Chapter 3: Trepidation

But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love forever.
Robert Burns

Oh god.

The eight most dreaded words of the English language, words that were designed to inflict a copious amount of stress, discomfort and ultimate embarrassment on the proverbial single woman. The very words that had just been uttered to her by her former Head of House. "There is someone I want you to meet."

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. Surely she couldn't have meant - but then - there was a mischievous smile playing across Professor McGonagall's weathered face and a wicked glint in her eyes that Hermione had never seen before. In fact, Minerva McGonagall looked entirely different. Stunning, almost. Her trademark bun didn't seem to be pulled back as tight, gentle wisps of hair teased her long slender neck where the meeting of the lavender robes she wore seemed to soften her features considerably. There was also a definite spring in her step.

Professor McGonagall had practically pounced upon Hermione the instant she stepped foot into the Great Hall. And now the young Charms teacher was being led by the elbow across the room to meet with her - humiliation.

Hermione would have argued, resisted even, but she was still in shock. The Transfigurations professor was the last person Hermione ever thought who'd resort to playing matchmaker. Dumbledore perhaps, but not her. Yet there was absolutely no doubt in Hermione's mind that that was exactly what Minerva's intentions were. The older witch seemed to be a little more relaxed than usual and Hermione chalked it up to being that she had undoubtedly imbibed a few too many drinks that were slightly stronger than pumpkin juice. Licking her lips, Hermione wistfully thought of doing the same. She needed something - anything that would help ease the tension that was building up inside of her.

It was the same feelings of tension and dread that she had experienced before. Hermione was painfully reminded of the countless times she had reluctantly gone on pre-arranged blind dates set up by her well meaning parents and well meaning friends of her parents just so she could keep the peace at home. Her parents wanted her to meet someone - nice. Whether he be muggle or wizard (though they undoubtedly preferred a muggle). They were disappointed by her lack of success. Disasters as Hermione called them. But then, how could they have been anything other than natural born disasters when her heart belonged only to one foul tempered Potions Master?

"Jeffrey, this is Hermione Granger our new Charms Professor," Minerva winked as a young wizard, slightly older than Hermione turned around to face them.

Hermione couldn't help but take an instant liking to him. He had pleasant features. A strong chin, rosy cheeks and a high forehead. His light brown hair was cut short around his ears and he had the gentlest blue eyes she had ever seen. Minerva relinquished her hold on Hermione's arm and pushed forward causing her to stumble slightly. Jeff took Hermione gently by the hand as he steadied her.

"Jeff Burnham," he said and the warmth of his smile radiated onto Hermione causing her to catch her breath in her chest.

At least, Hermione thought, Minerva has good taste.

"Jeffery is our Arithmancy Professor. He joined us last year," Minerva smiled coyly as Hermione's cinnamon eyes lit up at the mere mention of Arithmancy. "Our Miss Granger was at the top of her class in Arithmancy when she was a student here," she continued, placing a strong emphasis on the word 'Miss'.

Damn it! Hermione's face flushed a bright crimson that rivaled Ron Weasley's hair and she wished fervently for nothing more than for the floor to just open up and swallow her whole. Right then and right there. It was bad enough that McGonagall was introducing her specifically to this – somewhat handsome – young wizard in hopes that they would 'hit it off'. But to purposely point out that she was single, and to accentuate her strong academic qualities as if to make her out to be an attractive package well worth considering made Hermione nauseous.

She had never been so embarrassed - no wait - that wasn't true. Telling Severus Snape that she was in love with him - that was embarrassing. Not to mention asinine.

"I studied advanced Arithmancy in college," Hermione offered, trying to salvage some dignity. "I found it very – erm - interesting." Ugh! That sounded so lame… she silently berated herself. She wasn't that nervous, was she?

"Would you like to go get a drink? I wouldn't mind hearing your thoughts on…Oh, Minerva -" Burnham took hold of the Transfigurations Professor's hands and held them tightly within his own tanned ones. "You don't mind if I steal Hermione away for a while, do you?" he asked with a slight lilt in his voice.

"Not at all!" McGonagall beamed, encouraging them to leave as she released her hold on Jeff. With a look of pride etched into her face over her apparent success, she moved to join a rather dour looking Dumbledore.

Burnham led Hermione across the room and handed her a goblet full of white wine. "Minerva was a bit obvious, wasn't she?" he chuckled and the gentle sound of his laughter made Hermione immediately feel at ease.

"I'm sorry about that," she said regretfully.

"No need. I'm just glad to have finally met you," Jeff smiled waving the whole thing off. "She's sent me an owl practically every week for a month raving about you."

"Oh god," Hermione dropped her head as her face again rose to a blush.

"Hey," Jeff placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, "I'm just pleased that you're everything she told me you were." Hermione could feel her cheeks still burning and she drank her wine down rather quickly. He handed her another, "you said you studied Advanced Arithmancy in College?"

Hermione's face split into a grin and she spent the next few minutes discussing with Burnham what she had covered at College regarding the subject. It was the first time in a long time that she'd been able to engage herself in an intellectual conversation with someone and she reveled in it. Her parents were fairly intellectual themselves, but it was rather difficult to discuss advances in potions or the ethical side of transfiguration with dentists.

As Jeff began to gloss over his course outline, the small hairs on the back of Hermione's neck began to prickle as a strange burning sensation overtook her.

It was him.

He was there – somewhere.

Hermione's body shook with anticipation as she searched the room anxiously with her eyes. Jeff Burnham's words continued flowing towards her, but they fell soundlessly out of existence, failing to penetrate her wall of comprehension. Nothing truly mattered more to Hermione at that moment than finding him - Snape.

*

Professor Severus Snape swore profusely under his breath. Never in his life had he experienced such difficulty attaching the small silver clasp to the collar of his midnight dress robes. The clasp was oval in shape with an engraved image of a snake with two sparkling emerald eyes and three rubies for its slithering tongue. He never wore his dress robes without the clasp and he was not about to make an exception, no matter how troublesome it was proving to be.

There were two possibilities. One being that he was nervous. But he quickly discounted that particular reason for Severus Snape never got nervous. The professor had always taken pride in the fact that he always maintained strict discipline on his emotions. Even when he was facing the Dark Lord himself, he had remained calm. Expressionless. Indifferent. It was necessary to his very survival. So the impending meeting with the dreaded Gryffindor should not give him any cause for nervousness. He growled at himself, the very idea!

The only other possibility which remained, was that in his eagerness to submerge himself in yet another bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky he had inadvertently miscalculated the strength of the potion needed to counteract the effects of the alcohol.

Yes, he concluded weakly, that had to be the reason.

With trembling fingers he attempted to attach the clasp again. Another loud and colorful curse followed his failure. Snape drew his wand in frustration charming the clasp on tight. Satisfied, he returned his wand to its rightful place inside his sleeve and with an angry swirl of his robes he exited his chambers.

The Potions Master was confident that by standing with his arms crossed, stony-faced and seething with indifference that no one would attempt to intrude in on his personal space. And no one did. Unfortunately, with the close proximity of the other professors, snippets of gossip filled conversations droned mercilessly in his ears making Snape wish adamantly that he had been able to remain drunk and alone in his chambers. He cringed over the meaningless dribble that he was cruelly being subjected to - what they had done over the summer break, who was snogging who, and what their plans were for the upcoming school term.

He just did not care.

So there the dark wizard stood - angry, sulking, the epitome of hostility and determined to have the worst possible evening imaginable. Which considering the circumstances, wasn't going to be that difficult.

Even before the familiar scent of vanilla permeated its way into his lungs, he could sense her presence. With hooded eyes Snape scanned the room, his heart beating rapidly as he searched her out. When he eventually found her, his lips twisted upwards into a ghost of a smile.

"Hermione," he murmured.

Snape swallowed hard as the truth struck him. He still loved her. He had always loved her. How could he not? Gods! She was so - beautiful.

His body simply ached to be near her. His arms yearned for her tender embrace. His mind craved her intellect. He desired only to lay his lips upon her warm soft ones sealing them in an all consuming kiss before moving down to any other part of her body that warranted such rapt attention. Entwining her spirit, her body and her mind hungrily within his own.

Yet, there was only one, singular emotion that he was capable of evoking out of her, and it definitely wasn't love. Cursing inwardly, Snape scowled darkly with the knowledge that any such action taken by him would surely be met with a cold hard slap in the face. No. He was the cruel, nasty bastard that she despised. He could never and would never be anything more to her than that.

But still…

He breathed her in, closing his eyes and allowing himself to remember the one and only time he had held her in his arms…

The night of her graduation… a small hand reaching out and grasping his… a smile that was meant only for him… willing arms thrown around him drawing his body tightly against her own while she murmured something inaudible into his robes…

In the name of Merlin! He had relived that moment too many times.

When Snape opened his eyes his face contorted into a vicious sneer. Hermione Granger - chatted up by that – that Arithmancy idiot! Snape felt his heart twisting painfully inside his chest. He had always disliked Jeff Burnham. But now he vehemently abhorred him. As far as he was concerned, Burnham was an absolute waste of space and it took all of Snape's self-control not to hex the living hell out of him. The number of house points he deducted alone, the previous term from lovesick teenagers drawing hearts on their potions notes rivaled the number of crushes the year Lockhart was on staff.

"Lockhart," Snape muttered under his breath, "another imbecile."

Snape narrowed his eyes in jealousy at Burnham. How dare he touch her and how dare she blush at his touch.

*

There he was.

The imposing, sneering figure of Professor Severus Snape, looking exactly as she had remembered. His lank, raven hair hung loose about his shoulders, and his immaculate black robes with only a dash of white at the collar joined by a silver clasp complimented his pale skin.

The instant she discovered him, Hermione's eyes became fused to his dark fathomless pools. At that same moment Hermione found she could no longer breathe. No longer move. And her heart had leapt up into her throat. She knew then beyond a shadow of a doubt the answer to the question that had been haunting her ever since she stepped foot inside of Hogwarts.

It wasn't warm affection she felt for Professor Snape. It was something more. A lot more.

"Hermione? Are you all right?" Jeff asked shaking her gently to bring her back to his side of the world. "Hermione?"

Hermione reluctantly tore herself away from Snape's gaze, she smiled weakly at Jeff. "Yes – er – sorry. You were saying?"

"Albus announced dinner, and if I'm not mistaken," he said, linking his arm in hers, "Minerva has arranged for us to sit together."

Hermione smiled before glancing quickly back over to where Snape had been standing, but he was gone. She felt her heart slowly begin to sink back down into its rightful place, but the intensity of his eyes still made her breathing uneven.

"That's odd," Jeff frowned as they reached the table and he looked closely at the place cards, "I guess we're not sitting beside each other after all."

"It's all right," Hermione sighed, unsure if she was disappointed or not, "we can talk again after dinner."

Burnham nodded taking his place next to Madam Hooch while Hermione moved herself further up the table and found her name on a place card beside Jeremy Waters, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and –

"Ah, Miss Granger," the silky voice of Severus Snape startled her sending shivers down her spine. "It looks as if we're going to be dining companions. I do hope that my presence won't ruin your appetite as much as yours will ruin mine."

It wasn't until he spoke that Hermione realized how she had longed to hear his voice again. To have the dark, melodious, velvet tone melt her from the inside out. His silky voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter's day.

"I'll try and manage," Hermione replied, then with a slight smile, she added boldly. "And it's nice to see you again as well, Professor Snape."

The Potions Master's face remained impassive except for the solitary eyebrow that quirked upwards. "I am at a loss to where you would have received that sort of impression. It certainly wasn't from me for I didn't imply it."

"You haven't changed a bit, Professor," Hermione mused. "Still as obnoxious and arrogant as ever."

"And you are still an insufferable, irritating know-it-all," he hissed in return. Snape suddenly pulled out her chair and Hermione stared at him unsure what to make of it. "You do know how to sit, don't you?"

"I just didn't think you'd -"

"Obviously you still suffer from that Gryffindor condition of not thinking," he mocked. "I suppose it was naïve of me to believe that you'd have outgrown it by now. Wishful thinking on my part I suppose."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she pushed his hand off of the back of her chair. Snape quickly recoiled as if her very touch had burned him. But for Hermione, the feeling of his warm skin against hers sent sparks shooting across her body. She met his eyes and saw them widen slightly and for a moment she saw something unrecognizable in them before they snapped back to their usual darkness.

"I can manage on my own," she said stiffly, holding her head up high.

"Judging from what you've managed or rather not managed to achieve since you graduated, Miss Granger, you could hardly say that was true, now could you?" Snape's voice was like shards of ice that ripped right through her.

Hermione glared at him, then turned away as she sat down. Scraping the wooden chair against the stone floor as she pulled herself in. She couldn't bear to look at him any longer. His words stung. This was not what she had expected. Or was it? It was Snape after all. Perhaps he was finally lashing out at her for what she had said to him the night of her graduation. Was he really that spiteful? Was the thought of her being in love with him really that repulsive? Hermione choked back the bitter tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

As Severus reluctantly slid into the chair beside Hermione, the sleeve of his robe brushed against her arm. Hermione flinched at the contact of the soft material. She turned swiftly, her eyes clamping on to his. Snape almost stopped breathing, surprised by the fire he could see reflected in her eyes. Drawing his robe close around himself he scowled at her before turning pointedly away.

Hermione Granger loathed him. He had just seen it in her eyes. That much he was certain. He would continue to wage a relentless war to ensure that she would never feel anything short of ill will towards him. For it was easier he believed, to live with her hatred, than to live with the hope that she would ever reciprocate his feelings. Glancing down at her slender fingers as she toyed nervously with her meal, he fought the overwhelming temptation to comfort her, to slip her hand into his own like she had done so many years ago. Bloody, bloody hell! He snarled inwardly. She was an absolute torment on his very soul. This was not going to be easy.

The spicy, earthy scent that she had remembered so well to be his, and his alone overwhelmed her senses. The electricity from their touch continued to radiate from her fingers causing her hands to tremble and it was nothing short of pure torture to be so close to him. To be so near and not be able to express feelings that were screaming to be released. Hermione wanted to tell him how much she had missed him and longed for his companionship. How she wanted to recapture the intimacy of the minds they had once shared. To feel his strong arms around her, to hear him whisper her name seconds before he captured her mouth with a kiss was a deep-rooted desire she had long wished for.

But to pour out her heart, lay it on the table for the bitter Potions Master to dissect, mock and renounce was not something Hermione was readily willing to do. She had placed her fate in his hands once before and was still suffering the consequences because of it. To allow history to repeat itself would only wreck havoc on every fiber of her being. If only they could somehow regain the tepid, fragile and unspoken friendship they shared in her seventh year. She might have a chance. Gods! Why did love have to be so difficult and why did he have to be so complicated?

Damn him!

Damn her!

Snape swept out of the Great Hall with his black robes billowing out behind him. He had stayed long enough. He had made his obligatory appearance, ate his dinner and to remain any longer in the same room with – her – would have been nothing short of cataclysmic.

The scent of her perfume clung heavily in the air around him. His hand still tingled from where she had touched him. She plagued his mind and his heart. Snape felt physically ill.

Hermione had sat beside him throughout the entire meal pushing the peas violently around her plate not uttering a single word except when she asked him to pass the salt. Which he did - begrudgingly - of course. And the only time she looked remotely in his direction was when she glanced down the table to accept disgustingly sympathetic looks from Burnham.

Snape listened in on her limited, yet polite conversation with Waters, another professor for whom he had no use. It was however, the first time that he could recall being pleased with Dumbledore's choice for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Waters was a wizard of indeterminate number of years with considerably more hair in his ears and on his oversized knuckles than on his head. His neck was as thick as his brogue, and his wit as slow as they come. Professor Waters was certainly not someone Hermione Granger would be attracted to, Snape thought smugly, so that left only one eligible wizard on staff to worry about. Burnham.

"Professor Snape!"

Severus' heart clenched. It was her. He had almost made his escape. He steeled himself as he turned to face Hermione.

"We need to talk," she blurted out less eloquently than she hoped.

Snape folded his arms across his chest and arrogantly looked down his long nose at her. "Miss Granger I daresay that you sat next to me during the entire dinner and did not bother to utter even a single word to me. Except a request for me to pass the salt. So why now when I am on my way to my chambers, after a very tiresome evening, do you find the sudden need to talk to me?"

Hermione hesitated as an involuntary shiver tore through her and she half expected him to deduct house points for what she had done.

"Well?" he roared, bestowing a wrathful glare upon her. "Speak up girl!"

Hermione's blood began to boil. A scathing retort jumped to the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. "Never mind," she said fiercely through clenched jaws, "I am sorry to have bothered you Professor."

Snape scowled at her, and nodded curtly as if accepting her apology was both tedious and painful while ignoring the blatant insincerity of it. He did not, however, make any attempt to offer her an apology of his own. No, he would never do that. Without another word the professor stiffly turned his back on his former student and swept down the corridor towards the dungeons.

Hermione numbly watched until his midnight robes vanished completely into the blanket of darkness. A mixture of unrequited feelings surged throughout her body. Hurt, disappointment, ire - she would need to sort through them all logically – but not tonight. Tonight she was too tired, too confused, too - Hermione rubbed her eyes and was surprised to feel moisture on the tips of her fingers. She took a deep breath deciding to allow one dominant emotion to overtake her - anger.

Severus Snape was a malevolent, overgrown – bastard – and she loved him.

"Double damn him!" she cursed.