn't ready to return to his quarters, still traumatized by the incident with the snakes. It didn't seem wise to pleasure himself in his office either, which left him with just one solution.
He retrieved the basket from the cabinet, smirking as he reached for a knife. Disemboweling bats? If that didn't suppress his libido, nothing would.
Hermione ran into Ginny as soon as she left the dungeons, surprised to discover that it was already time for dinner. The two of them headed to the Great Hall, settling themselves at the Gryffindor table.
"Less than a month now," Ginny said. "Can you believe it?"
"You mean winter break?"
"Of course! What else would I be talking about?"
The truth was, Hermione had never felt particularly close to Ginny. Not that she disliked her, but they'd never had much in common aside from Harry and Ron. She had no interest in talking about Quidditch, while Ginny would roll her eyes if she tried to discuss her latest Arithmancy project.
That said, either of those subjects would have been preferable to winter break.
"It's a bit easier than last year," Ginny said, helping herself to a couple slices of roast beef. "I know where Harry is, at least, and we send each other letters every day. But…"
"Every day?"
"Sure. Don't you and Ron…"
Hermione shook her head, reminded all over again that she was a terrible girlfriend. She'd been trying to write Ron more frequently lately, but she rarely managed more than one letter a week. More often than not, she barely even thought of him, too distracted by her life at Hogwarts.
"I've been really busy."
"Yeah, I noticed you weren't at the Quidditch game. What did you do all afternoon?"
"I…" She hesitated, feeling her cheeks turning red. "I was in my room. Thought I'd get a head start on next week's homework."
To her relief, Ginny didn't question her further. Instead, she pulled several pieces of parchment out of her bag, sliding one across the table.
"I don't have an extra quill, but…"
Sighing, Hermione reached into her own bag, pulling out her writing supplies. She knew Ginny wasn't trying to be pushy, though that only made her feel worse. Shouldn't she want to write to her boyfriend? Shouldn't she make that a priority no matter what else she had going on? Ginny had no problem keeping in touch with Harry, regardless of her full schedule and place on the Quidditch team. She'd already written more than two paragraphs, smiling as she started on the third.
Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy for Hermione. She stared down at the blank parchment, her quill hovering over the page for a minute or two before she set it back on the table. She couldn't think of a single thing to say that wasn't truthful, which… well, this hardly seemed like a good time to start confessing her feelings.
Dear Ron,
I'd write you more often, but there just isn't much to talk about. Telling you that I miss you, too, is starting to feel repetitive, and I'm not particularly interested in the latest Quidditch recruitments…
No, she couldn't write that. Definitely not.
Dear Ron,
I know this might come as a shock, but I snogged Professor Snape this afternoon. I have no idea why I did it, but I have to admit, I enjoyed it quite a lot. Honestly, I was sorry he stopped when he did, even though I know it shouldn't have happened. I wish…
Of course, she would never, ever tell him about that. She already considered it her most closely guarded secret, feeling incredibly self-conscious as she glanced up at Ginny. What would she say if she knew? What would anyone say?
She shook her head, chewing on the tip of her quill. It was bad enough that she'd kissed anyone behind Ron's back, but Snape? She still didn't know why she'd done it, though she certainly understood why he'd pulled away. Obviously, he'd remembered the consequences, not wanting to put either of them at risk.
Why had she forgotten those things? Why hadn't it mattered that she was his student, that he was her teacher, that she had a boyfriend waiting for her to come back to him? It all seemed so obvious now, yet none of that had even occurred to her at the time. She hadn't thought about anything except how good it felt to be close to him, craving his kisses without knowing why. It hadn't mattered…
But it did matter. She knew that now. Snape knew it too, which was why he'd put an end to it. If it had gone any further… well, perhaps it was best not to think about that.
Dear Ron,
Sorry I haven't written you this week, but I've been busy getting things in order for the holiday. I'm really looking forward to getting away from Hogwarts for a couple weeks. I need a chance to clear my head, and of course, I can't wait to see you.
The last few months have been strange, often confusing, but I suppose that's only to be expected. So much has changed, hasn't it? I don't know how to feel about that sometimes, nor why I react to things the way I do. All I know is that I'm ready to feel like myself again, surrounded by people who love me.
I'll see you soon, okay? We'll have a wonderful Christmas, I promise.
Love, Hermione
In her own way, she supposed she had told him the truth. She hadn't mentioned Snape, but her confusion and mixed feelings? That was the crux of it, really. She wasn't the same person she'd been a year ago, still trying to figure out who she was and what she wanted now that the war was over.
Maybe that explained her attraction to Snape. Maybe she felt drawn to him simply because he was familiar, because she knew she could trust him. Feeling isolated, cut off from the life she'd known before… wouldn't it be natural for her to reach out to anyone who made her feel less alone?
"Finished?"
She nodded, blowing on the ink before she rolled up the scroll.
"Me too," Ginny said. "Let's head up to the Owlery."
Loneliness. The more Hermione thought about it, the more that theory made sense. There was also an easy solution, one that didn't involve cheating on her boyfriend or putting anyone's job at risk. She just had to remember who she was, which had always been centered in Harry and Ron. Focusing on her relationships with them, doing whatever she could to strengthen those bonds? Perhaps that would make her feel more like herself.
As for Snape…
She quite liked him these days. That wasn't going to change, though she'd have to be more mindful of boundaries. All else aside, it wasn't like she could have a future with him. He found her physically attractive, obviously, but that didn't mean…
No. Ron was the one who loved her. He'd already made it clear that he wanted to marry her someday. Was she willing to throw that away for the sake of some temporary attraction? Of course not.
By the time she made it back to her room, her mind was made up. Of course, that didn't stop her from dreaming of Snape that night, sighing softly in her sleep as she pictured herself in his arms.