Ginny wished Hermione luck as she left the common room to study with Luna. In all honesty, she was quite worried about her friend; although she was not sure what had happened between her and Snape, she had a feeling something was very wrong, and that Hermione was in great danger. After all, any normal person would feel thankfulness towards the person who had saved their life, would they not? And then, there was Snape. Snape, who instead of thankfulness showed nothing instead of hatred and maliciousness.
Oh, Ginny wholeheartedly doubted that Snape would dare do any harm to Hermione – at least physically – as long as they were at school. After all, there was still McGonagall who could control him and would never let any of the students get hurt; nevertheless, McGonagall was not omniscient and all-seeing. There were things which Snape would probably manage to get away with, without being punished or even scolded.
And what if Snape hurt Hermione mentally or emotionally? It was not impossible; actually, he was the type who would prefer this kind of abuse, was he not? There were more than a few students he had made cry. Hermione was strong, but how would she fight against Snape? He was a teacher, and Hermione had great respect for teachers in general. If he hurt her, what would she do?
Well, Ginny actually could imagine Hermione ratting on people – it was one of her flaws. Or maybe not even a flaw – when she did that, she did that out of her kindness or worry, like with Harry's Firebolt, not to get something for herself. But would she do the same now, when the professor was the main suspect?
At that moment, Ginny knew she could only hope for the best. There was still a chance that she was just overreacting and that Snape would not do anything bad to Hermione. And even if he did, Hermione was smart enough to react just the way she should, minding her own safety, not the teacher's respect.
However, it would not be a lie to say that Ginny was more worried about the detention that Hermione. Since after dinner they had some time off, she spent it in the common room, reading some book, waiting for the time to come. Even though she was somewhat nervous, she had managed to control her emotions enough to keep her composure, and now, it was not even that difficult for her to focus on reading.
Quarter to eight, she decided it would be the best time to leave, so she put the book back into the dormitory, then left Gryffindor tower, heading through the corridors and staircases down, down to the dungeons, where Snape's office was located.
In fact, the closer to the detention, the more nervous Hermione got, but at least she felt no fear, so she would not make Snape feel triumphant over her. But was fear really the thing he would have wanted her to feel? At that point, Hermione was no longer sure about it. Snape had already put on way too many masks for her to see which face was the real one.
It was a couple minutes to eight when she stood at the door and knocked, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, but as she took a deep breath, it somehow calmed down.
"Enter," she heard the familiar, cold voice coming from the depths of the office, and with another deep breath, she opened the door.
Once she walked in, she saw Snape sitting at the desk, his fingertips put together, his elbows resting on the desk top. His face resembled one of a ghost in the dim light that filled the small, stuffy room, but his eyes seemed to be more alive now than ever, focused entirely on her, as she noticed when she had closed the door.
"Good evening, Professor," she spoke, her voice surprisingly calm and steady.
"Good evening, Granger," replied Snape, not moving even a little bit. It was as if he were a wax sculpture, not a living man. Seeing she did not come forward, he winced. "Come on in, I am not going to bite you."
Even though a bit hesitantly, Hermione finally made a step towards Snape's desk; after a while, which seemed to last forever, she stood right in front of it. At the moment she made the last step, Snape stood up.
"Today, you will sort the ingredients into different jars," he spoke out loud after an awkward moment of complete silence which neither of them had dared to break until just now. "Remember to label each one of them."
Hermione nodded, feeling somewhat sick. She had not brought her gloves with her, and while she doubted there were any dangerous ingredients that could burn her skin, she could not help but grimace at the thought of putting slimy and quite gross things into the jars. Nevertheless, she dared not say a word – otherwise she would accept Snape's victory, and that was the last thing she would ever allow to happen.
Snape, on the other hand, seemed to await her complaints or at least a question if she was permitted to use gloves – but that never came. As he realised that, he raised his brow, and at the same time, a soft smirk played in one of the corners of his mouth.
This girl... she was not just any girl he had met. For yet another time she showed courage and persistence, just as annoying as admirable. Because while he could not help but feel irritated that she had slipped out of the trap he had set, he looked at her with real respect... and even something more. Something much warmer than cold regard.
Now, as she sat at the table, sorting the potions ingredients in complete silence, he had a chance to watch her. He slowly stepped from behind the desk and pretending to be just pacing around, he took a glance at her.
She seemed to be strangely calm, but he could see anger glistening in her dark eyes; her curly hair seemed to be buzzing with electricity. So calm, and yet so full of life.
Hermione was not a typical beauty. One would notice many flaws in her looks, but to Snape... she was everything he considered beautiful. She was his ideals incarnate, his dream coming true. So inconceivable – and yet, real.
He would treat her like a princess. He would shield her from all the evil of this world. He would make her feel loved and cared for, if she only let him... But there was a problem – this kind of relationship between a student and a professor was highly inappropriate and frowned upon, and he could not allow that to happen. While he would rather hold her in his arms, he forced himself to watch her gritting her teeth as she went on with her task.
At first, he had felt some strange relief and satisfaction when he had seen her humiliated, but it was short-lived, and now, it was replaced with guilt and self-loathing.
Hermione did not deserve that. It was not her fault that he had begun to feel something for her, even though he would wish for it to be true. It would have been so much easier had she been the guilty one! But instead...
"Stop," he commanded, and the girl stopped rather reluctantly, as if thinking that he wanted to make fun of her or pick on her.
"Am I doing something wrong, sir?" she asked, feeling her hands tremble.
"No, it's not that," he replied, disliking the cold tone in her voice. It made him so angry, even though he knew that he had no right to feel that way. He was the one who had messed it all up, and now, he needed to fix it. "I just want you to stop."
This time, Hermione did not answer. A bit confused, she took her hands away from the table, wishing she had something to clean them with. As soon as she thought of reaching to her pocket for a wand, Snape made a small flip with his, and to her surprise, her hands were completely clean. Blushing, she glanced up at him.
"It just... won't do," he said after a longer while. "I thought it was easier when I pretended to hate you, but... but no. It's not easier at all."
Hermione remained silent, feeling dizzy and knowing that the blush on her cheeks kept darkening as he went on talking.
"It's... wrong... I know you probably think I'm not even capable of love... but... even if you've always seen me as a monster, you still decided to save my life... Girl, if you'd only known... you cursed yourself with your deeds."
Snape stood there, almost motionless – after all, he did not make a step in any direction, he made no gestures, he did not even turn to look at the girl next to him. However, his body was trembling with emotions as he curled his hands into fists, trying to fight the feelings that seemed to be too overwhelming for him to face.
Because how could he face this? He had somehow managed to get through the summer vacations, because he had not seen her, but now, as she was everywhere... with her face, smiling at other people, her voice and laughter sounding everywhere but not next to him... how could he stand it? How could he watch it and pretend nothing was wrong?
Yes, he was aware of how sick it all was. And that it was probably his own fault. Never had he learnt how to love; his parents were not the ones who could have taught him that. There had been only one person besides Hermione he had ever loved, but she had been taked away form him twice. So painfully, so suddenly...
"I... cursed myself...?" she repeated quietly, not quite sure what the man could have meant. He was beginning to scare her.
"Yes... yes, cursed yourself," he answered, and finally, he raised his eyes to look at her. Within a moment, he had her in his arms, and she was way too shocked to push him away. "Because the moment you saved me... you gave me your freedom. I could never let you go now. I could not watch you go away... be happy with anyone else..."
"You're sick," she whispered, her voice trembling, then found enough courage in herself to start struggling out of his embrace.
His obsession seemed to be suffocating her. While it was also flattering, she was terrified. Maybe as a girl she had dreamt of a man who would love her so much that he would do just anything for her, but only now did she understand that everything meant really everything. And that it was dangerous, more dangerous than anything.
"No, Granger, stop!" he growled. "Listen to me... I'll take care of you. I'll make sure to protect you from people..."
"You'd need to protect me from yourself," she breathed out, finally managing to set herself free.
Without thinking much, she tried to make it for the door – but she did not. Severus was much faster than she had initially thought, and he grasped her shoulder tightly, making her wince in pain. Before she managed to take his hand off of her shoulder, he turned her to face him, then trapped her between his chest and the wall, his arms on both sides of her head.
"I know... I know," he replied quietly, and Hermione noticed that his voice faltered as he spoke, which made her feel something... weird. Was it compassion? "I wish... I truly wish I could give you the love you deserve, Granger, but I'm not like... like the rest."
A frown wrinkled Hermione's forehead.
"Do you think it's enough of an explanation? Do you think I'm going to just leave everything and... and go with you?" she asked angrily, no longer trying to duck to leave the trap that was his body. "Do you really think it makes you any less guilty for what you've done, that I'm going to just... just forgive you all your bullying?"
At first, she thought he would slap her across her face, the look in his eyes was so fierce. However, it never happened; nevertheless, he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, clenching his fists, still pressed against the wall.
"I... know all of this," he forced out. "That I am not... a good man... but I thought... I hoped... that if there's anyone who'd understand... it would be you."
His point was not to make Hermione feel guilty, and she could feel that, yet he managed to do just that.
Closing her eyes, the girl took a deep breath, trying to calm down, which was not that easy now. She could feel pain in her palms from where her fingernails sank into the skin as she made fists. Her vision seemed to be pulsing in the rhythm her heart had set, fast and wild, as if it had forgotten its normal pace.
"You've... never... not even once... tried to explain it to me," she hissed. "How, for God's sake, could you expect me to understand anything?"
Despite her harsh words, though, she felt she was being a bit unfair to Snape. Because yes, he had been mean, no, cruel to her friends and her. However, she knew that in the end he had turned out to be the good one, throwing shadow even on Dumbledore. And that she had never actually cared about Snape's feelings, treating him as if he was the source of all evil. Moreover, how could she blame him for having feelings for her, when she harboured some for him? Who gave her the right to judge him so severely?
And what was that with the previous night? Had she not shown him that she was interested? Were she not, she would have not kissed him!
"If you think I want to justify myself... I'm not going to do that," answered Snape finally, his face much closer than Hermione would like it to be. At that moment, she felt a weird urge to caress his cheek, cheer him up somehow... but she could not do that. She did not want him to encourage him to pursuit this forbidden fruit being her.
"Yet you can tell me about yourself, so I can understand you and your behaviour better," she suggested quietly.
As he opened his eyes, he could not help but glance at her lips, now slightly parted and trembling. Oh, did he wish he could taste them once again...! The soft, warm, sweet pressure of her flesh against his...
"This is not a story you would want to listen to," he replied bitterly, turning his face away, ashamed of himself, of his own primal wishes. "It will make you see me as more of a beast than you already do."
Hermione opened her mouth, but no answer came at first. Finally, she let out a sigh.
"Fine," she said finally, looking away as well. "Then let... let it stay the way it is. And I swear, if you keep nagging me, I'll report everything to Professor McGonagall."
"Nagging you? And who was provoking me to kiss you yesterday, Granger?" he winced with anger.
"Let me go," she demanded.
"Then answer to me!"
"Let me go!" repeated Hermione, this time almost shouting, but Snape did not obey.
Without a second thought, she ducked her head and quickly slipped right beneath the man's arm. Before he managed to reach out to grab her hand, she had already made it for the door, and having opened it, she burst outside, blindly rushing down the corridor, almost completely breathless, hearing nothing but blood rushing through her veins and her own heartbeat.